#kickass movie 2 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothcsz · 29 days ago

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Summary: Life after quitting the porn industry.

Tags: halloween vibes, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex (protected), getting bent over in a parking garage, frankie heavy beginning (they had us in the first half not gonna lie), speaking of frankie he wears the ghostface mask while hitting it, connie has entered this little universe, masturbation with vibrator (f), clit stimulation, dirty talk, pussy slapping, JUST THE TIP!!!!, no use of y/n, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: surpriseeeee, i woke up a little too inspired to write and voila, out came this beautiful chapter that i was not expecting to get out so soon. again, this fic has def taken off in ways i never imagined but uhhh, we out here 🖤 thanks to everyone for the support, frankie girlies (gn) i hope i did your man justice 'cause i was feeling a little too feral for him. as for my just the tip stans... we did it joe 🤠 i hope you guys fucking love this the way i do and that you ruined your underwear... just as i did 🖤

The cool autumn breeze sweeps over you as you walk out of the movie theater with Frankie, the Halloween spirit in full swing. Scream 2 was as thrilling as ever, and your favorite of the trilogy.

The fall season always makes you feel nostalgic, and tonight has been no exception—dinner, a movie, and Frankie by your side for the past month has made things feel better than they have been for quite some time now.

“It’s not that hard to escape the bastard,” Frankie says confidently, as if he’d be the first to survive the whole ordeal. “He’s just some guy—or girl—wearing a mask with a knife. I’d have them handled in five minutes. Tops.”

You laugh, humoring him. “Oh, I’m sure you would.”

The parking garage is mostly empty, dimly lit as you make your way to his truck, parked at the top level. You’re talking casually about the film when he suddenly slows down, a mischievous smirk creeping across his face. He corners you slowly, backing you against the cool metal of the truck, his presence looming as you feel the tension rise.

“Or,” he says, voice dropping lower, “I could be a real kickass Ghostface.”

Your eyes flick to the mask in his hand, the complimentary one that came with the tickets, and then back to him. His dark brown eyes gleam with playful intent, and a thrill shoots through you. “Oh yeah?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

He grins, slipping his cap off and pulling the mask over his face. Oh, shit. You’ve never had a mask kink before, but something about Frankie wearing it like this, his body pressing closer, has your pulse racing.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asks, his voice lowering to mimic what’d you just seen, a smooth yet eerie tone. It’s almost too good, too convincing, and you suddenly understand why people fantasize about this kind of thing.

You bite your lip, your mind swirling with desire as his hand slides down to your hip, squeezing gently. “I don’t have one,” you say, teasing him. You can barely see his eyes through the mask’s slits, but the way his head tilts makes your stomach flip.

“Oh, c’mon, hermosa,” he purrs, “don’t lie to me.”

You giggle nervously, feeling the heat between you both intensify. Glancing around to make sure you’re still alone, you place a hand on his chest, letting it slide down slowly until it reaches his belt. He grunts in response, his free hand gripping the back of your head tightly. The pressure sends a shiver down your spine, and you whimper softly.

“You’re liking this, aren’t you?” He asks, voice muffled slightly by the mask but dripping with lust.

“More than I’d like to admit,” you breathe out, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. And before you can process it, your jeans and underwear are being pulled down to your mid-thigh. Frankie wastes no time, maneuvering you into the backseat of the truck. You’re bent over, ass out, hands pressed against the cool leather as you hear him undo his belt, the sound of his zipper punctuating the quiet.

He’s quick, efficient, rolling a condom over his thick cock before positioning himself behind you. His hand grips your hip as he thrusts into you, and you gasp as he fills you, the mask still firmly on his face.

It’s fucking amazing. Frankie fucks you like no one ever has—not like it’s for show or performance, but feverent and real. Each thrust hits the perfect spot inside you, sending your vision into a haze of stars. You’re more vocal than you’ve ever been, moaning his name, asking for more.

“Harder,” you whine, and he obliges, his nails digging into your hips as he pounds into you relentlessly. His grunts mix with your moans, the sound echoing in the empty parking garage.

When he’s close, he finally pulls the mask off, tossing it aside before leaning down, kissing and nipping at your neck. His fingers move below you, rubbing at your sensitive clit as you clench around him, your orgasm rushing through you.

His teeth graze your skin as you both reach your peak, your body trembling as he groans, his release following yours.

He stills inside you, breathing heavily against your neck, and for a moment, everything is still—just you, him, and the night. You smile, feeling content, and he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before slowly pulling out, leaving you both breathless in the backseat of his truck.

“Well, fuck.” Frankie curses under his breath, tying the condom off with a quick motion. His hands, now gentler, reach for yours as he helps you up, both of you quickly fixing your clothes and appearances.

Once you’re situated, you spin around to face him, your fingers lightly brushing his jaw as you lean in to kiss him. It’s sweet, and the soft smack of your lips echoes through the empty parking garage.

“That was amazing,” you say, still a little breathless, your heart still racing in your chest.

A smirk plays on his lips as he puts his cap back on and tosses the used condom in a nearby trash bin. “Gonna have to hold onto this,” he says, nodding toward the Ghostface mask, now thrown carelessly into the backseat. There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, that flirty, teasing edge you’ve come to expect from him.

“It was definitely a heat-of-the-moment thing,” you say, trying to play it cool, though you can’t help the little grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Mhm, sure it was.” He winks, sliding into the driver’s seat beside you as he starts the engine, the rumble of his truck echoing as he pulls out of the garage.

The streets are alive with the Halloweekend night crowd. People spill out of bars, laughter and chatter drifting through the air as Frankie navigates through the bustling costumed scene. You catch sight of a group of friends stumbling onto the sidewalk, and you’re grateful that your apartment’s entrance is around the back, away from all the noise and chaos.

Frankie pulls up across the street from your place, parking the truck and turning to you with a slightly furrowed brow. “Not really a fan of your current living arrangement,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes serious.

You shrug, reaching for your purse. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” though you can’t deny you’ve felt the same way. The cramped apartment above a rowdy bar wasn’t your dream setup, but it’s what you’ve got for now.

Leaning over the console, you peck his lips once, twice, then again. What starts as a series of playful kisses quickly turns into something more, your hands finding his stubbled jaw as his fingers graze your thigh. Before long, you’re fully making out again.

When you finally pull away, your lips tingling, you ask softly, “Wanna come up?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes search yours for a moment, considering something. But then, with a slow nod, he says, “Yeah, okay.” His voice is steady, but there’s that familiar heat beneath it, the same one that had you wrapped up in the backseat earlier.

The following morning is spent with the both of you lazily lounging around your apartment, only leaving to pick up a late breakfast from your favorite spot around the corner before you’re back in bed, sleeping the day away.

You’re barely aware of the warm breath ghosting over your inner thighs as you shift in your sleep, legs lazily spread across the bed. A sleepy moan slips out when you feel soft lips pressing against your pussy, then a firmer kiss followed by a slow drag of a tongue.

You stir, half-dazed, your fingers instinctively moving to the unruly curls of hair between your legs as the sensation intensifies. Frankie’s lips latch onto your clit, sucking gently, and it sends a shock of pleasure through your body, waking you up fully.

“Oh,” his name slips from your lips like a breathless confession.

You can feel his grin against you, hear the low groan vibrating through your sensitive flesh as he takes his time, his tongue swirling around you in lazy circles, savoring your taste.

Just for a second, a flash of something—or someone—else crosses your mind. Javier. The thought of him, of the way he’d made you fall apart that day in the elevator, flickers in your mind like a flame.

Your eyes fly open in shock, and you gasp, but Frankie is none the wiser. He assumes your reaction is all because of him, and that only spurs him on. His lips press harder against you as he brings two fingers up, spreading you open gently before sinking them inside.

You shake your head, mentally shoving him back into the recesses where he belongs.

With a determined focus, you let yourself melt back into the pleasure, letting go of everything else. “Pussy tastes so good, hermosa,” he mumbles, as he works his mouth and fingers together, creating a messy, perfect rhythm that has your thighs clenching around his head.

It’s all too much, too good, and you can’t help the way your body writhes beneath him.

Your moans fill the room, louder and more desperate, hips lifting and chasing the pleasure as the tension in your spine coils tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, and you come undone all over his lips and fingers.

Frankie doesn’t stop right away—his lips stay on you, moving with less intensity now, just soft kisses as you come down from your high. He places a final, lingering kiss to your clit before he crawls up your body, kissing a path along your skin. You’re still wearing his t-shirt, your body half exposed, and he grins down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

“Figured you needed something to help get you through your shift,” he says, his voice teasing yet full of affection.

You give him a lazy, fucked-out smile, still catching your breath. “It’s gonna help me with more than just my shift, mister. You just gave me something new to add to my spank bank.”

He shakes his head playfully. “Spank bank, huh? Glad to be of service,” he adds with a wink, leaning in for another kiss, slower this time. You can’t help but run your hands over his arms, admiring the small scars, the beauty marks that dot his tan skin.

“Are you coming back tonight?” You ask softly, your fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a peck.

He sighs against your lips before shaking his head. “Can’t. I’ve got Elliana this weekend,” he says, his tone softening as he mentions his four-year-old daughter. You haven’t met her yet, the two of you keeping things casual and slow.

Neither of you wants anything serious, but hearing him mention his daughter always adds a layer of sweetness to him that makes you feel warm.

You nod in understanding, pulling him down for one final kiss before you force yourself to get up and start getting ready for work. He watches you, that same teasing, affectionate glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but smile back at him, grateful for whatever this is between you two.

“You just got fucked, didn’t you?” Connie’s voice hits you the second you step behind the bar, her eyebrows wiggling with mischief as she leans against the counter, arms crossed over her Princess Peach costume that’s not really a costume—just a pink tennis dress with the signature crown atop of her head.

“Hello to you too, Connie.” You give her a sarcastic smile, securing the half apron around your waist. It’s a routine now—her prying into your business like an investigative reporter for the gossip section.

Reminds you of another blond, and now you wonder if they’re all just like this.

Your firecracker of a coworker is an E.R. nurse who took on this bartending gig a few months after you did. The fact that she has to hustle for tips despite being in healthcare is one of those cruel ironies you both bitch about during slow shifts. You’d think a nurse would be raking in cash, but there are nights here at Lucky’s where she pulls more than at the hospital.

“I’m just saying,” Connie continues, mid-lemon slice, her eyes narrowing in exaggerated suspicion. “You’re wearing your cute jeans, your shirt’s actually clean, and—wait, is that makeup on your face? Please don’t tell me you’re in cat ears!” She pauses, blade in hand, smirking at you like she’s cracked some secret code.

Your face warms up as you adjust the stupid cat ears on your head. Yeah, she’s nailed it—hooking up with Frankie before your shift definitely put some extra pep in your step tonight. A little effort never hurt, especially when looking put-together meant better tips.

It’s Halloween, and people tend to tip better when you’re festive. So, why not milk it for all it’s worth?

“Just capitalizing off the holiday, Con. Is that a crime?” You say, bending down to grab the ice buckets for a quick refill before the evening rush hits.

“No, what is a crime,” she says, not missing a beat as she narrows her eyes at you, tossing the lemons aside, “is you skimping out on the juicy details of your love life.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that slips out as you hip-check her on your way to the ice machine. “I’m not skimping. It’s not like I’ve been hiding some wild love affair. We only started fucking, what, like two weeks ago?”

“And?” She leans forward, hands on her hips, waiting like she’s tuning in for the next episode of her favorite drama.

You bite your lip, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “It’s… fucking amazing.”

She whistles, then throws her hands up in celebration. You can’t help but laugh—loudly—your mood is too good to even pretend to be embarrassed.

Grabbing the freshly filled ice buckets, you lug them back behind the bar, your arms burning slightly from the weight, but you’re not complaining. Between lugging buckets and keeping the bar stocked, who needs a gym membership?

“I’m so jealous. I can’t even remember the last time I slept with a guy and actually enjoyed it,” She says with a dramatic sigh, leaning her elbows on the bar.

“Trust me, I was in the same boat for the longest time. Then Frankie just… showed up,” you say with a small, satisfied smile. It’s true, he kind of did swoop in out of nowhere, and it’s been surprisingly easy with him since.

But, of course, there’s that brief hiccup in your mind that involves Javier.

You push the thought of him away, like you’ve been doing for weeks. What happened earlier in bed with Frankie was just a slip-up, your subconscious messing with you.

“Well, I need a guy to just show up and fuck me so I can think straight again,” she half-jokes, and the two of you burst into laughter, the kind that shakes your shoulders and draws a few curious glances from nearby patrons.

As the night picks up, the bar gets busier, and the usual rhythm settles in. You and Connie move in sync, the crowd buzzing with energy.

Costumes, chatter, and the clinking of glasses surround you, but you’re in your zone. It’s not until about two hours later, as you’re pouring someone’s vodka soda, that you catch sight of a familiar face sliding into a barstool in front of you.

“Long time no see, stranger,” you greet Steve over the music, already reaching for his usual piss beer and uncapping it before sliding it across the counter.

“Work’s been fucking ass,” he replies, taking a long, much-needed gulp from the bottle. You can see the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Robbie still being an asshole, I presume?” You ask, shifting away to take another patron’s order while keeping half an ear out for whatever fresh hell your ex-boss has put Steve through now.

Steve’s attention, though, is fixed on something—or rather, someone—else. His gaze locks on Connie, who’s busy putting on a little show for a group of birthday girls. She’s expertly pouring a line of shots, lighting them on fire, and sliding them toward the group, who erupt into cheers.

“She seein’ anyone?” He asks, leaning in closer, like he’s trying to keep the question discreet. Between the thumping music and the lively chatter, Connie wouldn’t hear him even if he shouted.

You raise a brow. “Like I told you last time—and like she told you the time before—no.”

“Then why’s she always shuttin’ me down?” He frowns, frustration creasing his face.

You shrug, wiping down the perpetually sticky counter. “Probably because you only approach her here, when you’re halfway through a six-pack. Connie’s not looking for bullshit—she deals with enough of that here and at the hospital.”

Steve scoffs, taking another hefty swig of his beer. “Right. You bartenders are tough to crack.”

You smirk, knocking your knuckles on the wooden bar top. “Maybe, but we’re worth the effort.”

Steve chuckles at that. “Now, spill. I’ve barely seen you since I quit.” You’re curious, and maybe just a little petty.

He groans, tipping his head back as if the memory of work physically pains him. And a part of you—maybe the slightly vindictive part—waits eagerly to hear about how Robbie’s screwing up, still secretly wishing for your old boss’s downfall.

“Longer shoots for lesser pay. And the fucking guys he’s been hiring— Christ Almighty. S’been a fuckin’ shitshow since you walked out,” You feel pride swell up in your chest at the remembrance, how good it felt to stick up for yourself. “But especially since Javier kicked his ass to the curb. I’m the last one standing.”

You barely have time to absorb this before a rowdy group of frat boys descends on the bar, demanding drinks with the enthusiasm of toddlers in a candy store.

You want to wring their necks for interrupting your train of thought, especially since curiosity about what happened with Javier is gnawing at you.

Why do you care? That small voice in your head questions, but you put her on mute and focus on fulfilling the orders of these insufferable college students.

Noticing you’re tied up, Steve hops down a few barstools, positioning himself in front of Connie, trying to charm her again. You can’t help but catch snippets of his pickup lines as you whirl about behind the bar. To your surprise, Connie seems receptive this time, laughing and engaging with him instead of brushing him off like before.

Good for her—she deserves a bit of fun, especially after just saying she needed to get laid. You hope Steve has learned a thing or two from all those shoots.

Amid the chaos, you break through their flirting when Connie has to prepare another round of shots. “So, Javier quit?” you ask, the words spilling out before you can hold them back.

Steve, clearly happy as hell that his advances have finally worked, shoots you a smug grin. “Yup. Him and Robbie were arguing more and more then he pulled a you and stormed off set. It’s just him and his agent now. He isn’t signing on to just one production company anymore. Don’t be surprised if you see him sellin’ tricks on Figueroa.”

A frown tugs at your lips, the bittersweet news settling in your chest. You can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Javier.

“Why are you askin’? You miss him or somethin’? Thought you were still bangin’ it out with that camera guy from Malibu.” His tone is teasing, reminiscent of a little brother trying to get under your skin.

You snort, rolling your eyes and collecting the empty glasses into a plastic bin. “ I’m just surprised. This is like, his whole thing.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, he hasn’t been working as much. I’ve never seen the guy be this… still. Told him maybe it’s a good thing—he can finally chill the fuck out and give his dick a break.”

You can’t help but laugh, handing him another beer. “I can’t even imagine what else he’d do. Can you seriously picture Javier Peña working a 9 to 5?”

Steve grins, scratching his chin as if pondering the idea. “I dunno, he could be a good car salesman. Maybe even insurance?”

You both chuckle, but as you excuse yourself to put away the dirty dishes, your mind lingers on Javier. It’s like a weird domino effect: your departure had shaken things up, and now a small part of you feels somewhat responsible for this mess.

No, you shouldn’t feel this way. He’ll figure it out. You really shouldn’t waste this much time ‘worrying’ about him. He means nothing to you. End of story.

The rest of your shift flows smoothly, and you end up pocketing more tips than you anticipated. Even the late hour—almost four in the morning—doesn’t faze you as you and Connie finish cleaning up and closing.

“You can stay the night if you want. I’m sure you don’t want to wait for the bus this late,” you suggest, watching her mop with a satisfied smile.

“Actually…” She pauses, wringing out the mop head. Your brows raise at her tone, and she bites her lip. “My ride is waiting for me out front.”

You piece it together in an instant, halting mid-count of the twenty-dollar bills. “No way, you finally gave in to Steve!”

Connie’s face lights up with a sheepish smile. “I thought he was cute since day one. I just couldn’t let him get to me so easily. Play hard to get, you know? See if he really wanted me as badly as he said he did.”

You hum, shaking your head with a grin as you resume counting. “Atta girl. Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.”

As you finish up, you hug Connie goodbye, watching as she excitedly jumps into Steve’s Jeep. You trudge up the creaky stairs to your place, feeling a bit lonely now.

The remnants of Frankie’s presence linger in your cramped apartment: his side of the bed still mussed, a crumpled T-shirt on the floor, and takeaway containers from earlier scattered on your small kitchen table.

With a sigh, you take off your cat ears and head straight for the shower, hoping to wash away the lingering thoughts of both Javier and Frankie before slipping into the quiet of your own bed.

Frankie stands in your living room, his expression serious but soft, while you sit on the couch, staring up at him.

You foolishly didn’t think this would happen—at least not this soon, only two months in. His words are steady, measured, like he’s practiced this. “Elliana’s mom and I… we’re trying to work things out.”

The lump in your throat rises, but you refuse to let it crack your voice. You won’t give in to the urge to cry. It’s not like you didn’t expect this on some level—dating a man with a child meant his ex would always be in the picture. And now, she’s front and center.

“I understand…”

He exhales deeply at seeing you like this. He sits next to you, close but not invasive, and his presence—still so familiar—only sharpens the ache. You don’t pull away, though everything inside you screams to. Even if this is the right way to end things, you have every right to feel a sting.

You weren’t serious-serious, but you’d gotten used to him. His easy warmth, the random dates that brightened your week, the small slice of domesticity you didn’t realize you’d grown to like. And the sex… God, you’re not ready to give that up, either.

“I didn’t mess around with her while we were together. You have to know that,” he adds, his voice low, calm, as if trying to make sure you’re not left with any doubts. He rests his hand on your knee, grounding you in the moment, though you wish he wouldn’t.

“I know you’re not that guy, Frankie. It just sucks being broken up with,” you say, forcing a smile, lightening your tone as if to keep the tears at bay.

He sighs again, his big brown eyes—those damn puppy eyes—locking onto yours. “I really enjoyed my time with you,” he says, sounding sincere. “It was great. You’re great.”

You nod, just wanting this to be over so you can sink yourself into your sheets and rot for the rest of the day.

“Likewise, Frankie. Now go make sure your daughter’s got a stable home to grow up in.” You try to smile again, but it’s weaker this time. He can see through it, you know, but he nods anyway.

You walk him to the door, making a quick detour to your bedroom to gather the few t-shirts he’s left behind. When you hand them to him, he grins, trying to lift the mood. “So that’s where these went.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a t-shirt hoarder,” you joke back, your voice hollow.

He pauses at the door, his eyes lingering on you longer than you’d like.

“Take care of yourself.”

“You too, hermosa,” he replies, the affection in the word making your heart squeeze.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, you let yourself collapse against it, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to your chest. The tears come silently at first, just a slow trickle, but soon they’re streaking down your cheeks as you curl into yourself.

You hate dating. You’ve always hated it. It feels like a cycle of disappointments: either you’re stuck with some dud or, worse, you find someone worth a damn, and they leave anyway.

After crying it out for a few minutes, you force yourself to wipe away the tears. The ache in your chest lingers, but you’re determined to distract yourself, dragging your feet over to the entertainment center. Your hand glides over the familiar spines of DVDs and VHS tapes, searching for the right kind of escape, something to pair with the bottle of wine you’ll snag from downstairs.

You reach the end of the row and stop on Pretty Woman, about to pull it out, when your fingers brush against a few unmarked DVDs shoved haphazardly in the back. Curious, you pull them out, and your breath hitches.

They’re your old shoots—the first ones you ever did with Javier. The raunchy titles leap out at you, and suddenly, memories of being on set with him flood back. The chemistry, the heat, the way he looked at you when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Your pulse quickens. You should put them back. But you don’t. You weren’t prepared for this— especially not today, freshly dumped, on the verge of a sexual drought, and with your head all messed up.

Fuck it, you have nothing to lose, so you randomly pick one. Pretty Woman gets shoved aside as you clutch the DVD case, a weird thrill running through you.

As if possessed, you march to your bedside table in your bedroom, frantically rummaging for your long-neglected vibrator. It’s been gathering dust since Frankie showed up, but now… now you’re hoping, praying it still works. When you finally find it, you flip it on, and the gentle hum tells you it’s fully charged.

Thank you, past me. You have no idea how much present me needs this.

With a deep breath, you return to the living room and pop the DVD into the player. The screen flickers to life, and you settle onto the couch, heart pounding in your chest as the film begins.

The anticipation builds as the usual no-piracy warning flashes on the screen, followed by the production company’s intro. Finally, the familiar jazzy porn music kicks in, setting the mood for what’s to come.

You can already feel your pulse racing, knowing what’s next. This one, you remember—it was one of the first outdoor scenes you shot.

The setup was simple, classic: a woman stranded on the side of the road due to car trouble, waiting for a tow truck to save her. The main star, gorgeous as ever, is dressed provocatively in a tiny miniskirt, platform flip-flops, and a tube top that screams easy access. The camera lingers over her, capturing every curve of her body as she fakes helplessness, playing her role perfectly.

Then comes the rumble of the tow truck, and Javier steps out, looking rugged and sexy in dirty jeans and a rumpled denim shirt with a generic towing company patch stitched onto it. His presence alone is enough to make your skin prickle with heat.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be stuck out here like this,” his voice fills the room. God, you hate to admit it, but you’ve missed hearing him—his smooth tone, the way he used to make every line sound like a promise.

Maybe it’s the leftover emotion from Frankie’s breakup that’s doing this to you, making you feel too much.

“Thank goodness you’re here to help me out. I just... I don’t have any money on me right now to pay for it,” the woman pouts, lips glossy, eyes fluttering up at him like she’s the most innocent thing alive.

Javier cocks his head, eyes traveling over her like she’s a piece of candy. “Don’t worry,” he says, that signature smirk appearing on his face. “I think we can figure something out.”

And just like that, they’re fucking. Raw, desperate sex. He has her spread out on the hood of the car, and her tits bounce with every hard thrust. Javier holds her legs wide open, his rough hands gripping her thighs as he slams into her.

The scene is pure, animalistic lust, and it has your head spinning.

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your moans mix with theirs from the TV, and the steady buzz of your vibrator pulses deep inside you. You match the rhythm of Javier’s thrusts, watching as he pistons his cock in and out of her, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your living room.

You remember that day on set vividly. You’d been sick, your body still sore from the remnants of a cold, and you’d been eager to get it over with so you could go home and collapse into a warm bowl of pho.

But now, watching the scene play out in front of you, it’s like you’re seeing it for the first time—every detail heightened, every movement burned into your mind.

Javier’s fingers dig into her skin as he holds her in place, his hips grinding into her with force. Her face twists in bliss, and you can’t help but imagine what that must feel like, that deep, toe-curling sensation as he hits just the right spot. You let out another moan, the vibrator buzzing relentlessly as you try to keep up with the scene, your hips rocking in time with theirs.

When he leans down, wrapping his lips around her nipple, it’s like you can feel the phantom of his mouth on your own skin. You bring a hand up to your chest, pinching and twisting your nipple, slicking your fingers with spit to heighten the sensation. It’s almost too much, but you can’t stop yourself.

Your breathing quickens as you turn up the setting on the vibrator, the pleasure building, your back bending off the couch. You close your eyes and let your imagination take over, the image of Javier on top of you searing into your mind—his body, hot and heavy, pressing against yours, his teeth grazing your neck, his hands everywhere at once. You can feel him, hear the grunts and groans from the screen, but in your mind, it’s all for you.

“Nena, look at you,” Javier’s voice murmurs, low and rough in your mind, as he hitches your leg higher around his waist, his words melting into your skin like liquid heat. “Told you you’d look so beautiful spread out like this, taking my cock so well.”

A sharp gasp escapes you, your breath catching in your throat as your pussy clenches tightly around the vibrator, which suddenly feels less like a toy and more like him—big, thick, and filling you completely. You can almost feel the weight of him pressing against you, the way his cock would stretch you just right. Your lips part, another whimper escaping as the scene in your head becomes even more vivid.

“And those noises you’re making?” His voice, rich and dripping with desire, keeps echoing through your thoughts. “Baby, you drive me fucking,” his hips snap forward in your imagination, rough and unrelenting, “crazy,” another thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your neck arches back, exposing your throat like you’re inviting him to claim you, his mouth finding the sensitive skin behind your ear, marking you, biting you. His lips would feel so good, so possessive, leaving trails of heat wherever they touch.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers against your skin, his breath hot in your ear. “Even after not seeing your pretty face for two months, all I see when I close my eyes is you.”

His teeth graze your earlobe, and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your hand moves from your breast down to your clit, fingers rubbing the tender nub with an urgency you can’t hold back any longer. You’re so close, so fucking close.

“Oh, J-Javi,” you cry out, your voice breaking. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

The orgasm slams into you, cutting off your words, drowning your thoughts in white-hot pleasure. Your body spasms uncontrollably, juices dripping down as your vibrator hums between your legs. You’re shaking, utterly spent, your breath ragged, skin on fire.

“Good girl, nenita,” his voice purrs, the Spanish rolling off his tongue like honey. “Mira que belleza. It’s okay, I got you.”

It takes a moment for reality to snap back into place, the haze of pleasure lifting just enough for you to realize that he didn’t say it at all. It was the Javier on the screen, whispering sweet praise to the actress as he fucked her.

You lay there, boneless, too tired to care as the movie continues to play. But something feels off now, a strange sense of emptiness replacing the satisfaction you usually feel.

You pull the vibrator from between your legs, the wetness from your climax glistening on it as you flick the switch off and toss it carelessly onto the coffee table. You’ll clean it later.

Your body slumps against the cushions, head falling into your hands. “What the fuck did you just do?” You whisper to yourself.

Watching porn to get off? That’s normal, right? It’s what it’s made for. Lots of people do it. So why do you feel so… guilty? Is it because it was Javier? Of course it is. No matter how hard you try to push him out of your mind, he always finds a way back in—whether he’s there in front of you, or haunting you in the fantasies, you can’t seem to put him to rest.

And the timing? Not even an hour after being broken up with, and already you’ve let him worm his way back into your head, back into your body. It’s like he’s got you tangled up, literally and figuratively, even when he’s not here.

Unable to take any more of their exaggerated moans and whimpers, you reach for the remote and switch off the TV, the screen going dark as you eject the disc and shove it back into its case. You finally grab Pretty Woman, tossing it into the player without much thought, your head still spinning.

It’s only then that you remember the wine, the one thing that might actually help clear your head. You stand, sluggish and sore, pulling your clothes back on and heading downstairs to fetch that much-needed bottle, your thoughts still racing, still trying to untangle the mess that is Javier Peña lodged firmly in your mind.

“Just know, I didn’t plan this.”

Steve’s words make you squint in suspicion as he slides onto the barstool next to you, his usual spot. You’re about to ask what he means when your heart plummets—there he is. The familiar broad frame of the handsome man you’ve been trying—and failing—to scrub from your mind ever since your breakup two weeks ago. Hell, before then too.

“What’s he doing here?” you hiss, shooting Steve a glare so sharp it could cut glass.

“He caught me off guard, okay? Basically invited himself. Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, clearly trying to avoid your wrath.

You bite down hard on your tongue, trying to keep your frustration in check. But then your gaze collides with Javier’s, and it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you.

Those deep brown eyes, glinting beneath the dim lighting, pin you in place, stirring up everything you’ve been trying to bury. It’s infuriating how he seems even more attractive than the last time you saw him, like life just decided to up the ante on making him impossible to forget.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to look away, frantically trying to busy your hands. Anything to keep from talking to him. But it’s hard to focus when every cell in your body is hyper-aware of his presence just a few feet away.

“I’m going on break!” Connie’s chirpy voice feels like nails on a chalkboard, and you don’t miss the way she winks at Steve before grabbing his arm and leading him to the back.

Ah, so that’s why he’s here earlier than usual.

“Thirty minutes!” You shout after her, but your heart’s not in it. You’re too preoccupied with the fact that you’re now alone at the bar with Javier and a few of the happy hour regulars.

He leans forward on his elbows, casual but impossibly magnetic in a jean jacket and a cream-colored shirt. His sunglasses hang from the unbuttoned portion near his collarbones, and you can smell that familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cologne that’s been seared into your memory. “So this is the illustrious Lucky’s,” he says, his deep voice wrapping around you like a slow burn.

“The one and only,” you manage to reply, keeping your tone clipped.

“Been doin’ okay?”

“I’ve been managing.” Your words come out a little too quick, a little too defensive, but you can’t help it.

He tilts his head, his gaze steady. “Still seeing that guy?”

There’s an unmistakable tinge of jealousy laced in his voice, and your heart skips a beat. You meet his eyes for a moment before going back to drying the cheap chalices your boss insisted on for an upcoming theme night.

“That guy has a name,” you correct him coolly. “But no. That ship sailed two weeks ago.”

A low hum escapes his throat, and he drums his fingers lightly against the countertop. “A shame.”

“Can I get you anything?” You ask, a little too forcefully. The question feels like a challenge, and from the way his eyes glint, you know he feels it too.

He lets the tension simmer between you for a moment before finally answering, “Just a Corona.”

“Lime?”

“Of course, nena.”

That fucking term of endearment hits you like a punch to the gut. It’s what he’s always called you, ever since the very first time you met. And damn it, it’s the same name he whispers in your ear when you imagine him thrusting balls deep inside you, filling you with every inch of his cock.

Your breath hitches before you can stop it, the heat rising in your cheeks as you fumble for a lime. You slice it, hands shaking ever so slightly as you wedge it into the bottle, sliding it across the bar to him.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his gaze burning with the unspoken tension that always builds when you’re around each other.

You can feel it too—the weight of all the unsaid things hanging in the air. All the desire. All the frustration.

He thanks you softly. “So, Steve finally got himself a girl.” He tries to continue the mundane conversation, amused as he leans in, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You try not to notice the way his neck muscles work when he takes a sip of his beer, but it’s impossible not to. You hate the way your body responds, the small flutter in your stomach that you wish would just stop.

“Yeah, he’s been chasing her for months, and she finally gave in. Probably the best thing that could’ve happened for both of them.”

A patron calls for your attention, and you gladly take the opportunity to escape the moment, throwing yourself into mixing a drink with practiced ease. But even as you pour and stir, you feel his eyes on you.

“You look happier here.” His voice breaks the silence when you return, the words almost lazy as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Fake happiness. It’s what gets the tips.”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he says, leaning in a little, eyes narrowing. “But the way you’re moving back there—you know what you’re doing. I don’t think I ever saw you crack a single smile while we were on set.”

“I did,” you shoot back, feeling your pulse quicken. “Just none of them were directed at you.” The animosity in your tone surprises even you, and you catch the way his brow furrows, a flash of hurt crossing his face.

You quickly smooth it over with a smirk. “Besides, not much to smile about when people are getting fucked stupid in front of a camera.”

“Back to the familiar song and dance, huh?” His voice is steady, but there’s a sharpness beneath the surface.

You scoff, shaking your head as you wipe your hands on your apron. “What are you doing here, Javier?” This time, the question comes out more straight to the point.

He looks at you for a beat, partially confused, “Drinking a beer…”

“At this specific bar, where I’ve worked for two years and you’ve never once showed up until today. Why?”

For a moment, the two of you stare at each other, locked in a silent standoff. He’s reading you just as you’re trying to read him, both of you too proud—or too scared—to make the next move. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“You want the truth?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“I’ve missed you, nena.”

Your stomach drops and you force yourself to keep your face neutral, but it’s hard. “I regret asking,” you mutter, glancing at your watch. Connie has fifteen minutes left on her break, then you’re done for the night. You’ll be free—at least from the bar, if not from the weight of this conversation.

“Ever since you left,” he continues, not giving you the out you desperately want, “I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re so standoffish. You say it’s because you don’t like me, but I just don’t think that’s true.”

“Well,” you bite out, “assuming has never gotten you anywhere worth being at, right?”

He rubs a hand over his mustache. He’s thinking, trying to find the right words.

“Right,” he finally agrees, tone softer now, more thoughtful. “Listen, I’ve never been good at the whole… talking thing. It’s been my downfall for as long as I can remember.”

Despite yourself, you give him a look that encourages him to keep going.

“And the shit between us? It’s weird. I’d like to move on, but I can’t. You’ve somehow managed to get into every fucking corner of my mind, and no matter what I do, I can’t shake you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping the wooden countertop. His words hit too close to home because they echo the feelings you’ve been wrestling with since you walked away from him.

Do you admit it? Do you tell him that he’s been haunting your thoughts just as much? Or do you keep it all locked up, close to your chest, where it’s safe and won’t blow up in your face later?

“What do you really want, Javier?” You don’t have time for games, and if he’s here to throw another curveball into your life, you’d rather snip it before it gets any worse.

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, then looks back at you with an expression you haven’t seen in a while—one that’s sincere. “I just want a moment to talk to you,” he says softly. “No bullshit this time. Just you and me.”

You wrestle with yourself, unsure if you want to give in. You’ve heard him talk like this before, but something feels different. He seems like he’s laying all his cards out, but you’ve been hurt enough to know better than to let your guard down too quickly.

Your eyes flick to the clock on the wall, counting the minutes until your shift ends. You chew on your lip, deliberating with yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as you try to make a decision.

Finally, after a beat, you let out a long breath and nod. “I’m off in twenty minutes,” you say, voice steady. “We can talk at my place, but this is the last time we have this conversation, Javier. No more of this back and forth.”

His face lights up, unmistakably relieved, and for a second, you see that glimmer of hope in his eyes. He sits a little taller, less tense, and his smile is soft but genuine. “Thank you,” he says, almost under his breath, like he wasn’t sure you’d agree. “I parked a few blocks down. I can come get you—”

You cut him off, pointing upward. “I live upstairs.”

Javier blinks, then chuckles, the tension between you easing slightly with that simple realization. “Oh,” he says, a little sheepish. “Okay.” For some reason, that small exchange makes both of you laugh—genuine, real laughter, the kind you haven’t shared in a while. It’s a brief moment of lightness before the weight of everything settles back in.

But before either of you can say more, you’re pulled back to the present as the place picks up with a small rush. The door swings open, and a few regulars take their usual spots, dragging you back into your role behind the bar. Javier moves out of the way, leaning back against his stool, watching you as you work.

It doesn’t take long for Connie to return, looking slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed from whatever she and Steve were up to in the back. You raise an eyebrow, giving her a teasing smirk as she approaches. “Thirty minutes, huh? You sure you didn’t need forty?” You quip, poking fun at her the same way she did to you on Halloween night.

She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s a playful glint in them. “Shut up,” she mutters, straightening her apron. “You know I could’ve dragged it out longer if I wanted.”

You shake your head, chuckling as you hand over the bar to the guy coming in to replace you. Your shift is finally over, and you can feel the tension easing from your shoulders. With one last glance at the clock, you turn toward Javier, who’s still waiting, watching you with that familiar intensity.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice more casual than you feel.

He nods, pushing off the counter to follow you out. Thankfully, Steve had left, but as you pass Connie, you don’t miss the way her eyes widen when she sees the sexy guy trailing behind you. She gives you a look—half amused, half impressed—and you can practically hear her thoughts.

You give her a small wave, shrugging off her knowing smirk as you push through the door, stepping out into the cool evening air.

He follows behind you silently as you climb the narrow staircase to your apartment, the low hum of the bar fading with each step. You can feel his presence like a warm current, that quiet intensity that always seems to wrap around you when he’s near. The proximity makes you hyper-aware of every sound—the creak of the steps beneath your feet, the soft rustle of his jacket as he moves, his shaky breaths from his lungs working overtime due to his constant smoking.

When you finally reach the top and push the door open, you step aside to let him in. He takes a slow look around, his eyes sweeping over the small but cozy space. Despite its shabby appearance—the chipped paint on the walls, the secondhand furniture—it’s undeniably yours.

The throw blankets on the couch, the mismatched mugs on the kitchen counter, the books scattered about. It’s lived-in and comfortable, and you catch the way Javier’s lips twitch in what might be a smile as he takes it all in.

“Okay,” you say, arms crossing as you stand by the kitchenette, keeping a reasonable distance between you. “What now? We’re here. It’s just me and you. What do you have to say to me?”

He hesitates for a moment, running a hand through his hair like he’s bracing himself. Then, he just… spills his guts. “I want you to give me one chance. Just one date,” he says, the words tumbling out faster than you expect. “I know I’ve screwed up before, and I know I’ve been cocky, but… I like you. Like, really like you. More than I’ve let on.”

You blink quickly. You weren’t expecting this—certainly not Javier Peña, of all people, to stand in your apartment and confess to having a legitimate crush on you. “No way,” you mutter, in time with your thoughts, a nervous giggle escaping before you can stop it.

It sounds ridiculous in your head, and even more absurd out loud. He likes you? He doesn’t even know you!

His frown deepens, his jaw tightening as if your reaction stings. “I’m serious,” he’s insistent, his dark eyes locking with yours.

You shake your head, still struggling to process this. “You just got tired of screwing around with all the pretty stars, so now you’re going after someone different. Trying a new flavor of the month by chasing after a girl on the crew.”

“Technically, you’re not on the crew anymore—” he starts, but cuts himself off when he sees the daggers you’re sending him.

He steps a little closer, his tone quieter but more earnest. “You told me earlier that assuming has never gotten me anywhere worth being at. So take your own advice, nena, and stop assuming I’m chasing after you for all the wrong reasons.”

There’s no trace of his usual bravado, no cocky grin or smooth line to disarm you. Just sincerity. And it’s that, more than anything, that makes you pause. For real this time.

“So I’m not just someone to scratch off your list?” You ask, daring him to lie.

“Wha— no.”

“You really mean it?”

“Do I need to get on my knees to convince you I’m serious?”

“That’d be the least serious thing you could do.”

His mouth twitches up into a half smirk. “So? Will you let me take you out?”

This feels like if you so much as blink, the moment will dissolve—nothing but smoke and mirrors.

“Okay,” you breathe. “But if it doesn’t work out… then that’s it. You don’t come around here again. You leave me alone. For good.”

His eyes narrow, but he nods, accepting the ultimatum.

“Fair enough.” His voice dips into something dark and velvety, a timbre that’s all too familiar. It’s the same voice you’ve heard behind the camera, in the tape that you got yourself off to—low, coaxing, a caress in itself. And damn him, it’s working on you again. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

“When?” You ask him.

“You’re the one who works weekends. You tell me.”

“Next Saturday?” You offer, trying to sound casual.

“It’s a date.”

A flutter of nerves skitters through your chest and you almost laugh again, so giddy, but you clamp down on it.

“Alright... I’ll walk you out.” Your voice sounds awkward to your own ears, but your feet stay rooted to the spot. So does he.

His gaze sharpens. “You know,” he starts, rubbing his jaw in that infuriatingly familiar way, “Robbie kept saying you ‘broke’ me after that Malibu shoot with Mariella.” He air quotes broke and your expression turns confused.

“Well… he’s an idiot.”

“He’s not wrong, though,” Javi murmurs, stepping closer, the space between you vanishing.

Your breath hitches. “Javi…” you warn, but it sounds weak—like a plea dressed as a protest.

“You were right.” His voice dips again, softer now, but no less dangerous. “Sleeping with barely-legal girls felt... wrong. The whole scene was just fucked. It took me too long to realize it.” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “But that’s not what broke me.”

Your pulse stutters. “Then what?”

“You,” he whispers, moving closer, until the heat of his body presses against yours. “Your voice. Your eyes.” His gaze dips to your mouth, and your knees threaten to give out. “Those soft lips you won’t let me kiss absolutely fucking broke me.”

Your lower back presses hard against the counter, pinned by the sheer gravity of him closing in. His scent is dizzying.

Your nipples harden, tightening with each shallow breath you take, the heat between you wrapping around your body like a fever. Now that you’ve stopped fighting it, the tide of lust pulls you under, dragging you into the undertow.

He can’t just say these things to you and expect you to remain sane. Especially not after all your wet dreams he’s been the star of.

“The others don’t do it for me anymore and I’m not popping a pill to get fuckin’ hard.” He cages you in, planting both hands on the counter at your sides. His arms flex, his body crowding yours, then he leans in, his nose brushing the tip of yours in the kind of touch that feels both too soft and too intimate.

“Just standing here with you…” His hips roll forward, pressing against you. The solid ridge of his cock rubs against your stomach through his jeans, and the friction sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

You gasp, lips parting as you go weak.

“Oh…” you breathe, shakily, your voice barely more than a whimper. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying to keep some semblance of control, but his gaze locks onto the movement.

“I want to take care of you, nena. Por favor.” His voice drips with need, every word laced with intent. “Let me make you feel good again. I need to make you feel good.”

Memories flash like lightning—the way his mouth felt between your thighs and how it left such an impression that you quit your fucking job (okay maybe not because of that necessarily but it was a butterfly effect)

“Javi…” Your voice is a strained warning, as you press your hand to his shoulder, ready to push him back if you needed to throw some metaphorical ice on this heated moment to chill both of you the fuck out. “I’m not going to fuck you right now.”

“I’m not asking you to…” His hand comes up to take yours at his shoulder into his, bringing it up to his lips to give it a gentle kiss.

God, you just about come right then and there.

“You want to go down on me again?”

He groans, his mouth grazing your knuckles as if tasting you again. “I’ll always want that. Always.” His voice is strained. “But tonight, pretty girl, I just—fuck—I need to feel you.”

“But you just said—”

“I know baby,” he cradles your face and you let him, horny out of your mind and absolutely under his spell. “Just let me put the tip in.”

“What?” You ask, moving back from him to stare up into his eyes.

“The head of my cock. Let me put it in and feel how wet and warm you are.”

Your thighs clench instinctively, the ache between them growing unbearable. Images of his cock flood your mind—thick, veined, and heavy, flashing like a montage you can’t shake.

The thought of him, so close, pressing inside just enough to tease, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I-I’ve never done that before... isn’t that—” You shake your head, struggling to wrap your mind around the idea.

“It’ll feel so good, I promise. If you don’t like it I’ll pull out and leave.”

His eyes still hold that sincerity from before, and it tugs at your heart, which has moved its pulse downstairs at the thought of feeling just a little bit of him.

It’s intoxicating, giving you the power to decide just how much of him you’ll take. How deep he’ll bury himself. How much you’ll let him fuck into you.

A moan slips from your lips, unbidden, and his eyes darken, his jaw tightening at the sound. He’s holding back, but barely—waiting, craving, needing your consent like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Fuck,” you whisper, already lost. “Whatever, just do it. Do it before I change my mind.”

You squeal as he spins you around, your hands coming up to steady yourself against the counter.

You went out and bought a mini denim skirt after seeing it on the pornstar he fucked in the tow truck scene because you thought it was cute, and now you’re sort of living out that fantasy here with him as he pushes it up high on your hips, exposing your very lackluster underwear.

“Damn…” His hands are all over you, kneading your ass, the rough squeeze of his palms making you whine, back arching instinctively for more. “These are hot as fuck.”

Your cheeks heat up, because no way he thinks your mauve colored hipsters are hot.

He hooks his fingers under the waistband and drags them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. You step out of them, still in your sneakers, feeling utterly exposed. But the way he looks at you makes you feel desired.

With a firm hand, he presses against the small of your back, coaxing you into a deeper arch. His hands glide down your thighs, strong fingers gripping where your knee bends, lifting your leg and placing it on the counter. The shift spreads you open for him, your slick, swollen folds glistening in the dim light.

“Fuck...” His voice is pure gravel, rough with need, as he drinks in the sight of you. And then he drops to his knees, right behind you, and buries his face between your legs.

“Oh my—fuck!” you cry, jerking forward against the counter, totally unprepared for the onslaught of his tongue.

He doesn’t hold back—doesn’t ease you into it—just dives in like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with fervor. The obscene sounds of his tongue dragging through your wetness and the desperate groans vibrating from his throat make your head spin. You’re shaking, trying to catch your breath, but it’s useless with the way he devours you.

He licks every inch of your pussy, his tongue flat and broad one second, sharp and focused the next, flicking across your clit with precision. When he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, the wet suction sends sparks shooting through your body.

Your forehead thuds against the cabinet in front of you as you babble out his name in breathless, broken curses, pleasure building in tight, pulsing waves. Your legs tremble under his relentless attention, and it feels like he’s not just eating you out—he’s worshiping you, savoring every moment like a man starved.

“Javi—oh my—fuck!” You can barely string two words together, the intensity of it dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he buries his face deeper, groaning like he can’t get enough of you. And god dammit, you love it. You love the way he’s lost in you, the way his tongue moves like he knows exactly how to pull you apart. It’s filthy, messy, perfect.

He pulls back after a few minutes, reluctantly breaking away from the warmth of you, even though every fiber in his body begs him to stay—tongue, nose, and fingers lost in your sweetness for hours, watching you unravel again and again. He forces himself to move, savoring the way your breath stutters in frustration at the loss.

The soft metallic clink of his belt buckle being undone makes your heart race, and your pussy clenches reflexively, aching to be filled.

“Mmm, she’s ready for me, isn’t she?” He’s so smug, watching the way your cunt flutters at the mere thought of his cock sliding inside you. Even just the tip.

You don’t answer—you can’t answer. The anticipation has stolen every word, every coherent thought from your brain. All you hear is the pounding rush of blood in your ears.

Javier steps in closer, the heat of his body pressing against your back. His hand snakes around you, rough fingers brushing your chin before hovering just beneath your lips.

“Spit,” he commands, his tone low and firm.

Like the desperate thing you are, you part your lips without hesitation, letting a hot thread of saliva drip into his waiting palm.

A deep, approving grunt rumbles from his chest. “Good girl.”

Your cheeks burn at the praise, and you clench again as he takes your offering, wrapping his wet palm around the thick length of his cock. He strokes himself slowly, hissing through his teeth, the slick sound of his fist dragging over his shaft making your breath hitch.

Then, without warning, you feel the velvety head of his cock glide through the slick folds of your cunt.

Both of you shudder—your soft whimper mingling with his guttural groan.

He drags the swollen tip along your slit, gathering your arousal, and when he nudges it against your throbbing clit, your hips jerk instinctively.

“Relax, bella,” he warns, his hand tightening on your waist to steady you. “Unless you want me to bust my load all over this pretty clit right now.”

That filthy mouth of his makes you want to slap him—and kiss him—until you both can’t breathe.

He keeps teasing you both, swirling the sensitive head over your clit again, tapping it lightly against the swollen bundle of nerves. Your thighs tremble with need, and your pussy clenches again, desperate to take him inside.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice gravelly with restraint as he lines himself up with your entrance. “So fucking wet…”

He tilts his hips just enough to press the head of his cock against your dripping hole, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him.

“¿Lista?” he whispers, his voice softer now, more intimate. He leans in, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck, trailing gentle kisses over your skin between ragged breaths.

You nod frantically, not trusting your voice to form words.

Then, slowly—achingly slow—he pushes the tip inside.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

A sharp, breathless moan escapes you as he stretches you open, your cunt greedily sucking him in. The sensation is electric, overwhelming—just enough to tease, just enough to leave you craving more.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Why the fuck does this feel so good?

Javier groans, forehead pressed to your shoulder, his cock twitching inside you as he fights to keep from plunging deeper. “Puta madre nenita, this pussy esta tan rica.”

He stills, savoring the way your tight heat wraps around just the tip of him. His blunt fingernails dig into the skin of your hips as he struggles to keep his hips from moving.

But you can’t help it. Your hips move on their own, rolling back just enough to take more of him inside, the smooth slide of his length sending sparks through your body. A whimper slips from your lips as your walls clench around what little of him you have, the stretch so good it has your eyes fluttering shut, your head tipping forward.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he growls, low and dangerous, and the sound of it shoots straight to your cunt.

You whine softly, biting your lip, as he drags the inches you stole back out, leaving just the swollen head nestled at your entrance. The tease is unbearable, like dangling water in front of someone dying of thirst.

“Javi, I can’t help it,” you moan, the frustration bubbling over into a pout. Your hand drifts down between your thighs, fingers brushing your slick, needy clit. You need something—anything—to relieve the pressure.

His hand is lightning fast, grabbing your wrist and yanking it back to the counter. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He sounds almost offended.

“I need to feel something,” you whimper, shifting your hips desperately against him.

He clicks his tongue, as if scolding you, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re already feeling the head of this cock, aren’t you? And you’re still being greedy, trying to touch this pretty little pussy after I told you I’d take care of you.”

His hand slides from your waist, gliding lower, fingers hovering just above where you need him most. The promise of his touch makes your thighs quiver, and you let out a desperate little whine, arching your back in a silent plea.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his voice low and rough, thick with control barely held in check.

You know exactly what he looks like—jaw tight, eyes burning with hunger, teeth gritted as he holds back from sinking all the way into you. And it makes you ache even more.

“Touch me, Javi, please,” you beg, your voice a breathy, needy little mewl. You throw your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, batting your lashes shamelessly.

A low, satisfied hum vibrates from his chest, and his fingers finally press against your slick, swollen folds. He groans softly as he feels how you’re stretching around the head of his cock, his fingertips tracing the puffy lips before circling lazily over your throbbing clit.

“Ohhh, just like that,” you moan, the sound slipping from you naturally, raw and unfiltered—nothing like the exaggerated performances he’s used to. This is real, and it only makes him harder.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck, “I can’t wait to ruin this pussy, nenita. Gonna make you feel better than any malparido before me.”

His fingers keep working your clit, slow and steady, each stroke dragging you closer to madness. Your hips start to grind against his hand and the blunt head of his cock, desperate for more, for everything.

And the way he’s talking—like you’re his to wreck, his to please—makes you feel like you’ll lose your mind.

You suck in a sharp breath, feeling the jealousy dancing on his fingertips as he works your clit faster, his movements switching between precision and wild hunger.

He rolls the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it just hard enough to make you gasp. Then, his touch softens—soothing circles, spreading your slick everywhere—before he tugs at your swollen nub, sending shocks of pleasure deep into your core, like fireworks are exploding down there.

“Tell me,” he growls, voice rough with possessiveness. “Did he fuck you good?”

The blunt tip of his cock stays snug at your entrance, and every pinch, every flick of his fingers makes your walls clench greedily around it, desperate for more.

“W-Who?” you whimper, genuinely lost in the haze of his touch. Your mind has melted, everything but the sensations he’s feeding you slipping away like vapor.

That answer pleases him—makes something wicked curl in his chest. His grin presses against your neck, and the wet heat of his tongue drags a slow, deliberate stripe along your skin. Then, he bites down, sucking hard, marking you in that one spot you’ve only ever dreamt of him nipping at.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your hand finds his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, tugging hard enough to make him groan against your neck. The heat swirling in your belly tightens to a near-breaking point, your orgasm creeping up on you with every flick of his relentless fingers.

“Javi—fuck—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, voice breaking, sounding needy and pitiful.

“I know, baby,” he rasps. “I can feel her gettin’ all tight and messy for me. C’mon, nena, let it happen. I’ve got you.”

He keeps his pace steady—no sudden changes, no wild moves—just the same focused rhythm he’s built up, making your nerves sing, each flick and stroke a perfectly calibrated promise of release.

Your body responds like it always does for him: beautifully. His name falls from your lips like a sweet song. Your hips grind instinctively, chasing the steady friction of his slick fingers.

“More, Javi—oh, please—more,” you gasp, knowing exactly what you need, what only he can give you. You’re ready for him to shove deep inside, to fill you, stretch you, ruin you with the thick cock still teasing your entrance.

If you had said this maybe five minutes ago, he would have obliged, but he’s got a point to prove now. And that point is restraint—his self control.

“Not tonight, pretty girl,” he murmurs darkly, laden with lust and dominance. “You’re gonna come just like this.”

Then, without warning, his hand shifts, and he slaps your pussy—once, twice, three times. The sound is wet and obscene, and the sharp sting sends a shockwave straight to your core.

That’s what breaks you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a violent, unstoppable wave, ripping through your body with terrifying force.

“Fuck—Javi!” you scream, your walls fluttering and pulsing wildly around the head of his cock, soaking his hand in your release as your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

He groans, watching you unravel for him, every twitch and spasm feeding his ego. His fingers don’t stop—stroking you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body.

Your vision swims, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the euphoria leaves you floating, weightless. And even though he hasn’t buried himself inside you like you wanted, somehow, this feels even more intimate—like he’s branded himself into you without needing to fuck you at all.

The way your pussy grips him sends a shudder down his spine, and with a strangled curse, his balls tighten, his climax hot on the heels of yours.

“Fuck—” he groans, yanking his cock out just in time, the thick spurts of his cum painting your slick, swollen pussy, making a filthy mess.

Both of you pant, trying to catch your breath, the room heavy with the scent of sex. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as his fingers slide lazily through your soaked folds, mixing the remnants of both your pleasure. When he gathers the sticky blend on his fingers and brings them to your mouth, the hunger in his gaze makes your heart race.

“Have a taste, baby.”

Without hesitation, you part your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them with obscene enthusiasm. You moan at the heady, salty taste—like liquid sin on your tongue. It’s addictive, and you suck greedily until his fingers are spotless, releasing them with a wet pop that makes his eyes darken further.

You glance up at him over your shoulder, lips slightly swollen from your efforts.

“You okay?” he asks, his tone soft.

You nod, still dazed, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “Better than okay. That was... wow.”

His soft grin blooms into a cocky smirk, and he helps clean you up before gently moving your leg off the counter. As he tucks himself back into his jeans, you adjust your skirt, smoothing it down with shaky hands.

“Where are my panties?” you ask, glancing around, still floating in the afterglow.

He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling them out with a sly grin. “Oh, these?”

You reach for them, but he swiftly lifts them out of reach.

“I think I’ll hold onto them.”

Heat rises to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes at him, but the lazy, satisfied smile on your lips betrays your mock indignation. “Why? Perv.”

His grin widens, unabashed. “A little memento… to remind me of this. I’ll give them back next Saturday.” He slips them back into his pocket.

You roll your eyes, too blissed out to care. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you, the warmth of his embrace catching you off guard. After all the resistance you’ve given him, letting him hold you like this feels foreign.

“Told you it’d feel good,” he murmurs smugly, his lips brushing your temple. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to cave first and beg for the whole thing, though.”

You scoff, giving his hip a playful pinch. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment, okay? You might’ve scored a date and... a semi-fuck, but I’m still sticking to those boundaries. For now.”

“Does that mean I still can’t kiss you?”

Oh, hell. He’s already been inside you—well, kind of. What’s one little kiss? But no. You’re trying to make a point here.

“Nope,” you reply, stopping him with a finger pressed lightly against his lips just as he leans in. “Not until you buy me dinner first.”

His smirk deepens, and instead of protesting, he kisses the tip of your finger.

“Deal.”

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories

@greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl .

🏷️ : @pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch

@xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @yxtkiwiyxt . @guelyury . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @thundermartini . @correapunk .

#pedro pascal #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfic #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña narcos #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier peña x you

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milkman-zahhak · 5 months ago

Text

OC ref sheet + slightly better writing/fic

-> Part 1 Part 2 (prequel to part 1) (think of it like a flashback scene, seen as Leo and Cal drift asleep in part 1) Part 3 (sequel to part 1)

Made a visual for those OCs I made, attempting to flesh them out a bit. The art is messy, the anatomy is wack, I know.. I just wanted to get the basic info out there. Anyways, here's a different (hopefully better) story.

And as usual, WARNING, THIS IS A KINK POST, A FETISH POST. IT WILL CONTAIN FETISH CONTENT, SUCH AS BELLIES FULL OF FOOD AND WHATNOT, CHECK THE TAGS FOR THE WHOLE RUNDOWN.

Brief overview: The first character is a college boy named Cal. He's naturally thin, he doesn't overeat very often. And maybe that's for the better because he's lactose intolerant and has a sensitive stomach, prone to bloating. He's shy and antisocial, but has a very close friend named Leo who is his roommate. Leo secretly has.. well, a "thing" for bloated tummies and things of the like.. he would never push this onto anyone, much less ADMIT it. Cal has grown comfortable around Leo over the years, even though he's usually very self-consious and shy, he trusts Leo and is willing to open up to him more. ----------

It was a boring day off of work for Cal. He had no plans nor any means to act out any plans he might have. Not to mention nothing to snack on, and Cal wasn't about to make himself a whole meal. He was counting down the minutes until his roommate Leo came home from work, hanging out with Leo was always fun for him. Eventually, it was about 30 minutes past the time he expected Leo to return.

"Im so boooorreeeed…" Cal mumbles. But as soon as the words leave his lips, the door slams open. He turns around to see Leo and brightens up immediately. Leo informs him that hes sorry for being late, he won some gift cards to the local pizza place in a raffle at work and used them all at once. "I thought i might as well use 'em before I lose 'em. Or forget about them. Theres a bunch, so we can share!" Leo tries to cheer Cal up as he brings the pizza boxes to the little coffee table in the living room. Cal follows Leo to the pizza to grab a slice. "I've been so bored out of my mind all day, and hungry too. This is gonna be so kickass, huh?" Leo chuckled "Yup! Just us chilling all night. We can watch movies too, let me get one ready." Cal leans back, "hell yeah! Ok, choose something silly and fun."

Cal watches from the kitchen as Leo boots up youtube on the TV in the living room "Dude, something else please. Leo frowns, questioning "aww, not y-" Cal interrupts "NOT youtube documentaries about lost media or unsuccessful video game film adaptations, God dammit! That's all we watched last time.. don't you have any actual movies?"

Leo gets up and looks through a box of physical media he has, most of which are youtube series he's burnt onto DVDs, until he finds an actual movie "Uh. Umm. I've got one of the original copies of the Postal 2007 movie on dvd?.."

Cal sighs, giving up on being able to chose a normal movie "...Yeah, sure. Zach Ward really carried that dumpster fire"

Cal leans forward over the kitchen table to pluck a slice from the box, the stringy cheese stretching and tearing. "I could go for some soda, too," he murmurs, and Leo springs to his feet, nodding "Good call. I'll grab some." As he heads for the fridge, Cal takes an excited bite and settles back. He's practically inhaling the slice at this point, almost choking on the huge bite he took as he does so. Leo hears him cough and laughs, "God damn, Cal, chill. There's plenty of pizza, haha. It's not gonna run away from you."

Cal rolls his eyes "yeah, thanks for the advice." He takes another big bite and speaks as he chews "you have no idea how hungry I've been all day. I swear I could eat all of this pizza by myself if I could!" Cal was obviously joking and exaggerating, but Leo blushed imagining such a scenario… he shook away the thoughts quickly. He doesn't want to make Cal feel uncomfortable, he doesn't know about Leo's fetish, and Leo felt guilty for thinking of his friend as the unaware center of his fantasies. Leo's cheeks burn as he returns to the living room with the sodas. Cal had grabbed a second slice by then, but was struggling to keep up with his conversation between bites. The pizza pretty much disappeared before his eyes.

He must be starving, Leo thought.

Leo places the sodas on the coffee table within arm's reach and flops down onto the living room floor, propping his back up against the couch. His eyes scan Cal's body thoughtfully from across the apartment, but he remains silent. Cal is oblivious to Leo's silent admiration, focused solely on demolishing the pizza. In just a minute, he finishes his second slice and reaches for a third. Leo is putting the DVD in when he remembers he needs to eat too "Oh, wait let me grab a plate".

Leo walks into the kitchen to see Cal still at the kitchen table scarfing down pizza, his hands come away greasy and covered with sauce. He doesn't care. He devours the fourth slice like he's had no food in days. Leo playfully hits Cal on the shoulder, "cmon, man save some for me.. and don't eat it in here. I wanna watch the movie! Here, we can even bring the pizza boxes in there too." Leo meant that they should move to the living room after Cal finished his slice, but as Cal agrees and gets up, he shoves the whole slice into his mouth at once as they carried pizza boxes into the living room.

They settled down for the movie. Leo reached for a slice of pizza and realized quickly that it was already half gone. Cal had eaten maybe 4 slices already. He looks over to see how Cal managed to pack it all away when he realized he couldn't see his belly. Cal was wearing a loose zip-up sweatshirt and it gave nothing away.

The two watched the movie, eventually the first box was finished. Leo's eyes drifted back and forth between the TV and Cal. He can't help himself. Cal is too damn irresistible. The way he devoured that pizza—no shame, no second thought. Cal rarely even took a moment to breathe.. And there must be a reason Leo can't see his belly when he's been gorging himself, right? Cal's belly must be distended and swollen beneath that sweatshirt. His jeans must be so tight right now… Leo internally scolds himself after looking down and realizing it was in fact HIS pants – not Cal's – that were tight, albeit not because of his stomach.

He really shouldn't be thinking of Cal like this, Cal doesn't know what this is doing to Leo, he's not doing anything on purpose. Leo tries to shake these intrusive thoughts. He glances at Cal for a moment and finds him staring right back, mouth full of pizza. "Hey man, you good?" Leo tilted his head "What? Yeah, why?". Cal shrugs. "I dunno, I asked you if you thought Uwe Boll ever actually played Postal himself or not.. And you just were kinda staring off into space.." Leo blushes "oh, haha my bad, I think I just zoned out.."

Shit

Leo continued, "..Sorry, I get pretty engrossed in movies and stuff sometimes, you know?"

Cal grins bashfully and takes a big bite of whichever slice he was on now "Ah, well, I tend to talk over 'em a lot, so..." Leo waves him off, "Nah, Cal, don't apologize. I like hearing the shit you have to say about movies. Makes it more interesting." Cal grins and turns back to the screen, his eyes fixated on the television in front of him as he grabs the last slice in the third box, dropping the empty box to the floor. "Dude this pizza is soooo good. Im like, full, but I can't stop eating it."

Leo almost wishes Cal knew how he felt about these kinds of subjects so he wouldn't be so open about it, but how do you begin to tell your friend "hey this normal thing? It actually gets me rock hard, so unless you're trying to encourage that, maybe we could change the subject from you stuffing your belly with unhinged amounts of pizza, thanks". Leo takes the few seconds that Cal has his focus on the movie as an opportunity to gaze again at his now noticeably distended belly beneath his sweatshirt. The fabric is stretched taut, and tauter by the minute. His posture slowly changing as more and more pizza filled up his gut and weighed it down. His belly must be huge right now. Is there any way the shirt could hide it for much longer? Leo wondered.

The movie is almost over. Cal leans back in his seat, subtly sneaking his hand beneath his sweatshirt to try and sneakily rub his belly. He quickly stops as if trying to hide his discomfort. Maybe he's embarrassed? Leo tries not to think about it until during a quiet moment in the movie he hears a "grrgrgrrrrrrrrlllllee….." from beside him. "Woah Cal was that you?". Cal grins "yup, I think I'm *hic* getting full." Oh god. Leo was practically throbbing.

"O-oh, haha yeah I bet. You ate like 3 boxes right?" Cal looks at Leo like he's crazy for a moment before looking down at the empty boxes on the floor "no way, I only… I.. hm. Fuck, I guess I did!" Leo sees a flash of regret and fear on Cal's face for a split second before his fun attitude came back "I wasn't paying attention to the food, I was just eating while I watched the movie.." there were a few moments of silence. Cal's belly grumbles loudly again, interrupting the silence. His face is slightly flushed as he tries to hide how full he's getting from the pizza. He rubs his arm with nervous energy. "Man do you think we could crank down the heat a bit? I'm kinda hot" Leo nods and gets up, turning down a dial on the thermostat. As Leo is in the other room, Cal lets out a small burp into his fist and continues to rub his belly. Leo definitely heard it, but he wasn't gonna bring it up since Cal seemed to be trying to hide it anyways.

Back in his seat on the couch now, Leo shifts his legs and glances at his friend out of curiosity. Cal is still watching the movie, but Leo can hear his tummy churning as it tries to digest copious amounts of free pizza. He also hears Cal swallowing down burps as they rumbled up his throat. Maybe Cal thought that Leo couldn't hear these things, because he stayed outwardly confident and continued to act like he wasn't very full at all. Cal's belly rumbles loudly again, loudly enough that theres no denying what the sound was. "damn, haha" he plays it off casually before hiccuping, swallowing air as he did so and accidentally belching at the end. "hic-uRP-" his eyes widen. Leo is glad the lights are dim because hes sure that his face is probably red as a tomato right now.

"Sorry," Cal says "I guess I got a little carried away" He rubs his belly again not hiding it very well anymore, it's distended just above his belt, stretching the fabric as he stretches out on the couch. After a few moments, Cal shifts slightly, as if he's trying to find a comfortable position to relax. The movement does nothing but draw his sweatshirt tighter around his bulging belly as he leans back. The pressure is obviously becoming uncomfortable for Cal, he can't help but give a soft groan as he feels the distension of his gut. Leo looks away for a second as he feels his eyes almost roll back in his head. This CAN'T be real life. He turns back and takes a deep breath. He shouldn't be here, he feels bad. Cal is unintentionally acting out some of Leo's deepest fantasies and he doesn't even KNOW he's doing it..

Eventually the movie ended and the credits rolled. Leo yawned, it was getting late. They could probably just crash here on the couch and sleep like they usually do. Conversation continues as normal, both the boys winding down as they prepare to sleep soon. Another burp rumbles up Cal's throat and it's a wonder he can even keep up the facade. This happens a few more times before eventually, an especially forceful belch broke the barrier of silence.

"…. .. brUUUUUUURHP-Urp… urp…" Leo's head spun around, both boys' eyes were wide in shock. Leo tried to lighten the mood, he knew his friend seemed uncomfortable about letting on that he had overindulged, so Leo followed Cal's demeanor and decided to also play it cool.

Leo scrambled to think of what a normal person who isn't aroused by bloated belly aches would say in this situation. "Damn that was a big one haha, sick!"

Cal avoided eye contact and forced a small laugh "Ha, you know it… sorry though for real, that was gross of me" Leo tries to reassure him without making it obvious that he is MORE than okay with what's going on. "Dont worry about it, you're so self conscious about so many things that really aren't that big of a deal. I promise, I don't find you annoying or gross." Cal stayed silent, appearing to be studying Leo's face before sighing and sitting up slightly "Can I… be honest with you?"

Leo tries not to laugh "Dude, you can ALWAYS be honest with me, your my best friend!" Cal opened his mouth to speak before grimmacing as a loud airy gurgle broke the silence, followed by an involuntary soft and equally as airy burp… "I- *uuuorp*, god, my stomach is so full." He brought one other hand to the top his stomach and the other to the bottom, holding it with both hands weakly, unable to find the strength to hide it anymore "Leo, I'm not really fine, my stomach actually hurts really bad and I didnt *hic* I didn't wanna fuck up movie night so I didnt say anything." He quickly blurts out. That gets Leo's attention.

Leo is frozen for a moment, staring at Cal's tummy, bulging beneath his sweatshirt, creating a huge bump as if he were hiding a basketball underneath it. It was a wonder that his sweatshirt wasn't tearing apart from the seams. In fact, it looked like it was about to. Even with the dim light and the position he's in, it's almost impossible to hide it. "Cal.." Leo's voice almost cracks. "You didn't ruin movie night, I don't think you could if you tried. I like hanging out with you and I like you for who you are, I don't want you to feel scared to tell me things and I'm sorry if I did anything to make you feel that way-" Cal cuts him off "no, no, it's not you.. urgh.." he paused as an overstuffed rumble made its way up his throat, he went to release it as a burp, but it got stuck in his throat. "*sigh*… it's me, I don't wanna get into it but I promise you, there's something personal about me and it's my own thing to deal with, sorry if I came off as apprehensive or unusual about it, I'm just stubborn.."

Leo put his hand on Cal's shoulder. That's what friends do, right? He assured him "Man.. As long as you're happy."

The mood seems to have lifted after that little talk. Cal sighed out loud "*sighh* but for real my stomach hurts so bad, it feels like I'm being stabbed in the gut!" He said as he slowly rubbed back and forth on the upper curve of the bloated mass in his lap covered by his sweatshirt. Churning could be heard as well as bubbles in the back of Cal's throat just barely making it up before getting stuck. Cal groaned under his breath. Leo tries to contain his own excitement at the situation. He doesn't know how long he can keep his cool if Cal keeps making sounds like that.

Another quiet moment between the boys, their conversation drifting to a stop. Leo's attention is entirely directed at Cal's body, specifically his ever inflating abdomen. He could see the pressure taking a toll on Cal. The sweatshirt was getting hard to keep down as the tightness and heaviness of the distended flesh pressed on his lap. Cal tries his best to relax for the time being, not able to do anything about his situation at the moment. The sweatshirt's fabric continues to be stretched, but still it can't hide the growing bulge of stomach.

"G-god it hurts.. fuck…" Cal suddenly whispered under his breath, breaking the verbal silence. "Leo, I can't sleep, I feel sick.." Leo had long since pulled his shirt down to cover his own crotch, he was past the point of no return and had nothing left to do but hide his shame, and his main goal now was to either relieve himself or stop being horny, and one of those was near impossible in this situation. The other coming naturally.

He still tried to give helpful advice though, "Dude, it's probably the gas. You're probably bloated from all the cheese, not to mention the stuffed crust. You just gotta get the gas out"

Cal raises an eyebrow "how? I don't know how to burp on command, and I can't seem to get anything up.." Leo rolls his eyes and resists face-palming, "You.. by rubbing your stomach? Do you need me to do it for you?" He teased playfully. Cal leaned back, "oohg.. if you're offering, go ahead.." Leo's heart practically jumped into his throat as Cal gave him permission to touch his stomach. "Really?" Cal gives him a genuine nod. Leo got up onto the couch and moved behind the other boy, his hand going from Cal's shoulder to the front of the bulging sweatshirt, his fingers lightly pressing onto Cal's belly. He was immediately greeted with a low, loud rumbling that was probably from all the pizza, cheese, and soda, as well as the gas that had been accumulating throughout the night. He could feel the vibrations even through Cal's sweatshirt and undershirt "Holy shit, dude. You really are bloated". Cal's body shook and his voice trembled "Y-*..grrrr* oulgh.. yeah I usually never eat that much. I don't know how I even fit all that in me." The noises and vibrations sent a shiver down Leo's spine. Cal was almost like a giant, fleshy drum that he could feel vibrate when he touched it. He pressed his hands onto it again, but this time he gently rubbed circles into Cal's gut, listening to the rumblings as he did so.

The sensation and the noises made him euphoric. Cal suddenly spoke up "Hey I don't want to be weird or anything but are you like, into this?" Leo's heart sank and he felt his life flash before his eyes, his hands lifting up off of Cal's belly as he froze in place. "Wh… uh. What."

Cal repeated himself "like, are you into this?" Leo doesn't know what to say. How did Cal even know? Was he being too eager, too straightforward? He knew he shouldn't have actually offered a belly rub, surely Cal was just exaggerating when he made the offer. "I'm.. what made you think that?" Cal exhaled out of his nose jovially "because I can feel your boner on my back dude." Leo's eyebrows furrowed ashamedly, he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Cal noticed and quickly added "It's okay if you are! I just.. I wanna know and make sure that's the case because I.. uh" Leo didn't dare look up but his ears honed in on what Cal said as he continued to speak "..I am."

Leo let out a deep sigh and leaned on Cal, resting his head on his shoulder "ohthankgod… Well in that case, yeah. Uh. Was it.. really that obvious?" Cal shook his head "Not really, I was actually really worried that I was the one going over the top by using this as an opportunity to stuff myself silly, I wanted to take advantage, since it's not like we have a surplus of food to be eating on the regular." Leo lifted his head "That's kinda clever. Yeah, you went apeshit on those pizzas, how many did I bring, 4? There's only one box left and there's already half a slice eaten from it."

Cal groans, the thought of food making his stomach churn even louder. Leo put his hands back on Cal's stomach and continued to rub it again. Cal suddenly tensed up and made a painful, scrunched up face, Leo could feel a particular pocket of air beneath his hands and massaged the side of Cal's hard distended tummy. Cal began to groan before he was cut off by a huge belch that sounded like the damned and digested souls of every pizza slice he's shoved into his gut. "Ugh-hUUUUUUURRRRP..'' There was a small moment of silence from everyone and everything including Cal's raunchy belly before everything shifted back into gear. Leo had to look down and check to make sure he didn't cream his jeans.

Cal let out a relieved sigh "oh Jesus dude, that helped a lot" he sounded thankful as he took another deep breath. Leo felt a sudden surge of confidence after giving such successful belly rubs, he'd never done this before! He wasn't sure this was real life. If it was a dream he didnt ever wanna wake up.

His hand kept moving, circling and rubbing across Cal's bloated midsection, the soft fabric of his sweatshirt stretched over his stomach felt almost like a nice soft stress ball to Leo… more like a dollar store stress ball made of hard foam that's near impossible to squeeze comfortably, so you mostly just hold it and caress it. Except Cal's belly wasn't made of cheap foam, and was safely confined within his clothes. His very tight clothes. Every now and then his fingers would graze lightly against the bloated boy's chest when he would rub a bit higher up, drawing soft gasps from Cal. The sweatshirt was baggy but it wasn't all that thick, Leo could swear he felt Cal's nipples, now hard, through the layers of fabric after accidentally brushing past the area a few minutes in.

Leo didn't say anything, there was really nothing he felt he needed to say. He just kept rubbing and listening to Cal's belly gurgle and his occasional burping- none rivaled that first one though.

Leo eventually began to think aloud "So now that everything's all out in the open, I'm kinda curious, if you're okay with sharing.. uh. What do you specifically.. enjoy?" Cal leaned his head back slightly, shifting the rest of his body closer to the boy behind him in the process "honestly I just like to indulge once in a while. I- *urrrp* ah.. 'scuse me, I'm not a health freak or anything but I like keeping a slim figure and eating healthy. Mostly 'cause even small amounts of junk food upset my stomach. Not to mention my favorite junk foods usually contain dairy, and I'm lactose intolerant. So if I ate like this every day I would probably spend all my free time in pain anyways." Leo nodded sympathetically, "Yeah that sucks, man". Cal continued "s'not all that bad, it would just be really inconvenient. That's why I only go all out like this on special occasions, a few times a year."

Leo hummed and continued to rub in a circular motion across Cal's belly "Makes sense. So.. are you just enjoying yourself now or is there anything else you're uh, 'into'?" Cal let out a small groan as Leo's hand brushed against his chest again "ghh-*buhurrrp*.. mm.. I don't think so. I can't think of any better way to go about satisfying my cravings. I like to feel full every now and then, push my limits and see how far I can go. I usually get full after eating even just small amounts, but I've found that if I keep going beyond and just continue eating anyways, I can actually pack away a whole lot more before my body starts to stop just hurting and starts physically rejecting and ejecting it" he hiccuped after he spoke and giggled before finishing his sentence "..so I'm just kinda relaxing right now.. and.. the company is nice too." he added in with a small smile. "Why, what about you? You into anything else?"

Leo was still shocked that his friend happened to not only accept his freaky fetish, but SHARE it, he didn't want to move things too fast or sound too eager.. but Cal basically admitted his secrets for him just now, and Leo feels like Cal deserves the same honesty from him. "Well.. I'm into people doing what you do. I'm not really into it when it's my own stomach or anything for some reason, but I don't really mind. I wouldn't really be opposed to it, I think I'm just more into… experiencing it uh, secondhand?" Leo, lost in thought, pressed down harder than usual for a second as he rubbed, Cal let out a muffled burp into his fist "*grrrrph*.. no, that makes sense, I get it."

Leo, feeling more grounded and comfortable, added onto his explanation "I've never done anything about it before, but I.. fantasize.. a lot, and I'm really into the idea of feeding y- someone. Like being the one to help you push your limits." Leo felt a tingle run down his spine as he finally admitted his fantasies out loud, he felt Cal sit up a little bit. Worried that maybe that freaked him out he added "Sorry if that's too weird.."

Cal laughed, then sat up completely, beginning to speak before the air that had been trapped rushed up as he sat straighter, "*BUUURP* agh, phew! It's okay, Leo, that's hot". Leo blinked. Very blunt... but he wasn't complaining.

Cal put his own hands on his stomach, feeling it for himself before looking back up at Leo "I'm still super full, but my tummy doesn't feel like it's being stabbed anymore! Like, I don't feel as full anymore!" Leo smirked "It's cause I burped you like a little baby"

Cal shoved Leo lightly "Oh c'mon, you loved it! Hey, there's still some pizza left right? We could do your feeding thing!" Leo's face brightened but he hesitated to accept the offer. "I mean, we could always do this another time. I could wait however long you want until you're ready to dedicate a night to this, besides, aren't you really full?" Cal technically was full, his stomach had stopped churning as hard and thus wasn't in as much pain at the moment, but that just meant the food was sitting in his stomach undigested.

Cal's expression stayed the same as he answered unexpectedly confidently, "But I'm less full now! It hurt earlier, but I wasn't really at my limit!" Leo was skeptical "You sounded like you were gonna projectile vomit on the carpet earlier if I hadn't rubbed your belly" Cal scoffs, "No, I was just psyched out! I was caught off guard 'cause you were here with me and I didn't know if I would have been freaking you out or not. Really, I've been doing this for years" Leo stood up and sighed "If you say so 'mr professionally licensed glutton', but I'm new to doing any of this and I really don't want to push you too far and have to clean up undigested pizza out of the carpet. At least not tonight."

Cal shrugs. "I'll be fine, at least this time. I promise." Leo looked unsure, but in the end he sat down behind Cal again and started to slowly rub his hands over the mass of Cal's distended midsection once again.

Truthfully, Cal was still pretty sensitive, and the light brush of Leo's hands felt like a very comfortable massage. "Alright, Cal. I'll do this, but I want you to tell me if it's getting uncomfortable, and we can stop. Don't make me feed you until you puke, that's gross". Cal chuckled, "I won't puke if you make sure to rub my tummy!" Leo sighed as he got up to grab the last box of pizza. "Alright but I'm grabbing the trash can just in case. Get comfy, Cal".

Cal held his still quite full belly, realizing now just how bloated he was, how his sweatshirt stretched to fit over his overstuffed stomach. He carried its weight in his hands as he shifted over to one side of the couch, propping himself up against a pillow on the armrest, letting out a low airy belch as he did so. He called out to Leo "Hey grab some more soda too, I'm thirsty!"

Cal shifted slightly as he settled in on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him. To Leo, he almost looked like he was getting ready to watch television rather than stuff himself full of greasy, processed pizza for his friend's enjoyment. Leo walked into the room holding the box and a 2-liter bottle of orange soda. He sat down beside Cal in the same manner, making as little noise as possible while he settled. The air was thick with anticipation - both boys knew what was about to happen, but neither of them dared acknowledge it outright. Cal decided to break the awkward silence and be the first to step up, lord knows Leo won't.

Cal reaches for the box to grab a slice, but his round bloated tummy is preventing him from bending that far. He recoils and grabs his stomach, "oof.. oough.. I don't think I can keep leaning down and over to grab slices.. you're gonna have to feed 'em to me.."

Leo blushed, flustered, as if this isn't exactly what they had both agreed and planned to do mere seconds ago.

He was about to be the one to fill up Cal, and he wanted to do a good job. He held the slice up to the eager boy in front of him, sitting between his legs and reaching over his hard bloated tummy. His crotch just about touching Cal's as he sat there on the couch between his legs and overstuffed stomach. Cal looked at him hungrily.

"O-open wide," Leo says quietly, holding the greasy slice of pizza toward Cal's mouth. Cal, his expression eager and expectant, opens his mouth taking a large bite. His chewing speed slower than before. His stomach was already packed full, it was a struggle to force himself to choke down even MORE food, but he was determined to try. He chewed more thoroughly, as if his body was trying to delay the inevitable. He grunted and a small burp slipped out though his full mouth while he chewed. He really was stuffed to the brim. He swallows, and continues this process until the slice is gone. He looks to Leo for more.

"Another" he says, his mouth still full of his previous bite. Leo pushes the next slice close to Cal's mouth wearily "You look really full, dude. Your tummy feels tight as a drum.." Leo mumbled as he gently rubbed around the warm surface of the sweatshirt, massaging the churning belly underneath. Cal chews and swallows, before cringing, and speaking up "urgh.. wait.." Leo froze cautiously as Cal continued "..I'm thirsty, hand me the soda." Leo rolled his eyes as Cal chugged down a few gulps of the fizzy soda, resulting in almost IMMEDIATE burping.

After this, Leo was sure Cal would be finished, but alas..

"…and more," Cal commands after his belch-break, swallowing and panting as Leo continues rubbing his belly gently. A low moan escapes his lips, his gaze glued to Leo. The bulge under his tight stretchy sweatshirt shifting slightly from his breathing. Leo was getting ready to reach for another slice when Cal groaned "Wait, just a second.. for real this time.. hng.. cramp. My tummy…" both his hands flew to his belly which was rumbling ominously. His hands moved upwards to his chest as they were quickly replaced with Leo's, "We can stop now if you want, you look like you're gonna burst!"

Cal shook his head in protest, "Just a cramp, just need a break.." Leo felt the sickly churning through the sweatshirt as he rubbed it, and without even pushing, a bubbly fart escaped from Cal's behind, rumbling on Leo's crotch right in front of it. Leo winced "Oh that smells terrible.. somethings up in your belly, I think you should-" Cal interrupted Leo, "another slice!"

It was quite full in there and this whole thing was making Cal feel hot, uncomfortable, sick, and horny all at once. "Ooh, man… my stomach is just.. bulging with all this." He took the remaining crust and devoured it in a single huge mouthful. He paused for a moment, the weight of the food in his stomach shifting as he let out a stream of airy farts, every single one preceded with a vibrating rumble from his belly. "*Pfffft*… *pfffffttttt*.. oh god.. *buurp* oh- *pffft*…*pfftt*… *prrt*.. fuck.. Im sorry, I can't even stop it." Cal said. Leo held the last slice of pizza in his hand, "okay… last slice… don't pop, man.."

Cal's stomach bulged obscenely inside his snug sweatshirt as he ate the last slice of pizza. He was in such a state that when his mouth was busy chewing, several burps forced themselves free through his nose in rapid succession. He moaned after each one. Leo didn't seem to mind, though, he just stared at Cal with eyes half-lidded and a bulge full-mast. He was practically shaking at this point, Leo felt his heat radiating onto the poor stuffed boy. Cal's stomach, already full and distended from the prior intake and now the last slice was working overtime to digest said pizza. His body was heating up from all the churning. Leo could feel every bit of it, his crotch was also getting hot.

Cal was sweating. He looked almost delirious from pleasure- and pain. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy. Leo comforts him as he finishes chewing and swallows, his stomach rumbles again. Cal tilted his head back, trying to relax his cramped muscles. A long wet burp shot out of his mouth before he had time to react, and he moaned aloud. Leo, worried, suggests "Hey maybe you should.. take your sweatshirt off. You seem really hot, like you're sweating. That has to be making you even more nauseous.." Cal groaned, hiccuped and replied "y-yeah. Guhhh… gonna.. take it off.." he weakly pulled at the zipper, struggling to get it over the bump of his aching belly. He whimpered as dangerous toots slid out. Once the zipper got over the curve of his belly, it practically unzipped itself the rest of the way down on its own. He wiggled his arms out and Leo helped toss the sweatshirt to the side. Cal was just in a thin elastic tank top now. He whined "m- *muuurp* shit, my belly hurts.. so full.. *frrtt..phhhtttrrft*… hng, *bur-URP*- ugh! I don't feel good.."

Leo was rubbing faster now. Another fart, another groan. The smell was intense and made Leo's eyes water. Cal's eyes werent any better, they were glazed over, his head lolled back he let out a silent puff of air from his mouth, his belches were getting risky, some of them he was forced to swallow down to avoid anything else other than air coming up, and he only had the tingle in the back of his throat to warn him. His stomach churned angrily, gurgling and undulating in time with Leo's rubbing. His belly was still distended and full, his white tank-top riding up just above his belly button. Leo listened as Cal's stomach emitted queasy grumbles and overpacked noises that would eventually be desperately released through either end. "I told you you were gonna feel sick, dude.. you look 8 months pregnant"

Cal laughed "I sure feel like it…. *hic-bRUUUP* mnnppph god… how am I supposed to walk after this? I think I'm *hic* too bloated for my own good. Ooooh… nnnngh.. and it feels like my stomach is doing an impression of a washing machine. *UURRRPPPP* oh- don't stop rubbing.. or.. I'm gonna have a premature birth!" Leo couldn't help but laugh. Cal turned his head and looked up. They locked eyes a moment as Leo was rubbing a sensitive spot just above Cal's belly button.

Leo's eyes widened as he blushed and unconsciously grinded his hips into Cal's crotch in front of him. His breath was hot and fast. Cal noticed, and warned his friend "My tummy hurts.. I feel so gassy, I think I need to fart.. uhm.. I'm not gonna *hic* warn you anymore, mostly because I don't think I can hold in anything anymore.." Leo never broke eye contact "That's okay, you're like a blimp. Let it all out, I'd rather you gas the place up than shit your pants on me".

Cal smiled and went to laugh before he was cut off by a sick burp, followed by a stream of wet, shorter burps.

Leo looked like he had gotten exactly what he wished for and more. In the face of a belching, gassy Cal he remained undaunted. He had a gleam in his eyes and a bulge in his pants that were both growing by the second. Cal was so full that he needed more than Leo's hand rubbing him. His own two fists were working him over in between big belchy moans and groans. His stomach was grumbling ominously, begging to get it over with sooner rather than later. "*bUUUURRRRRP* ooohh.. I feel queasy.." his statement punctuated by short, painful, but constant little farts as his stomach fought with the contents inside of it.

"Your tummy is gonna feel so much better after this, Cal." Leo said, rubbing and humping with more vigor, the rubbing on both Cal's belly and.. elsewhere.. helping things move along inside of him. Leo is on his knees, rubbing Cal's distended belly with both hands, spreading Cal's legs apart with his own as he worked. Cal's own hands were working higher up on his own gut, massaging and kneading. His belly was an air filled balloon ready to burst. Cal lets out a low moan and squirms as another deep and wet burp erupts. All the while, Cal could feel tingles of pleasure building up in his bloated guts, but the queasy, sick feeling was still going strong. This whole thing was making him feel strange and oddly arousing in a way he'd never felt before.

Leo saw the look on his friend's face and his hands gripped his swollen tummy. "It's okay, mnff... you can... let it happen... anytime."

Cal nodded, his hands rubbing his engorged belly in time with Leo's rhythm, as the blonde boy sacrificed a hand from belly rubbing duty to help keep himself steady above Cal.

Cal grunted as he continued massaging his distended gut. Leo's other rubbing was growing much more intense now. He was almost shaking Cal as he did so. Cal's mouth hung open and he was moaning with a slightly desperate tone. "Come on, dude.. hurry it up.. I'm so…" his moan was cut off by another wet belch. His body shook with the force of it and he clenched his teeth in an effort to relax and hold back the next one. It was no use. Another belch, and another, and another, with rapid, short gaps in between. Leo was now the one groaning, reaching his peak. "I'm.. unf.. hah.. Cal, I'm close… just hold on.." Leo was delirious with pleasure he'd only ever dreamed of experiencing.

Cal felt his body both nauseously ache at one part and throb with desire in another. An unusual mix that left him feeling like he was gonna puke regardless. He got himself into this willingly though, and has nobody to blame but himself, and he certainly doesn't wanna ruin Leo's night. He whines and puts all his focus into keeping his food inside of him.

Cal was struggling as he massaged his distended belly in time with his buddy's increasingly feverish rubbing. He let out a long, wet belch, "Hnnnnnnnghhhh my god, my stomach is so… *huuu-UUrrrpppp*- so full, I'm… I'm gonna be so sick."

Leo was getting close, very close, and he could feel his friend's stomach and other… parts… tensing up as he got ready to finish. Leo was breathing almost as hard as Cal at this point, gripping the stuffed boy's thigh with his one hand and holding himself steady with the other, trying not to jostle his buddy's tummy.

Leo is panting like a dog, his face bright red with effort and excitement. His body was flushed and his breath was heavy with the scent of the pizza they ate. Sweat trickled down his temples and forehead as he finally finished.

Suddenly, Cal lets out another long belch as all of that food starts moving again like a train. His stomach rumbles in discomfort at the pace Leo was pushing things along, but there's no stopping or slowing it now.

Cal's face grows more and more flushed as he moans and tries to keep his guts in its place. Leo rides out his climax, barely even worrying about how he's ruined his underwear in the process.

Snapping back to reality, he realized the true state that Cal was in and swiftly grabbed the trash can, "f-fuck. I'm sorry dude. You're gonna be okay. Just let it out, don't worry about accidents, I have the trash right here.. hold on.." he shifted Cal over slightly so that if any… spilling.. happened it would be in the trash can instead of on the floor. Cal's stomach was round and rock hard, the contents inside swirling like a greasy, bubbly storm. The movement caused a rancid fart to seep out slowly from Cal, the smell making him feel even more sick.

"Ugh.. god, *hic-HURP-" Leo… I'm so full…" the smell was terrible, the pizza obviously having not digested properly. Cal tried to hold on. But he couldn't hold it in for much longer. His hands resting on the impossibly bloated tummy that lay heavily in his lap.

Between queasy, wet, uncontrollable belches that forced their way out of his system, he tried to apologize "Leo.. grrrroowl ungh.. you w- *UUUR*ere right. It was too *urp* much.. fuck! *bruuuup.. burrp.. hurp* gah.. I should have listened.. to you…" he just couldn't stand the pressure anymore and stopped trying to speak when a series of loud, wet belches forced their way out of him. The distended mass in his belly seemed to vibrate and throb in rhythm with his digestive noises.

Leo tried to reassure him, "It's okay, I shouldn't have gone along with it.. we were both caught up in the moment, just breathe.." Cal gasped for air in between belches. "Ohhh fuu-*URP*… I'm gonna… gurggl*urp* Ughhhnnn…!" Cal couldn't hold it in anymore. His full belly convulsed as the undigested remains of the greasy pizza seamlessly flowed out of his mouth. He didn't even get the chance to burp again before a second wave brought up even more. As soon as he could, Cal cried out and gasped for air… before promptly being sick once more.

It dribbled into the trashcan as Cal struggled to remain upright on the couch; he was so sick. After the first few times, every heave was followed by a long, wet belch, the air that had been mixing with everything coming up in between. Cal gripped Leo's arms tightly as his stomach cramped and growled and heaved, the force of which made his whole body jerk and shake.

Cal was too nauseated to even protest being held and rubbed by Leo as he continued to puke. As sick and unpleasant as it was, Cal felt oddly grateful. Cal continued to vomit, his face flushed and heaving as more wet belches spewed out of his mouth. "Ughhh… *hic* I'm not done.. *gurp* I know I'm not.. god I ate so much!" The next few waves felt almost like they would never pass as Cal struggled in pain, and pleasure from relief. Leo almost felt sick himself seeing just how much came up, thinking of how much went IN and how full Cal was. Cal's eyes began to look droopy as he felt his mind slipping away. He definitely reached his limit tonight. He was still sick, but moreso spitting up in the trashcan and gagging than full on vomiting anymore. His mind cleared up just enough to make a mental note to himself: 4 whole pizzas over the course of one night. That was his limit.

Leo, feeling queasy himself from having to witness Cal spewing inches away from him still let Cal rest his head on his lap, trying to avoid laying on his stomach or adding any nore pressure to it. He looked down at his friend, face flush, skin glistening with sweat, nose running, exhausted from the exertion. He couldn't imagine being in his shoes, but at least he could help him, even if it meant cleaning up the result.

"Are you okay, Cal? Do you think you're done?" Leo asked, stroking the hair out of Cal's eyes that were already starting to close. "Maybe… *hic* .. I'm getting sleepy." He mumbled, resting his head further into Leo's lap. Leo would enjoy this a lot more if his lap wasn't uncomfortably hot and sweaty, and parts of it wet and sticky inside from using them as friction to help bring him to his release earlier.

He grabbed a pillow from behind him and carefully moved it under Cal's head as he slipped out from underneath his sore, sleepy buddy. "I'm gonna go empty the trash can, I'm gonna run to the dumpster, I'll be like 5 minutes MAX, do you think you'll be fine until I get back?" Cal hummed "mmhmm.. *hic* I feel so much better… that needed to come out so bad…. oh my god I really overdid it…"

This experience, as repulsive as it sounded, was far from unpleasant to Cal. His body was still slick with sweat and fluids, and his stomach felt sore, but the relief of having gotten everything out was more than worth it to him. He didn't even mind being held and rubbed as his body expelled the contents of what he had eaten with such gluttony. He felt bad for involving Leo in it, if anything.

Cal sighed as he settled more into the pillow beneath him. His stomach still churned routinely, but he no longer felt dizzy with nausea, and he was once again in that familiar state of just being very, very full. He was in a pretty comfortable position though, it had to be said. His body felt oddly relaxed and yet, his stomach was still swollen and achy. He felt lighter, like his body had been cleansed. He also felt something… else. He turned his head as much as he could without moving his body. His eyes were drooped as his gaze was stuck forward, fixated on the doorway that Leo was to return from. After a few minutes he heard footsteps. He tried to force himself awake out of a half-sleep. "Leo?…" he tried to ask, but with the way his head was positioned and how sleepy he was, he only managed to croak out a few barely audible words.

"Leo? you back?"

Leo returned from outside the apartment door, the trashcan now empty and the trashbag inside replaced. He set it down and sighed as he crouched down to be level with Cal, who was still laying on the couch with his head against the pillow. "You awake?" He gently wiped the sweat off of Cal's forehead. Cal smiled sleepily. "Mm… sort of.. uhm. how are you feeling about this whole thing?" Cal was referring to both the pizza and their rather intimate session as a result.

Leo thought for a moment "Hm.. I feel tired, but probably not as tired as you." There was a pause before he continued "…I don't want you to feel bad, if I was in your position I think I would be so embarrassed that I would die.. I wanna be all 'I told you so' but that can wait."

Cal laughed in the form of exhaling through his nose. He understood. Leo kept talking, "I could have lived without you puking your guts out, that kind of ruined it.."

Cal was awake but still dazed enough to not think twice before speaking, "but you came, right?". Leo blushed. Cal was always so straightforward about these things. "Uh. Y-yeah. Absolutely I did. It was immediately cancelled out within like a minute, but up until then… I think I liked it." Cal grinned. "I liked it too. I mean, I definitely hated it at some moments, specifically the ones where I was barfing, but that's over now and I'm not past-me so overall I count it as a success. I found my limit!" Leo grimaced "You sure did.."

Cal continued "and I wouldn't have pushed myself to even go that far without you!"

Leo resisted the urge to lightly shove his friend in fear that he might jostle him too much. "Then maybe I shouldn't have, if this is what happens when I feed you and help you then maybe I'll just stick to watching you gobble down pizza from afar like I used to" Cal giggled. "Well now you don't have to, because my limit is 4 boxes of pizza, just never push me beyond that! Easy math!"

Leo shook his head "I just gotta say.. if this is like a yearly thing or maybe even a once-a-month thing I would be more than happy to help you push your limits.. but now that you know the result I'm not sure about 4.. maybe 1…" Cal playfully groaned "ughhh fine!", then laughed and then turned his head to face Leo. He was smiling as he looked at his friend while trying to keep his eyes open. "Hey, Leo.. thanks for indulging me. You're always there for me and I don't know if I thank you enough for it." Leo shook his head, "Don't worry about it. Thank you for not judging me. You're never afraid to be yourself and you make me want to do the same."

The two fell asleep in the living room, Cal on the couch, and Leo on the floor. They grew much closer that day, and their bond will forever be strengthened, all thanks to surplus pizza.

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catmansquad · 1 year ago

Text

Special (2)

An irritating Spider-woman leaves you on edge, fortunately, the man you love can make you feel all better...

(Miguel O'Hara x M!Reader) (Pokes M!Reader tag. "C'mon... Do something...")

‘What’s up Spider-fans! It’s Spider-Selene here once again! There’s a whole lot of you who’ve been sliding into my DMs about seeing Across the Spider-Verse. Well, guess who’s gotten her own special invite? That’s right; I’m in Spider Society!’

She held up her phone, still recording as her other hand held up the silver-white bracelet that swirled with a soft neon blue light. ‘For those who don’t know me-? Seriously, how can you not? Well, let’s take it from the top; I was bitten by some radioactive guy in a spider costume- some sort of Halloween party at a power plant gone wrong-, and since then I’ve been the one and only Spider-Selene; half-spider, half-witch, and full on badass! Fighting crime and saving the world with kickass acrobatics, pure love, and white light magic! Well, I’m already in good; got some tight-knit friends… Uh… Like Ben! Hey, Ben! How’re you doing big guy? Just telling all my fans about how I’m-!’ ‘… Friends…?’ Ben hung his head, face vanishing beneath his messy dyed locks, voice low. ‘… My life truly can spiral into darker depths.’ Spider-Selene blinked, a little nervous laugh escaped her before she swiftly turned on her heels, panning her phone away from him. ‘Yeah, he’s just being himself- we’re really actually good friends, like… Uh… Like me, Jess and Peter! Heyy!’ She waved them down, watching the two in particular pause in their conversation and look to her. ‘Hey! I’m just telling all my fans about us, want to tell them about-‘ ‘Actually, Peter, I really need to get back home… We’ll catch up later, yeah?’ Jessica gave him a soft, fond smile, that Peter matched and quickly strode off. As soon as Spider-Selene’s masked face snapped to Peter, he shrugged with an apologetic smile. ‘Yeah… Sorry, I’d love to stick about and chat, but I promised I’d look after Mayday tonight; MJ’s having a girl’s night out. See you later!’ With a “thwip” of webbing he was off, leaving Spider-Selene staring at the empty space they had once been.

‘So, you know the difference between the movie and the actual Spider-Society? Well, the bracelets are different, for one… But the really bad thing is… Well…’ She panned the camera, over to where two figures lurked by a futuristic water cooler; tall and powerfully built, a man clad in the venom green suit of a scorpion with his tail lazily curled on the floor, and a man in green and purple carrying a fishbowl helmet under one arm. ‘… Last world I explored? Literally built in the skies; farmlands, windmills, quaint little towns. Local population had wings.’ Mysterio gestured calmly the glint of a fond smile on his face. ‘Why do you get lucky? Mine was a swamp where the trees would try to strangle you with their roots.’ She returned the camera back to herself. ‘See? Literal. Villains. Just walking about with travel bracelets on. In Spider. Society. I… I mean, Mysterio’s kinda hot though, but the point still stands! It’s for Spider-People!’ ‘What did she say?’ She froze up, slowly looking back to where the pair stared at her. Scorpion’s expression narrowed further, his tail lifting from the floor. ‘M-Mac, don’t get carried away now.’ ‘Listen, you entitled little s-‘ ‘Mac.’ Mysterio’s hand on his shoulder seemed to calm whatever rage was building. ‘Look.. Spider-whatever… This place is for all of us to explore and chart the dazzling expanse of the multiverse. Perhaps no-one explained it to you- perhaps you just didn’t want to listen- but me and Mac? In our worlds, we’re the heroes. Don’t take Mac too harshly, he’s had it rough; his local Spider-woman is a terrible villain.’ A look of concern crossed his charming features as he glanced over her shoulder. ‘Perhaps it’s not any particular heroes or villains you should be worried about….’

She turned on her heels, and hurriedly tried to shove her phone back into its pocket. In a sleek black suit, you approached, peering from behind neon blue glasses, the scroll of data running across the lenses. ‘You.’ You paused before her, hands behind your back. ‘Spider-Selene.’ She corrected you, and you shook your head. ‘Lyla, pull her profile, please.’ The scroll of data stopped as you surveyed what had been brought up. ‘Hanna, please come to my office at your earliest convenience; you and I are going to have a little talk.’ She cringed softly at the mention of her name, like a scolded child who knew she had been caught out by a teacher. Finally, she hung her head, all confidence fled. ‘Yes, sir…’

You relaxed back into the chair of your office; its soft cream walls, shelves lined with tokens from other worlds, and the sleek desk with its hardlight screen scrolling the data that passed through the building. Sighing you, pulled the glasses from your eyes and set them aside, blinking at the world as it truly was. It was fascinating, just how easily you had slipped into this life, this job, in another world and time altogether. Your eyes glanced at the bracelet on your left wrist, the silver-white sparkling in the light, the engraving of a many-branching tree visible upon its surface. Gabriel had a wonderful sense of style for designing their aesthetics. How different your life had become solely because of one extraordinary, wonderful man… The soft knock on the door, the door with that bore your nameplate and title beside it; “Head of HR”. Lyla’s hologram flitted into being on your desk. ‘Got Spider-Selene, here for your chewing out.’ You sighed and sat up straight, feet flat on the floor and pulled the chair closer to the desk, trying to look professional. ‘Let her in, please.’

She slinked across the threshold as the door slid open, hands clasped nervously as she waited for your judgement. ‘Sit down.’ The chair opposite creaked as she did as ordered. You waited for a time before clearing your throat softly. ‘Since it’s nearly lunchtime, I’ll make this brief as I’m sure we’re both hungry…’ You closed down the screen and leaned on your elbows across the desk, no barriers between your eyes. ‘Hanna, I’ve been receiving some... complaints about you, recently. I know you’ve only been here a month and you might need time to settle in, but the frequency has quickly become… worrying. I deal with Spider-People relatively frequently, some are worse joke tellers than others…’ Realising you were beginning to drift off-topic you cleared your throat softly. ‘These complaints state that you have been… Irritating, unprofessional, and intrusive. Invading private conversations, recording and photographing without permission, and conducting yourself inappropriately in a manner that could be construed as sexual harassment.’ You watched the eyes of her mask grow wide, and you resisted the urge to grit your teeth at the last one. Needless to say, that Miguel certainly didn’t appreciate having his ass groped by yet another Spider-woman who thought he was the hottest thing since fire. ‘N-no! I’m not intrusive! I’m a superhero! I’m a good person!’ ‘We’ve also had complaints about… junk being left around the premises by you.’ ‘No! No, those are crystals and blessing bags! They’re to promote good energy and fill the space with white light… Y’know… cause I’m half-witch.’ ‘Riiight…’ You rolled the word, tone dry, you wished you had a drink beside you, something to stretch out the awkward silence.

‘I don’t know why we have villains just roaming the premises, I mean, surely for Spider-Society they should be sent back to their own worlds, it might damage the Ca-‘ You slammed a hand onto your desk stopping her babbling before she could utter that last, cursed word. ‘No.’ You closed your eyes, exhaling as fingers curled tight into your palm. You blinked your eyes back open, looking up. ‘We are not The Society. We do not wish to be their exclusive club, and we do not respect their views on the theoretical nature of the multiverse. Anyone can be an explorer of the Tree of Infinity. Now, Hanna, I want you to consider this a warning; we expect your behaviour to improve. You are still on probation, and if it does not improve, we may have to say goodbye to you. I will be discussing this matter with Miguel.’ She seemed to sink deeper into her seat at the mention of his name. ‘P-please, can you put in a good word for him with me? Let him know that I think he’s handsome? I-I mean, I don’t mean to brag, but I feel like we’ve got a real connection- we were bitten by the same spider after al-‘ ‘Really? What spider?’ You feigned interest with a gentle smile, knowing she had blabbed herself straight into a corner. ‘U-uh…’ ‘What spider, Hanna?’ ‘Uhh…. Black widow?’ You closed your eyes, chuckling softly as you nodded, and when you opened your eyes again, you could almost make out her relieved smile from beneath her mask. It was time to drop the hammer twice over. ‘Hanna? Miguel wasn’t bitten by a spider. Also, please stop flirting with him. He doesn’t like it, and his boyfriend doesn’t appreciate it. Mm?’ You watched her eyes slowly widen in realisation and drank it in before waving softly, triumphant. ‘You can go now, get some lunch.’

The gloomy room was Miguel’s office in the highest reaches of the tower, illuminated faintly by the sprawling, rotating image of a white tree with many branches. You knew its layout well enough to move through it without falling over anything, as long as Miguel hadn’t moved things around too much. As luck would have it, he had indeed. Your feet became tangled in a mass of cabling that had not been present on your last visit and you felt yourself stumble and begin to fall. You never hit the ground before familiar strong arms caught you and bore you close against his warm chest wrapped in soft clothing. ‘Heh… You’re getting clumsy.’ His deep voice was rich with amusement, right by your ear as he lifted you off your feet with effortless ease. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him in a hug with all your might, and his body didn’t yield in the slightest, only a faintly amused huff escaped him for your efforts. ‘You’re the one booby trapping your office to trip me up, Miggy.’ He laughed again and placed a fond kiss to your cheek. ‘Damn, you’ve figured me out… Lyla tells me you’ve been busy. Want to tell me what it’s about?’ ‘Well-‘ ‘Actually, hold that thought. Let’s get comfortable.’

He supported your entire weight with one arm as his other reached out, the “thwip” of the white, organic webbing from his wrist as he launched both you and him up into the upper reaches of his office, to where a hammock of webbing had been constructed. He laid you down on the soft, silken threads and relaxed beside you, the glint of his crimson eyes visible in the faint light. He began to rock the hammock gently with one foot against the wall and you felt utterly safe with one of his arms over your waist. ‘Well… Uh, the crazy witch has been told off. She won’t be groping you anymore. So your ass is safe… Until the next Spider-woman tries….’ ‘Ay dios mio… You think it’s pheromones? You think I produce pheromones that drive them crazy?’ You snuggled closer into him, nuzzling into his neck and sniffing to inhale his wonderful earthen scent. ‘You always smell great to me, Miggy…’ Another little chuckle escaped him, and he kissed the top of your head with a pleased rumble. ‘Uh-huh…? Well, Lyla’s made sure we won’t be disturbed… So, maybe your ass won’t be so safe from me, my love. If you want to do more than just snuggle…’ You snuggled even closer against him, feeling his arm around you tighten with strength that was just shy of hurting- you knew he still held back the lion’s share of his might, he could snap you like a twig if he wanted. ‘I… Think I just want to be with my Spider-Man, right now…’ ‘Heh… Te amo, mi vida…’ He purred as he placed another kiss to your head, still rocking you quietly. ‘I am yours…’

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I designed Spider-Selene to be an incredibly shallow, irritating version of some of the Spidersonas I used to see around Tumblr. Also I love the fact that she just got chomped by a drunk guy in a costume and the world went "Ehh, techncially that counts". Probably doesn't even have any powers (which would explain why ATSV Miguel had no interest in recruiting her)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x male reader

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