#his plastic hair v plastic container

[ryssbelle]

He too big he doesnt fit

Based on my Clay minifigure that doesnt fit in this arcade container I put him in

He cant stand up because of his hair

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it. 

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something. 

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken. 

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel." 

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for. 

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge. 

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" 

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration. 

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring. 

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me." 

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you. 

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch. 

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708. 

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda. 

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.” 

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.” 

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?” 

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.” 

“Miguel, what the fuck—” 

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.” 

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?” 

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.” 

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?” 

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?” 

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal. 

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count. 

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you. 

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side. 

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat. 

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste. 

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core. 

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo." 

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass. 

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had. 

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

[allurilove]

Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + -- mature short content !

Content Warning: This story contains themes of obsession, stalking, manipulation, and violent fantasies. It delves into the unhealthy and dangerous mindset of a stalker obsessed with you. Reader discretion is advised.

WORD COUNT: 3.6K

INCLUDES: Stalking, blood kink, obsessive behavior, cunnilingus, fingering, fem reader, choking, mentions of cheating, p in v sex in public, murder, death, he's not a good person, dom yandere?, degradation?, he can be a bit of a gaslighter, gore, and more.

*This is the third fic to this little mini series. Check out the first part, and the second part for a better understanding! He is referred to as "your stalker." The italicized portion is his inner thoughts! This fic is inspired by the show You, and this is purely fictional writing!*

SYNOPSIS: Your stalker's obsession intensifies as he becomes involved with another woman named Daniella Foster, who he views as inferior to you. Despite his disdain for your best friend, he engages in a flirtatious and sexual relationship with her, all the while fantasizing about you.

What's more dangerous than a sick, psychotic, and perverted man?

I ran out of your blood today.

Just four hours ago, I was completely fine. The vial of your period blood was nearly empty, but I was able to stick my finger inside to collect the last of your crimson essence. I sucked a particularly big blood clot off my finger, and I was able to start my day with a huge smile.

Four hours ago, I could claim that I was a normal and functioning man, someone you wouldn’t blink an eye at, and that was all thanks to you.

Four hours ago, I was able to brush my teeth, take a shower, and clean myself up for the day. I had an extra pep in my step, and I felt like I could take on the world with a positive outlook.

Don’t you see how much life you give me? Your blood alone has made me feel like I was on top of the world, like I could float up into space with just your plasma to help me survive.

But now, it was gone.

Your stalker stared blankly at the window as his body was jostled side to side, his hands tightly gripping the handle of his tote bag that rested on his lap. He tried to ignore the obnoxiously sick person near him, who didn’t even bother to cover their coughs. He closed his eyes to avoid staring into the eyes of another person across from him. He was sandwiched between two burly people: one shouted loudly into their phone, clearly having zero spatial awareness, while the other snoozed. The woman's head drooped as she nodded off, and her greasy hair brushed against his cheek.

She had a distinct smell of sweat and wet socks. Your stalker apologized to the man next to him as he slightly leaned his body away from the woman. He was stuck in this position unless someone took pity on him and spoke up.

His car was in the shop. The tire had unexpectedly given out, causing him to swerve into oncoming traffic. The car was old anyway, a gift from his parents when he first got his license in high school. That must have been, what, ten years ago? He didn’t like to think about his age; nothing good ever came from it anyway.

Your stalker rummaged through his bag, his hand searching for the familiar plastic tube he used to steal your period blood. His fingers brushed against a particularly sharp blade he kept for “safety” reasons before they wrapped around the vial. He had really tried to savor it. He would carefully open his mouth and tilt the vial just enough for a single drop of blood to settle onto his tongue. Sometimes he would pour a bit into his coffee, or he would put it into his food. Either way, it made him feel closer to you. It was a comforting notion to think about, that he was the only man and human who had access to you in such an intimate way.

Your stalker sighed as he put the empty tube back into his breast pocket for safe keeping.

He didn’t like taking public transportation. New York was known for having odd things happening on the trains, buses, and subways. He was pretty sure that last week someone had set a rat on fire, a poor woman got robbed in broad daylight, and a group of teens were filming their dumb YouTube prank videos on the elderly.

Your stalker felt a flare of irritation as the woman leaned on his shoulder again. He gently nudged her off and ignored the way she woke up all startled. He glanced down at his phone, counting the number of stops, and saw he had twelve more before he could get off.

He was going to Manhattan for a job. An absolute douchebag had hired him, and his name was Myron Vykolv. He was the type to spend his money on trips and a bedazzled car rather than giving back to charity. Vykolv was an artist's worst nightmare: fickle, a headache to deal with; but surprisingly, he had good taste in art. He had to; he hired your stalker, after all.

He pulled out his phone to scroll on social media, his eyes scanning the copious amount of braindead content, and he paused when he saw a familiar face. He pressed the buttons on the side of his phone, his screen flashing, and the screenshot he took was saved in his photo album. Your stalker zoomed in, and his eyes widened as he saw the perfectly harmonious facial features. The baby tee top had a cute graphic splayed on the chest area, hair slicked and pulled back into a bun, and gold hoops dangling from those nicely formed ears.

It was you.

He glanced down at the caption: "a coffee date with my favorite bff." Posted exactly five minutes ago. It wasn't your account, but it was the closest thing he had to you. Your stalker decided to follow your coffee-manic and bikini-loving friend, and every post and picture she had, you were in it too.

She made it almost easy to stalk. Jesus, what if a deranged man had decided to show up to her place in the Beverly Hills area on the street of— seriously? Did she really just post her full address online?

Daniella Foster. The epitome of a fun and ditzy socialite who spent way too much time at parties and clubs. A trust fund baby if there ever was one, with her daddy being a big shot in the entertainment industry. Despite all that privilege, she never quite made it big herself.

Your stalker snorted as he saw the array of failed projects she had been in. Modeling? Wasn't in the cards for her. Acting? Horrible. A piece of cardboard would've had more personality than her. Originally from Tampa, Florida, then she moved to California, where she had her comically large house, and then… she decided to bless us by coming to New York. Lucky us, right y/n?

Your stalker looked up from his phone and realized the train had come to his stop. He got up from his seat and quickly made his way out. He felt his phone vibrate in his hand and looked down: Daniella requested to follow you. That was fast.

He clicked accept.

She's a shameless flirt, your stalker soon found out, and he’s not the least bit surprised. Daniella slid into his DMs with a picture of her provocatively sucking a lollipop, and her first words to him were: “What do you look like?”

Gee, take a gander, Daniella. My profile picture is a high-definition shot of my handsome and sexy fucking face. But sure, ask me about my looks as if you were actually interested. Your stalker rolled his eyes. He didn’t even want to respond to that message, but he had no other way of seeing you again. You would probably run at the sight of him, and that would be the most sane and correct thing you could do.

So, what does a man say when he’s mediocre, average, and you’re clearly out of his league? “I look like the man of your dreams, sweetheart.”

Your stalker had spent hours sexting and courting this woman who had flooded his inbox. Even when he was painting for a client, he managed to multitask and send a dick pic. He sent her whatever she wanted to keep her hooked, and just by her messages alone, this must have been the only time a man actually matched her level of craziness and horniness.

Days turned into weeks and then soon into months. The moment he woke up, he would see that she had sent him hundreds of messages in one night—she must've been drunk again.

He spent hours reading each message, and he hearted the ones that he felt were the most important. It was actually coming to an end, thank God, but to his surprise, she asked him out on a date.

"So, what do you do? Who are you?" The girl in front of him asked.

He shouldn't have said yes because now he was sitting in a restaurant that he could barely afford or get a reservation to, and he had to be with this woman who wasn't you. She was dressed beautifully - he'd give her that. He liked the dark colors of her red dress, the way he could drink in the curves of her hips and chest, and how it gave him a clear view of her body.

Now, he wondered what you would have worn if you were on a date with him. Would you have put in this much effort and shown this much skin? Would you have laughed at all of his jokes to boost his damn ego, or knocked him down a peg? Would you have ordered something light so you could have sex afterward, or would you have eaten something hearty and called it a day?

He pretended to think for a while, all before he gently touched her hand, and his fingers caressed her soft skin. "Who am I?" He teased, his voice slightly deepened as he gave her a playful once-over. "I'm hurt. After all these months, you still don't know who I am?"

"Why don't you refresh my memory?" She tilted her head.

Your stalker sighed and he looked around briefly. This place was intimate, for high rollers only, and he could just imagine how much of his money was going to go down the drain. The tiny candle on the table, the white clean cloth, and the vase with a single rose was still too romantic for his taste. His thumb traced circles on her hand, and the other grabbed for his steak knife.

“I'm an up-and-coming artist,” He replied with a bit of a shrug.

“An up-and-coming artist, huh?” She echoed, her fingers now interlocked with his. “Do you come often?”

Lord, please have some mercy and shoot me. Do I come often? Wouldn’t you like to know, you slut. Is this the type of person you really want to spend your time with, y/n? Daniella is not you, and she could never be you. She parades herself around for anyone and everyone to ogle at—she is the epitome of what’s wrong with the dating scene. No wonder she doesn’t have a boyfriend. No wonder she’s desperate enough to entertain me—of all people.

I know the type of people you like, Daniella, and it’s not me.

“You know what you’re doing when you ask me that.” he brought her hand up to his lips and he kissed it. “I can tell you can make a man come often.“

Daniella giggled and her chest puffed out. She leaned closer to him, and he can practically drown in her scent of vanilla and cake. “I have an art piece that I think you'll appreciate. It's back at my place… wanna see it?”

Fuhhhhhck no. Your stalker slipped the knife into his pocket.

Your stalker smirked and he leaned in closer as well. He could see the makeup on her face, the gloss on her lips, and he could see a glimpse of her ample breasts. “I don’t know… is it one of a kind?”

Underneath the table, her leg started to caress his, and her foot slowly found its way to his crotch. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, and he held onto her hand tighter. As much as he hated this, he would have been lying if he had said that the attention wasn’t nice. He felt the pressure around his groin tighten as she pressed her foot onto it, and she gently rubbed it up and down while maintaining eye contact.

“It’s an original piece…something that can’t be replicated. I’m sure you’ll love it.” Daniella said coyly, and she bit down on her plush lips.

She knew when to strike when the iron was hot. A taxi was called, and she made out with him in it. Her body was pressed up against his, and she felt his hand grip on her ass. His hand then slid up her thigh, his fingers ripped her black sheer stockings and two of them found their way to her entrance. He bit down on her bottom lip and his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She's a fun girl. She knew exactly how to inflate a man's ego and pride. He heard her sweet, light moans, and her hips started to grind onto his hand. His thumb played with her clit, and they only pulled away when the cab arrived at her house. He grabbed her hand and tossed a couple of bills at the driver. He slammed the door shut, and before she could unlock the door to her house, he pressed her against his body.

"W-We're in public...!" Daniella's face was flushed and she tried to close her legs, but your stalker was quick to pull them back apart.

He narrowed his eyes and tugged down her panties. "So? Don't tell me you have morals all of a sudden." he snorted.

He wished that she would just shut up. She opened her mouth to rebuttal but he wrapped one hand around her throat to keep her still and quiet, and he shimmied off his pants just enough for his cock to be out. "I didn't come here for you to talk all the damn time. Shut it, before I put that mouth of yours to good use."

Your stalker lifted her up and made her wrap her legs around him. His dick then entered inside her, and he groaned at how wet and ready she felt. It's been awhile since he felt actual warmth, and her walls started to clench around him. His breath is ragged as he fucked her. His eyes were closed and he couldn't help but bite down onto her shoulder. Daniella cried out, and her body was tense as his teeth broke into her skin.

"God... you needed this, didn't you?" He purred as he licked up the puncture wound. Your stalker then looked down to watch his cock disappear into her. "You need someone to fuck your brains out." He sharply thrust into her again, and his hands dug into the plush of her ass to help with the momentum.

Your stalker dragged his tongue across her bleeding shoulder, then pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall. With one hand still gripping her body, he used the other to shove his fingers down her throat, silencing her whimpers."You're the prettiest whore I have ever seen. Isn't that right, y/n?"

Your stalker truly believed he was being intimate with you. Daniella, who? All he knew was you. All he ever wanted was to feel you, to taste you, and to be able to hear you mewl around his cock. He wanted to see your eyes roll back into your skull, to paint your skin with butterfly kisses, and for him to finally come inside you again and again. It actually pissed him off to no end that he had to be stuck here with her.

When he felt himself getting closer to the edge, he unceremoniously pulled out of her, and his white stream of cum dripped down onto the ground. He sighed as his dick softened, and he gently helped her stand on her own legs again. His hand dipped underneath her body, his fingers playing with her wet folds, and he spread them apart to furiously rub at her clit. Daniella gripped onto his arm to keep him firmly there until she felt her leg shake.

Your stalker watched with a bit of fascination as what seemed like an endless amount of juices squirted out of her. He got onto his knees and helped her to sit onto his face. After he cleaned her all up, your stalker suddenly remembered something and his hand patted down his pockets.

"Hey... I think I'm missing my phone." He started his little lie. "Can I borrow yours? I forgot that I had an important call--"

"Bag." She just said and pointed to the one that was tossed to the side.

He muttered a "thanks" before he went over and rummaged through her purse. "What do you think about doing this again?" he kept an eye on her as his hand aimlessly tried to look for her phone. "I had fun tonight, and I'd like to see you one more time."

He could feel the various items in her bag. A packet of cigarettes, two lip products, house keys, a whole perfume bottle, but fuck where was her phone?

He watched as Daniella rolled down her scrunched up dress. The woman then raised her brow and she crossed her arms. "I'm pretty sure you said another woman's name."

"I didn't." He said rather quickly. "You drank a lot of wine--it was almost like you were trying to bankrupt me." He joked, and his hand firmly gripped onto what felt like a smooth case. He pulled it out of her bag and there it was. "What's your password?"

"Trying to change the subject, are we?"

"I'm pretty sure your phone is the subject, unlock it pretty please?"

Daniella pulled back her hair and she stared at him expectantly.

"I said give me your password, not a blowjob." Your stalker frowned.

She gave him an exasperated look. "It's my face dumbass." she then snatched her phone back from him.

"You don't use your thumb? What kind of update is that?"

"God, you're so poor." He heard her mutter.

That was so unwarranted, and sort of hurt.

Though it made him feel a lot better when he finally decided to slit her throat. Now that she was distracted, he discreetly pulled out the steak knife from his pocket before he dropped her bag and roughly yanked her back to him. His hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her screams as he dragged the serrated blade across her neck. The knife sawed through flesh, muscle, and sinew, blood spurting and gushing with each desperate pulse of her heart. It took him a while to sever her head completely, his arm burning with exhaustion as he hacked away, the blade catching on bone and gristle, her life draining away in a torrent of crimson.

Your stalker wiped his bloodied hand on her dress, he grabbed the phone off the ground, and he groaned when he saw that the screen was cracked. He tried his best to work the damn thing, his finger poking at the messaging app multiple times before it decided to open. Daniella had a plentiful amount of unsaved numbers but they had weird emojis next to them. One number was from a different country and had the eggplant emoticon.

Then he found the only saved number: y/n.

You're apparently a good girl and shared your location with your best friend. How adorable, you even share every given moment with her too. You even talked about how you were thinking about going back to your serial cheater of an ex.

Your stalker gasped, his head reeling back in shock. You were about to go back to your ex? Your ex, of all people? You couldn't have, what—moved on like a normal person? You couldn't have gone out and fucked around with someone new? Someone like him? It's like you purposely make the wrong choices just to be saved. Before he could be your little personal super hero... his eyes slowly made its way back to the body on the ground, and then to the keys that were in her bag.

Have you ever heard of cuteness aggression? The rush of impulsive behavior that you get after seeing a cute and defenseless puppy? I get that when I see you. I think you're so adorable that it makes my heart burst. Your stalker stared up into your apartment, and the car windows were rolled down to air out the perfume he dumped into the body bag.

However, there was nothing cute about this ugly pig-like fuck that touched your waist. That man had no redeeming qualities, and boy, did I want him to start squealing in pain. I wanted to pinch his body until he had yellowish-brown bruises all over. I wanted to crush his skull with my bare hands and feel his pulse drop. I wanted to be able to drink the blood shower that would come from their body and bathe in it. I want them to realize that you’re off the market, and that you’re solely mine.

They’re not good for you, love. You have seen that time and time again, and they have disappointed you before without fail; so why do you welcome them with open arms? It hurts to see your legs over their shoulders, and to see a bit of your face contorted in pleasure and ecstasy. Is it the sex? Is it the way they give you a fleeting moment of what could have been if they weren’t constantly cheating on you?

That’s pathetic, and you know it. But it’s okay, I’m willing to look past this little transgression. It’s not completely unforgivable. They must’ve broken you down and made you vulnerable enough to pull your pants down. It’s not your fault. It’s theirs.

Your stalker continued to stake out your house, patiently waiting for your ex to come down to the lobby. The moment he did, your stalker would be ready. He might not have been able to get your blood, but killing your ex and taking his was like killing two birds with one stone.

Allure: This is the first fic I wrote that actually has y/n in it! And it's pretty unedited, so if there is mistakes I will probs fix it later on. This dragged on for waaay longer than it needed and tbh, I am never writing a long fic like this again LMAO

[chrollogy]

EPISODE 2: CHOCOLATE GONE WRONG

neuvillette x f!reader

NNN ‘24 masterlist | Next Episode

DETAILS: Neuvillette finds himself itching to break the sacred rule of No Nut November after naïvely indulging in aphrodisiac-laced chocolates gifted by Sigewinne—a popular craze among young Fontanian adults.

DURATION: 5.3k

CONTENT ADVISORY: explicit smut, mdni, porn without plot, p in v, creampie, neuvi has two cocks + emphasis on his draconic features, use of aphrodisiacs (neuvillette), neuvi uses his cane as a makeshift leg spreader bar, pet names (ma/mon chérie, ma belle, (my) love), not beta read

DIRECTOR’S NOTES: divider: cafekitsune. round 2! also i’m not quite sure i will get the next two fics out in time (or if i’m getting them out at all) but i will try my best T_T. your lil moon is having a rough patch rn so yeah but nonetheless enjoy!

For Neuvillette, the month of November was nothing significant to say the least—his job continued, overseeing trials, sorting out documents, meeting with important people, and more workload now that Lady Furina had stepped down from archon hood; so, when you had come into his office one day, talking about how a certain trend spread like fire across Teyvat, Neuvillette was rather intrigued.

It had a weird name—No Nut November—and couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea based on the name alone. He remembered how you explained to him Fontanians, and people of other nations were to engage in No Nut November which was to participate in sexual abstinence.

Naturally, the idea was all bizarre to him—not because he thought he couldn’t do it but more so the fact that it was natural for humans to engage in intercourse, same goes for his kind as well. Neuvillette couldn’t see the significance of such a trend, and why humans were participating but who was he to deny your proposal of a challenge? After all, there was no harm involved, he figured it would help him understand human customs a little better despite the it’s strangeness in nature.

Situated behind his desk, Neuvillette let out a deep sigh, letting the papers in his hand fall onto the wooden desk beneath before rubbing his temples. 

“Stressed, Monsieur?” A familiar, teasing voice sliced through the suffocating silence of the Iudex’s office. Neuvillette looked up from his desk, greeted by a friendly figure. The former was too focused on the case materials before him that he hadn’t realised the presence of another, “Wriothesley. I’m rather surprised to see you.”

The raven-haired male was clad in his usual attire, heavy obsidian boots sounding with each step taken against the carpeted floors.

“Ah, you’re not the only one.” Wriothesley chuckled, recalling his encounter with Sedene just mere seconds ago, who looked like she had just seen a ghost. Before Neuvillette could inquire about the sudden visit, the former beat him to it,

“Don’t worry, I won’t take up much of your time. I’m here because Sigewinne had given me an errand to run. She got these for you.” Taking a couple steps closer to Neuvillette’s desk, Wriothesley placed a small box atop the case papers. Carefully wrapped in an ivory satin ribbon, the azure container was adorned with intricate designs in gold that shone beneath the afternoon sun, neatly decorated chocolates peeked from the plastic window of the lid.

The Chief Justice subtly raised his brows in amusement, he wasn’t one to indulge in chocolate nor was he a sweet tooth but nonetheless, he appreciated Sigewinne’s thoughtful gesture.

“That is very kind, please thank her for me.”

Watching the way Neuvillette’s expression morphed into a naïve smile, Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest, “Say, Monsieur, have you heard of the craze among young Fontanian adults right now?” He most likely already knew the Iudex’s answer to the question but what was life without a little teasing?

With how the popular sweet has been making rounds across Fontaine, it would be near impossible for anyone to be clueless about it but at the end of the day, Neuvillette was Neuvillette, probably the busiest man in all of Fontaine which is why Sigewinne had to intervene with the chocolates. The head nurse didn’t have to physically see the Iudex to tell how much he’s been overworking himself nor was a simple order from her was going to stop him.

So, what better way to disguise a remedy with something simple? Basically akin to administering medication to a pet concealed as a tasty treat

Sexual intercourse was the fastest—and best—way to relieve him of his stress. Sigewinne hoped for the Iudex to pardon her complete brazenness but he was as stubborn as a rock, and took her orders about resting rather lightly.

Naturally, Neuvillette shook his head with a light chuckle, a tinge of interest seeping its way into his skin, “I believe I’ve heard her talk about it but the details must have slipped my mind.” A subtle blush blanketed the Chief Justice’s pale cheeks at the mention of his lover, you. Wriothesley’s lips stretched into a teasing smile—one which the former paid no attention to.

 “Well, would you ever try an aphrodisiac?” At Neuvillette’s baffled expression, the younger male bit the inside of his cheeks, biting back a hearty laugh. 

“An aphrodisiac, you say? Substances that—” “That increases one’s libido, yes.” Wriothesley cut him off, tease practically dripping from his tone. Neuvillette was a man capable of many things, an esteemed individual once he’s in court but when it came to much simpler matters, the Chief Justice was nothing but clueless, especially regarding human customs that are a bit harder to wrap one’s head around.

“I’m afraid I have no such time for trivial things.”

The Iudex shook his head once more, this time dismissively waving a gloved hand at his friend. He cleared his throat, the blush on his cheeks deepening into a crimson hue—Neuvillette wasn’t going to say it out loud, especially not in front of Wriothesley but he deemed himself more than capable of maintaining his sexual desires and performances, you were enough proof.

Wriothesley left it at that, his friend may just end up as red as a tomato if he prodded around the topic any further. Needless to say, amusement filled him to the brim, “Alright. It was nice chatting with you Monsieur. I believe Sigewinne also left a small note there—”

The latter looked down at the box. Indeed, there was a small piece of paper neatly folded and tucked beneath the ivory ribbon.

“—do heed her letter.” With that, Wriothesley dipped his chin, sauntering over to the double doors.

Reaching for the handle, the Duke stopped in his tracks, he looked over his shoulder, icy cerulean gaze full of mischief, “Oh, and I hope you two enjoy—the chocolates, I mean.” With that, he left the office, leaving Neuvillette to his thoughts.

The day went by rather quickly, the azure skies turning into golden hues of oranges and yellows as the sun bid farewell to its people, disappearing below the horizon. The chocolates from Sigewinne remained untouched on the corner of Neuvillette’s desk, it watched as stars decorated the night sky; though, as the Chief Justice retired for the evening, he grabbed the box of sweets before heading out.

Neuvillette figured he’d share them with you at home.

Greeted with silent darkness, he was suddenly reminded of your words this morning at breakfast: ‘Oh, I have work dinner later, my love; so, I won’t be eating here. We’re celebrating a company milestone.’ Conveniently enough, Neuvillette had already eaten at his office before leaving so he won’t have the pleasure of sitting across an empty seat at the dining table.

Getting ready for the chilly night ahead, Neuvillette changed into his evening attire after taking a warm bath, he donned silken azure pyjamas paired with a fluffy ivory robe. His silver strands cascaded down the length of his spine, the cerulean bow, and golden hair clips he usually wore were neatly tucked away inside his jewellery box.

Situated on the love seat, Neuvillette casually flipped through case documents inside a brown paper folder. The fireplace across him was ablazed with hues of oranges and reds, casting a citrine glow upon the dimly lit living room. As flames danced atop dry wood, the dulcet sound of classical music poured from the record player, filling the space with its tunes.

After minutes of skimming and scanning the documents, he reached for the box of sweets next to his lap, taking time to read Sigewinne’s carefully written note:

Monsieur Neuvillette, I’ve acquired these sweets for you, and her! I figured these would help you loosen up a little so please do not shy away from consuming as much as you want. Make sure to share them with her as well. Enjoy!

Love, Sigewinne

A warm smile spread across Neuvillette’s face, and despite his better judgement of waiting for you to come home and indulge in the taste of chocolate together, he figured one piece wouldn’t hurt to try alone, right?

With the moon high up in the obsidian night sky, you walked down the cobblestone footpath that led closer to yours and Neuvillette’s shared space, the evening breeze gently caressing the apple of your cheeks. Work dinner had just concluded at Hotel Debord which housed a lovely singer who put on a dazzling performance.

By now, the streets of the Court of Fontaine were more deserted as people retired to their homes for the night, shop owners here and there packed away their respective signage, their stores devoid of any customers.

With each step leading closer to home, you soon found yourself in front of your home, keys jingling between your fingers as you unlocked the front door. From the entrance hallway, warm hues greeted you like an embrace, hinting at the ablazed fireplace in the living room.

“My love? I’m home.” You called out to Neuvillette while skilfully removing your shoes, and neatly placed them beside his own.

Met with silence, you figured he either must be occupied with something or must have fallen asleep while waiting for your return. You sauntered over to the end of the entrance hallway, making your way to the living room, and as you got closer, melodic sounds engulfed your senses—you recognized it, Neuvillette’s favourite classical music.

Turning the corner, you were greeted with a rather interesting sight, a wave of concern washing over you,  “Neuvi—Are you okay?”

Seated on the love seat was Neuvillette, his left elbow propped on its arm rest, face hiding behind his hand. A deep crimson blush painted his handsome face, intensified by the reds and oranges that the fireplace emitted. He sat there looking flustered, chest heaving up and down as he took heavy breaths. Drinking in the view, you noticed documents sprawled across the empty space next to him but what really caught your eye was the intricately designed box resting on his right thigh.

The box had its lid intact yet the loose ivory ribbon draped over his thigh hinted he had previously opened it. Upon closer inspection, you realised it's familiar packaging, a co-worker had shown it to you the other day, telling you how her and her boyfriend have been dying to try the popular chocolates—chocolates laced with a potent aphrodisiac. 

Your gaze made its way back to Neuvillette—who was still breathing heavily on the love seat—now noticing the prominent tent beneath his silken pants, the azure fabric was flimsy and delicate which left little to your imagination. Pushing away the impure thoughts that snaked its way into your mind, you kneeled before your lover with a concerned expression,

“My love, who gave these to you?”

Knowing Neuvillette, he most likely consumed the chocolates without knowing its true contents simply because he wasn’t aware of the trivial things that humans indulged themselves in.

He let out a pained groan, shaky and vulnerable as he shifted in his seat, “Forgive me, ma chérie. This is improper of me.” With trembling hands, Neuvillette covered his throbbing groin, completely embarrassed that you had to see him in such a state. Truth be told, he didn’t know what came over him—a chocolate or two was all he had, and the next thing he knew, his skin burned like a thousand suns as blood rushed down, down, down to his cock.

The very core of Neuvillette’s body churned with desire—carnal desire—and as each second passed, each tick of the ivory wall clock, the uncomfortable yearn between his legs grew. A light sheen of sweat coated his feverish forehead, as though he was experiencing a fever, and whatever this was, it heightened all five of his senses.

From your voice sounding like it dripped with pure honey, all the way to the saccharine scent of your body, Neuvillette was driven mad with lust. It didn’t help how you kneeled before him, and gently caressed his thigh, a poor attempt of comfort because it brought nothing but waves of icy shudders down the length of his spine. Sensitive. His body was completely sensitive to any external stimuli, and if you rubbed his leg any further, he might just come undone.

An embarrassing thought.

Neuvillette was pathetically needy. How preposterous, the high esteemed Iudex of Fontaine reduced to nothing but a lust-driven man eager to shove his aching cock deep in your velvety walls. The subtle buck of his hips against the thick air; the way he swallowed breathless whimpers at your touch; the violent throbbing between his legs, he was beyond irredeemable.

With another grunt, Neuvillette panted out, “Sigewinne gifted them. Wriothesley had delivered it to my office this afternoon.”

Truth be told, you weren’t surprised. At all.

Standing up from your spot, you walked over to the wall phone. You tried your best to ignore the dainty whimper that fell from Neuvillette’s lips as your warm touch left his thigh, you also tried to ignore how his body involuntarily sought you out—trembling hands reaching to chase your gentle hold.

With glassy eyes, Neuvillette watched as you deftly dialled on the phone, he couldn’t help but trace your breathtaking figure, from the square of your shoulders all the way to the curves and dips of your legs. Oh, the things he’d do to spread them open, and inhale your sweet essence like a mad man. Neuvillette could practically taste your honey on his tongue, its velvety texture sliding down his throat.

Another groan escaped your lover at the thought of eating you out, his cock rubbed against the fabric of his underwear as it shamelessly twitched beneath his pants.

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d be calling given the . . . circumstances.” Of course Wriothesley knew. Pure tease dripped from his honeyed voice, most likely paired with a smug smile, and an icy, taunting gaze.

“Why would you give him that?!” 

A chuckle from the other end of the line, “First of all, I just delivered the present. Our head nurse here bought it. She’s helping Monsieur Neuvillette out.”

You huffed, trying to make sense of Sigewinne’s motives, “By what? Feeding him chocolates with a potent substance?” You’ve always adored how Sigewinne cared for her loved ones, especially Neuvillette—whatever one’s deal was, she was always willing to help out in her own unique way. But this . . giving him such a substance without any warning felt like foul play, and not only was Neuvillette receiving the short end of the stick, you were as well.

You weren’t naïve, aphrodisiacs only wore off after one has reached their satisfaction through sexual means, like quenching one’s thirst. 

“You’re making it sound like we gave him drugs.” “It is drugs, Wriothesley!”

Before you could say anything else, gentle, yearning arms wrapped around your front, caressing your stomach which ultimately caught you off guard. Neuvillette. Nuzzling into the junction of your neck just beneath the telephone against your ear, he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive spot, soft smacks of his lips loud enough for Wriothesley to pick up.

You bit back a moan, free hand coming up to rest on the wall to support your weight. Neuvillette’s kisses had your legs trembling, it left prominent goosebumps in its wake as he trailed further down to your shoulder blades.

“Hm. Looks like it's time for me to go. Pass on my best wishes to Monsieur Neuvillette.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

“My apologies, ma chérie. I just—I need you.” Neuvillette sighed, hot breath ghosting over your bare skin, akin to a gentle caress coaxing you into the borders of lust, like a lone finger protruding from the darkness, beckoning you to its endless, sinful void.

“Love—mhm!” You let out a yelp, his hands finding comfort on the curve of your hips, keeping them still as he slotted his clothed cock between your ass. Neuvillette grinded into you, unshameful and devoid of any decorum. Placing the telephone back on the wall, your nails dug into the hearts of your palms, just the feel of his hard cock had you embarrassingly wet already.

Neuvillette was different from this, despite his sexual urges, he was never forward with you, he took his time—sensual and sincere, treating you like the finest piece of gold to ever exist. But saying you weren’t enjoying his brazenness would be a complete lie. Seeing a different side to your lover put you in a rather sensitive state, almost like a virgin bedded for the first time.

Something primal had awoken deep inside his core, and the only way to handle it was to satiate his carnal thirst.

Nonetheless, you tried to get your point across, “Neuvi . . What you’re experiencing is the effect of an aphrodisiac from those chocolates Sigewinne gave you.”

Your words fell deaf on his pointed ears, instead, Neuvillette mumbled some of his own, “I’m sorry . . Ma belle, I promised you about that challenge but it seems I cannot fight my urges any longer.” Another shaky sigh left his rosy lips.

Challenge? Oh.

Oh.

Even in his lust-driven state, Neuvillette was still thinking about the No Nut November challenge you had proposed earlier this month.

“I’m a man of my word but I need you, my love. Let me break the rules just this once, please?” Pure desperation coated every word that came out of his mouth. It was thick like honey, and melted on your skin like snow. God, at this point the stupid challenge wasn’t even on your mind anymore, not when he desperately humped your ass like an animal in heat—quick, little ruts of his hips that soothed the ache a bit better.

Who were you to deny your lover?

The transition from the living room to the shared bedroom was a blur—everything was hasty; desperate hands exploring each other’s bodies; lips sealed together in a rough, passionate kiss; a trail of clothes messily discarded on the floor leading up to the room. Everything Neuvillette did had you on your toes, completely breathless while trying to mirror his hurried actions.

Normally, Neuvillette would bask in your serene glory, peeling clothes off from your body layer by layer, and decorating your exposed skin with butterfly kisses. He’d gently stroke your hair, slender fingers weaving through the strands as he takes in your bare beauty.

Now, his tongue swiftly explored your mouth—lengthy and thick—something he has never done before. It dizzied you.

You landed on the foot of the plush mattress with a soft gasp as Neuvillette pulled away. Breathless and flustered, you stared up at him through your lashes, soft pants escaping your kissed lips. The sight before him made his cock twitch. How your hair was splayed around your head, mimicking a soft halo, a divine being greater than he.

Neuvillette discarded the last two pieces of clothing—pants and underwear—in one fell swoop, and what came into view undoubtedly had you clenching around nothing. Standing proud and heavy at the base of his abdomen were his cocks, both painted in a deep vermillion hue, and generously leaking pre-cum. The sticky pearlescent substance coated his bulbous tips, it glistened beneath the moonlight, beckoning you to wrap your lips around them, and have a feast.

This wasn’t the first time you saw Neuvillette naked nor were you not aware of his kind but it always brought you shock every time, not to mention the faint cerulean scales the underside of his cocks boasted, it was also his sensitive spot.

Stepping out from the puddle of fabric around his ankles, Neuvillette did the same to your undergarments, mindlessly tossing them elsewhere in the room. A low growl sounded from his chest as he pried your legs apart, his deft hands guided them to bend at the knees while resting the soles of your feet on the edge of the mattress, putting your glistening cunt on full display.

In less than a heartbeat, Neuvillette was on his knees, his eager tongue lapping along the length of your slit, your arousal pooled at the tip of his tongue like sinful honey, the divine taste of your cunt prompting another shameless growl from your lover. He repeated the movement a couple of times, each lick reaching closer and closer to your sensitive clit, and when he finally reached it with his hardened tongue, you let out a surprised gasp.

“Neuvillette!”

Shocks of electrifying pleasure kissed its way up your spine as Neuvillette tongued at your swollen bud—tight, fast circles, up and down, side to side, he toyed with you like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Your hands immediately flew to his ivory tresses due to his ministrations, it was almost like playing a game of tug of war, indecisively pushing and pulling his, unsure if you wanted more or if you wanted him to stop and slow down.

Lewd, wet smacks of Neuvillette’s tongue mixed with his low growls filled the room, allowing you to bask in the sounds of pleasure your lover unabashedly made. Almost akin to a vicious beast swallowing down its prey.

As your back arched off the mattress, and the grip on Neuvillette’s hair tightening, he pulled away, earning a rather disappointed whine to fall from your lips. Sweet arousal abundantly coated his lips and chin, bringing warmth to your cheeks. No one in the room dared to say it but this was the first time your cunt got embarrassingly wet, not that Neuvillette was inadequate in bed per se but you were wetter than usual, and you were confident that he had also noticed.

The glow of his lilac eyes and cerulean feelers were proof enough.

Standing up to his feet, Neuvillette languidly stroked the cock that sat beneath the other one, an immodest gaze raking over your sopping cunt, and how it shamelessly dripped with sticky arousal enough to soil the ivory sheets beneath.

“Are you ready, ma chérie?” Neuvillette’s lilac stare captured you in a haze, absentmindedly nodding at his words as though you were rendered speechless.

He slowly rubbed the tip of his bottom cock before pushing it past your soaked folds, it eagerly swallowed him in—a loud, shameless squelch filling your ears as he stretched you open further. Your toes curled at the sensation, hips immediately bucking into him as you moaned his name. The stretch was a pleasurable burn, one that had you rolling your eyes back, and digging your nails onto the sheets a little harder. Neuvillette was able to easily slip into you, courtesy of the plentiful slick that coated your velvety walls.

Neuvillette stilled as he bottomed out, quick, short pants falling from his rosy lips. God, you always took him so, so well, he could never get enough of the feeling of warmth wrapped around his cock. You took this time to get used to the stretch, your muscles relaxing to lessen the resistance he felt. Neuvillette filled you up so well you could almost feel him in your stomach—a thought that had you clenching around him.

One, two, three seconds later, Neuvillette slowly pulled back, letting out a shaky breath at the pleasurable sensation. And with only his cock head inside you, he took no time to slam all the way inside. You moaned, hands flying to his bare shoulders, immediately marking his pale skin with crimson stripes. Neuvillette unabashedly keened at the clench of your cunt around him, knees buckling as you gripped his cock like a vice, making it harder for him to move in and out.

“Haah! Mhm! Neuvi—right there, my love!” Colourful moans and whimpers urged Neuvillette on, dragging him further and further to the state of insanity. “You feel divine, ma belle . .” The words came out as a choked sob—pathetic and dainty. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead paired with a deep crimson blush that painted his cheeks, if anything, Neuvillette looked absolutely ethereal in this state despite how out of it the aphrodisiacs made him.

Not only were his cocks extra sensitive to touch but he could also perfectly smell the scent of your sex that lingered in the air. That sweet, sinful aroma he knew oh so well.

It made his head spin.

He tried holding back, he really did but your dulcet moans stroked his growing ego, and the feel of your sopping cunt deliciously sliding against him, the last thread of sanity that held him snapped.

Violently.

As if he saw nothing but bright hues of ruby, Neuvillette picked up his pace, long thrusts quickly turning into short ones as he mercilessly pistoned his hips over and over again, allowing his cock head to reach your sweet spot. Your fingers raked down the length of his spine—leaving violent ribbons of red in its wake—stopping right at the dimples of his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks as you dug onto the pale skin there. Neuvillette wasn’t the only one on the brink of insanity with how the underside of his other cock furiously rubbed at your swollen clit with each thrust, it rested at the hood of your cunt, thick and heavy.

“S-so good! It feels so good—ngh!” The thrust of his hips felt amazing, too amazing to the point where your body started to reject them. Your body entered fight or flight mode, parted knees instinctively closing together which only allowed an inconvenient amount of room for Neuvillette to move with.

Upon noticing the change, he slowed down, sweaty palms resting on either knee, “My love—haah . . Open up for me, would you?” Winded and weak, Neuvillette attempted to pry your knees apart to no avail considering his mushy state.

“Too much, mon chérie . . I—I can’t.” Neuvillette shook his head at your words before pulling out, leaving you confused and empty. From the mattress, you watched as he sauntered over to his side of the bed, grabbing a lengthy, obsidian object that rested against his nightstand. Before a question could even formulate in your mind, he returned to his spot in the blink of an eye; though, this time, with something in his hand.

A cane—his cane. The same one he used during court proceedings, in that context, it was deemed a sacred symbolism of his authority as the Iudex of Fontaine.

To use it in such a setting would be borderline blasphemy.

Hovering over your trembling body, Neuvillette placed chaste kisses on each knee, “Do you trust me, my dear?” Was that even a question? Of course you did. He wouldn’t harm you and you believed that completely.

With a soft touch, Neuvillette was able to easily pry your knees apart, the scent of your cunt once again filling his senses. He wordlessly slotted the obsidian cane beneath your knees, its surface cool against your feverish skin, you shuddered at the contrast in temperature. Neuvillette pushed down on the shaft of the cane, bringing your knees closer to your chest—you also noticed how it kept your legs still, meaning you had no option to close them.

You whimpered at the slight burn the position invited, especially with the cane pressing down on your soft skin. And once again, Neuvillette sheathed his cock inside your cunt before setting the same merciless pace. Only this time, you wouldn’t be able to deny him.

“Neuvi! Neuvi! Neuvi—aah! Fuck—mhm!” You held on to the ivory sheets above your head for your dear life as Neuvillette roughly pistoned his hips. With each relentless thrust given, your body jolted further up the mattress, breasts bouncing in full display for your lover to drink in. Oh, how he adored the way your naked body moved and reacted to him, so plush and pliant.

Sharp hisses from the bed frame interlaced with the pornographic sounds of your moans, creating a lewd melody for the moon to witness, a sinful song only for the darkness of the night to hear—full of heat and passion.

“Does—ngh! Does it feel good, my love? Will you give in to the—haah! To the pleasure I’m giving you?” Neuvillette curled over himself, tresses of ivory cascading down to cage your face as he leaned closer to you. Despite the blur of your vision, you noticed the faint azure scales that decorated the side of his neck along with his pupils becoming more animalistic.

Neuvillette’s draconic features only ever made itself known during his heat; so, this came as a genuine surprise to you. Not that you were really complaining.

His hand remained on his cane while the other found comfort on your hip, subtly guiding your body onto him to meet each thrust. Neuvillette met your gaze through a glossy stare, you watched as beads of crystalline-like tears formed on the corners of his eyes, eventually rolling down his reddened cheeks. The sight before you was beyond divine, it wasn’t every day one would see the Chief Justice in such a poor state, his usual expressionless face painted with a colourful expression.

One that unmistakably screamed how lost he was in pleasure: rosy lips parted to let out soft whimpers, brows tightly knitted together, creating a deep crease between his brows.

“Are you close ma chérie? Mhm—aah! Come with me?” Neuvillette breathed out. It took all of his will power to hold himself up, and keep his hips moving due to immense pleasure weighing on his body like a great burden. The feeling had him trembling to his very bones, like a yellow autumn leaf braving the evening winds, and no matter how much his brain screamed at him to stop, he didn’t.

The pleasure would be too great of a loss if Neuvillette stopped now; so, he kept going—pounding, rutting, and grinding into you as he chased both your impending orgasms.

You nodded vigorously, throat too dry from all that panting to choke out any coherent words. The burn of the position you maintained mixed with Neuvillette’s cocks stimulating your cunt sent you into a painful yet pleasurable overdrive.

Without a second thought, you hastily placed your hands between your bodies, blindly seeking out Neuvillette’s other cock, and wrapping your fingers around it. To the best of your ability, you vigorously pumped his shaft, matching your strokes with his thrusts.

Neuvillette shuddered, releasing a loud moan into the damp air. After a few more quick thrusts, he stilled deep inside you, sealing his lips with yours as you both reached your climax, eagerly swallowing one another’s lewd moans. Your back arched off the mattress, toes curling, and fingers digging into Neuvillette’s skin as you violently came, the feel of his thick, hot cum painting your plush walls white had your hips bucking into him, begging for more.

Embarrassingly enough, Neuvillette came a lot. Not only inside you—to the point where it spilled out of your cunt and onto the sheets below—but also on you. The cock you’ve been stroking spurted thick ribbons of cum on your abdomen, abundantly covering your skin in his essence. He looked at the filthy art that decorated your skin, colourful curses enough to make Fontainians gasp in shock filled his mind.

How beautiful you were marked by him.

“Did I hurt you in any way?” He asked, slowly peeling himself away from you. Neuvillette made sure to quickly remove his cane from under your knees, placing it flat on the floor before tending to you. He kissed your sweaty forehead, and pulled your bodies up the mattress with your head atop the fluffy pillows.

“Not at all but I have to say, I was reaaally looking forward to completing the challenge, mon chérie.” You joked, letting out a breathless laugh.

Neuvillette blushed, suddenly remembering how he readily accepted the proposal of your challenge . . What was it again? No Nut November?

“Another year is to be expected, I am determined we will overcome the challenge.” And you were looking forward to that. Very much so. You just hoped he wouldn’t consume another aphrodisiac-laced sweet in the coming year so the both of you could actually complete the challenge.

Well, at least you concluded that Neuvillette and aphrodisiacs weren’t such a bad match, right?

Looks like you had a certain head nurse to thank. —

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[loveshotzz]

We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”

[joelmillerisapunk]

Lunch Break | 3.6K

Javier Peña x coworker f!reader

Summary: Javi edges you at work

Warnings: unprotected p in v, fingering, oral, reader has hair that's pullable, vibrator, public sex, lots of edging

Notes: This is the only Javier fic I've ever written so sorry if everything is not great to his characterization. I hope you enjoy. A big thank you to the sweetest @sawymredfox for reading this for me and helping me with the Spanish love you so much! Thank you to my love @thundermartini for reading bits and pieces for me love you love you! and @syd-djarin for the mood board love youuuu!

Masterlist

Reality dawns on you while seated on the hard black leather chair in the conference room—everyone filing in—you realize with a sinking heart that in your haste this morning, you neglected to remove your vibrator from its spot in your back pocket ‘Fuck’,  you chide yourself silently, 'you can be so stupid sometimes.'

With an air of nonchalance that belies your inner turmoil—the embarrassment of potentially being caught with such an intimate item—you navigate towards the back corner where solace awaits by way of a coffee pot; 'Just get through this meeting,' you reassure yourself, 'then it's straight to your car.'

As you stand by the coffee machine, the weight of the object in your back pocket feels conspicuous. You can't help but wonder if it's as noticeable to others as it is to you. Before you can even pour that first cup of coffee—a balm for your nerves Javier Peña sidles up next to you, his own cup of black coffee already in hand “Why does it look like there's a giant bullet in your back pocket?” he queries with an infuriating smirk playing on his lips.

"Why are you staring at my ass, Peña?” You lean against the surface of the coffee machine and muster up enough bravado for one last retort before this encounter ends mercifully soon; "Maybe I’m housing the next big thing in bullet technology," you toss back at Peña with feigned nonchalance while internally cursing yourself for not double-checking your pockets this morning like you usually do. You fill up your cup from the pot, hoping he takes the hint and moves away. But instead of leaving, he stays put and reaches into your pocket. Your spin around and your face burns with embarrassment as he holds up what he found - a pink vibrator - between his thumb and forefinger. You stand there, momentarily shocked—but honestly, not really. This kind of childish, middle-school game is typical of Javier. Always stirring the pot, always trying to get a reaction. You glance around the room, noting how everyone else is busy with their own conversations, laughing or small-talking, completely oblivious to the little scene unfolding between you and Javi.

Your eyes snap back to him, your annoyance clear as you extend your hand. “Give it back,” you demand, voice firm.

“Not until you tell me what it is,” he says, holding the item just out of reach with a teasing knowing smirk.

“Oh my god,” you groan, exasperated. “Just give it here, and I’ll show you.” You stand there, arm still outstretched, palm up, waiting for him to cooperate. The irritation bubbling inside you is hard to contain, especially since it seems painfully obvious to you what it is. 

Javi finally relents, placing it into your palm with a grin that suggests he knows he’s gotten under your skin. You curl your fingers around the hard plastic, sighing as your other hand moves to the opposite end of the device. Twisting it, the small pink vibrator quietly buzzes to life.

You lock eyes with him, deadpan. “Happy?”

Without waiting for a response, you switch it off and shove it back into your pocket, hoping to move past this absurd moment.

Javier blinks at you, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across his face. It’s clear he’s not entirely shocked—like a part of him always suspected you weren’t as straight-laced as you let on.

“So damn gullible. Why the fuck did you bring that to work?” He chuckles, shaking his head.

"That's confidential, Peña—classified. Don’t ever touch my shit again, or I’m reporting you." You spin on your heel and stride away, your shoulders tight with frustration, planting yourself in a chair at the far end of the table. Javier Peña stands frozen for a moment, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he watches you leave.

The meeting drags on endlessly, each passing moment heavier than the last but as soon as it concludes, you bolt from the room, your legs carrying you to the parking lot faster than you thought possible. You yank the car door open, drop into the driver’s seat, and slam it shut, letting your body sink into the cool leather. A hand runs over your face, rubbing away the tension, but it’s futile—every muscle hums with unresolved stress.

Always stressed. That’s your perpetual state. Nothing—not meditation, not the strongest caffeine jolt—seems to dull the edge. You need something real, but since that isn’t an option, you opt for the only relief within reach.

You sit up, retrieving the travel-sized vibrator stashed in your back pocket. Your eyes dart around, ensuring the parking lot is deserted. Once satisfied, you unbutton your dress pants, pushing them down just far enough to slip the device against your throbbing clit. The buzz sends immediate relief coursing through you, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

Your breath quickens; your core tightens. You're so close—on the brink—when the passenger seat suddenly dips. The car shifts as someone slams the door shut.

“I knew you were a slut,” Javier’s voice drawls, dripping with amusement.

You gasp, fumbling to switch off the vibrator, but his hand catches your wrist, halting you mid-motion. You glance up, startled, meeting his dark, mischievous gaze.

“Finish,” he commands, his voice firm, laced with dominance. “I can wait.”

Your lips part, a protest forming, but it dies in your throat as his free hand grips your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His voice drops lower, “I said finish.”

A shiver races down your spine as goosebumps erupt across your skin. He releases your wrist and chin, giving you control again—or so it seems.

Your hand trembles as you reposition the vibrator, pressing it against your clit once more. The vibrations hit, and your head falls back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed. Javier watches intently, lighting a cigarette as though savoring a fine performance.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Such a good girl. So pretty.”

The buildup to your orgasm is overwhelming, every nerve in your body attuned to Javier's command. You grab his arm, your nails sinking into his skin as a moan tears from your lips—raw, unrestrained, louder than you’ve allowed yourself in so long. His large, tan hand covers your mouth instantly.

“Shhh, baby, you gotta keep it down,” he murmurs, his voice husky and low. He waits until your breathing steadies before easing his hand away, but then he stops everything. The vibrator’s buzz fades as he pulls it away, leaving you teetering painfully on the edge.

Your body jolts when his fingers slide inside you without warning replacing the vibrations. A gasp escapes your lips, your back arching as pleasure spikes through you. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, each stroke precise and maddeningly effective. The rhythm he sets sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, pulling you closer to release. You feel yourself tightening around him, every movement driving you closer and closer. And then, just as you’re about to unravel completely, he stops.

His fingers leave you empty, aching, desperate. Before you can even protest, he brings them to his mouth, his tongue sweeping over his fingers to taste you. His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he licks them clean, savoring every second of your helpless frustration.

He glances at his watch, the smirk on his lips cutting through your haze. "Oh, look at that—lunch is over. Better get back in there, agent."

Without another word, he opens the car door and steps out, leaving you breathless, trembling, and yearning for more as he strides away like nothing just happened.

The next morning, you arrive at the office earlier than usual, your frustration still simmering from how Peña left you high and dry the day before. Scanning his office from your desk, you note it’s still empty. You settle at your computer, trying to focus on work, but the irritation gnaws at you.

When he finally walks into his office, you pause, considering if confronting him is really a good idea. Then you remember the way he left you wanting yesterday, and resolve steels your spine.

Once you’re sure he’s alone, you stride to his office, closing the door firmly behind you and locking it with a deliberate click. The sound makes him glance up from the papers he’s working on. His eyebrows lift in mild surprise as he sees you. “Can I help you, agent?”

You don’t respond immediately. Instead, you walk up to his desk, fixing him with a stern glare. One hand presses against the clutter of paperwork, steadying you, while the other gestures for him to come closer.

He hesitates but complies, leaning forward just enough for you to grab his tie. You yank him toward you, bringing his face mere inches from yours. In a low, dangerous whisper, you let your irritation bleed through:

“If you ever fucking edge me like that again, I’ll report you for breaking into my vehicle, Agent Peña. Maybe this time, you’ll do better.”

Releasing him, you step back, smoothing your expression to one of cold indifference. Without another word, you place a small black box on his desk, turn on your heel, and leave his office. You return to your desk, seamlessly slipping back into your work as though nothing just happened.

Inside his office, Javier sits back in his chair, adjusting his shirt with an unreadable expression. His gaze lingers on the box you left behind. He picks it up and flips it open, revealing a small, pink, oval-shaped controller with simple directional commands: up, down, left, and right.

At first, he frowns, puzzled. Then he notices the folded piece of white paper tucked inside. Opening it, his eyes scan the words written in your unmistakable handwriting:

This controls the vibrator currently in my pussy. Edge me to your heart’s content, but if you don’t finish me by the end of the day, I’m reporting you for touching my ass in the conference room.

Javier smirks as he places the box and note in his desk drawer, slipping the controller into the right pocket of his DEA jacket. He doesn’t turn it on yet—he’s waiting. This little game the two of you are playing amuses him, and he knows there’s another meeting scheduled today. All he has to do is bide his time.

When everyone gathers in the conference room and takes their seats, the meeting begins. It’s not remotely important—just some pointless presentation from personnel management. Javi positions himself near the back of the room, leaning casually by the coffee pot. You, on the other hand, are seated near the front, far from him.

You try to focus, your pen tapping lightly on the notepad in front of you, but it’s impossible. This is, without a doubt, the most useless meeting you’ve ever attended. Your gaze wanders across the room, scanning faces aimlessly until your eyes land on Javi’s.

He’s already looking at you, his dark eyes filled with mischief. A smirk tugs at his lips, and he winks before raising his brows suggestively. His hand dips into his pocket, and he nods slightly, drawing your attention to the movement.

It takes you a second to piece it together, but when you do, your eyes widen in realization. He’s going to use the controller—here, in the middle of a meeting, surrounded by nearly every colleague you have.

Your heart races as you shoot him a sharp look, pursing your lips in a silent plea. You shake your head subtly, trying to convey, No, what the hell are you thinking?

But before you can finish the thought, your body betrays you. A sudden, uncontrollable jolt runs through you as the vibrations hit, intense and overwhelming. You grip the arms of the black leather chair, your lips parting in a silent gasp as the sensation floods through you, heat pooling low in your stomach.

Javi’s smirk deepens from across the room, his gaze fixed on you as if daring you to keep your composure.

That fucking bastard. That fucking beautiful bastard.

Your gaze locks with his, and he lifts a single finger to his lips, signaling for you to stay silent with a teasing "shhh." Your breath hitches as you try to compose yourself, the relentless vibrations from the hidden toy driving you to the brink. Closing your eyes for a moment, you fight to keep your expression neutral, but your lips part involuntarily as your climax builds.

You’re soaked, your underwear and the chair beneath you bearing the evidence of your struggle. The need to release is overwhelming, the sensation climbing higher and higher. Suddenly, a gasp escapes you, your hands gripping the arms of the chair to ground yourself. The sound draws the attention of everyone in the room, and every pair of eyes turns your way.

“Agent, are you okay? Something you’d like to share?” the coordinator asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Maybe you’re coming down with something,” Javi adds, his voice laced with false concern. His lips twitch as he fights back a smirk, his hand slipping subtly into his pocket. He presses the controller, ramping up the intensity.

The sudden surge of vibrations makes you jump in your leather chair, your whole body jolting with adrenaline. “No, I—I’m fine,” you stammer, voice shaky as you desperately try to suppress a moan. “Just… tired. S-sorry.”

The coordinator studies you for a moment, then nods. “Alright. If everyone’s ready, let’s continue.” The room finally shifts its focus back to the presentation.

Your chest heaves as you dig your nails into the chair’s arms, eyes squeezed shut. The vibrations grow impossibly stronger, and you know Javi is enjoying this far too much. He sits there like he owns the room, his posture relaxed, his expression smug. The sight of him only fuels your frustration.

Just as the peak feels inevitable, the vibrations stop.

The silence in your body is deafening, leaving you reeling from the sudden absence. You whip your head toward him, your glare is full of unspoken threats. He meets your gaze, shrugs casually, and smirks—that infuriating, half-cocked smirk that makes you want to both slap him and kiss him senseless.

He’s winning this game, and you hate how much you love it.

The meeting finally wraps up, and you return to your desk, finding it just as empty and uninspiring as before. You try to focus on your laptop screen, willing yourself to concentrate, but it’s a losing battle. All you can think about is Javier—and how badly you want him to touch you, to finish you.

Without a second thought, you stand and head straight for his office. The urgency in your steps gives you no time for decorum; you push the door open without knocking and slam it shut behind you.

Javier looks up, one brow arching in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

You plant your hands on your hips, frustration seeping through your voice. “You did it again.”

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. “Did what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Peña.” You extend one hand toward him, the other still fixed on your hip. “Give me back the controller. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t fucking concentrate.”

“Oh, this?” he asks, holding up the remote. His smirk deepens as he flicks the device back on. The sudden vibration against your core sends a jolt through you, and your hands dart out to brace yourself against his desk.

“So, you really want me to stop?” he drawls, standing from his chair with deliberate slowness. ���Or maybe you’d rather I give you the real thing? You tell me, sweetheart—what do you want?”

His voice is low and teasing as he approaches, his towering frame closing the distance between you. He places his hands on the desk, as you turn around to follow his movements, caging you in. You try to hold his gaze, but the intensity is too much. After a few seconds, your eyes flutter shut.

“Please…” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Please what?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face.

Your resolve shatters as his lips hover close to yours. “Stop…” you manage to mumble weakly, even as your arms reach up, wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

Javier’s hands grip you, firm and possessive, as his mouth captures yours in a heated kiss. The vibrator’s hum fades into the background as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring you with unrestrained hunger. Your thoughts dissolve, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of his touch and the euphoria of his kiss.

When he finally pulls away, he gives you a smirk so devastating it leaves you breathless. His hand trails on your thighs, teasing at the hem of your skirt.

“Javi,” you plead.

Instead of replying, his fingers slip beneath your panties, pushing the fabric aside. He pulls the still-buzzing vibrator from you with a deliberate slowness, your slickness coating his fingers. Tossing it carelessly onto some paperwork, he lifts you onto the edge of the desk. His dark eyes meet yours, filled with a hunger that makes your pulse race.

With practised ease, he pushes your skirt up to your hips and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, sliding them down and tossing them aside. The cool air against your bare skin sends a shiver through you.

Before you can truly process what’s happening, Javier helps you down and spins you around, pressing your chest down against the desk. His firm grip pins your wrists behind your back. The sensation makes you moan.

“You just can’t keep that pretty little mouth shut, can you?” he taunts, his voice dripping with mockery. Reaching around, he stuffs your damp panties into your mouth, silencing any reply.

The metallic clink of his belt buckle hitting the floor echoes in the room, followed by the low rasp of his zipper. Your heart pounds as you feel his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back toward him.

Javier leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “Think you can be quiet now? Or do I need to remind you how to behave, mi niña buena?”

His question hangs in the air as your muffled whimper escapes through the gag. Behind you, his cock presses against you, and the anticipation coils tightly in your stomach, ready to snap.

You nod eagerly as the wet fabric is pulled from your mouth. He grabs your arm, helping you up, then points to the ground. “On your knees.”

You obey without hesitation, sinking down as he steps closer. His cock is in your mouth again in an instant, stretching your lips as he thrusts forward, letting out a deep grunt like he hasn’t had release in weeks—whether it’s a pussy, a mouth, or even his own hand. His grip tightens in your hair, holding you steady as he pushes deeper into your throat.

“So pretty when you’re sucking cock, tan hermosa” he rasps, his voice rough and dripping with lust.

The initial sting fades as you adjust to his size, letting him slide deeper with every thrust. His cock twitches in your throat before he suddenly pulls out, leaving you gasping on the floor. You look up at him, wide-eyed and eager, your lips glistening as you catch your breath.

He wastes no time pulling you to your feet, turning you and bending you over the desk. His hands slide down your body, one stopping between your thighs to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. The sudden stimulation sends shocks through your body, making you shudder.

“Fuck! Please!” you beg, your voice cracking under the tension.

He doesn’t answer, instead slipping your underwear back into your mouth to muffle your cries. “No estàs siendo una niña buena, tienes que estar callada, bebé,” he murmurs, his tone dark but calm.

Without warning, he slams into you, stretching you wide as his cock fills you completely. The muffled sound you make is a mix of pain and pleasure, your body clenching around him as you struggle to adjust to his size. His hips drive forward relentlessly, each thrust pressing deeper until the ache melts into pure bliss.

Your fingers grip the edge of the desk as waves of pleasure roll through you. His cock feels impossibly thick inside you, and every stroke makes your legs tremble beneath his weight. He notices, leaning down close to your ear.

“Come on, baby.” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I know how badly you want to cum all over my cock.”

His words push you over the edge. Your body spasms as your orgasm hits, goosebumps prickling along your skin. A muffled moan escapes you as you tighten around him, trembling uncontrollably as the intensity consumes you.

He doesn’t stop. His thrusts grow harder and faster, driving deep into you as his own climax builds. The desk creaks under the force, and your body feels like it might give out, soaked in your own release. His growls turn guttural, animalistic, as his cock twitches violently inside you.

With one final thrust, he spills into you, hot and thick, his grip bruising as he holds you close. His hips slow, his body shuddering as he rides out his release, his breath ragged against your neck.

After a moment, he drops your arms, letting them fall limply to your sides. You slide down to your knees, your back leaning against the desk as you pant, trying to steady yourself.

He crouches in front of you, his hand cupping your face. Tilting your chin up, he makes you meet his gaze, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek before standing, adjusting his clothes as if nothing happened. Without another word, he strides out of the office, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving you breathless and spent on the floor.

[artificial-transmutations]

Insatiable

"You want... dick?"

Oh God, finally! It had been the most stressful and embarrassing fifteen minutes for Derek, but apparently, the old (and somewhat creepy) lady on the other side of the desk finally got what he meant.

"Yes! Dick, cock, penis, that's what I want. For my boyfriend." he added.

Communication has been... Difficult to say the least. Derek would normally never set food into a store like this. The small room was cramped with various utensils Derek couldn't even name. There was a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling, and a row of dusty jars was standing on a shelf right next to his ear. Derek was sure they contained old and wrinkly apples, mainly because he didn't want to think about what could be in them if it weren't apples.

However, as creepy as this place was, some of his friends had recommended it highly, because the owner of the store apparently could produce an aphrodisiac that put the blue pill to shame. Even if she looked like the embodiment of a voodoo lady, that was.

However, explaining what he wanted and that he wanted it for his boyfriend had been more than difficult. The old lady seemed to be hard of hearing *and* had a hard time grasping the concept of a gay couple. But, apparently, finally it clicked.

The lady shrugged her shoulders which made her large earrings shake.

"OK. Dick for boyfriend." she shrugged again, but began to gather... Something... From her drawers.

"I need..." she began, but Derek interrupted her.

"Some of his hair, yes." That part was clear to Derek since all his friends who recommended the place mentioned. It was probably just for show, but apparently, some hair was a required ingredient.

The old lady nodded and took the small plastic bag with Sean's hair that Derek had brought.

He was surprised when he saw her kneading a soft wax like mass with her bony fingers. Wasn't she supposed to prepare some pills or potion?

He was yanked back to reality by a short tug on his scalp though. The voodoo lady had ripped off some of his own hair, too.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he asked, although it hardly hurt.

"Need hair both" was the only answer he received.

Fascinatedly, Derek watched as the old lady formed a small humanoid doll from the substance. Of course. A voodoo doll. So much for any real surprise for Sean's birthday. Well, at least it was an original joke gift.

The wax figure was unmistakably male. On the one hand, it was obvious from the V-shaped body, the flat chest and the muscular frame that was emerging, but, most importantly because of the other detail the old lady included: the doll was very much anatomically correct, as it sported a large, erect phallus, proudly emerging from its loins. When she was satisfied, she carefully took out Sean's hair and dotted it on the small doll. Derek watched her put it on the dolls head, its chest and even under the figures arms.

Derek's hair, however, went to the pubic area and was used to form a large bush around the phallus. She even massaged some of the hairs into the rod itself.

When she was finished, she took a short look at the doll and quickly dipped it into a cauldron holding an ominous slimy liquid.

"Here, finished. It's 10 dollars."

"Ookay..." Derek began. "And how does it work exactly?"

"It just works. Trust. It's 10 dollars." was the only answer he got.

Derek shrugged and paid the old lady before taking the wet doll. Careful not to get the liquid on his clothes, he thanked her and left the building.

He drove home, a smile on his lips. Hopefully, his boyfriend would like the joke gift.

***

"What is that?", Sean asked curiously, as he eyed the little figure.

"Isn't that obvious?" Derek laughed. "It's a voodoo doll, and it's supposed to improve our sex life."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Do you think our sex life needs improving?" he asked his boyfriend in an amused voice.

Before Derek could answer though, he laughed and said: "Thanks, honey". He kissed his boyfriend, and what was originally planned to be a quick peck on the lips turned into a long and sensual kiss involving tongue and roaming hands.

They both panted when they eventually separated.

"I can already see a positive effect.", Sean remarked. "Do you want to take it to the bedroom and help me with that?" he grinned and gestured towards a small but noticeable bulge in his pants.

Derek gulped. "Yeah." he replied.

They hurried to the bedroom, where their clothes came off in a hurry.

Sean was unusually active. Normally, he was a pretty passive bottom, which worked well for Derek, since he had the bigger dick and liked to top more. However, today, after some making out, Sean whispered:

"Let's try something new."

Sean's hand, which had traveled to Derek's ass left little room for interpretation on what he meant. He nodded. If Sean wanted to top, and on his birthday of all days, who was he to disagree?

They moved around, so Derek was on all fours and Sean positioned himself behind him. Derek closed his eyes in anticipation, feeling the cool air on his ass, the bed slightly dipping, and Sean's hot breath.

"I can't wait to get inside you." Sean breathed.

The next thing Derek felt was something hard, wet and hot against his asshole.

His eyes shot open.

"Is that your tongue?"

Sean hummed. "Yeah, and it tastes great."

He proceeded to lick Derek's butthole, occasionally even penetrating it with the tip of his tongue. Then, finally, Sean removed his tongue and left the stage open for his very erect cock.

Derek had expected him to use lube, but instead, he heard his boyfriend spit and felt a hot liquid hit his butthole. He didn't complain though. This was new, exciting, and he really wanted to see where this would lead. Besides, Sean's cock was small enough to not hurt much either way.

And, true enough, he slid into Derek with little to no resistance.

"You like that?", Sean grunted, and Derek could only moan in response.

Slowly at first, then faster and faster, Sean was fucking Derek. Horny as they both were, it didn't take them too long to simultaneously cry out in ecstasy, as Sean pumped his seed into Derek's ass.

As they were both lying on the bed, panting and recovering, neither of them noticed at first that some subtle changes crept over their bodies. Where Sean was growing a bit bigger overall, both in height as well as in mass, Derek shrunk.

At first it seemed that he was losing stature in the same amount that Sean was gaining - however, that quickly proved not to be the case: After a few moments, Derek had lost a good 25 centimeters of height and was overall thinner and leaner than before.

Sean, on the other hand, was somewhat more muscular and had gained about 5 centimeters in height, putting him at about 1,80 meters now. His changes would have been way less noticeable had it not been for another growth: On both his chest and under his armpits, a patch of dense black and curly hair had begun to sprout.

One thing however had not changed: The size of their slowly softening dicks. However, with their new body sizes, Derek's cock looked even bigger and Sean's even smaller than before.

They were both still catching their breath when Derek was the first to notice the change.

"What the-", he exclaimed. He sat up, looking at his body.

"What is it?" asked Sean, also sitting up. "Woha. Have you shrunk?"

Derek looked at him, confused and slightly worried.

"What? No! You have gotten bigger."

Sean frowned. "Really? I feel like I have grown a bit, but I think you have become a bit smaller."

Sean stood up and gestured his boyfriend to do the same. Really, while the perspective was a bit off for Sean, it was completely different for Derek. His eye level was about at shoulder-height of Sean now and he had to look up to see his face.

"I am shorter." he remarked, dumbfounded.

Sean shook his head. "But that's impossible."

"It is." Derek confirmed. "And why the hell do you have hair under your arms, too?"

Sean shrugged, confused, but then he looked down his own body.

"It's not just there! Man, my body feels *weird*. It's like it's not even my own."

"Tell me about it", said Derek with a grimace. "I feel like a dwarf!"

"Awww." Smiled Sean. "But if it's any consolation: You are a very sexy dwarf. You have such a cute ass." As if to make a point, he slapped Derek's behind lightly.

"Yeah, well, I have noticed your newfound interest in that area." Derek commented dryly.

"Hey, it's not like you can complain!"

Sean readjusted his dick, which hadn't returned to a fully flaccid state with all the talk about asses. It was true, though: Derek was really cute that way.

Derek meanwhile slapped his forehead. "Of course. It must be that voodoo doll. Let me phone the shop!"

"You mean like real magic?" Sean said but Derek was already dialing his phone. After a few seconds, however, he hung up.

"Damn, they're closed for the day already. I'll have to try tomorrow."

"Well, I guess there are worse things than being short for a day. Hey, how about we watch a movie and eat some pizza tonight, and tomorrow, you can go to that store first thing in the morning."

Derek broke into a smile. Sean was right of course. It wasn't like anything catastrophic had happened. Still, the implications, with voodoo magic being real and all that were a lot to think about it. But that could wait until tomorrow.

"Sure! It's your birthday after all!"

They put on some clothes and went to prepare pizza together. Their body sizes were becoming pretty obvious when they settled on the couch after dinner. Of course, their usual snuggling positions didn't quite work out and they had to arrange differently. Finally, they settled with Derek's head on Sean's lap, who took quite a bit more space on the sofa now.

This position allowed Derek to notice at once when, around after half the movie, certain parts of Sean stirred under his head.

"Are you seriously getting a boner from me watching a movie?"

Sean grinned. "Sorry. You just feel so nice down there."

Derek rolled his eyes.

"You know, I can feel a boner poking against the back of my head, too."

"Hey, it's not my fault when you look so cute!" Sean smiled and stroked Derek's hair.

"Well, the voodoo lady did say that the doll was supposed to increase our sex drive. I guess that part works. We can still watch the movie if you want."

"Actually..." Sean began, and Derek could feel Sean's dick quickly getting harder. "... I have a different idea."

Sean pulled his pants down a little, just enough to free his cock.

"Would you give me a blowjob?"

"Sure." replied Derek. It had been a while since they had switched things up, so he was more than willing to go with it.

Sean shifted, giving his boyfriend better access, and Derek scooted lower. He grabbed the shaft and gave it a few tentative licks, before starting to suck in earnest.

While Derek was busy working on Sean's dick, his own was straining his pants, and he opened them to jerk off. However, after some minutes of enjoying the sensation, Sean pushed back Derek's head.

"Enough with your mouth." he said, with his voice coarse from arousal. "I want that ass."

Derek didn't object. He stood up and let his pants and underwear drop.

"Wait a second. Let me get some lube."

"No need." replied Sean and Derek could see that he was right. Sean's cock was still wet from his blowjob and from the precum that was spilling out of the tip. With one hand, he spread his ass cheeks.

"Do it. Do me."

Sean didn't have to be told twice. He stood up and, after some brief repositioning, pushed his cock into his boyfriend's waiting hole.

"Oh God! You're even tighter than before!" he moaned, as he began to push into his boyfriend.

Derek couldn't answer from the onslaught of sensation, but Sean was right. It felt like Sean's cock filled him up like never before. Derek almost came from the sensation of Sean entering him alone.

When Sean began pumping, slow at first but quickly picking up pace, Derek was lost in ecstasy. All he could feel was his boyfriends cock inside of him, filling him from behind and rocking his world. At some point, he came all over the couch, but he didn't stop, because Sean didn't stop. He jerked his own cock more and more, riding the waves of his orgasm while his boyfriend kept plowing his ass.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Sean's thrusts became faster, erratic. With one last push, he buried his cock in Derek's ass and spilled his load.

Both men saw stars after that and were busy catching their breath, when, again, a change washed over them. This time, Derek noticed as the world around him became bigger quickly.

"Wha... It's happening again!" he cried out, alerting Sean to the fact, too.

Sean watched as Derek got smaller... and *smaller*, still impaled on Sean's dick. His shrinking only stopped when he was about 50 centimeters in height, barely half a meter tall.

"Did... it stop?" Derek asked, with his voice somewhat higher and fainter than before. Sean's voice, on the other hand, sounded deeper and resonated louder when he answered:

"Seems that way. Wow, what a shock. Let's get you off of me, first."

Sean tried to lift Derek up from his lap but found himself unable to. Sean's dick was firmly lodged into Derek's ass now and no matter how hard he pulled, Derek wouldn't come off. in fact, when he felt the hairy root of his cock, he couldn't even find a gap between it and Derek's ass cheeks, so tight was the connection. It was like Derek was glued or welded to his groin.

"Oh my god." exclaimed Derek, when he noticed the same thing. "I'm stuck!"

"What should we do?" asked Sean.

"What *can* we do?" asked Derek, with clear panic in his voice.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. We're still good, right? Everyone is alive, nothing to worry about. Tomorrow, we will go to that shop and have this sorted out."

"You're right." sighed Derek, who was still trying to free himself. "It's not like I'm hurting or anything. This is just weird. And uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? What's wrong?"

"Everything." answered Derek, who had given up struggling. "The position, for starters. My feet aren't touching the ground."

"Oh." replied Sean. There was nothing else he could think of.

"It's not... *that* bad though", Derek continued. "It does kinda feel good to be this close. Like snuggling."

"Like snuggling?" asked Sean.

"Like really *close* snuggling. And you're pretty big right now, so I feel really secure."

Sean smiled, apparently having been successful in calming his boyfriend. He secretly had to admit that the situation was pretty exciting for him, but he didn't want to show it. Instead, he secured the small Derek with his arms and walked to the bathroom. It felt like carrying a small backpack in front of his body.

"Let's get cleaned up, okay?"

They did just that. Derek found that he could stabilize himself pretty well on Sean's body. And they both noticed that Sean, too had grown again. Now measuring about 1,90 meters and being covered by a considerate amount of body hair was certainly something else, but it paled in comparison to having his half-a-meter-boyfriend attached to his groin.

Not knowing what else to do afterwards, they went to bed. Sean carefully climbed on the mattress, making sure not to jostle his tiny partner too much. He positioned himself and put the blanket over him, with Derek safely secured underneath.

"Is everything okay?", Sean asked.

Derek was covered by the blanket completely but actually felt good. It was the safest feeling he had had for a very long time.

"Actually, yeah. I guess. Good night, honey."

"Good night, Derek."

After a few moments, Derek could hear Sean snoring and shortly after, he, too drifted off to sleep.

It was morning, when Derek awoke to a strange sensation. He felt really stiff, his back was straight, and he was feeling... horny. Of course, Derek had felt horny before, but this was no comparison. It was like "horny" flooded his whole system, from head to toe.

His mouth tasted like yesterday's blowjob... again. The salty taste of precum was on his tongue and his lips were tingling. He couldn't remember ever having felt that horny before, his whole body was just buzzing.

"Are you awake?" Sean's voice, deep and rumbling, startled him.

"Huh?", was his only reaction.

"Are you awake?" repeated Sean. "I'm horny as fuck."

"Uh, me, too." answered Derek, slowly regaining control of his voice. "Do you wanna..."

"Yes. Oh yes. Perhaps if I push you up and down my cock, we can..."

"Worth a shot." Derek confirmed.

Sean did just that. He gripped Derek under his shoulders, making sure that his small hands were not crushed, and slowly began lifting him. As before, Derek's ass was still firmly attached to Sean's groin, but the tugging sensation was enough for both of them to produce a deep and needy moan.

However, as Sean pushed Derek back and began to pull again, Derek interrupted:

"Wait! What if... we change more?"

Even though it took a considerable amount of will from Sean, he stopped for a moment. Derek was right, he knew that. But the urge was just too strong.

"Yes..." he half-moaned. "...but I need this."

"Sean, what..." Derek began, but Sean had started to tug Derek's smaller body again, and the rest of his sentence was swallowed by a needy moan from Derek as well. Fuck it, how much worse could it get?

As Sean moved his hands up and down Derek's body, he could feel more changes setting in sooner. The taste of precum in his mouth intensified and Derek found himself drooling up liquid that tasted like it as well. It ran down his body, which was, again, changing.

Derek's arms and legs shrunk into his body fast, faster even than the rest of his body, which was also getting smaller again. It was mainly frustrating for Derek since he couldn't reach his cock anymore, as his extremities got absorbed into his more and more cylindrical body.

Sean's movements changed once Derek's arms were out of the way. No longer was he tugging the much, much smaller man up and down, but instead he closed both of his arms around Derek's torso and started *rubbing* them up and down.

The feeling was incredible. Derek found himself drooling more and more, coating his whole smaller body with precum. As Sean pumped his hands up and down Derek's body, wet sounds emerged, just as if he was pumping a well-lubed cock.

The motions quickly became quicker and quicker, Sean's breathing heavier and heavier. Derek's breathing however stopped entirely, as his inner organs changed into the only thing that was important: the various veins and glands that made up a cock. His own cock and balls disappeared into his body as well - not that he needed them anymore. He didn't need a cock, he was *becoming* a cock. A large and hefty tube of flesh, firmly attached to manly Sean, who was grunting now, close to release.

Derek could feel a pressure starting deep within him, and, as his head changed into Sean's cock head, he *exploded* with his cum, spewing it from the slit that had been his mouth just a few minutes before to everywhere in the room.

***

Of course, the voodoo shop was nowhere to be found - or so Sean claimed. Derek had remained somewhat sentient, but unable to express himself other than through twitching and getting stiff. Sean was a man who had a cock with a mind of his own - literally. The new and enormous cock meat he called his own now was quickly becoming the center of his world. Not only had his cock a mind of his own, Sean was also more and more thinking with his cock. He was positively addicted to getting off and his libido surpassed that of the two men become one.

It didn't take long until Sean lost his job due to the fact that he just couldn't stop masturbating long enough to squeeze in eight hours of work. His environment degraded around him into a cheap and dirty flat. But all of that was hardly important. Sean was a stud of a man with a cock to match. And he knew how to use his equipment all too well. He was quickly getting known as the insatiable top, who sometimes brought home two or three guys at the same time. When he was not busy breeding some bottom, he mainly spent his time watching porn or idly playing with himself. One thing was certain: Derek had certainly got a lot of action for his money.

Time for a good old cock tf! This one is a bit more involuntary and a bit more focused on the actual transformation than my series Closer Than Flesh, which focused more on the story of *being* cockmeat. I'm sure I wouldn't mind either way!

Do you have any transformation you would want to see written? Don't hesitate to message me!

[nieceeee]

"VIDEO PHONE"

P/S: Gojo was more reserved about his personal life than most people. From the outside he was a standup guy. Mostly quiet to those who didn't know him. He kept his head low, his grades high, and his mouth closed. But Gojo had a very nasty secret. Because deep in his mansion, with his doors bolted shut Gojo has an obsession. One that just happens to be the melanated girl that sits in front of him in class. He never spoke to you in public but the thoughts he had about you in private would make a porn star blush. But Gojo failed to realize one little thing. You knew exactly who your favorite streamer was, it was only a matter of time until you addressed him about it...

WC: 2.7K

A/N: SMUT MINORS DNI, nerd gojo x camgirl reader, use of pet names, p in v, black coded, semi-stalker gojo (he lurks her camgirl page basically) video sex, masturbation, they're in grad school. all dat yadayada

Satoru Gojo was a paradox. 

Two sides of the same coin. A mirror some may say. 

To the outside world he was Satoru Gojo. Head of the Gojo clan. A man of restraint and a decorum. The picture perfect reputation in every category - grades, looks, social status. Nothing seemed to phase him and nothing could break him. His quiet yet nerdy exterior of silence seemingly impenetrable. Professors adored him, women coveted him, men loathed him. But nothing. Nothing could break him. 

If they only knew.

The deep dark secret that Gojo kept well hidden. One that was exposed only to the privacy of the four walls of his bedroom in his mansion. A secret so dark and twisted, it kept him awake at night. Heart racing with anticipation, mind drowning in lust, body littered in sin. And it was all centered around you. 

You.

The girl that drove his obsessions. His cute classmate who sat a row in front of him. Always dressed in the cutest outfits with your bold hair and pink outfits. Shirts always a little too short, exposing the skin of your lower back when you sat up in your seat. Gojo never spoke to you but that didn't mean he didn't think of you.

Oh how he thought of you.

Gojo hid it well. The way you tortured him. Masked underneath an ever-so-calm facade. Gojo couldn’t help himself. The more he watched you, the more obsessed his thoughts became. He had this thing. Not a kink, but just a…thing when it came to a specific type of woman. A woman who appeared so innocent but her power and confidence radiated through her skin. A woman who was assertive, oozing dominance yet still subtly submissive. A woman like you. 

You would be his undoing, the very thing to unravel his perfectly sculpted figure. 

It started off so innocent. He walked into class and noticed you sitting there. Hair freshly braided and tossed to one side, a headphone in one ear and a school girl skirt that cut a centimeter too high. He watched you focus, always sharp, always confident. A boisterous laugh and infectious smile. The first time you spoke to him was when you were passing back a paper. Your freshly manicured nails slipped him his test. “Great job” you whispered as you held it out for him to take. You voice flowing through his eardrums smooth as molasses, sending a warm coating down him body. You were a breath of fresh air. A sweet song serenading him and he wanted to get lost in you. He was so wrapped up in your eyes that he completely missed what you had said. You tilt your head a bit in confusion. “Gojo?” you say. How he wished he could hear you say his name again. “Y-yeah.” he stammers. “Your paper?” you say motioning down to your hand. “Oh! I-I…sorry.” he quickly pulls the paper from you, catching it on your finger and slicing into your skin. “Shit.” you say softly pulling your hand back. “I..I’m sorry.” he repeats lifting his bag and digging through it for his first aid kit. He pops open the plastic container and hands you a bandaid. “S-sorry.” he drops his head. You open your mouth to speak but the bell rings and he darts from his seat before you get the chance. 

The next day was nerve wrecking, how could he face you. His steps were heavy as made his way into class that day. You were already seated. You looked up to acknowledge him but he averted your gaze, still embarrassed from the day before. “Hey you.” a voice says to him during a class breakout session. His eyes widen. “I’m really sorry about yesterday.” he blurts out. You giggle at him. “Gojo. It's fine. It was just a little paper cut. See.” you hold up your hand and press your lips against your finger. “All better. Kissed it better.” You smile as you turn back around. 

Heat flushed across Gojo’s face as his mind dove into that deep dark tunnel that he tries so hard to keep hidden. Your lips. A simple gesture but the way his mind warped reality into seeing them wrapped around the head of his dick make his face burn red. 

This was all his fault. 

She has no clue he groans to himself. 

That image burned into his mind as he went throughout the day, quickly racing home to his room. Bolting himself inside. He tossed his bookbag into the abyss and rushed to his laptop. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” he groans. He types as fast as his fingers would allow, loading up his private browser. 

Those lips.

He pulled up your page. hi$f@vebunniii_ Images loaded and it took everything in him not to release right there. Your image flooded his screen. Photos. Videos. All of you. His obsession. His muse. He clicked your most recent upload. Lips pursed and pressed against the bandaid from yesterday, Rihanna: Kiss It Better playing in the background, caption reading “Got a little scratch today, who wants to kiss it better for me?” Another groan left his lips.

That was his bandaid. 

Sick, twisted and lustful, his hand slips into his pants, gently stroking himself to your photo. His eyes flutter shut and he hears your voice again. “A-aah…” he whimpers as he strokes himself faster. Bright white lights blind his vision at the images of you before his release oozes from his tip. “Oh fuck y/n” he cries out. His head falls back, chest heaving. You had no clue what you had started. 

And that was just the beginning.

Before long. Gojo was scouring the web for your content. Photos. Videos. Live chats. Anything he could find to see you. He nights obsessing over you, fucking his hand into overstimulation at the thought of you. 

It was wrong. You were his peer. His classmate. You sat right in front of him. 

But he couldn’t stop. 

Behind his hidden page, he subbed to you. Your highest donor and most frequent viewer.

The woman who lit his fantasies was his sweet classmate who knew nothing of his perverse thoughts about her. 

So he thought…

But you. The smart girl that you are. You figured it out a long time ago. It started with the frequency of his appearance in your streams. The cryptic 6ix_blue!3y3s user who would watch your stream from beginning to end. Always quiet in chats but never one to shy away from donations. 

He was obvious. 

The cute white haired boy in your class who threw subtle glances at you throughout the lectures. Whose eyes lingered longer than they should at your low cut tops and too high skirt. Who could never fully face your right after a stream, head always held down. And when you did get his attention. Oh, the way he turned red at your interactions. It didn't take long for you to put two and two together. Anyone else may not have caught on so easily.

But you? You knew.

You knew how to read people. You’d watched him intensely. You weren't blind. You weren't naive. The way he looked at you was familiar. A hunger he tried to bury deep within himself but one gentle touch and his chest began to rise and fall at a rapid pace. He wasn’t alone in his feelings. The way he looked at you sent something electric through your veins, a type of heat that you couldn’t ignore. The same heat you’d been chasing every time he joined your stream late at night. The one where Gojo Satoru, would send donations but never message in the chat—always lurking, always watching.

You knew who exactly who he was. You knew it was him. He never gave it away on stream, but the way he would try to hide his identity with those random, cryptic responses when you did get him to speak made it clear. That was the reason for the bandaid photo. A little experiment of yours to see if he would crumble. And that he did. Eyes darting away from you every chance he could, unable to speak, nervous glances in your direction. Yeah, you knew. The notorious Gojo Satoru, with his perfect grades, his “innocent” charm, and the eyes that followed you like a shadow.

And yet, here he was, still pretending to be just another sweet face in the classroom. Still pretending that you didn’t know what his secret was. That you didn’t know what kind of fantasies he had when he was alone, tucked away in the darkness of his mansion.

But it was about time you brought the dark to the light

That night you set up the stream, an energy bubbled beneath your skin. You checked yourself over again. Braids pulled into pigtails, light blue cotton crop top just barely covering your chest, skimpy white silk bottoms and knee high socks. You pulled your knee to your chest and the screen went live. He was one of the first to appear. You held in the smile playing at your lips. 

It was time to confront him, to rid yourself of the tension that had been building for weeks between your two. You wanted to see how far you could push him. 

You converse in the chat here and there. Speaking to everyone. He popped in every now and again. Then you put your plan in motion. 

“Oh guys I didn't get to tell you about my cute classmate today.” you say setting the bait. On the other side of the world on another screen, Gojo was walking back into his room, snacks in hand, your stream pulled up. He almost dropped everything when the words cute classmate came out your mouth. He rushed back over to his screen nearly tripping in the process. 

“...He’s so fucking cute. I just want to eat him up. Ah, gojo.. The things you make me feel.” you voice says through the laptop and his heart feels like it will burst from his chest. “Me?” he says aloud to no one. You go on raving about him. 

“Oh and I can only imagine how big it is. You know they say the quiet nerdy boys are usually the freakiest” you say directly into the camera. He couldn't believe it. There was no way you were talking about him. It wasn't possible. But here you were going on and on. You knew he was there on the other side, he had stopped messaging in the chat. Maybe too stunned to speak. You smirk to yourself. “Tonight, I’m dedicating this stream to my sexy ass classmate Gojo Satoru.” you say. “Oh fuck…” he whimpers. You slide back from your seat and reposition your camera. “Let’s see how pretty and wet Gojo makes her tonight, hmm?” you say as you undress. Gojo’s mouth drops open.

You take your time undressing yourself before walking over and sitting on your bed, breast poked out and legs spread, clad in only your thin lace panties. You hand slips down your body and onto your clit, circling slowly. Gojo’s eyes were glued to his laptop as the circular motion mesmerized him. You pull a small vibrator out from behind you and switch it on. The buzzing sound rings in his ears.  The vibrations provided automatic stimulation as it rustled against your panties. A small cry of pleasure slipped from your lips as your head tilted back. “Shit.” he gasped, his hands quickly making work of removing his pants. He lubes himself up and starts to stroke his dick, his eyes still glued to where the vibrator met your panties. 

You used the tip of the vibrator to slide the fabric to the side, exposing yourself to the cool air. “Fuck Gojo.” you groan aloud into the camera. He whimpers, goosebumps trailing his skin. His eyes stayed laser focused on you. “Doesn’t she look pretty?” you whine. He nods into nothingness in his room between strokes. “So pretty” he responds knowing you can’t hear him. 

You quickly sit up and remove the panties. “Now let’s have some real fun.” You increase the speed on the vibrator before spitting on it to get it wet. Gojo moans aloud as he watches you take the vibrating silicone and slip it inside your tight walls, already clenching around it. The squelching from your juices filling the air and ringing in his ears as you pump it in and out of your walls. Gojo matches your speed, tugging at himself as his breath gets choppier. Both rooms echoing with your arousals as you purr his name and he moans yours. Each of you living out your own fantasy. 

You feel your climax nearing so you increase the speed, adding pressure to your clit with your other hand. “Fuck Toru, I’m gong to cum.” you whine, back arching from the bed. “Please. Please.” he whines aloud, hoping none of his servants were walking his quarters. Your orgasm crashed into you like a wave as you ride it out. 

“Shit…m’fuck.” Gojo whines as he shoots his release out, splashing all over his lap, cum hitting his screen.

You take a few moments to collect yourself before gently cleaning up. “Well, I hope you all had as much fun as I did.” you say with a smile. Your chat floods with thank yous and responses until one by one they leave, leaving just you and Gojo. He, on the other side, trying to clean up the mess he made. “And Gojo, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in class.” you say before signing off. His eyes widen at your message but the stream has ended before he can chat back.

“Oh shit.” he lets out. 

You knew. 

The next day, you sat in your chair patiently waiting for him to enter the classroom. As soon as he stepped through the door, his eyes were on you. That familiar red hue brushes across his face as he approaches you. “Good morning Toru.” you say sweetly. He tries to suppress it but a little groan slips from his chest. You press your lips together to keep from smiling. Throughout class he tries his best to focus on anything but you. But each time he looked at you, flashes from the night before play in his mind and he feels his dick hardening underneath his desk. 

When the bell rings you pack up and head out of class. He opens his mouth to speak but you’re up before he gets a chance. After a quick beat, he stuffs everything in his bag and runs after you. “W-wait..” he calls down the hall. Passerby eyes raise at his actions. The notorious Satoru Gojo, coming undone. 

He catches up with you quickly, chest rising and falling. “Yes, Gojo?” you say innocently. “I-...uh, I, fuck..”  He expresses. You step closer pressing your chest into his, looking up into his eyes, “Yes. Toru.” you say softly. “You…uh.. I’m..” he tries to find the words to say it. How can he? The kogs in his mind spin as he tries to find a respectful way to say what you already knew. You motion for him to come closer. He leans down as you cup a hand around his ear and whisper, “Did you enjoy your stream Toru?” He gasps, hands instinctively coming up and gripping your waist. 

His jaw clenches as he tries to collect himself. You meet his gaze again. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” he says breathlessly. Your heart raced as you respond, knowing full well what you were doing to him. "You think I don’t know?" You leaned closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting your eyes pierce into his blue ones. "I’ve been watching you just as closely as you’ve been watching me." you say softly. 

His eyes widen at your confession. “The question is… are you going to keep watching or are you ready to play?” you challenge. His adam’s apple throbs as he swallows, processing your words slowly. 

“I..” he takes his time. You wait patiently. Arms wrapped around him still. He takes a deep breath before pulling your body flush to him.

“Let’s play.”

[ghostbustting]

hihi, i love your writings! can i get a 80 slash fic where it's around halloween time and the reader was force to attend a party with her friends. Slash notices reader and how hot her costume is. ( a bit modest version of the playboy bunny outfit ) Slash is cocky but the reader doesn't know who the hell he is but after a few drinks...they are upstairs doing the devils tango. 😈

Idk why this took me so long yet so effortless, but october seems to be the perfect month to post it 🙌

♯ ; “𝑩𝑬𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑼𝑵𝑵𝒀„ ༘⋆

Saul "Slash” Hudson x Fem!Reader.

Contains SMUT ; p in v, squirting, dirty talk (?),

oral (f receiving).

The smell of booze and sweats fill my senses, I guess you can already imagine how terrible it is. I can't even remember when did I ever agree to step a single toe into this god awfully packed Halloween party? At this point, I'd rather go trick or treat instead around the neighborhood and receive some sweets by the end of the night.

The whole night I made it my quest to try and stick close to my friends, following them, a similar sight to how dogs would follow their owners around. It was never my desire to attend this party anyways, wasn't quite of a party person at the first place, let alone a Halloween party where I have to dress up in costumes and shit. Yet my friends were quite hard to resist, forcing me to come with them to this party.

So here I am, standing at the corner of this unknown loaded house in my terrible attempt of a Playboy Bunny costume, buying my costume from the nearest store available just a day before the party, despite the cheap fabric making it look like I only put on a black swimsuit and a bunny ears bandana. It was quite revealing, I could feel eyes on me as I walk around, but who the fuck cares?

My friends were long gone from my sight, last thing I seen from them was when they were dirty dancing around some dudes. Unfortunately, I was no fan of that activity, leaving me to just stand in the corner of the party like an absolute outcast. I didn't mind. I had my cup of drink and that was enough to keep me occupied till my friends are ready to take me back home.

News flash, they never did take me home.

In fact, I have completely lose sights of every single one of them. Those little fuckers dragged me here and literally left me to rot between all of these party animals when I could've had a movie night back in my place. What a waste of a Halloween night. Isn't it?

I crush up the empty red plastic cup in my grasp and swiftly threw it away into the trash can, which everyone seems to be oblivious of, judging from all the empty plastic cups laying around on the floor, ready to cause someone to trip and fall.

However, the still fueled up plastic cups set on the table have managed to catch my attention yet again as I find myself making my way back to that table and seeking another cup of drink, which makes this my... third drink..?

My mind shrugs off the forgotten count of drinks as I spot one particular cup with more liquid filled inside besides the other cups. A grin on my lips, my arm stretches and my hand reached out for the cup.

Only to be met by another hand.

A big calloused hand that belonged to a man I couldn't place who or where I would recognize him from.

My eyes trailed from his hand that was lightly touching my own, up to his face, which was mostly covered by those voluminous curls of his hair, a hat sitting perfectly still on top of those curls. Behind those curls, were eyes that peeks through his own strands of hair with a gaze that met mine almost instantly. Almost as if he was inspecting me just like the way I seem like I was inspecting him.

"This cup's taken, sweetheart." He spoke to me, his voice causing a rather odd and unfamiliar tingling feeling in my stomach.

Only then did I realize how warm the feeling of his skin was against my cold one, his voice able to mute out the loud rock music that has been blaring through the speakers all evening as he say, “Or should I say.. Bunny.” This time, he ends his words with a chuckle, eyes trailing up and down my costume.

I raise my eyebrow at him and reluctantly let go of the cup from my hand, “Whatever.” I muttered before taking a different cup displayed on the table, yet somehow still feeling the gaze of those eyes that belonged to him on the side of my head, gaze so strong that he was practically burning a hole right through me. Just as I turn to him again with a sip of the drink, it was proven that he was indeed still gazing over me.

A sigh left my lips from the liquid that cleared my throat, my hip carefully leaning against the table while I listen as words seem to leave him yet again, “No company, Miss Bunny?” He ask, his hand reaching up to deliver the cup to his lip, I watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallow the liquid.

”My friends are here, but they… well, they found other companies.” I shrugged.

I hear him click his tongue and shake his head, “And let you isolate yourself over there in the corner? Sounds like a bunch of fakers to me.” He scoffed, a small smirk playing devilishly on those lips he owned on his face.

”No, no..” I shake my head with a small chuckle, “I didn’t want to attend this party at first anyways, so—”

”Well, why the fucking hell not?!” He threw his arms up, the liquid spilling from his red cup just a little, “With a costume as sexy as this, I surely thought you’d be much more of a party animal.” WIth each words he spoke, I can feel more and more the way his gaze seems to caress the skin of my body up and down. It was rather odd… it made me feel a certain feeling in my heart that made it beat faster, my thighs clenching just a little. Or was it just the effect of the drink? I couldn’t even figure it out before he spoke yet again.

A step was taken from his shoe, his body moving closer to my own, “How ‘bout I show you the real fun of the party? Some talking, dancing, more drinking maybe?” The mysterious man suggested, that same smirk on his face, “I’ll keep it appropriate. I promise, Miss Bunny.” He spoke almost in a teasing way that I was quite confident this night wouldn’t end up in such an appropriate ending anyways.

”Fine then, rockstar looking guy.”

The moment I let my decission slip out, the moment names were shared, and the moment my third drink became my fifth, time seems to fly in a way that is quicker than ever. Each joy of a party that the guy— Slash showed me became a comfort I found building up in me around him. My still somewhat sober part of a brain tried desperately to comprehend whether this feeling is caused by the alcohol in my system or just purely by the fact this man is so mesmerizing. Perhaps even both of those.

The more information I learn about him, the more I feel a magnetic sort of pull towards him, I just hope my pupils aren’t heart-shaped at this very moment. As time passes by, it feels as if I’ve known him for decades and decades already, in knowledge of small details of his very own life. HIs famous band, Guns ‘N Roses, his love for snakes, his guitar skills.. Can he be any more interesting?

Touches were shared here and there, especially when we joined the people dancing around to the music. His large warm palm on my waist was a touch that have been spiritually tattoed onto my skin, a touch to think back every now and then about the strange and mysterious— yet charming stranger I met at the Halloween party.

I mean, honestly, I didn’t know how it all ended up this way.

However, my half sober guess was a 100% correct guess as the first moment we were just dancing and drinking innocently, the second moment we were in some random bedroom, the third moment.. I'm on top of his body, stradling his naked lap as I bounce up and down his large cock, moans pulled out of my lips like a dirty prayer. His hands were yet again placed on both of my waist as he help me bounce up and down, the tip of his cock that was already slick from my saliva moving smoothly in and out of my hole.

”Oh god, yes!”

I gasped, my head thrown back as dirty moans cannot stop pouring from my lips which were smiling widely from ecstasy. Looking down, my eyes lands on the ripped stockings I wore and the way his cock slipped in and out of my dripping cunt, not to mention the way one of his hands have moved to use his thumb on my clit, rubbing harsh circles.

The bastard was smirking back up at me, small grunts leaving his lips as he buck his hips up to me every here and there, “Shit— How are you so fucking tight?” He chuckled breathlessly through his grunts, the circles he rubbed over my clit became more urgent while his hold on my waist tightens to the point it might leave a mark.

My mind was clouded, I couldn't think of another thing other than how good his cock filled me up, fitting just perfectly inside of me as if his cock was made specially for my cunt.

Eventually, my body fell ontop of him as my body became weak, limp with his cock still burried deep inside of me. Slash didn't let that stop his fun though as he suddenly flipped our position, positioning me on my stomach on the bed while he took his position behind me, hand on my hip and the other on his member.

"Gonna fuck this pussy so hard.." He grunted as he finally pushed his head through my folds, pushing a lewd moan out of my throat, "You like that, mm? Such a good bunny, aren't you?" He laughed, his hand coming down to smack across my ass.

The sting that lingered on from his palm caused me to gasp loudly, eyes rolled to the back of my head till they were shut tight with my face pressed into the pillow, "Fuck! Please.." I cried out as he thrusted in and out of me with a pace of no mercy, no resistance, hips snapping back and forth as sounds of skins slapping fills the room.

His arms slowly trail to wrap around my stomach, as if they were snakes lurking around me and ready to feast on me. I feel him placing his weight on me, chest on my back while he press his lips onto my ear, "Gonna fuck you dumb. Now you can be a real fucking rabbit."

Those were the last things I managed to hear before I feel him thrusting in and out of me again. Hard. And fast. I could hardly utter out a letter as my words were taken away by each pump. He was fucking me like rabbits would, humping like rabbits do. It was rough. It was dirty. And I loved every single second of it.

I can feel the veiny skin of his cock dragged in and out of my walls, the tip hitting every single spot that made the pressure bunch up even more in my stomach which only increased when he tightened his arms around it. Nasty moans left my lips, so loud that it eventually turned to lewd screams, eyes rolled to the back of my head.

"S-shit!" I gasped, "More, more.." My words came out in a desperate pant of lust, my ass trying to grind back against him.

Yet another breathless laugh escaped him, "Dirty slut.." He spat, one of his hands trailing up to slip two digits of his fingers past my lips, to which I instantly sucked on like— as he worded, an asbolute dirty slut. Humming around his digit and swirling my tongue around them, I feel him twitching right inside me.

Yet somehow, he never ever changed his pace, staying determined on that rough and deadly pace that made me feel like I'm on cloud nine.

I pull my face away from his fingers as I gasped out, "Close.. I'm so close.." My hand flew to his arm as I hold it tightly, needing something to hold on before I could pass out right on his devil of a cock. "Please.. finish me.." As much as I hate hearing myself and admitting it, I sounded the whiniest I've ever been, underneath him, begging him to give me the best orgasm I ever had.

"You're fucking crazy if you think I wouldn't.." He grunted, fingers digging into the soft skin of my waist as he finally starts slowing his pace, obviously just as close as I was, at the same time he reached down to my sensitive clit, rubbing those same harsh circles he did earlier.

It didn't take long enough before I let out the loudest moan I did tonight right as the fluids of my cum came squirting out of my cunt, "Oh fuck! Fuck!" I gasped, never once experiencing an orgasm like this. Eventually, I feel his own thick cream filling me up till I'm full of him, his voice groaning right in my eyes, something I wish I could listen to every sinful night I went through.

As soon as we finished, Slash pulled out of me and pulled my hips up so my ass was in the air. Being in my fucked up stance, I didn't know what was going to happen till I feel his warm tongue lapping our mixed cum that was oozing out of my folds, eating it out like he was starving man.

My throat was way too tired to even be loud anymore, only letting out a quiet and strangled moan as he finished, hopping onto the spot on the bed right next to me, a wide devilish smirk already on his glistening lips that was soon attatched to mine, my tongue tasting both of us with a grin building in my own face.

I feel him reach for my bunny ears and took it off me. Only when we pull apart that I noticed he have put the bunny ears on himself and place his own hat on my head.

"You look stupid."

He laughed at my statement while one of his thumbs ran over my ruined and smudged make up. "You still look sexy, bunny."

Well damn it, I guess I love Halloween.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Three

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu@v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags may not have worked, I'm sorry if so.)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: none for now

Previous Chapter: Chapter Two

Next Chapter: Chapter Four

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: I worry that maybe these birds don’t fit their counterparts well, since no one correctly guessed them all ;-; I made Riddle a flamingo only because of the Queen of Hearts’ flamingos, and I thought he’d like to be one, if he had to choose LOL

Note 3: You have probably already guessed that the heart system means how quickly they’re becoming yandere. Please keep in mind some with gain hearts faster or slower than the others.

—----------------------------------

Today would be a more relaxed day, as you only had one exhibit to visit. The birds were all separated by wire fences, but they were all part of one big aviary. Tomorrow, you’d be working with the three remaining exhibits all at once, so you were glad to have this day of respite.

The bird keeper was a kind older lady. She gave you a bunch of salads, with notes as to which one belonged to which bird. The salads with shrimp were obviously for the flamingos, but the other salads were a bit harder to remember.

You walked into the aviary, a large plastic container with the separate salads under your arm. The birds were all wide awake, with the exception of the owl, whose green hair was just barely visible from where he had covered his head with one of his wings to sleep.

“Hey! I want to eat first!” A voice cried out to you, “Hey, lady with the food, over here!”

You were surprised to hear such fluent English from a halfling, but when you turned your head to the source of the calls, you immediately understood.

Parrot halflings caught onto human languages quickly. That didn’t necessarily make them smarter than other halflings, it was simply something they were naturally good at. This parrot halfling had mostly-orange wings to match his hair, although the tips of his wings tapered off to yellow and then a vibrant blue. 

The parrot gazed at you curiously for a moment, before his expression became more mischievous, “Guten morgen? Ohayo? Buen día? Zǎoshang hǎo? Dobroye utro?”

“Good morning to you too, show off,” you laughed, walking up to him, “I assume you’re the salad with sunflower seeds?”

He grinned, “That’s me! I’m starving!”

You felt like you were talking with a human, and that fact made you feel a little sick inside. Should an animal with the ability to converse so normally really be confined to a wire cage?

You rummaged through the plastic container, looking for the salad with seeds. The parrot halfling spread his beautiful wings and flew onto a perch closer to you, his talons curling around the wood as he impatiently waited for his meal.

Finally, you found the correct salad and handed it over to him. His eyes lit up and he snatched it from you.

“Thanks!” He said with a grin. Before you could ask him his name, he spread his wings and flew into an enormous birdhouse to eat there. A little disappointed that you couldn’t have a conversation with him, you turned to the raven in the cage next to him.

“Hello! I brought you a salad!” You called out to the raven halfling. He walked over to the edge of the exhibit and tilted his head, looking you over curiously. 

You found his salad fairly quickly, as it was accented with bright red apple slices. The raven drew closer and you admired how his feathers and matching hair color were not black, but a dark blue that seemed to shine in the early sunlight. 

“What’s your name?” You asked as he took the salad from you.

He grabbed the salad and held it close to him, as though someone may steal it. It took him a few moments to process your question before he answered, “Deuce.”

You knew that ravens were normally very intelligent animals. But with the way Deuce took so long to answer and the way he struggled with the plastic packaging, you had a feeling that the same could not be said for the halflings.

Deuce struggled with the packaging a little while more before he handed it back to you and, with a blush settling on his cheeks, muttered a small, “Help.”

You opened it for him with a smile, “No need to be embarrassed, Deuce, it can be tricky to open sometimes.”

He nodded, but you weren’t sure he actually understood you. Either way, he seemed happy enough to have his salad open for him. Similar to the parrot halfling, he retreated to his birdhouse to eat his meal.

You decided to try giving the owl his meal next, although you weren’t sure you would be able to wake him. You would feel bad if you disturbed his rest.

However, you had no need to worry, because the owl halfling was awake and alert when you approached his cage. You rummaged through the salads for the one with grilled chicken chunks in it and found it quickly. The other salads had either shrimp or were plain, saved specifically for the flamingos and peacocks respectively.

You handed over the chicken salad and the owl halfling smiled politely at you, giving you a gentle, “Thank you.” 

Unlike the parrot and raven halflings, he did not open his salad and dig in, but instead put it aside for later. Upon noticing your confused look, he explained, “I’m saving it for nighttime.”

You nodded but secretly wondered why they wouldn’t just feed him at night only. After all, that’s the time owls hunt. But you supposed it made it easier to just feed everyone at the same time instead of making any exceptions. 

Pretty lazy, in your opinion.

Next was the flamingos, and you approached their enclosure in awe. Their feathers were a soft, beautiful pink and, instead of the talons you were used to seeing on bird halflings, they had bare feet much like a human’s, just with webbing between the toes. 

“Shrimp salads, anyone?” You jokingly asked the two flamingos.

One of them, the one with light orange hair, flew over with such excitement that you took a step back, “You’re new!”

“Yes, I’m filling in for the morning meal today!” You said cheerfully.

“How exciting!” The flaming gasped, “That’s exciting, isn’t it, Riddle?”

The other flamingo, a more serious-looking man with red hair, cautiously watched you. He did not respond to the more enthusiastic flamingo.

“Let me just…” the orange-haired flamingo took a salad from you, opened the container, and began methodically arranging the shrimp and lettuce until it looked like it was something out of Chef Ramsey’s kitchen, “Perfect! Hashtag delicious!”

You stared at him, wondering where he’d learned to talk like a teenage girl. Riddle, annoyed by his fellow flamingo’s behavior, snapped at him, “You don’t have a phone. Stop with that ‘hashtag’ nonsense.”

You were shocked to hear a halfling besides a parrot speak so fluently, not to mention so prim and proper sounding. Handing over a salad to Riddle, you asked the other flamingo, “What’s your name?”

“Cater!” He said with a proud smile, as though his name was an accomplishment. You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics, which seemed to deepen Riddle’s frown.

“I have to give the peacocks their salads now,” you told Cater. 

“Bye-bye!” Cater said cheerfully, waving as you walked away.

The peacock enclosure was certainly something to behold. It had a huge fountain and ornate fencing. You tried to wave the three peacocks over, but they refused to come to you. Remembering what Mr. Crowley had said about them being a little cocky, you sighed and opened the gate.

You carried the large plastic container over to them and, with a smile, you held out a salad to the closest one. The tall flamingo gave you a disdainful look, but took the salad all the same. The one with a bowl cut took his with a closed-eyed smile, “Merci, mademoiselle.”

French? You wondered where he had learned French and if he spoke any English. Moving on from that thought, you handed the last salad over to a slightly timid-looking, small and adorable lilac-haired peacock.

All of the peacocks had beautiful white feathers in a fan shape protruding from their backs. You couldn’t help but admire them, despite the way they didn’t seem all too interested in you.

“What are your names?” You asked.

The one with blond-to-lilac hair turned his back on you and walked away with his salad. The one with completely lilac hair merely offered you an “Epel” before following after him.

The one with a bowl cut placed a hand on his chest and, with a large smile, introduced himself, “I am Rook,” He pointed at the retreating back of the first peacock and said, “Vil”.

“Vil is his name?” You clarified. Rook nodded in response. You wondered if he knew more French than English.

Either way, you were done feeding them for the day, so it was on to studying them.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Hi my lovebug for the kink requests can I please request; Billy Russo - Naked woman, clothed man & size kink? I have no other plot requests 💕 thank you so much!

Thank you so much for requesting! I rewrote this three times, I don't think it's any good but I hope you like it.

Masterlist

No pressure tags @danzer8705 @tortilla-chips-and-allioli

Climbing on the Cabinets

Contains: Size kink, naked woman clothes man, fingering, oral sex (m receiving) P in V, mild fluff.

1.3K words

Billy doesn't bother changing before he returns home from work, and it makes for a wonderful afternoon.

Billy had this horrible habit of forgetting that you couldn't reach the cupboards that he could, sure nothing you really needed or used every day was out of reach, but God forbid you needed something you used once in a blue moon. Today, it was the fancy rolling pin with plastic rings around the edge, and your inability to reach it meant your plans for pie were slowly falling apart.

"Need a hand?"

You flinched, and Billy chuckled. "How are you so fuck quiet?"

He shrugged and walked behind you, stretching his hand and picking up the rolling pin before placing it on the bench. When you spun to admonish him, you were greeted by the sight of his battle fatigues, his sidearm strapped to his thigh and all. "Did you come straight from an op?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I didn't feel like going back to Anvil." That wasn't like him, he always came home back in his suit or his simple PT gear unless something went wrong, but he was far too relaxed for that. "What?"

You shrugged. "I don't know.." You didn't know what words to use, he was a lot of take in, between the dark colours, all the weapons and his imposing height, it was hard to think. "Your outfit is a lot."

The bastard grinned in response. "Yeah, you like it?"

You blinked, he was an imposing man at the best of times, but dressed like this, he was downright intimidating. "If you were on my security detail, I wouldn't be scared of the bad guys."

He looked down at you quizzically. "That was a very diplomatic answer."

You nodded. "Yes, if I say I like it I'm worried your head might get so big it will explode."

Ever the charmer, he didn't let that get to him. "I wake up to you every morning gorgeous, ain't nothing more of an ago boost than that."

He wrapped his hand around your upper arm and yank you to him, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger before leaning down to kiss you. His hands moved to push your dress off your shoulders, and he smiled against your lips before pulling back to take in your bare skin. "I fucking love these fucking sundresses you wear."

The dress was stripped off and left in a heap on the floor as he led you towards the couch, his hand in yours and a smirk on his face. He sat down and pulled you with him, running his hands up and down your thighs as you settled on his lap. His deft fingers unhook your bra, and then his large hands were grabbing your breast as he groaned. "I fucking love you."

His lips sealed around a nipple, and you gasped out a reply. "Are you saying that to me or my boobs?"

"Both." You wove your hands into his perfectly quaffed hair, and he sighed as you scratched his scalp. He tapped your thigh, wordlessly asking you to pop up so he could slide your panties down your legs. He looked you up and down, his face filling with lust as he slid his hand from your waist to your mouth. He rubbed his thumb on your lower lip, and his eye twinkled. "Suck."

You took his thumb into your mouth, and you felt him harden under you as you locked eyes with him. He popped his thumb from your mouth and slid his hand down your body, smirking when your eyes fluttered close as he made contact with your clit. The fabric of his pants was rough against your skin, and you could feel the indents one of his many holsters was leaving on the back of your thigh. He leaned in close, his lips finding your neck as he worked you towards the peak. Two long fingers circled your entrance before sliding inside you, and his teeth worried at your neck while your hips started to rock against his hand.

You swore you could feel the ridge callous on his trigger finger as he massaged your G-spot, but before you could fall into ecstasy, he yanked his hand away and sucked his fingers into his mouth with a smirk. "I want you to suck my cock." You scrambled to get on your knees as he stretched his long arms out to lay them on the back of the couch, looking down at you like a king on a throne. You rushed to get him out of his pants, slowing at the mess of straps and loops and closures that made up the fabric on his lower body.

He grinned and dropped his hand down to help you, placing it right back over the couch as you pulled him free. His head fell backwards onto the cushions as you took him into your mouth and grunted out your name as you lowered your head further down him. You could feel his gaze on you, and you looked up at him through your lashes as you pulled away. "Are you going to stare at me or are you going to fuck me?"

He pulled you up by your upper arms, and with a large step and a smooth, fast movement reminiscent of the way he would grapple with the Anvil trainees all be it much more loving, he had you bent over the arm of the couch. He kicked your legs apart, and you felt him run his cock up your slit. "You're so wet for me." He didn't give you a chance to reply, sliding home in one practised thrust as his lips fell on your upper back.

You dropped your head down, the air knocked out of you each time he bottomed out as he picked up the pace. His fingers skated from where his palm was flat on the middle of your back to your clit, and between his immaculate pace and the orgasm he had denied you before, it wasn't long until you could feel the end nearing, and he knew it. "Come on sweetheart, give it to me."

Your back bowed, and he pressed his clothed chest to you as his beard scratched your skin while he kissed the back of your neck. A moment passed before the waves of pleasure hit, and he groaned like you were squeezing the life from him as his pace faulted. He uttered your name like a prayer, and his hips stuttered with his release as you relaxed into the couch arm. He pulled away, running his hand down your back on his journey to tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up. You heard rustling, and his vest hit the floor before you pushed yourself up and spun towards him. "That was fun."

He smiled and brushed away the hair stuck to your face. "It was. You good?"

You nodded. "I will be if we can cuddle for a while." He took your hand and led you to the couch, grabbing the blanket off the back and wrapping it around you as he gathered you in his arms. "You wanna tell me why you didn't stop at Anvil to change?"

He sighed and rested his cheek on the top of your head. "We had some NFL player come in wanting to hire Anvil for a party and I didn't want to play nice with a guy who kicked a ball for a living."

"Ahh, I see." You held back a giggle and took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and placing a kiss on each of his knuckles. "Well, his lose is my gain."

He grinned and took your face in his hard, pecking your lips with a smile. "I love you."

You rubbed his nose with yours and kissed his cheek. "I love you too."

Fin

[moralesmilesanhour]

piece of cake

summary: meeting miles g at a bakery, and other happenings. wc: 3k+ warning: blood, grief (more at the periphery, not a major theme), and lightly implied mommy issues a/n: ngl i was hungry asf when i wrote this. why can't i ever write normal fluff fics anymore. first fic of 2024!!

Brooklyn Middle is closed for winter break. The basketball court where the snow-covered hoop no longer has a net is empty, save for the blinking Christmas lights strung across the chain-link fence.

In a few years, the pizza place across the street where students would linger after school will be demolished, replaced by a shiny new Oscorp building that reflects the sun from all angles of its glass exterior. But for now, the place is just closed early for the holidays, a few blocks away from a bakery.

The tall, bear-like frame of a father dressed in a long black overcoat can be seen entering with a wiry young boy in a red hoodie and bomber jacket tailing close behind. He has an afro as opposed to his father’s closely-cropped hair. The boy keeps trying to straighten his posture - as if his spine would suddenly lengthen and his shoulders would broaden from the act alone. He wants to make himself look important today, because he is on a top-secret mission: 

Operation: Get Mom a Cake.

“I think mom’ll like that one.”

The boy points at a slice of tres leches cake sitting behind a glass display. It’s not as flashy as the other decorative cakes drizzled with chocolate and strawberries or encased in pink frosting, but those wouldn’t melt on the tongue the way tres leches did. 

His father raised an eyebrow at the plain slice, but the boy looked at him with a certainty that he’d never seen before, through eyes nearly identical to his mother’s. The man knew then that he was getting an expert opinion.

“Alright, if you say so,” he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll take that one, Val.”

The boy smiled proudly at the older woman as she handed him the pink box containing the cake. Mission accomplished.

Now, he looks up and frowns at the Oscorp building blocking the view of where his old school used to be as he picks at a slice of cake with a plastic fork.

The ‘Employees Only’ door behind the counter swings open, and Valeria Cruz hobbles out, removing her apron.

“It’s almost your shift, Miles, hurry up and finish that cake.”

Miles takes one more bite before rising from his seat near the entrance and pushing the paper plate and half-eaten slice into a small trash can.

“You got it, Miss V.”

“Did you take out the trash?”

He pauses, and his eyes widen.

“I’mma get that done right now, Miss V!”

The woman sighs, running a hand through gray and white-streaked curls as the teen sprints out the door and back outside.

A forest green puffer jacket rushes past you on the sidewalk. It’s the same one you had seen shuffling out of the back entrance of Val’s bakery the other morning, lugging two black garbage bags with a purple hoodie obscuring the stranger’s face. 

He probably works there, then, you think. Good. She could use the help.

The place had been packed the week before Officer Morales’ funeral, and for several weeks after. But over time, business began to slow down to a trickle. Hipster cafés and towering condos sprang up and choked out the little pizza shops and restaurants that took their owners’ last names, like when an invasive species of plant grows taller than the local varieties and smothers them, blocking out the sun.

You had been seeing Val’s face since you were in diapers. Families used to go there for birthdays, for elementary school graduations, middle school graduations - or sometimes just to grab something sweet to eat after church on Sundays. You continued the tradition–even if just to buy a tiny bag of cookies–in the hopes that the place might still be standing for your high school graduation. 

The bell above the door rings to signal your entrance. The once baby pink wallpaper has begun to fade, but the late-afternoon sun makes it feel as vibrant as it did when you were twelve. Valeria is standing in front of the display of freshly-baked pastries with her apron folded neatly over her arm.

“Oh, were you about to close up shop?” You begin to take backward steps. “I can come back later–”

“No, no, sweetie, it’s fine!” The woman waves her hand, beckoning you to stay. “I was just about to go on my lunch break. I have someone about to take over for me.”

“It’s cool, I can wait. I saw somebody taking out the trash, that him?”

She sighs wearily, “That’s him, alright. He’s a good kid, but he’s always–”

“Sorry I’m late!”

In rushes Mr. Green Jacket through a chilly gust of wind, who turns to nod in greeting towards you before weaving past Val and behind the counter, where he disappears through the ‘Employees Only’ door.

“That boy, I swear. Never on time!”

He reappears sans the jacket, wearing a white apron identical to the one Val is holding. The name tag on it reads ‘Miles’. 

Miles. Where have you heard that name before…?

The hood on his sweater is no longer pulled over his head, revealing two neat cornrows that cascade all the way down his neck. The surrounding hair has been shaved and faded at the nape of his neck and hairline. He’s the sort of brown-skinned that looks golden when the sunlight hits his face as he approaches the cash register. 

“You gonna be alright for the next half hour?” asked Val with an eyebrow raised.

Miles drummed his fingers on the counter and grinned. “Yup, I got it.”

“Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone!”

“I won’t, promise.”

She pushes the door open with a skeptical look and leaves.

With this new stranger temporarily in charge, you carefully approach the counter. He looks up at you with curious brown eyes.

“Whatchu want?”

“Um…” you blink before remembering what you were here for. “Just sugar cookies, please.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

He turns to grab a paper bag, then bends to drop the desired amount of cookies into it with the pair of tongs that sit on the inside of the display.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what school you go to? I haven’t seen you around here before, feel like I’d remember you if I had.”

Miles pops his head over the counter and tilts his head with a cheeky grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You avoid eye contact, shifting from one foot to the other. Suddenly it’s not so cold anymore.

“I-I don’t know. You just seem memorable.”

He laughs a raspy, breathy laugh and hands you the bag of cookies over the counter. His hand is much larger than yours with slender fingers at the end of it, but still manages to appear almost clumsy-looking. Big enough to be a man’s, but with only half the dexterity.

“I go to Visions.”

“Fancy. You like it over there?”

“It’s aight. Kinda uptight, but my dad always said it was a ‘good opportunity’, so I stayed.”

You hum in consideration. 

“Can't do everything for your parents, though. They'll have you living their dreams before you know it.”

The smile fades a bit, and Miles averts his gaze.

“Well my dad passed, so I just figured I’d just do this one thing for him.”

You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I'm so sorry, I–”

“It's fine,” he snorts without any humor. “You might be the only one that doesn't know who my daddy is. Kind of a relief.”

Miles encloses the money you just gave him in the slot beneath the cash register with a loud snap. 

“You need anything else?”

You chew on your bottom lip in embarrassment and clutch your bag of cookies.

“No. Thank you.”

He doesn’t look up from the register.

“Have a nice day.”

Your mother is leaning on the window sill, nibbling on a granola bar when you get back home. She’s silent, which means she is observing. You’ll need to tread carefully. 

“I brought cookies.”

She gives you a sidelong glance.

“Val’s cookies?”

“Yup, same as always.”

“That lady still working there all by herself?”

“She hired somebody to help out, actually - I saw a boy working the register.”

She notices the upward inflection in your voice at the mention of a boy, which interests her more than the cookies.

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s got, um,” you make a gesture over your head. “Twin braids–cornrows–and a green jacket? Kinda tall, too.”

Your mother nods, thoughtful. The description rings a bell, but she needs to confirm.

“You catch his name?”

“Miles, I think.”

“Lord,” she gasps, fully turning to face you. “That’s that Morales boy! I used to work with his momma, bless her heart. Barely saw his face after the funeral.”

The image of Miles’ face at the mention of his dad makes you cringe at your comment earlier. How could you not recognize him? He practically stole his face from the mural that was plastered above the precinct. You had only heard the boy’s name uttered once by your mother over the phone at 2:00 A.M., whispered like a secret.

“I can’t imagine how it must be for Miles. Didn’t he just get into that nice school down there? Of course they’ll have to let him go home. He should be with his mother.”

“He was such a sweet little boy. Then I saw him the other day?” 

She shook her head, “Look like a different person. He had them flashy studs in his ears, nose pierced and everything.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had tattoos under that coat as well. Damn shame.”

“He seemed nice when I saw him,” you remark quietly in a weak attempt to defend his character, despite having known him for all of five minutes. “Sweet, like you said.”

Your mother’s face hardens, all of her attention now focused on you as she folds the wrapping of the granola bar.

“That’s why you’re not bringing no boys home ‘till you’re eighteen,” she sharply reminds you. “‘Seems nice’ - How you know if he’s really nice or not?”

Again, Miles’ face appears in your mind’s eye. He didn’t seem to want your pity - rejected it, even. And what of his apparent chronic lateness? 

Still…

“You don’t know that, either,” you say despite yourself. “I spoke to him while I was there.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow. 

“Girl, I know that look. I better not see you runnin’ around with that boy, understand me?”

She looks set on not changing her mind now, so you only nod in defeat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In your head, you’re already making plans to hit up the bakery tomorrow - both to apologize and to see the sun kissing Miles’ face again. Maybe tomorrow he’d even have the piercings in.

But when you get there the next day under the guise of ‘a trip to the corner store’, Miles isn’t at the register. 

The sky has turned a pale shade of gray, and it has begun to drizzle. Pulling your navy blue coat tightly around you, you consider turning back around when–

Boom!

The sound of something hitting a trash can from behind the establishment catches your attention. It could be him taking out the trash at the last minute again.

Your assumption is proven only halfway correct.

Stepping over discarded boxes and tin cans, you find Miles doubled over, clutching his side. “Are you okay?” 

Startled, bloodshot eyes glance at you before focusing on the ground.

“Fucking fantastic,” he grunts painfully.

As you get closer, you can see a dark stain blooming from where his hand is. A sick feeling swirls in your stomach.

“Oh my God, do you need me to call somebody?”

“Nah, I’m…I’m straight,” Miles says through labored breaths. “I just gotta…patch myself up before I get home.”

You whip out your phone and frantically unlock it.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Hell no–”

“You are bleeding!”

He tilts his head towards a duffle bag lying near his feet. 

“I got First Aid in there…that’ll do me just fine.”

When he tries to reach for the bag, his knees give out, causing him to collapse right next to it.

-

Miles shivers as you gingerly wrap white bandages around his waist, the flat expanse of skin on his stomach partially exposed to the elements. He fades in and out of consciousness, between your face and black nothingness. When he’s awake, he stares up at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t call 9-1-1, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him with a grin. “This should stop the bleeding, but I can’t help you beyond that.”

“Wusyaname?” he mumbles, head lolling towards you. He’s on the brink of passing out again.

“Call me (Y/N).”

“Wasn’t gon’ call you anything else.”

“Shut up, I just saved your life.”

“Mmmm-hm,” Miles hums with a lazy smile that makes you wonder if he’s becoming delirious.

“Eeeeverybody loves sayin’ that. Everybody always…”

His eyelids get heavy before he can finish the thought, and he finally blacks out again in your lap. 

-

There’s a short line inside the bakery that weekend, and you wonder if Miles has anything to do with it. 

Word seemed to get around mysteriously fast that the former teenaged recluse had come out of hiding after that conversation (if you could even call it that) with your mother. From where you’re sitting–by the window, nibbling on a sugar cookie, observing–Miles does not seem to enjoy the attention.

Or maybe you’re just imagining the strained smile on his face as the line of customers becomes a Greek chorus of gasps and squeals.

“You got so big!”

“What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh, you look just like Jeff.”

“How’s Rio?”

“Good to see you out and about again.”

The sparkling curiosity is nearly drained from his face by the time he joins you at the end of his shift with a slice of cake. He does not have the fabled nose piercing in, but two diamond studs sparkle when the light hits them every time he moves his head.

“So?”

“So…?”

“Are you alright after I found you the other day? I saw you limping back there.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine. My mom’s literally a nurse. She got me straight.”

“What’d you tell her? Looked like you broke a rib.”

“Far as she’s concerned, I fell off my bike.”

“I’ve never seen you on a bike.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

You shrug. Touche.

“What did you have to say to me that was worth stalking me after my shift?”

“Stalking?”

“You buy the same thing every time, you think I ain’t notice?” Miles smirks, like a detective who’s just gotten a confession. “Who goes to a bakery and only gets cookies?”

“Lay off me, man, these are excellent,” you take another bite for emphasis. “Anyways, I actually came to apologize.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“For what I said the first time I saw you. I didn’t know you were that Miles.”

The corners of Miles’ lips pull downwards into a frown. 

“That’s it?”

“Mm, well…”

You bite your lip by force of habit.

“I also wanted to talk to you again. Under better circumstances. That your favorite type of cake?”

Miles looks down at his plate when you point to it with your fork, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, tres leches. What about it?”

“I dunno, I just always see you eating that and nothing else. Is there a reason?”

You expect to say something about the sweetness, or the texture, but instead he answers:

“It always tastes the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like…” He puts down his fork and starts to construct an analogy in his head.

“It’s like when you see an ice cream truck. You run up to it before it drives off, and what do you ask for? First thing that pops into your head?”

“Vanilla?”

“Exactly. You could try one of the other ones, but what if it tastes like ass? Now you stuck eating something you don’t like–”

“And it’s a waste of money.”

“Exactly!” Miles laughs. “You get it. My mom makes fun of me because I’ve been eating the same thing since I was five. But it’s always good! And the same amount of good.”

“Can’t argue with that.” 

You tap your nails on the table, thinking. 

“But what if you find a new flavor that you really like?”

He shrugs, “Then lucky me, I guess. But that doesn’t tend to happen.”

“It could happen, though.”

He watches the strange way you eat. Slowly, teeth-first, as if you’re afraid to make a mess. It’s weirdly dainty, which makes him chuckle beneath his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-uh, don’t do that. What’s so funny?”

Miles gives you that same head tilt again.

“It’s cute, the way you eat.”

Your hand freezes just as it’s about to lift another cookie to your mouth, and you stare at him blankly.

“That’s…”

He pauses too. 

“...Weird, yeah. Sorry. I dunno why I said that.”

A beat of silence passes that’s so heavy with awkwardness, that the two of you can’t help but burst into poorly-stifled laughter.

You lean forward with your chin resting in your hand. “That’s fine. I kept coming here just to spy on you, so I guess I’m weird, too.”

“Ah, so you admit it!”

“Hey, if I wasn’t bein’ a total creep, you might’ve bled out next to the garbage dump. Val can’t lose a valuable employee, right?”

“If you put it that way.”

You can see the white of some of Miles’ teeth peeking out as he smiles. One of his canines is charmingly crooked, and sharper than the others. When the smile fades, he suddenly looks uncertain.

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Ask away.”

“Do you wanna make this,” he gestures between you, “like, a regular thing? Y’know, ‘meeting under better circumstances’.”

It’s your turn for a smile to spread across your face. 

“We should. Whatever you did to end up bleeding out in the rain, I guess I’d be a witness now.”

“M-hm. Can’t have you yappin’ about that to my customers,” He plays along, then winks. “I’mma need your number too, just in case.”

Just before you reach for your phone in your pocket, you hear your mother’s voice in your head, casting a shadow over the whole thing and giving you pause.

All jokes aside, Miles had never explained what had landed him in that predicament behind the bakery in the first place. He’s always late. He lies to his mother. You’re about to lie to your mother. 

But the sun is hitting his face again, and with the light bouncing off of his pupils, he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly. The shadow remains at the corner of your eye. Just the corner.

You grin and hand him your phone.

“You got it. Just in case.”

[toxicanonymity]

Parole.

3k words, joel miller x f!reader

Jojo playlist, joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs

SUMMARY: PWP. Phone sex and just-got-out-of-jail sex.  

WARNINGS: I8+, dirty talk, jacking off, groping while driving, oral F receiving, Unsafe P in V intercourse, semi-public (bathroom). Reader can sit on a sink.

A/N: cellmate's nephew!Joel, part 3 of 3 (just 8k total) , follows Jailbird and Collect Calls but you just need to know his aunt Mabel is your cellmate. This is the last of Jailbird for the foreseeable future. It’s been a fun diversion.  This is not the last of Jojo.

—---

All goes well at your parole hearing. After you get your 72 Hour release notice, you call Joel. 

He answers the phone, "You're gettin' out," and you can hear his smile. 

"How did you–did Mabel tell you?"

"Had a feeling.  So what, 3 days now?" He opens and squirts the lube. 

"9pm Monday."

"You just made my dick so hard, baby."

"Jojo. . ."

"Hmm?"

"God, sorry - Joel"

"Call me whatever ya want, jailbird. Mm. Call me joel, call me jojo--mm, call me call me any time baby”

“Can’t wait to be on the other side of that glass.” 

"And I'm gonna pop that post-penny cherry" (post-penitentiary) 

“Shhh”

"What they're gonna un-parole ya 'cause there’s a hard dick waitin’ for ya?"

“Well, I like the sound of that,”  you purr. 

“Oh we’re gonna get nasty, baby,” he breathes. 

“Mmm”

“You wear thongs, g-strings, whatcha wear?” His fist slurps up and down his cock. 

“Thongs,” you tell him. “Boy shorts if I wanna be comfy.” 

“Damn. . . that ass in boy shorts?  Whew.” 

“How ‘bout you?”

“Boxer briefs.” 

“Mm, shoulda known. Those tight-ass pants”

“Yeah, ya like’em?”

“Like how ya wear’em”

“How’s that”

“Packing somethin’ fat and juicy for me.”

He moans. “Fuck yeah i am, just for you baby”

“Just for me?”

“‘S’all for you, baby. How ya want it first?”

“Honey, I just want it.”

“Can i come inside ya?”

“Mmmm, yeah. . .” 

“Fuck, i’m gonna pump you full,” his voice tells you he’s already close. 

“You better.” 

“Fuck yeah, baby.” His hand is moving faster. “Ohhh, fuck” He shudders and groans long and drawn out as he comes.

“Started without me didn’t ya” 

“Wouldn’t do that,” he says in a transparently false tone. 

“Hope ya can last longer than that,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he laughs. “Shit, maybe I can’t. ‘S’what ya do to me, baby.” 

“Then we’ll just have to do it again.”

“Oh I’m grocery shoppin’ like it’s the apocalypse. Won’t have to leave the house for a week.”

—------

Mabel gives you one last poke-and-stick tattoo, a heart on your other hand, mirroring the location of your "clover." The last thing she tells you is, “He’s snipped, ya know. I took care of him after he did it. ” 

“Nice.”

“Yeah, he knows he's not dad material," she explains, then lightens the mood with, "he's daddy, not dad," and a wink. 

You're gonna miss her. But if things go well with Joel, you’ll see her again in a few months. 

—----

Walking down the ramp from the tower toward the jail lobby, you can taste the freedom and almost forget what you’re wearing – booty skirt, platform heels, mesh crop top, fishnets. 

His posture is what catches your eye first. Feet spread, arms crossed. Your eyes fall to his bulge then pan up to a white t-shirt struggling to contain the tattooed arms crossed in front of him. Gold chain, Adam's Apple. As his face comes into focus, he tilts his head back and squints, pursing his lips in a pained expression as he looks at you. His expression is enough to remind you what you’re wearing. By the time you reach him, he’s biting his lip, shaking his head at you with his eyes smiling. 

He opens his arms and wraps around you for a full-body hug. He smells like fresh cologne, and he feels safe and comfortable.  He feels like – ohhh, yeah, he’s already getting hard. You’re holding a plastic bag of your belongings—phone and keys—against his back. 

“God damn,” he whispers into your hair and his pelvis subtly presses his growing arousal into you. He murmurs, “Mmm, let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

He grabs your hand and your shoes click as you walk through the sliding doors to the parking lot. As soon as the doors slide closed behind you, he drops your hand and grabs your ass.  His hand spans much more of your asscheek than you're used to. The beauty of the sky at dusk overwhelms you, even with the lights from the jail. 

“Let’s make it to the car,” you laugh. 

He puffs out his cheeks with an exhale and gets his keys out of his pocket with his free hand.  Then he points to a big truck and unlocks it. 

He opens the truck door for you and his hand on your ass helps you up into the seat. Oh the simple joy of getting in a vehicle. You start to grab the seatbelt, and he tells you, “nah, hold on a sec.” When he gets in the driver’s seat he slams up the center console, slides over and you turn to face him as he reaches you.  

He grabs the back of your head and pulls your face into his. His tongue parts your lips and his mouth is minty.  He sucks hard and gently chews your lips as he grabs your far thigh and puts it over his lap.  Then he grabs you by both hips and pulls you all the way into his lap with your help so you’re straddling him. When your crotch meets the warm steel rod in his pants, you whimper and he sighs vocally. Then your mouths connect again. You’ve been dying of thirst and he’s a tall glass of water; you just can’t get enough. 

His hands run down your fishnet thighs as you grind on him and make out. He playfully plucks one of the diamonds and murmurs in such a deep voice, “Thought ya weren’t wearin’ these, hmm?” Then he attacks your neck with his mouth, and you sigh.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see a Corrections Officer headed your way. 

“Shit,” you say, “We should go.” 

He groans. 

“They're comin’, we gotta go,” you repeat and pry yourself off of him. 

He takes a deep breath and his hips lift out of the seat as he adjusts himself, then scoots back over to the driver’s seat and buckles his seatbelt. You start to go back to the passenger seat and buckle yours, but he says, “get back over here.”  He hands you the middle seatbelt. 

—----

You tease, “we 'bout to peel outta here?”

"Buckle up, baby.” 

He puts his hand behind you to back up. A whiff of his sweat under the cologne makes you want him even worse. 

You awkwardly try to keep your hands to yourself. He’s the one driving, so you’ll let him initiate any distraction. "Where we headed?"

"How ‘bout we get ya some real food, ya hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat.” 

He gives a low whistle and says, “so could I, baby. can’t wait to taste ya." He looks at your legs. “Fuck.”  He puts his hand on your thigh, a ring pressing into your skin. “Mmm.” His voice is so deep. “Been savin’ this just for me, huh?'' His wrist pushes your skirt out of the way as his hand slides toward your crotch.  He finds your clit with ease, even while driving. He clearly knows what he’s doing and he could get you off like this in a minute or two, but he needs his hand back to make some turns. 

You put your hand on his meaty thigh and ask “can I. . .”

“*can* you? Fuck yeah you can” He lifts his elbow, welcoming your hand to his lap. 

You grab the bulge in his jeans and get a zap of need in your core. You slowly press your hand into his warm, hard package and feel the outline of his thick cock.  You’re aching for him. You’re about to ask him to pull over when he puts on the blinker and see you’ve arrived at Waffle House. 

“Here good?” He says as he pulls into a parking space.  

“Hell yeah,” you answer. 

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Cause if ya don’t like WaHo, we ain’t gonna work anyway.” You both unbuckle your seatbelts.

"Oh, here," you take your hand back as he reaches back behind the passenger seat, and your eyes glue to his huge bulge. He hands you a leather jacket, and says, “Just if ya want it.”  It’s a little warm for it, but it’s a nice thought if you wanted to cover up. At WaHo, you don’t really care. That’s the magic of it. He reaches back behind the seat again and you glance at his earring. He returns with a target bag.

You peek into the bag. There’s a casual tank dress, flip flops, and . ..boy shorts. Your heart flutters that his dirty question led to such a wholesome gesture. 

“You bought me clothes?”

“Yeah, coulda brought some’a Mabel’s but–”

“That could get weird”

“Yeah.” 

—---

You walk in front of Jojo into the breezeway, then into the restaurant. No one bats an eye at how you’re dressed.  You hold up the bag of clothes and ask, “Mind if I change ‘fore we eat?” A waitress behind the counter leans to the side to look around you, checks Jojo out and says, “get it, girl.” 

“That’s what i’m talkin’ bout,” Jojo murmurs to you and gives her a wink. 

Both the individual bathrooms are occupied. Joel stands with his back against the wall facing the bathrooms, so y’all are waiting out of view of the grill. You’re facing him.  He grabs your ass with both hands, pulling you into him, massive erection straining his pants, yearning to get to you. His cock digs into your front.  You kiss him and he kneads your butt cheeks as your mouths consume each other. He moans quietly into your mouth.  His hard cock twitches against you. 

He breaks the kiss and breathes heavily against your ear, then whispers “feel like i’m gonna die.” 

A toilet flushes. The bathroom smells faintly of cleaning supplies, and it doesn’t look dirty. The illusion of cleanliness is enough to not think about it. 

You wanna be right on top of him, but as he locks the door, you find yourself slowly taking a step backwards, watching him in anticipation, almost like you’re daring him to come after you and show you what he’s got.  He looks at you darkly and prowls toward you, unbuckling his belt, lips parted, eyes dark like a stalking animal.  You freeze. He unbuttons his jeans and walks until his hardness bumps into your thigh. 

Then, at a faster pace, he walks you almost all the way to the sink, then grabs your butt to stop you.  He hikes up your skirt so it's all the way over your ass. He grabs your ass with one hand and pulls you into him again. The strength of his erection through his exposed boxer briefs gives you another shock of arousal on top of your already desperate need. He pulls back his hips enough for his free hand to engulf your crotch.  His thick middle finger presses down on the (very) damp spot in your leggings. 

"Soaked for me, aren't ya?" The hand on your ass slides down and curls between your legs. His warm finger slips into one of the fishnet holes. 

He uses both hands, one from the front and one from the back, to rip open the fishnets. “Fuck yeah,” he growls. The hand from the back returns to your asscheek, while the other hand remains between your legs.  The side of his index finger meets your dripping seam. “Mmmmmm,” he slides his hand up and down for just a couple of seconds, then looks at the sink. “Think ya can sit up here?”

“mm. yeah, if you–”

He helps you onto the edge of the sink. You hold onto the sides and he immediately squats down with his head between your legs. 

“Just fuck me,” you say, dying to have him inside you. Your walls are twitching as though your cunt is making a gimme gimme motion like a fist.

“i gotta taste ya," he mumbles as he spreads your thighs.  “Sorry, just a sec.” He further rips the fishnets, exposing you to the cool air then sighs, “fuck,” as he reaches behind you to hold your ass. He whispers “just real quick,” his hot breath on your mound, before he plants his mouth on your cunt. 

He licks at your entrance.  “Mmmm,” he tongues and sucks your clit, then takes one hand off your ass to palm his boxer briefs. 

You fist his hair, sighing, “Ohh God, I need that cock, baby. We got time for this later.” You’re physically aching to be filled. 

He kisses your clit goodbye, then whispers, "god damn."  He puts both hands on your thighs as he stands up.  When he’s standing, he yanks his boxer briefs down and his naked cock bobs heavily, making you nearly drool. He’s shaved. It’s thick. Length-wise you might be able to take it. The girth will be a stretch. 

He curls his fingers under your mesh crop top and you raise your arms as he discards it. “Fuck it, you’re changin’, right?” He tugs at your bra, and you take it off. 

“Oh, fuck me,” he takes in the sight of your tits and can’t resist sucking a nipple into his mouth while palming the other. 

You grab his cock. “Are you gonna put this in me tonight or nah?”

“God damn, you need it don’t ya?” He wraps an arm around you  and you put your arms around his neck. He nudges you by the ass toward the edge.

“fuck just give it to me.” 

He runs his swollen, mauve tip through your slick, then notches it at your entrance and plunges into you with a groan. You gasp as his girth spreads you apart. You can’t remember the last time you felt a stretch like this. But he pushes it right in. You’re so turned on, it works. You watch his cock disappear into you. You glance up at him to see his mouth hanging open with a sigh of relief as his tip nudges your cervix and makes you whole. He sucks in a deep breath as he retreats, then says “FUCK, that’s a nice cunt.” 

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass and he begins to fuck you. You pull up his shirt and it’s so tight that it stays where you leave it. He has a slutty little hip tattoo that says yeah. His lips latch onto yours as he buries his length in you again and again.  It’s all sucking and biting and hot, humid breath as you moan against each other’s cheeks before your tongues are in each other’s mouths again. The bottom half of your face gets slobbery.  He fucks you like he means it, grunting and moaning, “oh yeah.” Your bodies are dewy where your skin meets. 

You wrap your legs around him. Your pelvis grinds against his and your orgasm is building. You tell him,  “Don’t hold back”

“You want me to last?” He asks as he pumps in and out of you. 

“In here?--ohhhh–time for that later” 

“Oh, you already close, ain’t ya?” he speeds up and his chain bounces with the power of his motions. “Fuck yeah, baby, c’mere, c’,mon” His cock pistons into you. It’s even better than you imagined so many times in your pathetic excuse for a bed. Oh shit, will you really sleep together? The thought of it melts you. The thought of a real bed alone melts you, but with him, with this cock inches away, god this cock, it feels so, it’s so—A primal grunt comes from his chest. His heavy breathing and grinding against your clit have you on the edge ready to tip. 

You whimper, “baby,” pinching your eyes shut. 

He grips your ass harder and grinds his shaved pubic bone into you as he fucks you smooth and fast. He fucks like a porn star. “C’mon, jailbird.” 

He buries his length in you even faster, then pleasure seizes your whole body and you come on his fat cock. 

“Ohhhhh yeah, fuck yeah,” he breathes. 

He thrusts into you a few more times, “fuck, baby,” then bottoms out and erupts. He sighs a long sigh as his warm release coats your insides. 

“Mmmm,” you savor the pulse of his cock and you twitch with aftershocks. “Oh, god.” He hugs you and you rest your head on his chest while you both catch your breath. His chain feels massive on on your cheek.

Someone finally knocks on the door.  He pulls out and helps you down off the sink. 

“Someone in here,” he tells them. He pulls up his pants, then leans against the tile of the bathroom wall as he zips them up and fastens his belt while you change. 

You thank him again for the clothes as you look in the mirror and turn around. 

“Look good on ya. Guess I did alright.” 

His face is flushed pink and his hair is a little messed up.  He seems to notice you looking at his face and he pushes himself off the wall to look in the mirror. He rakes his hand through his hair, then scratches one side of his beard, turning away from the mirror. 

–

You sit down for a late dinner. Neither of you look at the menu. Jojo orders cherry coke and a texas cheesesteak with double hashbrowns covered, smothered, and chunked. You order your favorite meal and he compliments it. Your eyes are on his forearms and tattoos. As he brings the sandwich to his mouth. God damn, how’d this fine ass man practically fall in  your lap? You feel like  you owe Mabel big time. 

You ask, “You really go grocery shoppin’?”

He raises his eyebrows and smiles with his mouth full, nodding.  “Mmm-hmm.” After he finishes chewing he washes it down with a sip of cherry coke, then adds, ��but you know what i really want.” He looks at you darkly. “So tell me it’s all you can eat, baby.” 

“Just for you, Jojo. . .”

-----

yeah he wants to be covered and smothered in that.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I love your passion and your comments and reblogs really motivate me. <333

----

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter thirteen | wc: 6k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Noah and Lia spend the day in Tokyo and visit a certain exhibition that leads to steamy things once they're back in their room.

Reading time: 25mins. aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings:  talks/depictions of rope play and mentions of war and torture (related to historical events), wet dreams, explicit sexual content including teasing, dirty talk, Lia wearing a choker, Lia on her knees, oral sex (Noah receiving), p in v (protected and unprotected), praise kink, “good girl”, Noah restraining Lia’s wrists, slight dom/sub dynamics if you squint, fluff. Let me know if I missed sth. 

Say thank you @bluestdai because the wet dream scene was inspired by her fanart of Lia and Noah. 💞

I wanted to post this before I leave on a roadtrip, so I didn't have much time to really revise it. Sorry for any typos or mistakes you might find.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“Will you stop looking at me like that?” Lia demanded, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue as she struggled to speak around a mouthful of her fourth tamagoyaki of that morning. Her hand hovered in front of her mouth.

Noah’s grin widened.  “No.”

A crease formed between Lia’s brows as she swallowed. She licked her lips before retorting, “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Is it?” Noah asked, his tone playful as he arched an eyebrow. “I love watching you eat. You look adorable. I can’t help it.”

Her face grew even warmer. 

“It makes me self-conscious,” she mumbled, glancing at the empty plate in front of her. “That was my fourth tamagoyaki...” 

Noah, who had finished his breakfast minutes earlier, continued to watch her, his elbows resting on the countertop of the kitchen isle. Grandma, ever busy, had flitted off to another part of the house barely five minutes ago. 

“Want another one?” Noah asked.

Lia’s eyes widened in alarm. Before she could reply, he raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. 

“I’m not teasing! I’m serious! I love the way you enjoy food. That’s all.”

Lia hesitated, her eyes darting to the tray where the remaining tamagoyakis were arranged in two perfect rows. Temptation gnawed at her, but her stomach was already satisfyingly full.

“I’m good,” she said, brushing her fingers on a napkin. She made a mental note to ask Grandma for the recipe before returning to the States. No Japanese restaurant back home could replicate the unique taste of Grandma’s cooking, and she was sure neither could she—nor Noah, for that matter. But she was willing to try. 

Just then, Hana bustled back into the kitchen, her white hair neatly gathered into a bun. She carried a pile of freshly washed kitchen rags that she quickly stored in a drawer. 

“Why don’t you take the rest with you?” she suggested, gestuing toward the food tray and already pulling a plastic container from the cupboard. “You’re spending the day out, right?” she asked, glancing between them.

“Yep,” Noah confirmed.

“Better to have something on hand,” Grandma insisted. “Just in case.”

“We’re planning to eat out,” Lia pointed out, standing from the stool.

“For later,” Grandma said with a knowing smile. Without waiting for further protests, she began packing the tamagoyaki along with a couple of small juice bottles.

Lia shrugged, catching Noah’s amused expression. Despite herself, she couldn’t hold back a grin.

As Grandma finished packing their food, Noah and Lia headed upstairs to change out of their pajamas. Today, they were planning to explore Tokyo on their own after spending most of their stay so far indulging in Grandma’s company and taking her to places. 

They made the bed together and Lia opened the balcony doors to let some fresh air in. While Noah was checking his hair in the bathroom, Lia stepped out and leaned against the railing of the bedroom balcony, dressed in black leggings, a white shirt, and a soft denim jacket that would later pair with her boots. She took a few deep breaths and admired the beauty of the scenery before her before plucking her phone out of a pocket and moving her fingers deftly over the display, the cold morning air tinging her nose pink as her eyes scanned the information. 

“Lia, you ready?” Noah’s voice called from behind.

“Yeah.” Lia turned to face him, hesitating for a moment before adding, “Noah?”

“Hm?”

“I found this exhibition...” She waved her phone slightly, her expression both eager and uncertain. “I thought we could go.”

“What kind of exhibition?” Noah asked, crossing the room to get a closer look at her phone screen.

“It’s a... Shibari exhibition,” Lia explained with a casual tone. But her gaze was watchful, eyeing Noah and unsure of what his reply would be. 

Noah’s eyebrows lifted.

Before he could say anything, she quickly added, “I’d like to see it.”

For a moment, Noah simply studied her. Then, with a shrug and an easy smile, he spread his arms. “If you want to go, I’m in. Where is it?”

“Not far from Tokyo’s center,” Lia added, relief evident in her voice.

“Then let’s do it,” Noah said. He extended his hand toward her. “Shall we?”

No matter how full they still felt after the hearty breakfast at Grandma’s, the bustling energy of Tokyo’s center and the amount of cafés was enough to draw them in for another warm drink—and Lia’s fifth tamagoyaki of the day—. After stepping out of the cab and strolling through narrow streets lined with shops and neon signs, they stopped at a cozy café. They talked idly as the indulged in steaming sencha tea and they watched the city’s rhythm outside the window. Lia connected her phone to the café’s free Wi-Fi and googled their way to the exhibition venue. The map showed it was only a fifteen-minute walk, so they set off and managed to make it there without stopping in too many stores. 

The venue was tucked away on a quieter street north of the city center, its sleek modern exterior standing out against the older buildings nearby. The gallery’s enormous windows offered glimpses of the artwork inside, making Lia and Noah pause by the first window, leaning close to peer in.

The gallery was expansive. The walls they could see were adorned by vintage, A4-sized photographs. Beneath each image, a foam block appeared to hold neat inscriptions in Japanese and English, perhaps with details about the photos. Deeper inside the venue, Noah and Lia caught flashes of different lights, red ropes and abstract installations.

Lia turned to Noah, biting her lip briefly but eyes sparking. She grabbed his hand and tugged.

“Let’s go.”

Noah smirked, charmed by her enthusiasm, and let her take the lead.

At the entrance, they were surprised to learn there was no fee. The receptionist, a woman in her forties with kind eyes and a nice smile, welcomed them. She handed each of them a brochure and explained the exhibition’s layout: the first section showcased historical photographs from the Edo period. The following ones contained suspended rope installations, live demonstrations, and at the end they would find a workshop space for learning basic knotting techniques, and even a literary and philosophical corner for quiet reflection. Souvenirs, books, and rope could be purchased at the store located at the very end of the exhibition. 

“Feel free to explore at your own pace,” the woman added. “There’s a live demonstration that will start in about thirty minutes, near the back.”

Lia clutched her brochure, her eyes already scanning the gallery, while Noah gave the receptionist a polite nod before following Lia inside.

Initially, the vastness of the gallery and the weight of the artwork’s themes made Lia hesitate. She lingered near the first exhibit, a collection of photographs depicting the use of rope in Edo-period hojojutsu, a martial art once used for restraining prisoners. The photographs were stark and evocative, showing the artistry that elevated the utilitarian knots into something symbolic.

Lia felt Noah stiffen slightly beside her, adjusting his black cap, his posture reserved. She glanced up to see his brows furrowed in concentration, perhaps grappling with the unfamiliar context and maybe wondering the repercussions of someone spotting him there. Wanting to reassure him, she reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

Their eyes roamed over the photographs, analyzing the intricate interplay of shadow and light that emphasized the delicacy of the knots. One picture captured a prisoner kneeling with a calm expression, their arms bound behind them in an arrangement so precise it resembled a lattice of branches. Another photograph showed a ceremonial display of knots, the prisoner’s posture one of poised dignity despite their restrained state. Each knot seemed to convey a story of its own, involving control, power, but also elegance and care. It was strange and yet, fascinating.

“Look at this one,” Lia murmured, pointing to an image of a woman dressed in a kimono, her hands tied with a flourish that mirrored the folds of her garment. “It’s beautiful.”

Noah nodded, his brow still furrowed. “It is,” he admitted, his voice low, almost reluctant. “But looks complicated.”

They moved into the next section, where the gallery shifted from history to abstract art. Ropes hung suspended from the ceiling, looping and twisting in gravity-defying arcs. Some installations were simple, resembling waves or vines, while others were chaotic tangles that seemed to pulse with energy.

Lia stopped in front of one particularly piece—a massive web of crimson rope that seemed to expand and contract with the airflow in the room. At its center was a suspended a gold ornament, bound so intricately that it seemed to hover like a captured treasure.

“How the hell did they do this,” Noah muttered to himself, his curiosity breaking through his earlier reserve. He stepped closer, crouching slightly to observe the knots securing the installation to the floor and ceiling. “It’s flawless. If you pull at one knot, the whole thing would collapse.”

“Kind of like trust,” Lia said thoughtfully.

He glanced up at her, caught off guard by her comment.

“Yeah,” he said after a pause. “Like trust.”

They lingered for a few moments before following the signs toward the live demonstration. The corridor opened into a large space with seating arranged in a semicircle around a low platform. A few people were already gathered, chatting quietly or flipping through their brochures.

On the platform, a man and a woman prepared for the demonstration. The woman was standing in the center, barefoot and wearing a beige tight bodysuit. The man was dressed in simple black clothes. He was arranging coils of rope on a low table beside him.

Noah and Lia found a spot where to stand on the side, close enough to see the details but not so close as to feel conspicuous. Lia noticed Noah’s posture relax slightly as he leaned forward, his cap shielding his face from view momentarily as his arm rubbed at Lia’s shoulder.

Moments later, the room quieted and the demonstrator stepped forward, bowing slightly before addressing the audience. 

“Thank you for joining us today. What you are about to see is a traditional art form that blends discipline and creativity. It requires trust, communication, and respect between the participants.”

A mix of curiosity and reverence settled over the room.

As the demonstration began, the audience watched. The demonstrator moved with a calm, rhythmic precision, guiding the rope around his partner’s arms and torso in fluid motions. Each knot was a statement, each loop a deliberate choice.

The demonstrator began with a length of smooth, red rope, holding it as though it were a living thing. He stepped behind his partner and guided her hands together at the small of her back. With a single motion, he looped the rope around her wrists, his fingers dancing as he secured the first knot. 

The room had grown so quiet that the soft rustle of the rope against the woman’s skin was audible, every sound amplified in the stillness. The demonstrator wrapped the rope twice more, forming clean, parallel lines that looked as though they had been measured with a ruler. He paused briefly to check her posture, a silent exchange passing between them before he resumed his work, the ends of the rope weaving into a decorative knot that held the arrangement in place.

Lia felt her breath catch as she watched. The movements were hypnotic. She could feel Noah’s steady breathing behind her, as well as the way his chest rose and fell a little more deeply than before. 

As the man finished securing the final knot, the woman flexed her fingers, the subtle movement testing the hold. The demonstrator stepped back, bowing slightly to acknowledge the completion of the first step. The woman returned the bow, her restrained hands adding an unexpected grace to the gesture.

The audience remained silent. The room felt charged, as though everyone was holding their breath in unison.

Lia shifted slightly, and that was when she noticed how close Noah had leaned in. She could feel the faint warmth of his breath near her ear, each exhale brushing softly against her skin. His heartbeat was steady but insistent, a subtle rhythm she could sense through the proximity of his body.

For a moment, the gallery and the audience faded away. All she could focus on was the quiet intensity of the scene before them, mirrored by Noah’s quiet intensity beside her. The blend of concentration and restraint in his posture made her wonder what he was thinking—if he was thinking the same things she was. 

Lia felt her own pulse quicken, her fingers tightening on the edges of her brochure. She didn’t say a word, afraid that even the softest whisper might shatter the spellbinding stillness of the room. Instead, she turned her attention back to the platform, where the demonstrator was already preparing for the next sequence. But the sensation of Noah’s presence intensified.

“Do you find that interesting?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety so that only she would catch his words.

Lia, so absorbed in the intricate process before her, missed the subtle suggestion in his tone. She nodded earnestly, her eyes never leaving the scene. Behind her, Noah smiled, a sly curl of amusement tugging at his lips.

The rigger moved smoothly, his hands working with practiced ease to loop the red rope over the woman’s shoulders and around her chest, framing her torso in a symmetrical pattern. The interplay of rope against skin, the way it both restricted and enhanced her form, was mesmerizing to watch.

Noah, however, had shifted his focus to Lia.

His fingers slid down her arm, brushing her wrist lightly before curling around it. With deliberate slowness, he brought her hand behind her back. Lia hardly noticed, her attention still on the stage, until she felt him take her other wrist and guide it to meet the first.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The brochure dropped to the floor silently. 

Noah’s chest pressed closer, his body shielding hers from the view of the other spectators. His hand, large and strong, held both of her wrists in a resistant grip. The grip wasn’t painful—just firm enough to keep her still, to make her heart skip a beat.

She tried to look back at him, but her cheek met his.

“Imagine we’re in the bedroom,” he whispered, his voice dipping into a husky timbre that sent heat pooling low in her belly. “And your hands are tied at your back. Like this.”

To emphasize his point, he tightened his grip just enough to make her gasp softly. The edge of sweet discomfort prickled through her awareness, and she was acutely conscious of how exposed they were.

“Can you picture it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Noah’s grin deepened, his teeth grazing the shell of her ear. 

“Good. Would you be willing to do anything I say? While you’re tied up? Like her?”

“Yes.” Her answer was quick and breathless, her heart hammering in her chest as his words wove a spell around her.

His lips brushed the corner of her jaw, his breath hot against her skin. 

“Can I be honest? I can picture it, too” his tone was so seductive that Lia had to press her thighs together. “I’ve pictured it so many times already. I’d make you get on your knees...” With his thumb he traced circles on the inside of her wrist. “And after that, I’d do whatever I want to you, with the only intention of pleasuring you. How does that sound?”

Lia’s pulse quickened, her lips parting.

Before she could speak, the rigger on stage gave a gentle tug to the ropes, shifting the model’s position. The sudden movement pulled Lia’s attention back to the demonstration, her cheeks flushed with both excitement and awareness of the people around her—and at the hard thing pressing against her back. 

Back to her senses, she muttered, “you’re getting a boner, Noah.”

She was not facing him, but she could tell he had looked down at his own pants. 

“Yes, I am. Shit.” He released her fast and adjusted his trousers, taking a single step away from her and looking around coyly.

Lia looked at him over her shoulder and nearly snorted. Noah send her a playful glare. 

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “We’ll have time to finish this.”

As he stepped back slightly, giving her space, Lia felt the loss of his warmth but couldn’t quite shake the lingering heat of his words. She tried to get her attention back to the stage, trying to refocus, but her mind was already far away, spinning with possibilities Noah had just whispered into existence.

The demonstration ended and everyone clapped. A couple of minutes later, Noah and Lia walked hand in hand to the workshop section, where they tried to learn the basic of knots and ended up cracking up at clumsiness they both showed at it. Lia had stayed frozen for a full ten minutes trying to understand where the teacher had instructed to pull the rope through, and Noah had at least tried, only to get his own hands tangled in the mess of rope. Lia teased him about not having learnt anything from the book he had at home. He was quick to retaliate, stepping closer to nibble playfully at her ear, whispering that he hadn’t had anyone to practice with before. 

“Now I have you,” he said, “and I plan on getting really good at it.”

At the souvenir shop afterward, they made a donation to support the various artists who had contributed to the exhibition. Lia bought a history book, paying for it along with a set of black-and-red cotton ropes that Noah dropped onto the counter. 

“They might not let us take a katana home, but I’m sure there’s no problem with a few ropes,” he stated.

The day in Tokyo was eventful. They walked a lot, saw a lot, laughed a lot and shared plenty of kisses in hidden corners of the big city. They returned home with their hands full of bags and their feet aching, though the discomfort was soon forgotten when they sat down in Hana’s tea room. They enjoyed a quiet conversation with Grandma, recounting the things they’d done and seen—leaving out a few details, of course—as they sipped lukewarm tea before heading to bed.  

Upstairs, with most of the lights in the house off and their shopping bags piled on the desk, Noah changed into his sleep shirt and sweats and waited for Lia to finish brushing her teeth in the bathroom. 

He was about to flop on the bed when she called out to him. 

“Noah, could you grab my sleeping shirt?” Lia’s voice came from the bathroom.

“You mean my shirt,” he replied with a hint of amusement, moving to her suitcase and rummaging around to retrieve it.

“It’s been mine for years now. You lost your chance to reclaim it long ago—” Her words trailed off as she entered the bedroom, only to freeze in place. She stood there in her bra and panties, and Noah, instead of holding her shirt, had something else entirely in his hands: the pair of kitty ears and the choker she’d impulsively bought in Osaka. 

One in each hand, he lifted them slowly, inspecting them with raised brows.

“What... is this?” he asked, looking up at her, intrigued.

Lia’s shoulders slumped, her cheeks flushing. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Oh? And why not? What exactly are you planning to do with it?” He cocked an eyebrow, studying her reaction with growing interest.

She stepped forward, reaching to snatch them from his hands, but he quickly tucked them behind his back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Did you buy these for me?”

She huffed, barely hiding a reluctant smile. “Can you just forget you ever saw them and put them back, please?”

“No chance.”

“Noah!” she exclaimed, her tone halfway between a scold and a plea.

“I think I need to see you wearing these,” he murmured, lifting the kitty ears in one hand, his eyes then drifting to the choker in the other, as though savoring the thought.

Lia gave him a pointed look, her lips pressed together to hide her amusement. “You will. One day. But not here. Now, please—put it back?”

“Put it on.”

“Noah…”

He paused, then added with a gentler tone, “Alright. Then, let me put it on you.” His voice softened, but his eyes held a playful gleam that made it impossible to deny him.

She took a slow breath, biting her lower lip as she debated. Part of her wanted to let him have his way, but they were at Grandma’s house, of all places. However, she couldn’t deny how his expression—the mix of pleading and challenge—made her pulse quicken.

“You’re trouble,” she finally said, her tone half-resigned, half-amused.

Noah smirked, tempted to raise his fist.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his voice dipping into a more serious tone that sent a shiver down her spine.

Obediently, Lia turned. She started to lift her hair, but he was quicker, his fingers brushing along her nape in a deliberate, lingering caress. Her breath hitched as he fastened the choker, slipping it around her neck. His arms grazed her shoulders as he clasped it, and he gently tugged her hair free to let it cascade down her back.

When she turned to face him, her heartbeat thudding, she saw him struggling to maintain his composure. He handed her the kitty ears with a quiet intensity in his eyes. She took them, placing them on her head, pushing her long hair back with a shy smile.

As she stood there, arms falling to her sides, he took a step back to take her in fully. His gaze fell on the choker, and she saw the way his playful smirk vanished, replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“Fuck.” 

There was a beat of silence. Lia blinked as she read his expression, then her eyes dropped to the bulge that had appeared down his front, and she felt a surge of power curse through her. 

Yes, she thought. Fuck it.

Her hands went to the laces of his joggers, and the sudden motion snapped Noah out of his trance. 

He caught her wrists. “No.” 

She froze. She waited, her breath catching. Then he continued, his tone dropping lower, dripping with command. 

“Get on your knees.”

Her stomach flipped. Oh, God.

Slowly, she sank to her knees, the soft carpet on the wooder floor brushing her legs as she looked up at him with brown doe eyes. Maybe it was a risk, but she took her hands back to his laces, and this time, he didn’t stop her. He let her undo them and pull his sweats down as he peeled his t-shirt off quickly, discarding it onto the floor. Lia pushed his underwear down, his cock springing free, thick and hard. 

“You’re gonna suck me, right?” he asked with strain. “I need you to s—”

Lia cut him off by wrapping her fingers around the base of his length and lifting it slightly to drag her tongue along the underside. She started at the base, tracing the thick vein that pulsed beneath her touch, all the way to the head. 

“Lia… Fuck.” 

She took her time, savoring the weight of him in her hand, her tongue exploring every inch. When she finally began to bob her head, his sharp inhale was all the encouragement she needed. Everything that came out from his mouth after were moans and praise.

“That’s it. God,” he murmured, “the mouth you have…”

The pride that filled her was electric, and it must have shown in her eyes because Noah’s lips quirked into a grin even as he struggled to maintain his composure. 

“You like that, Lia? You like sucking my cock?”

She couldn’t say yes—not with her mouth full—, so she doubled her efforts, hollowing her cheeks and taking him deeper. His features contorted as though caught between pleasure and pain, and she felt his fingers move to her head, his hands tangling in her hair as he helped guide her movements. 

“Keep going, baby.” His words were choked, punctuated by grunts. “Just like that. Yes.”

He looked down at her again, thinking he must have done something extraordinary in his life to deserve this—to have such a beautiful girl on her knees with her mouth full of him. On top of that, her desire and enjoyment were palpable in every moment. Knowing he was making her happy by having her at his mercy ignited a possessive thrill that rushed through him.  

His hands caressed her scalp, guiding her motions. Lia closed her eyes, her tongue working with deliberate twists and touches. She tried to take him deeper, twisting her tongue to draw more sounds from him, her confidence soaring with each groan that escaped his lips.  

Then, with that voice of his, that low, deep tone that never failed to leave her weak, his hands tightened in her hair as she murmured, “You’re such a good girl.” The praise was so raw it almost undid her. Heat flooded her body as she thought she might come just from his words alone. “You look so pretty on your knees, baby.” 

One hand slid from her hair to her chin, his touch gentle despite the fire in his eyes. He tilted her face upward, and as her lips released him, his cock slipped out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting them. Her tongue darted out to lick it away before she bit her lip, wanting more. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he admitted, his voice rough as his dark gaze trailed to her neck and the baby pink collar still snug there. “I’m never letting you take that choker off.”

Lia thought he would let her finish him, that she’s have him falling apart in her hands—and mouths—but Noah had other plans. Taking himself in his hand, he helped her rise to her feet. His hands cupped her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss that stole her breath. He didn’t give a fuck about tasting himself on her lips. 

The kiss was all-consuming, leaving her dizzy as he walked her backward toward the low bed. 

Once her knees hit the mattress, he guided her down, his hands slipping to the waistband of her panties. 

“Take off your bra.”

She obeyed without hesitation—she was Noah’s good girl—, unhooking the clasp and discarding the thin bra next to her. Noah tugged her panties down, tossing them aside before covering her body with his.  He trailed a path of kisses from her lower belly to her chest, kissing and licking her nipples and then sucking at her neck at the same time his cock made its way inside of her, making her gasp and grab onto his shoulders.  

With the friction of the bodies moving, the movements sent the kitty headband on her head slipping back. With a quick hand, Noah removed it, letting it rest on the pillow next to Lia’s head. 

“The choker stays,” his voice declared against her ear. His voice was low, possessive, and his words were followed by another murmuring that sounded very much like a “you’re mine”. He buried his face in her neck and thrust into her again and again. 

“Open your legs wider, Lia,” he urged. “That’s it. Good girl.”

She moaned in response. 

“Say my name.” Noah instructed. It was a command, a desperate one. There was something raw in the way he said it—a need he couldn’t suppress. He needed to hear his name on her lips. Over and over and over. 

“Noah, please.”

“Yes, Lia,” he groaned, his pace quickening. “Say it again. I’ll give you anything you want. Anything you need.”

“More, Noah. Please.”

He would give her more. He would give her everything. 

“Lia.” His voice was a mantra as his lips found hers again. 

“Noah,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as her body surrendered.  

“Lia,” he repeated.

“Yes,” she breathed. She was barely present, her words more a reflex than conscious thought. 

“Lia, open your eyes,” he said, his voice softer now. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and the world shifted. 

Darkness enveloped the room, and her breath caught in her throat. Noah wasn’t on top of her anymore. He wasn’t naked—and neither was she.

He was lying on his side of the bed, propped on one elbow, his expression etched with concern as he patted her cheek. 

“Lia,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

Oh, Jesus…

“Were you having a nightmare?” He asked. 

Lia’s hands shot to her neck, only to find there was no choker clasped around it. Her movement didn’t escape Noah’s notice, and his gaze narrowed suspiciously. 

“Was someone hurting you?”

“N—no, nothing like that,” she stammered, shaking her head. 

“That’s what I thought,” he added, his voice turning into something more of a tease, “because you were moaning my name.”

Lia froze. Uh, oh.

So… She had been having a wet dream.

And Noah knew. 

“Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?”

Before she could respond, his hand slipped under the covers and under the waistband of her pajama pants and panties. His fingers grazed her, and he cursed in surprise as they came away with slick. 

“What the hell was I doing to you that got you this wet?” he asked, his voice rough now, desire flooding his tone. 

Lia could only close her eyes, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as his fingers began to circle her clit.

“You’re not going to tell me?” He pressed. 

She shook her head, biting her lip to suppress a moan. 

“Maybe I won’t let you come, then,” he threatened, his tone playful but edged with real intent. 

Her eyes flew open, shocked, and her hands moved instinctively to his wrist to keep his hand in place. 

“It’s a surprise,” she said, her voice breathy as his fingers circled her clit again. She moved her hand to his crotch, then, where she was met with his obvious erection, cock straining against the fabric of his sweats.

“A surprise?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I promise to tell you once we’re back home.” 

“And why can’t you tell me now?” His voice dropped, his curiosity turning almost predatory. 

“Because if I tell you, I don’t think you’ll be able to keep it together. And Grandma is a few doors down.”

That obviously only heightened his interest, his eyes darkening with frustration and amusement in equal measure. But he trusted her.  She was smart, and her reasoning—even if infuriating—was probably sound. He could still have her anyway, and he’d be content by just being inside of her and barely moving. 

“Fine,” he relented, but a low escaped him as he added. “You’re lucky I’m a patient man and you’re adorable when you’re having wet dreams.”

That only made Lia blush harder as she playfully pushed at him. 

His hands moved quickly from then, tugging at her waistband as she helped him out of his clothes. Pajamas and underwear were discarded with a shared urgency, their hands brushings and lips touching as they worked together. 

When the last clothing barrier was gone, Noah retrieved a condom from nearby and rolled it on with ease. He settled himself between her thighs and under the quilt. His weight against her was always comforting, grounding.

The way he looked at her, like she was his entire world, made her pulse race. 

“I’ll take this,” he murmured, “but you’re telling me everything as soon as we’re back in the States.”

And with that, he surged forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that silenced any response she might have given, the night stretching out before them in whispered sighs and muffled moans.

At the first stretch, Lia gasped. The first thrust never failed to make her brace herself against Noah’s shoulders, her fingers clutching for stability as she adjusted to the feeling of fullness. She had learned in their short time together as a couple that Noah always watched her intently in this moment. His expression conveyed so many emotions. His jaw was tight. There was a small wrinkle between his brows, and a dark unrelenting hunger in his eyes that contrasted with the careful gentleness of his love for her. 

As he began to move, her body relaxed. It was a dance, a symphony of shared breaths and whispered sighs, their connection running deeper than just physical pleasure. 

One of Noah’s hands slid to cradle the side of her head, his thumb brushing her forehead tenderly. With the other, he gripped her wrist and pinned her arm above her head. Lia let out a soft exhale and moved her free hand to rest beside the one he held captive, silently asking him to hold her completely.

Understanding, a cheeky smile curved Noah’s mouth. He pressed closer to her, meeting her yearning expression with one of his own before he dived to kiss her, teeth and tongue and all. 

It was slow, but it spoke louder than words. The eye contact making both weak in each other’s arms. Not even five minutes into it, Lia wriggled her wrist and Noah released her hands. Her finger found Noah’s face, and she dragged a finger along his lips, wet from her kisses. He caught it between his teeth with a teasing bite before letting it go, his features contorting with rising pleasure. 

“I’m not far,” he whispered, his voice tight. 

“Me neither,” she managed. “Can you…?”

“Yeah.”

He knew exactly what she needed. 

His fingers found her clit, rubbing as he increased his pace. He was tempted to cover Lia’s mouth with his other hand, but instead, he let it be, allowing the tension between them to coil tighter and tighter, their breathing growing ragged.

When Lia’s orgasm took hold of her, Noah thrust one last time, making her back arch even more. A loud sob escaped her lips, and that’s when Noah did cover her mouth, muffling the sound as his face buried itself in the curve of her neck. His body trembled with his release, spasms overtaking him as he spilled into the condom. 

Lia’s body shuddered beneath him, her legs locking around his waist as she bucked against him, riding out the last ripples of her pleasure. 

In the stillness that followed, Noah’s weight pressed her into the mattress, and she kept hugging him tightly, not ever letting go. For a long while, neither of them spoke. 

Noah’s mind wandered, and in the quiet of the night, with Lia’s heart beating against his own, he reflected on their past and every step, every scratch and heartbreak that had led them inevitably to this moment. 

Feeling more settled and thankful than ever, he whispered against her skin, “All my life, I was waiting for you without knowing it.”

Lia blinked, adjusting to the darkness in the room to find his eyes. Her fingers traced his face, her touch reverent as she admired the man he had become. “All those years,” she replied softly, “you deserved a better version of me.”

“It doesn’t matter what version I deserved,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction as he touched her pink cheek with the bend of his index finger. “I had you. I have you now, and I’ve loved every version of you.” 

Her eyes welled with emotion as she leaned up, brushing her lips against his as she promised, “You’re mine, Noah.”

— prev. chapter | chapter fourteen

Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lma1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

@chey-h | @ferduttini | @dominuslunae

[sturniolo-rat]

Tattoos and Massages Part 2

Christopher Sturniolo X Reader

Part 1

A/N: I fear I may have outdone myself with this one. Starts out a bit rough, but It really comes into its own.

Contains: dom!chris, ass play, p in v sex, fingering, pseudo- doggy style, hair pulling, probably more

TW: None... unless you are allergic to fun

In which Chris lotions up y/n's back tattoo and it turns into a happy ending massage.

“I’m on it.” He gets up to stand behind her and gently peels off the plastic wrap. Y/N winces at the soreness. Her back is covered in dried blood dyed black with ink. He runs his hands down her sides landing at her hips. “You need a shower, Darlin.” He smiles to himself and whispers in Y/N’s ear “Let me clean you up.”

She feels a familiar heat from between her legs. She turns her head to look back at him and bites her lip.“Hmm, I really could use a hand in there.” Chris moves so that he’s in front of her and unbuttons her jeans. He rolls the lacy hem of her panties between his fingers before slowly tugging them down. She gives a nervous giggle. “Don’t get too excited, though. I do still need to disinfect my tattoo.”

“I’m just helpin’, Baby. I promise,” he says jokingly, rolling his eyes. He lifts off his shirt, revealing his firm chest and flat stomach. She has to fight the urge to lick a stripe down his torso. There will be time to do that later. He moves quickly, removing his pants and boxers, and they make their way to the shower. 

Shower sex. Shower sex. Shower sex. Their entire beings are screaming for them to have sex in this shower, but as Y/N so promptly noted, they came here with a job to do. The anti-bacterial soap is cold on Y/N’s back as he rubs it in soft circles over her tattoo. Chris is in some sort of trance behind her. He loves watching the water drip down her skin and how it glistens. “Time to rinse,” he says; she turns her back toward the water, resting her head on his chest as he gently rubs the soap off. When it’s all clean, Chris leads her out of the shower and into his room. She goes to pick up her clothes but is stopped by a hand around her wrist. “Nope. Get on your tummy.” he gestures to the bed. “You’re forgetting the lotion.”

He positions himself over her and begins to rub in the lotion. The sensation makes her cringe. “Sorry, am I hurting you,” he says, a little worried.

“It hurts a little, but I like it.” His cock twitches, and she feels it against her thigh.

“That’s what I like to hear.” His hands move away from her tattoo onto her neck and shoulders. “You’ve got me for the entire weekend, and I plan on using every second to make you feel good, Okay.” 

“Mhmm, thank you.” As she settles into the massage, remaining still, she focuses on the rhythm of Chris’s hands, quieting her mind and letting her thoughts pass by. 

“Good girl. You don’t ever have to thank me for treating you right.” He lets his hands roam downward on both sides of her spine until he’s touching her ass. She lets out a relaxed moan. She lets out a soft moan fixated on the feel of his rough hands kneading her ass. When he spreads her cheeks to look down at her pussy he notices that she’s dripping over the sheets. “These sheets have seen better days. We’ll have to change them later.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! That's so embarrassing!” she hides her face in the pillow. 

“No, no, it’s a perfectly normal reaction to tension, leaving the body to get wet like that,” Chris says, entirely and utterly pleased with himself. He takes both of his hands and slowly works along the outside of her pussy. Not touching it yet just working along the sides front to back. She’d never been touched this sensually before. It’s like she’s being truly appreciated. He could do this for as long as she needed without any reciprocation because he just loves her and loves her pussy. “You’re so fucking wet, Mamas” he shimmies himself down her legs to lick a stripe all the way from her pussy to her asshole. “I’d be happy to relieve that stress for you.” 

Y/N gasps, “We’ve never done that before,” she says anxiously as she turns to look at him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks genuinely. She shakes her head no. Just that one lick had her toes curling. Chris puts both hands on her cheeks and spreads them apart. He shoves his face back into her ass and starts lapping at her holes. Y/N wiggles one of her hands under herself to stroke her clit. The other moves to her side to grab the bed sheets. 

“Oh yes,” she moans quite loudly. 

“I don’t want my brothers to hear.” he spits on her pussy fingers pressing between her lips and entering her wet cunt “You can’t be loud like that, okay?” he thrusts his fingers into her slowly. She lets out a strangled moan “Don’t make me have to cover your mouth.”

With his fingers pumping harder into her pussy and his tongue in her asshole she could feel herself coming undone. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” 

He lifts his head “Cover your mouth right fucking now” She lets go of the sheets and reaches her hand back to grip his hair and pushes his face deeper into her ass. She screams his name into a pillow and climaxes on his fingers. 

When he stops working her through her orgasm, he sucks his fingers. “Your cum tastes so damn good, Baby.” Y/N hums in response, relishing her high. Chris moves to straddle her thighs and rests his hard cock on her ass. “So, if you’d like, I could give you a very deep tissue massage” he chuckles “How does that sound?”

“Pretty fuckin good.” she says with a smile “I wish I could get on my back and watch you fuck me.” 

He leans forward so his mouth is right next to her face “It’ll be alright, baby, I’ll make up for it by whispering extremely dirty things in your ear.” 

Her cheeks go red, and he lines his hard throbbing cock up with her entrance. Just as he begins to place his tip in he quickly pulls it back and rubs it up and down her pussy getting himself all wet for her. “Oh you’re very very sensitive right now,” he says with amusement “I’ll start off slow like this” and pushes his tip in. Just fucking her with the tip of his cock. “Then we’ll see what happens.” He’s fucking tormenting her, and she’s not having it. She pushes her ass back onto him, but he pulls back. “Do you want me to fuck you? Cuz I can fuck you if you ask me to.”

“Please, will you fuck me?”

“Hmm…fuck you how?”

“Please, Chris, will you fuck my pussy?” 

“Of course I can, Baby.”  he relents giving her his whole length. She groans loudly, trying to quickly adjust to his long cock. “Shhhh…I’m warning you if you fucking moan like that I’m gonna hold your mouth shut”

Y/N whines “I’ll be good I promise.”

He grabs her chin and turns her head slightly, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. “I know. You’re always such a good girl for me.”

He sits himself up so his chest doesn’t hover over her tattoo and Finally, begins to thrust himself into her. She feels so good around his cock. It’s hard for him to go slow like he promised. And she’s moaning breathily and letting out soft grunts so she doesn’t make much noise. Fuck she’s such a good fucking girl he loves it when she does as she’s told. He can’t hold himself back any longer. He grabs Y/N’s hips to hold her in place and starts to drive his thick cock  into her faster and faster. “Every. Thing. I. Fucking. Have. Is. Yours.” he punctuates each word with a hard, fast thrust. 

Y/N’s on her elbows, gripping the sheets so hard that her knuckles are white. It’s hard to keep quiet. It’s so fucking hard to keep quiet. “Fuck this pussy is so good.” she lets out a moan from deep in her stomach. “That’s strike one, Darlin.” but he doesn’t let up. It’s almost like he wants her to scream. Like he wants her to give in. Like he wants her to break. 

He spits on her ass and rims her asshole with his thumb prepping it for his finger. When his thumb enters her, she lets out a yelp. Just like she said before it hurts but she likes it. And best believe that’s what he likes to hear. “Strike two,” he says, his voice cold as ice. He’s in love, He’s so fucking in love right now. “You’re gonna take it like a good girl, aren’t you?” 

Y/N struggles to respond but is able to get out a simple “Mhmm, yeah.”

“Oh yeah, Is that right? You’re gonna take it deep, too, Yeah? 

She squeaks out, “I am.” He takes his other hand to pull Y/N’s hair, and she really tries not to shout. She manages a good 45 seconds until she lets out a roaring moan. 

“Strike fucking three.”He lets go of her hair and leans over her to shut that fucking mouth. And it’s the screaming into his hand that takes him over the edge. That and Y/N’s pussy spasming from her own orgasm. “Yes, baby. Yes, Baby. Yes. Cum for me just like that. You’re doing so goddamn good.” His thrust becomes messy and hurried as he spills his cum into her. 

He stays inside her for a few minutes as they cool down. “ You know I love you, Right”

“Damn right, I do,” she says between breaths.

He pulls out and lays beside her. “Then don’t ever worry about money again… It’s insulting.”

“Ooh, I think I’ll like having a sugar daddy.”

He gives her a grin “You know we’re all sweaty now… and I definitely rubbed off all that lotion.” 

She gives him a knowing look, and they say in unison “SHOWER SEX!”

Masterlist

Taglist

@emeraldgreenbeautiesstu

[theapangea]

Hi!

Can you do a lip gallagher x reader smut?

She and lip had something going on but the karen thing happend, so a few years later she comes back and they sleep together, but this time she doesnt really wants something serious.

The One That Got Away

Pairing/Characters: Lip Gallagher x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI!!! Mention of parent being sick, being heartbroken, unprotected p in v, bathroom sex

A/N: This is definitely a long one but a super good one! thank u sm to anon for the request. I hope you enjoy !!!! if you see any mistakes, no you didn't. kisses for you for supporting my work!

*Also posted on AO3: Theapangea*

Masterlist

You almost forgot.

You almost forgot that the subway stop on 5th street smells predominantly of hotdogs even though there is no hotdog stand around. The way the subway putters with music from the guy asking for spare change. That the hot, stale air of the subway carts coat your whole body even though it is cold and wet just beyond the steel frame.

You almost forgot how the L’s seats are the most uncomfortable seats in the entire world as you wiggle your butt into the uncushioned plastic. That your phone starts to lose wifi signal around the bridge, music stuttering along into your ears, skipping every other word. That the train becomes less crowded when it’s raining. Your favorite time to be here.

You almost forgot how beautiful the city looks as you pass by it so quickly that all the colors begin to blend together. That so many memories dance across the windows, the faint sound of laughter mixing with the music blasting through your ear drums. That your heart is somewhere scattered into pieces at one of these stops. Thankfully not remembering which one it was as it happened too long ago. 

You damn near almost forgot everything about this city. But it keeps drawing you back in. You’ve never really been able to leave Chicago, huh?

You pull your purse strap up onto your shoulder as the train aggressively comes to a stop. The loud intercom muffling something inaudible as you step out of the train, underneath the covering of the overhead platform. The smell of day-old garbage and wet leaves fill your nostrils as your body begins to move you in the direction of The Alibi.

It’s been a long couple of days with your dad in the hospital. He’s finally home but you can’t convince yourself that it’s a good idea to stay for a couple of days. You know that your mom needs the help but having to stay any longer in Chicago will make you go crazy.

Is making you go crazy.

You just want a quick drink before, hopefully, taking the train back to your hotel and then away from Chicago tomorrow morning. 

The rain has faded into a drizzle, your hood still pulled over your wet hair. Hands tucked neatly into your jacket pockets. You push open the heavy red door. The stench of cigarettes and beer wrapping around you in a warm hug. It’s weird to be back in a place that holds so many memories. This was the place you and Lip…Lip?

And there he is in all his glory. 

The boy who shattered your fragile teenage heart so many years ago taking a quick sip of the beer in his hands. Across the bar, sitting at the counter, laughing with Kevin. 

Your head rushes as the memories start to flood in so rapidly. The bar becomes hazy, people blurring as they pass by, the music growing louder in your ears. Pulling your hood down with your right hand while the left works to fix the fly aways.

Your eyes are attempting to focus but all you can see is Lip. His hair is a little shorter now, his body more built as his biceps are barely contained beneath the material of his shirt. The way his mouth forms in a smile when Kevin says something funny. 

A buzz trickles up your body, the giddy feeling you get when you’ve had a couple drinks in you. But you haven’t had anything to drink…not yet, at least. This was the feeling you got when you and Lip were together. It was this sort of radiating energy. 

You never thought you’d feel this way again. You’re unsure if you want to feel this way now. You’ve suppressed every memory of Lip, each too painful to relive again.

But seeing him after all of these years feels hopeful. You like the buzz that you get when you’re around him. 

God he looks so good.

You feel almost stupid thinking these thoughts.

You tried so damn hard to forget about Lip. But no man ever came anywhere close. Ever made you feel so good. You couldn’t stop yourself from comparing any future boyfriend to him. Knowing Lip was always enough for you and no other man can measure up.

The sound of your name across the bar pulls you from your inner thoughts. Two pairs of eyes now on you, Kevin waving for you to come over. But your feet were bricks. You are tempted to abandon all hope and get the hell out of here.

Your gaze passes from Kevin to Lip. The instant spark. The instant attractive. The instant pain. It is everything to you. The way your body leaks in the presence of him. You’d do anything to feel the weight of him on top of you again. 

Dragging your feet along the wooden floor, wrapping your hands over your purse strap and phone to attempt to stop them from shaking as you get closer…and closer…and closer to Lip. The scent of his cologne mixed with cigarettes engulf you. His present is greater than himself. 

Kevin’s voice breaks through the tension that surrounds you and Lip, “Beer?” He sets the bottle on the counter, the popping sound of the cap ripples through your body.

Your eyes jump to Kevin quickly until they settle on the glass bottle pushed in front of you. But you can still feel the way Lip’s eyes are digging into your skin, like glass shards. 

“So what brings you back to town? I thought you moved off to New York or somewhere grand like that.” Kevin begins, he leans on the counter with his elbows.

It is nice that he’s talking. It’d be super weird to run into Lip and not have some sort of barrier to stop the awkwardness.

Wrapping your fingers around the cold bottle, picking it up to take a sip of beer, letting the first sip of alcohol encourage you to speak. “Yeah, New York. Just some family stuff that I needed to come back for.”

“Oh, is everything okay with your mom and dad?” Kevin’s eyebrows furrowed, the tone of worry laces his words. Your dad has been coming to The Alibi long before Kevin became owner so Kevin knows your dad really well.

“Everything’s fine now. Nothing to worry about. I’ll actually be heading home tomorrow.” You state and force a smile towards him. Reassuring him that everything is alright.

A customer to your right pulls Kevin’s attention away from your conversation before he can say anything else. He hints a smile towards you before speaking some nonsense to the guy. 

Then it’s just you and Lip. Bothing babying your beers and sneaking looks from one another. The air between you both is thick. You hate how awkward it is between you and Lip now. 

Yes, he broke your heart. Yes, many hurtful words were said between the both of you. But he was your Lip. He knew everything about you. You feel stupid that you let all of it go over some other girl. 

You close your eyes, focus on your breathing and try to work up the courage to speak to him. If it wasn’t for Kevin, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. You would have definitely turned on your heels and run out of this bar faster than any human can possibly run. 

Letting the liquid courage take full effect, you finally speak,  “How are you?” Your mouth suddenly dries from the simple question. Washing it quickly with another sip of beer. The cool liquid coating its way down your throat. 

You peer over to Lip. His eyes are already on you. The faint freckles that scatter across his noses are even more beautiful than remembered.

His eyes are soft as they scan your face. His demeanor is calm, his hands still wrapped delicately around the glass bottle. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. You don’t even know if there’ll be any conversation. Maybe he’s been mad at you all this time, just like you’ve been mad at him. 

But the train of thought escapes your mind as Lip’s hand swiftly wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you into him. Crashing violently against his lips. The aggressive need of the taste of you. Attempting to match his rough nature. His lips move fast as he breathes you in. Needing every single ounce of you, making up for all the lost time. 

Lip draws back slightly, his mouth only centimeters away from yours. Your heavy breathes mix together as he places his forehead against yours. 

“I’ve missed you,” his whisper is so soft, so innocent. Your heart swells at the vulnerability. 

Your hands make fist in the fabric of his shirt as you pull him closer to you, catching his mouth in yours again. Your body’s moving closer to one another. You need him right now. You can’t wait a minute longer. Pulling away from him again, locking his eyes with yours and quickly gesturing that you take this elsewhere. 

He smirks, eyes darkening as you realize you both have the same idea. He immediately wraps your hand in his as he leads you towards the bathroom. 

Pushing the door open with his back. His hands on your waist as he pulls you with him. Forcefully shutting and locking the door before his attention is all on you. His attention is only for you.

Lip is the lion and you are the deer. Knees shaking as he stalks closer to you. Feeling so small compared to him as he lips are on you again. Sucking, biting, licking, desperately needing the taste of you over and over again. 

Grinding your hips against him, his hard cock pressed firmly behind his jeans. Both of your hands make quick work to tear each other’s clothes off. Unbuckling pants, removing shirts, the skin to skin contact is electrifying. 

Lip flips you around, your chest placed firmly against the wall. His hands slowly move along your sides, thumbs looping on the hem of your pants and underwear, pulling them violently down your legs. Sticking your bare ass against Lip’s growing member as he places wet kisses along your shoulder. 

Lip shoves one hand down his jeans to release his penis from their prison. Holding up your cheeks with his other hands, stroking his cock as he aligns it with your entrance. The clear liquid leaking between your legs as he runs his tip around your sensitive nub. Your whiny moans signaling that you can’t take being without him for much longer. You are going to burst even if he isn’t inside of you. 

Lip pushes deeply into you, roughly sinking his pulsing cock between your slick folds. Both of his hands wrap you closely like a hug as your walls expand to accommodate him. The waves of pleasure run across your skin as he pounds into your sweet bliss. 

Moans and whines filling the small bathroom. His thrust is hard and wild. Sinking your wet core deeper and deeper onto his shaft. The eagerness of having you is overwhelming for Lip. He’s so close and wants nothing more than to take you with him.

“Come for me, baby.” He groans against your ear, nibbling your earlobe. 

And it is everything you need to release yourself onto his cock. Standing on your tiptoes as your body violently shakes in his arms. His thrust becomes messier as you release yourself on to him, the act sending him over the edge after you, filling your little pussy with his warm liquid. 

The air is hot as he pulls out of you. Grabbing a couple of paper towels from the dispenser to clean himself and you up. Your core is sensitive as the rough material glides against it. Your ass is still in full display for Lip before reaching down to pick your undies and pants off the floor. 

Lip leans against the bathroom wall mirroring your movements of getting his pants back on as you make your way over to the sink. Splashing some water on your face before looking at yourself in the mirror. You can barely recognize the girl in front of you. The overwhelming feeling of want for Lip pushed away the feelings of pain. But only briefly as they finally start to settle in again. 

Lip scratches the back of his neck, his eyes dropping onto the ground. Your name hanging gently on the tip of his tongue, “God, I didn’t realize things were so bad with your parents. I would’ve helped out if I’d known.”

Lip was really close to your dad when you were both younger. Your dad acting like more of a father to him than Frank ever did. You know it’s true, if Lip knew your dad was sick. He’d drop everything to help out.

And you loved Lip for that.

But it isn’t his problem. Especially now, especially after what happened between the two of you.

“It’s not your problem, Lip.” You say, looking down into the sink in front of you. You didn’t really feel like talking about it, especially to him.

You wipe your hands and face with a paper towel. Tossing the paper into the trash before reaching for the door handle, “I should go.”

“You’re leaving?” Lip reaches out to grab your wrist. His fingers wrapping tightly around you.

Your eyes shift downwards as you don't know exactly what to say. Maybe saying nothing will hurt less. But are you trying to convince him or you?

Pulling away from his grip, exiting the bathroom. Saying a quick goodbye to Kevin as you walk out the main entrance. It is all behind you now. You got the sex out of the way so there’s nothing more to be said or done.

But just like before, you could never shake Lip as a shadow. You feel his presence walking quickly behind you. He follows you around like some puppy who needs a home. You chose to try to ignore him and make your way back to the train station. Maybe he will get tired of following you and just leave you alone once and for all.

“Do you wanna grab a bite to eat?” Lip asks, his voice lower as he is behind you.

You stop immediately once you get to the top of the train platform. Taking a deep breath as you turn around on your heels. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Lip.”

“Why?” 

God, as smart as Lip is. He can be so stupid sometimes.

“Because we aren’t friends anymore. I didn’t come back here for you. And if it wasn’t for my parents then I wouldn’t even be here. I hate Chicago. I hate it because of you. So just act like I wasn’t here, please.” Your voice was so harsh at first, finishing your monologue with barely a whisper. Pleading for him to let you go. 

But Lip is so quick with a response, “But why do you hate me? What the fuck did I do to you that we just stopped being friends.”

“You’re really going to act dumb?” You scoff. “Fucking Karen, dude. Once you started fucking her, you just left me. I was nothing to you. And you were everything to me. And I thought I got over you, this hatred, this pain. But fuck, Lip. You just can’t talk to me like that never happened.”

“I was a kid. I was fucking stupid.”

“And Karen?”

“Something happened to her.” His eyes shift down. The sharp pain in your heart grows.

“Do you still love her?”

“Maybe.”

“Then this will never happen.” Your hand motions between you and Lip.

“I want to give it a chance again. If you’d let me.” He reaches out to grab your fingers. Linking them with his with yours, pulling you towards him.

But you stand firm in your footing. He had you so many years ago. Could have probably had you a couple minutes ago. But now that reality has set in again. Knowing he still loves Karen, knowing he will never love you as much as he loves her. 

Now absolutely knowing this information has torn you. Lip has broken your heart once more. And you can’t even blame him as you were the one who decided to sleep with him. 

Stuttering as you attempt to get the words out, the tears slipping down your cheeks, “I loved you Lip. I still love you. You know that, right? I always did and probably always will. God knows I was never good at letting things…or people…go.” Licking your lips to break as you stop yourself from fully breaking down. “I can’t let you do this to me, Lip. I won’t.”

The train pulls in behind you. The gush of the hot air blowing your hair. Taking a deep breath as you and Lip both stand there, red-eyed and drained. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you turn to board the train. 

Turning back to stare at Lip. The steel doors closing between the both of you. The plastic window allows you both to still see the other one last time before the train guts into motion. You instantly grip the metal pole to keep standing as the image of Lip fades into the past, just like every other memory of him. 

But to Lip, you are the fire that lights in his belly. And as much as it pains him to admit, you were the one that got away, he was just too stupid to realize it back then.

~~~

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