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luckigrls · 1 year ago

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absolutely need a plug!zoro cheating on his gf with u nsfw …

no bc y’all are on a roll w these plug!zoro requests! position is based off this video btw 😩

ೃ⁀➷ what you want, roronoa zoro

thinking about the way that man would literally hate his girlfriend fr. like, he’s sure he’s only with her because his family loves her, but he just doesn’t. and i mean he proves that when he ends up outside your door in the middle of the rainy night, somewhere around 3 AM.

everyone would always ask him—why not just break up with her? and zoro never had an answer. his girlfriend was too fragile of a person and he hated that crying shit honestly. the only person he ever cared about making cry was ironically you.

his relationship was anything but secure. zoro was chill with whatever his girlfriend did. he trusted her, at first. she wanted to go to a party, he’d let her. she got a ride from some guy friend who was maybe his level of attractive? he didn’t care. but the same rules didn’t apply to him. zoro could be getting ready to go to work and his girlfriend would be up on him with accusations.

“i feel like you’re gonna go and fuck that bitch,” his girlfriend spat with venom, referring to you as he slid on his jeans. the green head couldn’t help but roll his eyes as she rambled on about disliking you. he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself lightly when he realized how crazy she was behind closed doors.

“well now i’mma go do that just cuz’ you said it,” he muttered, just trying to get underneath her skin. his girlfriend thought he was bluffing, but not with the way blood rushed to zoro’s dick at the thought of just being in your arms to cuddle tonight.

zoro doesn’t think twice either when it comes to pulling up to your crib. he parked in front of your cute little car, something he did to express his dominance over you in the way your cars together looked like a ‘his and hers’ pair. he was weird like that, but that’s just how much he felt for you fr.

by the time he gets to your door, his heart is already thumping in his chest. not in fear of getting caught, but instead at the sight of you in your tiny nightdress, two sizes to small to barely contain your wide hips and busty breasts.

you give him a blank look as you leaned against the threshold of the door. “ian call you for no weed.”

zoro gives you his million dollar smirk. “you should know that’s not the only reason i come over anymore.”

“yeah yeah to cheat on your girl, sure zoro,” you roll your eyes.

the green head kisses his teeth, “not cheating if i don’t want her.” with a step to the side, you helplessly let him in, and he wastes no time in kissing your lips. “missed you so damn much.”

“missed you too,” you can’t help but mutter against his lips. zoro wraps his hands around your waist and pulls your smaller frame against this larger own. his hands shamelessly wanter down to the fat of your ass as he grips it, giving it a reddening smack and repeating his actions.

zoro pulls away with one last peck to your lips. “how was your day mama?” he grabs your hand and drags you to the couch.

“fine,” you muttered with a bored expression, grabbing the remote to turn on the tv.

zoro furrows his eyebrow and snatches the remote from your hand. “what’s up wit’ you? you okay? talk to me.”

you shrug your shoulders. “i’m straight,” but your tone wasn’t convincing him otherwise.

zoro gives you a suspicious hum before pulling you into his lap. “what you doing tomorrow night?”

“probably homework,” you admit. “why?”

zoro can’t help but grin at you, flashing his gold canine pieces. “got us tickets to see that standup you been wanting to go to.”

your eyes can’t help but brighten at his words. “you lying.”

“i’m so deadass,” zoro laughed.

you kiss your teeth and slap his chest. “you don’t even like comedy!”

the greenhead gives you a shy shrug with a small blush flaming his tan cheeks. “they have an open bar, free sake so,” with a playful roll of your eyes, you kiss your teeth but smile. “so you gon’ stop giving me this bratty ass silent treatment?”

“whatever. you’re a whore for sake.”

“nah,” zoro shakes his head. “you ain’t hit me all week. you know what i had to go through not talking to you.”

you give him a sarcastic frown before pecking his lips. “aw, poor baby.” you move to pull away but are shocked when zoro grips your face and forces you back into his orbit.

how you found yourself half naked on his lip with your legs spread for him—you don’t know. damn mosshead was just that good.

“i got you,” zoro’s voice is all you hear as he steadies you on top of him with your back facing the tv. his one arm is all he needs to steady your body against his lip while he uses the other to start rubbing at you clit. “just touch me baby.”

a breath escapes from your throat as you find the courage to wrap your hand about his hard cock. his tip is an angry peach color as it oozes out pre cum, already excited from your touch. “like this daddy?”

“fuck, just like that mama,” zoro’s own breath hitches in his throat as he fights not to buck up into your grasp. “love the way you touch me. just like that baby. make me feel so safe.”

you’re almost shocked by the words leaving your mouth as you continue jerking him. the two of you hold an intimate scope of eye contact as you touch each other’s body, nothing being heard but the soft moans and breaths from your arousal.

“make you feel safe?” your voice is soft and sultry as you run your thumb over his tip. zoro can’t help but groan at his sensitivity, too late to even catch himseld. “feel safe when im loving you like this papa? you like that?”

“oh fuck, yes,” zoro whined, fully submitting to you. his girlfriend had never seen this side of him. every time he had sex with her, if he ever did, it was quick and to the point. no one was able to milk out this soft and vulnerable side to him but you. oh how you had his fucking heart and dick in the comfort of your pocket.

your legs are spread in front of zoro, giving him a complete view of what you were working it. somehow wanting to see you spread more, he grabs you by your thighs and opens you up more, practically salivating at the sight of your pretty clit glistening from his touch.

“you make me feel safe too,” you breath out with a blushed smile, trying to keep your pace with jerking zoro off. it was hard to do so when he was rubbing you nice and slow, just the way he knew you liked it.

at this point? it was all more than sex. zoro meant every word he uttered out, especially how you made him feel safe during his most vulnerable moments. only you bought this side out in him.

“fuck i’m almost there, zee.” you throw your head back and grind further into his touch.

“me too baby,” zoro breathed out, watching as cum oozed from his tip by the second. “you fuck me so good, no one does it like you—shit.”

you lick your lips as you lean over and spit on zoro’s cock, adding more lubricant to your already slippery movements. “like it when i stroke your fat cock papa? like this?”

“zoro bites his lip and nods his head. a whine fights to break through from his mouth as he lets out a broken “mhm. fuck, mama. keep going and you’ll make me cum.”

you take this as a challenge and speed up your movements with hopes to overstimulate him. zoro’s mouth falls open, and the tables inevitably turn when he’s shaking beneath you, watching you milk every drop of cum out of him. you hold your tongue out as he shoots his load upwards, droplets of his semen landing on your taste buds.

a greedy smile graces your lips as you continue jerking him off, more and more cum flying out from his sore tip by the second. “fucking hell—just like that just like that, fuck!” zoro moans loudly as he feels himself get drained.

you didn’t mind the fact that he came before you this time. watching this hard man come undone before you was enough to have you creaming all over his fingers right after. you too begin to breathe heavily as zoro maintians his circular movements against your clit.

when you’re both fucked out from your intimate session, zoro slides you onto his lap, your clit begrudgingly grinding against the base of his still hard dick. with his face in your neck, he breathes out, “i’ll break up with her. your eyebrows raise at his words. “if that’s what you want.” you waste no time in giving him a stern response.

“it is what i want.”

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luckigrls · 2 years ago

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that’s all i had to say.

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luckigrls · 2 years ago

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having a bad day??? look at itadori qyuuti <33

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luckigrls · 2 years ago

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ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ - ɴᴇɪʟ ʟᴇᴡɪs

Neil Lewis x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

After a fateful game night between your two rival video stores, Neil proposes a new way of playing your favorite games. Will this new idea lead to something more than playful rivalry?

warnings: smut, face-riding, oral (f and m receiving), throat/ facefucking, cum swallowing, drinking, mentions of alcohol, strip poker/game

word count: 3632

author’s note: still shadowbanned on my main account yay /j but I'm so glad to have so much support and love on this new tumblr! thank you all for the follows and feedback. I didn't proofread some of this (but what's new), so if it flows weird I'm sorry >.< lol please enjoy!! I've had a few requests for Neil so (:

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

“That’s it! You’ve got to be cheating.”

“I am not cheating, Neil. Jesus.”

“There’s just no way you’re better at this game than me.”

“There’s a lot that I’m better at than you.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jonathan pipes up, coming in between you and Neil, “Let’s calm down here, guys.”

You glare at Neil, tossing your cards back into the pile. You had been playing UNO. It was tradition for your two movie stores to play against one another every first weekend of every month. And tonight, the players dwindled down to you and Neil as per usual, to which you won the final game of the night. Neil was obviously not happy about it. But lately, Neil hasn’t been happy about a lot of things. You chalk it up to his breakup with Violet. A sick, twisted part of you was glad he and Violet had finally broken up. Not because you didn’t like Neil or anything- it was quite the opposite. You were rivals, of course, but the tension between you was unmatched and intense. Every time game night came around, that tension became even more taut and thicker. But it’s not like you could tell Neil or anyone else you like him. Absolutely not. It would ruin the healthy competition between Gumshoe and your video store. And it would make you look hypocritical, considering how much you lightly bully Neil, especially when he wore those weird costumes at work.

“Two out of three?” Neil crosses his arms, sitting back in his chair, eyebrows raised.

“I think I’m gonna turn in, actually,” you start collecting the cards, neatly stacking them before putting them back in their respective package.

Neil mumbles a defeated, “Fine.”

As you get up from the poker table, Lucien gives you an apologetic look from the ragged old couch sitting adjacent to it. Jonathan urges Neil to get up and accept his loss for the month. Meanwhile, your best friend and coworker Nina is busy aimlessly walking around the store, taking in the interesting scenery of Gumshoe Video. She acts as if she’s never been in here before, taking in various movies and movie posters. You walk over to her, card games in hand.

“Ready to go?” you ask her, and she looks up at you, only for her eyes to advert behind you as she becomes visibly flustered.

You turn to see Jonathan helping Neil pack up the games, smiling at your best friend.

“Does someone have a crush?” you coo, and Nina shoves your shoulder playfully.

“Me? Have a crush? You’re delusional!” she throws her hands in the air dramatically as she walks toward the door, you trailing behind her.

Nina goes into a rant about how she’d never date a guy from this city, much less a guy from our rival video store. You glance behind your shoulder, saluting Lucien and Jonathan as you leave. Neil doesn’t look at you.

The next few weeks are relatively slow at your movie store. You wonder if Gumshoe is doing any better. Judging by the new and more dramatic costumes that Neil has come up with, you’d say the answer is probably no. When you and Nina occasionally stop in there to casually scope out the place, you make sure to make a witty comment about whatever getup Neil is in that day. It always came with a frown from him and a laugh from you. Lucien would just act like he didn’t hear anything, a knowing smirk on his face when you meet gazes. You’d glare at him until he eventually went to do something else. You and Lucien are pretty cool with each other, and he figured out how you feel about Neil pretty quickly. Lucien wasn’t stupid by any means. Jonathan was too busy stupidly flirting with Nina to notice how your stare would sometimes linger on Neil for too long. Nina knew, of course, but she didn’t care much. She always figured you and Neil had something going on whether you two knew it or not.

It’s nearing the end of the month, which means another game night soon. You hope Neil has gotten over whatever animosity he felt toward you for winning the last game. How he reacted was odd- he usually didn’t make such a fuss. Once again, you figure it has to do with his breakup. But then again, he’s been kind of grouchy even before the split and well after it so far. You’re in your office at your video store gathering the games you’re bringing, along with a bottle of alcohol to spice things up. Maybe Neil could loosen up a little. Nina knocks on the door as she walks in, ready to go.

“Got the stuff?” she asks.

“Yep,” you say, popping the ‘p’ as you turn out your office light.

The two of you begin walking to Gumshoe as the sun sets. Nina starts talking about something Jonathan said the last time you were at their video store, to which you roll your eyes. Definitely not a crush at all, you think to yourself. You arrive at the store, knocking on the glass as you wait for one of the boys to unlock the door. Neil approaches and opens the door, allowing you and Nina in. You walk over to the poker table, where Lucien and Jonathan are already seated.

“So tonight we’re gonna try something new,” Neil claps, rubbing his hands together as he grins deviously.

“And what’s that?” you wonder, sitting down the bottle of alcohol in the middle of the table.

“Strip poker,” Neil smirks, grabbing the bottle, “And this will definitely make it more interesting.”

“Strip poker?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, or, well, strip UNO and whatnot,” Neil shrugs.

“Uhh,” Lucien chuckles nervously, “I’m good. I’ll just be the moderator tonight.”

“Oh, come on, Luc,” you pout, “Don’t make me suffer alone.”

“You won’t be suffering alone. Jonathan and Nina will be here with you, right guys?”

Jonathan opens his mouth and then closes it, looking to Nina for her response.

“Uhh, sure. I guess. But I’m not getting naked, that’s for sure,” Nina scoffs, falling into a poker chair.

“Thank you,” you throw your head back in relief, sitting beside Nina. Neil sits across from you as Jonathan takes the seat to your right, already grabbing the bottle of alcohol from Nina and taking a swig.

“Let’s get this started.”

You run your hands through your hair. Tonight was going to be a long night.

“Any article of clothing counts, right?” Nina asks after the first round of 21 is completed, meaning everyone but Jonathan, who had won, had to take something off.

“Correct,” Neil answers.

“Cool. Take my shoe and shove it up your ass, then, Neil,” Nina pulls off her shoe, pushing it into Neil’s chest.

He rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

You decide to remove a shoe, and Neil does the same, tossing it behind him.

“Another round?” Jonathan asks, sipping the whiskey that he brought.

You thought about taking a swig yourself but decided to wait until it was absolutely needed.

“Sure,” Neil drawls, reshuffling the cards before dealing them.

This time, you win, and everyone begrudgingly removes another shoe or a sock. Nina snatches the vodka bottle from the table, taking a large gulp of it before slamming it back down.

“Gonna chicken out already?” Neil taunts, gathering the cards to shuffle once more.

“No,” Nina says pensively, “It’s just lame that everyone else has to be involved in your weirdly sexual revenge plot against my favorite coworker over losing a stupid game.”

“I’m your only coworker,” you glare at Nina.

“Exactly. Now, if I will dip if it comes down to me flashing you guys my tits. Unless this alcohol starts setting in soon, then we’ll see.”

You raise your almost empty first cup, “Cheers to that.”

“Let’s get back to the game,” Neil grumbles.

No one says anything about Nina’s comment. After two more rounds of 21, you’re without a sock and shoe on your right foot and a shoe missing on your left. Neil has no socks or shoes, while Nina is just shoeless. Jonathan already took one for the team and removed his shirt and his other shoe after everyone lost to Nina twice in a row. Lucien cheered and clapped dramatically when Jonathan stripped his shirt, Lucien snatching the shirt and whipping it around like a lasso. It’s the first time tonight you see Neil crack a smile.

“How about we switch to a board game now? Something quick, of course,” Nina shrugs.

“Be my guest,” Neil says, and Nina chooses Connect 4.

“Jonathan and I can go first,” she grins wickedly.

“Good luck, dude. She’s a master at this game,” you warn Jonathan, who cracks his knuckles.

“Nothing I can’t handle. I beat Lucien at this all the time,” he says, and Lucien protests.

“Only because you cheat,” Lucien says matter-of-factly.

“Well, since you're the moderator, you can make sure I don’t, huh?” Jonathan bites back.

Neil cackles while Lucien purses his lips together into a line, wordlessly watching as Nina separates the color pieces.

After 3 rounds of Connect 4, Jonathan has won one and Nina the other. You beat Neil once already, and now it was time to see if he’d win or lose this final round. You’re nervous because if you lose, you have to remove a pretty vital item of clothing. It didn’t matter if it was pants, your shirt, or whatever- it would be embarrassing. You carefully calculate your moves, studying Neil’s determined and methodical facial expression. He catches you in a trap, letting his color piece fall on top of yours, blocking you from your final winning move.

“Fuck,” you seethe, dropping your head onto your arms.

“Fuck is right, my dear,” Neil slides the lever, letting all the pieces fall onto the table, “Now strip.”

You scowl, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra, pulling the straps over your arms, and tossing it to the floor. Neil watches, his eyebrows raised. Jonathan scoffs, and Lucien is distracted by the music video playing on TV. Nina laughs at Neil’s face.

“Neil, my guy, you look like a tomato,” Nina teases.

“Do not,” he protests childishly, gathering the colored pieces and putting them back into their little bag.

Jonathan checks his watch, “Shit. Gotta head to bed. Double shift tomorrow,” he frowns.

Lucien also checks his watch, “Yeah, I oughta go too. Early morning.”

Neil sighs, “Well, if you guys are up for it,” he motions to you and Nina, “I’ll still play.”

“I actually am getting sleepy, but I think Y/N is totally down to stay,” Nina volunteers you with a smile.

You go to protest, but everyone is already heading out the door, leaving you with Neil.

“Well, shit. I guess it’s just you and I,” you scratch your neck.

“Yep,” Neil nods, pulling out UNO, “Wanna rematch?”

“Sure,” you chuckle, “But you can’t pout when I beat your ass again.”

You’re nearing the end of the first round, and your heart is starting to beat out of your chest. Both of you have one card left. And you’re going to have to remove your pants if you lose. You aren’t sure if you want to cross that line with Neil or not, but a game is a game. And you aren’t about to turn down your win streak and look like a fool. You draw a blue 9, to which Neil slams down his final card. A blue 5.

“Noo,” you drawl, and Neil cheers.

You put your head down on the table in defeat.

“Time to-”

“Strip. Yeah, I know,” you sigh, lifting your head.

You reach down and hesitantly undo your pants, pulling them past your thighs and down your legs before kicking them away. Neil doesn’t look anywhere but your face as he shuffles the cards, his cheeks turning red. You nervously keep your legs closed, scooting closer to the table.

In the next round, Neil loses, removing his shirt. His torso is slim yet fit for his size, and you can’t help but stare. Neil clears his throat, and you quickly look away. Now, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. It was way more intense than your usual tension. Especially since if you lose this next round, you’ll be showing something very revealing. Thankfully, Neil loses again, having to strip his pants this time. But it only makes you more anxious.

“We don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable,” Neil says.

You shake your head, “I’m fine. I’m not pussying out.”

“Alright,” Neil puts his hands up.

You watch him unwaveringly as he shuffles the cards, distributing 7 for each of you. As the game progresses, you and Neil exchange increasingly heated glances. You catch yourself pressing your thighs together, biting your lip when you catch Neil staring at your nipples poking through your shirt. It’s time for the final draw, and to your horror, you lose again. Sighing, you begrudgingly grab the vodka and chug it. When you put the bottle down, you look at Neil, and he looks at you. Hesitantly, you grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. Neil keeps his eyes on yours, visibly trying not to look at your breasts. He clears his throat and shuffles the cards, focusing intently on them. Neil tosses the cards between the two of you, his eyes nervously flickering between your tits and the cards. Neil gathers his cards, neatly stacking them and putting them face down before standing up from his seat.

“I’ll, uh, be right back. Don’t look at my cards,” he says, his voice strained.

When he stands, you notice the painful bulge in his jeans, and the alcohol gives you a moment of bravery.

“Neil. Stay.”

Neil stops in his tracks, not turning to look at you, “Can’t.”

“Why is that? Never seen a pair of tits before?”

Neil rolls his eyes at your joke, turning back to you, “It’s not that. I just-”

You grab Neil’s hand, pulling him down harshly so his face is level enough with yours to kiss him.

“You’re not helping,” Neil whines after he pulls away, uncomfortably shifting around.

“I mean, I could if you let me,” you say, biting your lip nervously, worried he’d reject you.

But maybe he won’t. Maybe he needs you badly enough that he won’t pass up your opportunity. You hope he doesn’t.

“Wouldn’t it be, I don’t know, weird?” Neil grimaces.

“Not if you don’t make it weird,” you say sassily, your hand now in his hair, gently pulling at his locks.

“Fine,” Neil closes his eyes, exhaling shakily, “Let’s go to the couch.”

He walks over to the beat-up sofa, letting himself fall into the cushions. You get up from your chair, moving quickly to kneel on the floor in front of Neil. He stares down at you, gulping as you fumble with the fly of his jeans. You aren’t going to lie, you’ve been waiting for this moment for some time. Granted, it wasn’t here in the video store, but you’ll take what you can get. You pull Neil out from the confines of his pants and underwear, immediately marveling at his size and girth. He groans at the contact of your hand around him and spreads his thighs apart as you kitten lick his tip. You take Neil into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you slide your head down into his lap. Your nose touches his pelvis, his hair tickling it as you let him hit the back of your throat. Gagging around him momentarily, you take a deep breath and focus on the feeling of him filling you up.

“Just like that,” Neil praises, his fingers carding through your hair.

A swirl of your tongue sends his head lolling back on the couch, and he glances down through his lashes to watch you bob your head along his length. Your hands grip his thighs to hold him steady as you gain a rhythm, letting his hand guide your head back and forth. Neil’s hips stutter as he involuntarily thrusts into your mouth, and you gasp through your nose as you try not to gag.

“Sorry,” Neil cringes, a moan leaving him immediately after you keep him deeper in your throat, letting it pulse around his head.

You stare into Neil’s intense blue eyes, now overtaken by his dilated pupils. Both of his hands are in your hair, gripping harshly as you move your head up and down even faster. Neil curses, hissing as you play with his balls with one of your hands, urging him closer to the edge. You can feel him twitching inside your mouth, letting you know he’s close. Suddenly, you pull off him.

“Fuck my throat,” you say breathlessly, jerking his wet cock with your hand as you wait for his answer.

“Are you sure?” Neil asks.

“Yes,” you say before putting him back into your mouth.

When you let his tip hit the back of your throat again, Neil then pulls out, slamming back into your mouth with a strangled cry. Slowly, he starts finding a good pace, not thrusting enough to hurt you but enough for your throat to be sore tomorrow. Spit and precum are spilling out of the sides of your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gag and moan around him. You wish you could see the situation from a different point of view just to see how Neil is wrecking you right now.

“You like me fucking your face like this, sweetheart?” Neil grunts, his hands holding your face and wiping away your tears.

You attempt a nod but fail, letting out a hum of content instead.

“Gonna cum in your pretty mouth,” Neil moans.

You let him continue fucking into your face until he twitches a final time, his cum shooting down your tongue and throat. You allow Neil to pull out of you, and you close your mouth to swallow his load. You open your mouth to show him it’s all gone, to which he lets out a weak groan.

“That’s hot. I didn’t know you could do that with that sassy mouth of yours.”

You shrug, “There’s lots of things I can do with it. Now, lay down.”

Neil obeys, scrambling to lie down on the couch. You stand up, peeling off your soaking underwear and moving it away with your toe. You climb above Neil, “Ever had anyone sit on your face?”

“No,” he exhales, shaking his head.

“Would you like to?”

Neil nods vigorously, and you move up enough to rest your foot on the couch's armrest and press your knee next to Neil’s head, spreading open enough for him to have plenty of access. He marvels at the sight of your arousal and the fact it was all for him. He reaches tentatively to your folds, spreading them further as you lower yourself to his face.

Neil then drags his tongue up your wet slit, avoiding your clit entirely as he gathers your slick. You whimper at the feeling of the contact of his warm tongue on you, your pussy sensitive from lack of touch and being incredibly turned on. Neil then flicks the tip of his tongue along your clit, circling and teasing it. You cry out, gripping the couch with one hand and his hair with the other. You buck your hips as he swirls his wet tongue around your cunt, lapping up everything you’re giving him.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” you moan, meeting Neil’s eyes below you.

Neil doesn’t respond but instead dips his tongue into your entrance, twisting it as he starts fucking you with it. Your grip on his hair tightens as you start rocking your hips on his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you seethe, feeling warmth spreading in your belly.

Neil replaces his tongue with two fingers, moving his focus back to your clit as he sucks on it, pounding his fingers into you. He finds your G spot relatively quickly, considering you nearly jump out of your skin when he rubs his fingertips against it. You’re a mess, sweating, moaning, and swiveling your hips shakily on Neil’s mouth and fingers.

“I’m close,” you warn, the tight knot in your stomach threatening to come undone any moment.

Neil picks up his speed on flicking his tongue and harshly suckling your bundle of nerves, letting his teeth graze against it as he adds a third finger. He lets you fuck yourself on his fingers hard as he lets his teeth bite into your clit softly, sending you over the edge. Your body shakes, your legs nearly giving out on you as Neil guides you through your orgasm. He holds onto your hips, keeping you steady as you buck them wildly. When you slow down, panting, he removes his fingers and sucks off your juices from them.

“You’re a filthy little fucker,” you chuckle, running a hand through your hair as you dismount from Neil’s face.

Everything about Neil acting weird and ornery around you suddenly makes sense. From the sneaky glances during game nights to him occasionally stopping in your video store to snoop for no reason, it was all for you. Just like everything you did was all for him as well.

“So who wins this round, hm?” he asks jokingly, wiping his face with the back of his arm.

“Truce?” you ask sweetly, moving to sit on Neil’s fully clothed thighs.

Neil sighs, a weak smile on his lips, “Sure.”

“Now take off your pants,” you urge, “It’s time for round two of this game.”

taglist:

@sstar-ggirl @ldklollord @dunklerkeks1611 @baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr @flwrs4aust @langdons-slut @shynovelist @trixie23 @cillsmurphies @thecherrycocktail @slut4thebroken @mypoisonedvine @babybluebex @burnyouwithacigarettelighter @cranesbathtowel @arieslost @nefhertari @forgottenpeakywriter @llucky-llove @october-atoner @madlittlecriminal @ynisthatyou @starbxnny @darkmoviesquotespizza @newtsniffles @acapelladitty

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luckigrls · 2 years ago

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PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT ─── cillian murphy ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “I am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue." — ‘Afternoon Masala: Poems’, Vandana Khanna

pairing. cillian murphy x actor!reader

summary. you and your co-star, cillian, are having a hard time performing a sex scene for your movie. they do say, however, practice makes perfect.

warnings. swearing, thigh-riding, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, mentioned/implied age gap, probably inaccurate depictions of actor-life, mirror sex, slight breeding kink, kinda innocent reader(?), AU cillian murphy (not married/no kids), SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is not in any way meant to disrespect cillians wife😭 i js made this a not married AU to be convenient!

“Cut - cut, cut!” The director repeated, his increasing irritation colouring his voice completely. “Now, I said it earlier, but—“

You scrubbed your face with a sigh, getting up off of Cillian and the desk, who was propping himself up by the elbows. “It’s not passionate enough,” you finished flatly for your director, who nodded earnestly.

“I promise, this is as tiring for me as it is for you. Remember,” the director continued, the script half curled in his hands and making a thin flapping noise, “it’s the culmination of six months of pining. Six months of taboo, unrelenting, electric tension. Nothing more than stares in class and brief touches- you are supposed to be bordering feral for one another.”

You, and your co-star, Cillian, were currently filming the first sex scene of a movie portraying the forbidden, toxic love affair between a barely 18 teenage student and her much older teacher. Well, not exactly filming- you weren’t getting far with the scene, for the two of you just couldn’t get it right. Or, as the director liked to say, passionate enough.

The role was already incredibly taxing, even without the added stress of the sex scene: it was 20 hour work days, living on set in a trailer far from home, having to devote at least half of those hours to filming this very sex scene, and had a perfectionist director like yours.

The problem was that it was long, and the director wanted it done in one take. Brilliant man, he was, and had a love for this project you wished every director had for theirs, but he was adamant on it being done perfectly. He said it was intended to be the “primary and most iconic” scene of the entire film, for it was the crux of the story; the point of no return for the characters.

“With all due respect, I’ve never imagined such a scenario, much less had experience. Just how can you expect me to portray a student-teacher romance accurately?“

“That’s your job: to imagine and perform.” The director demanded, obviously up to his ears in frustration.

Just before you retorted irately, Cillian cut in smoothly. “I think what she means,” he said, watching the veins in the director’s forehead nearly burst, “is that it’s hard to perform because it’s not common. S’easy to act in love because there’s love all around, yeah? We don’t have much to go off of, visually.”

The director’s gaze rapidly flitted between you and Cillian for a moment, before letting go of his anger and sighing wearily. “You’ve never even thought about a superior that way? Someone older than you?” he pressed, obviously joking and trying to lighten the set’s mood.

You paused, and tried not to look at Cillian, your blatantly gorgeous forty-something co-star who was chosen for this role firstly, because of his stellar acting and secondly, because of how fucking attractive he was.

His character was a total fucking creep, and you knew casting Cillian had been a calculated choice; all in the name of making the audience’s guard come down to be smacked in the face by his immorality later. He was meant to be charming, handsome, and terribly, totally, off-limits: the object of completely forbidden desire, the line your character was desperate to cross.

It seemed the same in real life, too: the young inexperienced actress wanting to ignore those societal niceties and pine wholeheartedly over the middle-aged actor with decades of knowledge under his belt.

You weren’t, like, in love or anything, but you certainly reveled in his presence: he was patient, kind, and completely understanding of your lack of experience, always guiding you through all the steps an actor takes during filming like when to take off hair and makeup, what best to say to family and friends prying for details- all the things, he said, he wished someone told him when he was first starting out.

You were afraid you two had unknowingly fallen into a mentor-mentee dynamic, but there were always those spare moments, between hearty fits of laughter and silly conversation that you’d never expected to come from such an intimidating man as Cillian, where his rough hands would brush past your waist, gaze dragging up and down your body, sounding sensual and provocative despite nothing dirty leaving his mouth at all.

He made your insides pulse, especially when your more intimate scenes came about, and you could only have a lusting woman’s pipedream that he felt the same.

You still remember the first sequence you’d done with him: in the movie, your characters met after-class to make up for a missed exam, and it was the start of their corrupt attraction. Cillian had been pressed against your back, leaning over you to pressuringly peer at the test, large hand gripping your shoulder. The air felt steamy then, his body warm, low voice making you feel lightheaded as he recited his lines.

You shivered at the remembrance of the moment, coming back to reality, and you answered the director’s question with a vehement shake of the head.

The director let out a (strained) laugh, and smacked his palm lightly with the script, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Okay, we’ll - we’ll break for today. Take this extra time to imagine, research, anything- just practice the scene, alright? Practice makes perfect.”

You and Cillian nodded simultaneously, giving eachother a look that just screamed “he’s ridiculous” before tearing away from each other's stare to return to your trailers.

Later, you were getting ready to go to bed, peeling your freshly showered hair out of a small towel, when there was a knock at your trailer door.

“One second,” you called out, pulling on your silk sleep shorts. You vaguely registered how awkward it might be to be seen in your pajamas if the director or one of your fellow actors came about, but you were way too tired to care.

You did care, however, self-consciously crossing your arms and covering your thinly-clothed chest, when you opened the door and there on the steps stood your co-star, Cillian.

Before speaking, he looked you up and down, icy blue eyes gleaming behind an unfamiliar pair of tortoise shell frames. “You goin’ to bed?” he finally asked, tone husky.

His gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs for a few seconds longer and you shifted uncomfortably, crossing your ankles together in a poor attempt to hide yourself.

“What do you need?” you asked briskly, more sharp than you meant it to be.

“Sorry,” he corrected himself, shaking his head and finally looking you in the eye. “I meant’a come by earlier… got caught up. I know this, ah, sex scene is tripping us up, so…” he trailed off, lifting up the white script he’d been holding behind his back. “Y’up for some practice?”

You blinked rapidly at the simple, innocent request. Mere rehearsal, not some lecherous late-night escapade you’d been dreaming up in your mind. “Oh… yes, of course,” you nodded numbly, moving out of the way to let him step in.

Only moments later, when he’d perched onto the edge of your vanity — looking uniquely casual in what you assumed was his version of pajamas: baggy gray sweatpants and a fitted, well-worn black t-shirt — did you realize the connotations of rehearsing your sex scene.

Sure, it was all pre-determined, every word you’d say and every action you’d perform, but still. Saying- and doing, such suggestive things after-hours? That was beyond your dirtiest fantasies.

However, you shook yourself internally: Cillian had come to rehearse the scene with professional intentions. Honestly, he’d probably done so because he was tired of you messing up the scene. He could do his own part masterfully, and you knew that if it’d been a better, more experienced actress by his side, filming would’ve moved on ages ago.

You took shaky, tentative steps near him, settling on your bed, watching him flip through the script— when he looked up and frowned.

“What’re you doing? Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, almost a command. “We don’t have a desk, so we can use your vanity.”

You nodded, biting your lip and nervously complying with his words. “So, we’ll start from the beginning?” you asked, your voice -- and legs -- suddenly feeling terribly weak.

His eyes were still trained on the paper as he answered. “Not necessarily. The sex part s’really the only thing we’re having trouble with, yeah?”

You gulped, throat dry. “Yeah, I guess so.”

With that, he chanced one last look at the script, before diving into the scene. His actions were ones you were extremely familiar with, having attempted this scene everyday for at least a week now.

His body turned to yours, hands coming up to your jaw, and pressing your back onto the table slightly. He held you tightly, and made you look at him, while delivering his lines softly, memorable Irish accent replaced by his character’s generic American one.

Jiltedly, you did the same, poorly remembering what you needed to say and dragging through it like some amateur. “Fuck, sorry,” you cursed suddenly, tearing away from his touch and sighing.

He gave you a small, careful smile, immediately breaking out of character and taking a step away from the vanity. “No need t’be nervous. Practice makes perfect, right?”

You snorted at his quoting of the director. “I just… I don’t know what he means by passionate. I’m trying to be professional about this but - but I’ve seriously never been in some steamy love-affair.”

“Can’t really expect that of you, can we? You’re too young, too much’ve a good girl for that kinda ‘ting.” He said, hand coming up to your shoulder, the one where your silk tanktop’s spaghetti strap had slipped off, rubbing it soothingly.

You practically melted into a puddle at both the pet name and how the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You were so entranced you almost whined when he stopped and pulled up your fallen strap, but instead you wordlessly snatched the script that was dropped onto the table and found one of the lines, inhaling sharply and readying yourself.

Your hand came up to tug on the sleeve of Cillian’s shirt, as dictated by the script. “Sir, please,” you whispered out in your character’s high pitched voice, “I - I… want you to touch me.”

“This is -- wrong. I’m your teacher, and I…” Cillian responded, swiftly back in character, the back of his palm grazing your cheek. “I gotta break your heart, darling.”

You looked up at Cillian, summoning crocodile tears to fill your gaze. “Please. I need you.” Then, one of your clammy hands ran down Cillian’s chest as you spoke, like it did back on set. “I think of you, at night. I soaked through my shorts the day you scolded me.”

You heard Cillian’s breath hitch- his character, you reminded yourself. “Fucking hell… I think of you in class, sweetheart,” he growled out perfectly.

So far, so good, you thought. It wasn’t awkward, and was already miles better than the lackluster performances you’d given previously. You continued by leaning into Cillian’s touch, making him sit on the vanity— the part of the scene you’d gotten to this morning, before the director called cut.

This time, however, Cillian’s actions differed from the ones he was supposed to perform: instead of petting the crown of your head, his fingers trailed down your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll be good for you, sir,” you recited, face growing hot as his hand inched closer to the curve of your ass. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Cillian’s gaze had darkened now, flitting over your features. He didn’t say his line - or, had at least missed the timing, and you removed your hands from his body worriedly. “Are you alright—“

Before you could finish your sentence, Cillian had grabbed you by the ass, switching your places and setting you down on the edge of the vanity.

“Cillian!“ you squeaked out, the only thing you could really say as you processed what exactly just happened. Your mind was swimming with confusion — and anticipation — as he stood before you, legs pressing on either side of your knees and trapping you on the vanity.

“Improv,” he promised quietly in his telltale Irish accent, a sly wink appearing on his sharp features.

You bit your lip, nodded, and repeated your line. You trusted him to guide you — and the rehearsal — because, as mentioned before, he did these kinds of things often. If he thought you’d act better if you sat on the vanity, you’d sit on the vanity.

His hand then pet your hair, the other hand coming up to your chin and making you look up at him. “Whatever I want?” he murmured, back on track with the script.

You bat your lashes at him. “Everything. I’m yours.”

Now, this is where you thought Cillian would stop— because after your line came the kissing and the touching and the heavy petting: all things you thus far hadn’t filmed at all, because you couldn’t even get the dialogue out right.

Instead, he leaned down and began to press hungry kisses down your neck, making you gasp.

“What are you—“

“Shh,” he demanded softly, “it's all part of the scene, remember?”

You blinked dumbly, mouth opening and closing, unable to register a coherent thought or word. He said it was part of the scene but you’d read that script, and his teeth nipping lightly at your skin was not written anywhere within it.

But, you gulped down your thoughts, and belted out several more of your lines in tandem to his own. With his other hand gripping your thigh so tight you thought it might bruise, you were starting to think that maybe this was one of those lecherous late-night escapades you were dreaming of.

All you’d been doing was acting, like he’d asked, but still, you could see clear as day how that’d affect him— how easily it could be to succumb. After all, you were just barely restraining yourself from jumping his bones: how could you not, with his gorgeous face just inches away from yours?

Well, acting or not, you’d enjoy every minute of this.

When one of his hands began playing with the waistband of your shorts as he suckled on your pulse, that just right spot on your neck, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth.

However, the noise seemed to startle him; jumpshock him back to reality, and your suspicions became completely confirmed when he pulled away from you roughly.

“Fuck, I’m—“ a pained grimace washed over his features, looking you up and down like he just realized what he’d been doing. “I don’t know what came over me, I— shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

You stared at him, body disappointed at the lack of touch, watching him press his pink lips into a conflicted white line. “What - what d’you mean?”

His gaze coursed over your every feature, so intently you thought he was admiring your face. “I can’t— we can’t happen. Y’too young, you’re, you’re too…”

“Then we can stop. If that’s what you want,” you murmured coyly, hand coming up to pick a piece of thread off his thin shirt. “But only if you ask. C’mon, say it: I don’t want you and I want this to stop.”

He groaned, biting his lip. “Don’t do that. I can’t do that.”

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Tease. Because you know I won’t tell you to stop. ‘Cause I won’t be able to fucking control m’self,” he grumbled, before pressing a desperate, deep kiss to your lips, pulling you off the vanity and continuing down your chest.

“Then don’t. Take me for everything I have,” you whined, following his every move and manhandling touch.

He breathed heavily between kisses. “Saying those kinds’a words with that pretty voice of yours… fuck, you’re doing things to me.”

Your hands were trailing all over his body, and then you tugged his shirt off, desperate to feel him. He had similar thoughts, fingers dipping into your silk shorts and petting your hot mound.

“Need you,” you panted, and, at your words, he suddenly tore off your silk shorts and panties in one clean go, making you shiver.

He then sat down on your vanity chair and roughly grabbed you by the hips to place yourself onto one of his thighs. The thick fabric of his sweatpants, taking in your wetness like a sponge, made you wince.

“Go on then,” he demanded darkly, “get y’self off on my fucking thigh. Show me how bad you need me.”

You bit your lip, face burning with shame at the order. But there was an aching need in your gut, and the way he crossed his arms, watching and waiting for you to get the hell on with it, had you clenching around his thigh.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, and you began slowly rutting against him, the soft fabric of his pants doing poor work for pleasuring your core. You pressed your face into his shoulder, screwed up at the lack of friction.

“Can’t do it,” you whined, “Please.”

He rolled his eyes. “You said you needed me. You’ve got me,” he gestured to his thigh, “so get to work.” Then, he suddenly flexed, making an unwarranted mewl leave your mouth.

You wanted nothing more than his fucking cock, but here you were, pathetically pleasuring yourself on his thigh until he allowed otherwise. You nodded resignedly, and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, starting to set a steady pace of grinding down on him, slowly building up the heat within your insides.

You were moaning now, vigorously dragging your hips against him harder, needier, feeling the pressure in your cunt grow hotter and more rampant.

“Y’hear that?” He asked, one of his fingers tilting your chin back up to face him. “D’you even realize how fucking delicious you sound, all needy f’me?”

You nodded, but weren’t really paying attention: you were closer than ever, just moments away from falling off the edge— when Cillian stopped you.

“Stop,” he spoke, voice filled with sheer lust, and you whimpered at the abrupt loss of momentum. Then, he got up, holding you against him by the waist, looking down at his sweatpants. “You made such a mess… soaked all over m’pants.”

You didn’t — no, couldn’t respond to his musings, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to return friction to your needy pussy, biting down on your lip to muffle your breathy pants.

He noticed this, however, smirking and quickly pressing you stomach down onto the vanity. You caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time since your shower, and you flushed with shame: your eyes were heavy-lidded and dilated, lips pink and slick with drool, your brows in a perpetual knit.

You looked fucking filthy, and when you felt Cillian press his thick head to your entrance, something you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled out, too enraptured in your dirty expression, you shut your eyes.

You were suddenly so much more aware of the situation: you’d fucked yourself silly on your co-stars thigh, the co-star who was twice your age. He now knew you weren’t a talented aspiring actress, no, you were just a desperate little thing begging to be fucked.

“Hey, hey,” He tutted in mock-disappointment, “open your eyes, and fucking watch yourself. It’ll be good for our scene.”

You whimpered helplessly, obeying him and fluttering your eyes open, as he pushed his cock past your dripping folds inch by inch.

“Oh my god,” you cried out when he finally pressed all the way in. You felt so full, stretched to the brim with his hardened cock, so deep his balls touched your sticky clit.

“So fucking wet,” he commented, chuckling darkly behind you. You were totally slick, helping him enter you faster, but his cock was still a foreign intrusion to your inexperienced cunt: you were young, and had never been the type to “get around” — at least not with the intentions of getting fucked so much you could take any length of dick easily.

You clenched around him, a groan leaving his mouth at the increased pressure around his cock, and he snapped into you, making you bounce forward as your lips parted with a sweet moan.

You’d been focussed on his face, in the mirror, but Cillian’s hand suddenly tangled through your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and lifting your head to face yourself. “I told you to fucking watch yourself,” he spat, gripping your hair tightly. “you’re the reason we can’t wrap up, so do your job and fuckin’ practice.”

With that, Cillian started pounding into you, digging the rough pads of his fingers into your hip, and you would’ve protested such a fast progression — having been given barely any time to get used to his long cock — but your expression was even worse than before, if that was even possible.

Your mouth was open, tongue out and panting like a fucking dog, your lustfully sticky spit spilling down your chin to your chest, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head with each hearty thrust Cillian delivered you. The sounds you were making weren’t helping your embarrassment either, all unintelligible mewls and needy whines for his cock.

“You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? I always knew what a filthy desperate girl you were, pressing up against me during shooting… those naughty hands on my thighs,” he snickered.

“Needed you in me so bad,” you whimpered, nodding enthusiastically, barely able to register what you were doing now with the pleasure washing over you and clouding your senses. Your back was arching into him, sucking in his cock and never wanting him to leave despite the mind-breaking ecstasy that was coming from his pounding.

“Just look at your dirty fuckin’ face… so pathetic.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek; sweet and lovely, a stark juxtaposition to his unrelenting rutting and degrading words.

You whined at his words, but you knew they were true: you’d never seen yourself get fucked, always too busy with, well, getting fucked, but seeing yourself in the mirror like this had you unexpectedly hotter than before. There was just something about it, your face unabashedly contorting around the pleasure, Cillian’s hands snaking up your body as he rammed into you in the background.

Kind of like your own personal porno, you thought offhandedly, and you wondered how it’d affect you if you filmed yourself. Hopefully, with Cillian.

His other hand then came up to your folds, spreading them apart so he could see himself disappear into your hole. “Fuck, your cunt’s so perfect,” he growled, his head falling back, losing himself in the pleasure.

The orgasm building in your gut wasn’t like the one when you’d been grinding down on his thick thigh, no, it came faster, making you sweat and your knees shake. You wanted more, and you gasped out “faster,” and “harder,” to Cillian, needing him in the stick spongy spot deep in your cunt.

“Please,” you begged without any expectation of a real answer or action, “please, Cillian, please.”

He did go faster, though, to your apparent shock, both hands coming to your thighs to steady himself. “So needy,” he grumbled, pushing himself deeper and more swiftly into you, feeling how deliciously your fleshy walls tightened around his new pace.

With that, your high came just as quick, hitting you like a fucking freight train and making you scream out his name. Your orgasm wrecked you, made your vision go white and your thoughts stutter to a complete halt, and you vaguely made out Cillian’s proud hum, whispering “Good girl,” in your ear.

When you came to, your head was hanging low, your eyes blown out, lips puffy. Cillian was still thrusting into your worn-out pussy, but it was more jilted, shaky and needy.

“Come in me,” you pleaded suddenly, gripping the vanity to keep your trembling legs up, “fill me up, please, make your come spill out of me.”

“Good god, girl,” he groaned, pounding one last thrust into you before letting go, his cock pulsing around your wet core. He was pressed up to you so deep you could feel him shoot his load right into your cervix, and you grinned weakly, a sweet image of you: knocked up with his kid, your cunt so young and fertile you’d get pregnant from just about anything from him, entering your mind.

After a moment, he slipped his softening cock out of your filthy cunt and picked you up by the waist to set you down on the vanity and keep you from falling onto the floor.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. You then bit your lip, feeling his thick load of creamy come ooze out of your used hole onto your vanity.

He noticed too, letting out a satisfied groan, spreading your legs lightly, before collecting himself on his finger and pushing his come back into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he reiterated, going back to being sweet and petting your hair, doting on your weak form, looking deep into your eyes.

You swooned at his delicate actions. “Is this a good time to say I like you?”

He laughed, all adoringly. “It’s as good a time as any. I like you, too, if it’s any consolation.”

“But you, y’know… you said I was too young,” you reminded him, frowning slightly.

He sighed, gaze drifting away nervously for a moment before coming back to you. “That I did, but, well… if you wanna take this old man for a ride before I keel over,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help the laugh that belted out of you, his words so ridiculous and completely not based in reality. “Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head, lips still in an amused tilt, “you’re mine, old man.”

Before he could speak, probably say another stupid joke, your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled him toward you, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips.

“I like you like you, okay?” You whispered, sounding incredibly juvenile but twice as heartfelt, your tone wavering and self-conscious. You were bearing your heart on your sleeve here, okay, acknowledging feelings you thought should never come to light.

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you. “Good thing I like you like you, too.”

ii.

“Cut!” The director called, and you swore you felt your heart drop to the floor. Fuck, you thought, mind racing, what went wrong this time? Was it the kissing, or the hands in the hair?

However, the director came up to you and Cillian and let out an uncharacteristic shriek of delight. “Perfection,” he said simply, bordering on catatonic with how content he was.

Your shoulders slumped with relief, and you leaned into Cillian, who was subtly dancing his fingers across your thigh. “It’s finished?” you asked, breathless with excitement.

The director nodded. “That was electric, needy, tense, delicious, passionate, so, so passionate,” he continued with a gasp, hands clasping together tightly. “You are two of the most amazing actors I have ever worked with— you are incredibly talented, so convincing I’d have thought you did sleep together.”

You preened at his praise, but not without looking up at Cillian, meeting his gaze and barely keeping your expression happy and neutral and not at all warm at the thought of the other night's events.

As the director went off rambling about the utter masterpiece the movie was to be, Cillian trailed behind you off the set, murmuring lowly in your ear, “I guess practice does make perfect.”

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luckigrls · 2 years ago

Text

ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ - ɴᴇɪʟ ʟᴇᴡɪs

Neil Lewis x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

After a fateful game night between your two rival video stores, Neil proposes a new way of playing your favorite games. Will this new idea lead to something more than playful rivalry?

warnings: smut, face-riding, oral (f and m receiving), throat/ facefucking, cum swallowing, drinking, mentions of alcohol, strip poker/game

word count: 3632

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

“That’s it! You’ve got to be cheating.”

“I am not cheating, Neil. Jesus.”

“There’s just no way you’re better at this game than me.”

“There’s a lot that I’m better at than you.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jonathan pipes up, coming in between you and Neil, “Let’s calm down here, guys.”

“Two out of three?” Neil crosses his arms, sitting back in his chair, eyebrows raised.

“I think I’m gonna turn in, actually,” you start collecting the cards, neatly stacking them before putting them back in their respective package.

Neil mumbles a defeated, “Fine.”

“Ready to go?” you ask her, and she looks up at you, only for her eyes to advert behind you as she becomes visibly flustered.

You turn to see Jonathan helping Neil pack up the games, smiling at your best friend.

“Does someone have a crush?” you coo, and Nina shoves your shoulder playfully.

“Me? Have a crush? You’re delusional!” she throws her hands in the air dramatically as she walks toward the door, you trailing behind her.

“Got the stuff?” she asks.

“Yep,” you say, popping the ‘p’ as you turn out your office light.

“So tonight we’re gonna try something new,” Neil claps, rubbing his hands together as he grins deviously.

“And what’s that?” you wonder, sitting down the bottle of alcohol in the middle of the table.

“Strip poker,” Neil smirks, grabbing the bottle, “And this will definitely make it more interesting.”

“Strip poker?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, or, well, strip UNO and whatnot,” Neil shrugs.

“Uhh,” Lucien chuckles nervously, “I’m good. I’ll just be the moderator tonight.”

“Oh, come on, Luc,” you pout, “Don’t make me suffer alone.”

“You won’t be suffering alone. Jonathan and Nina will be here with you, right guys?”

Jonathan opens his mouth and then closes it, looking to Nina for her response.

“Uhh, sure. I guess. But I’m not getting naked, that’s for sure,” Nina scoffs, falling into a poker chair.

“Let’s get this started.”

You run your hands through your hair. Tonight was going to be a long night.

“Any article of clothing counts, right?” Nina asks after the first round of 21 is completed, meaning everyone but Jonathan, who had won, had to take something off.

“Correct,” Neil answers.

“Cool. Take my shoe and shove it up your ass, then, Neil,” Nina pulls off her shoe, pushing it into Neil’s chest.

He rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

You decide to remove a shoe, and Neil does the same, tossing it behind him.

“Another round?” Jonathan asks, sipping the whiskey that he brought.

You thought about taking a swig yourself but decided to wait until it was absolutely needed.

“Sure,” Neil drawls, reshuffling the cards before dealing them.

This time, you win, and everyone begrudgingly removes another shoe or a sock. Nina snatches the vodka bottle from the table, taking a large gulp of it before slamming it back down.

“Gonna chicken out already?” Neil taunts, gathering the cards to shuffle once more.

“No,” Nina says pensively, “It’s just lame that everyone else has to be involved in your weirdly sexual revenge plot against my favorite coworker over losing a stupid game.”

“I’m your only coworker,” you glare at Nina.

“Exactly. Now, if I will dip if it comes down to me flashing you guys my tits. Unless this alcohol starts setting in soon, then we’ll see.”

You raise your almost empty first cup, “Cheers to that.”

“Let’s get back to the game,” Neil grumbles.

“How about we switch to a board game now? Something quick, of course,” Nina shrugs.

“Be my guest,” Neil says, and Nina chooses Connect 4.

“Jonathan and I can go first,” she grins wickedly.

“Good luck, dude. She’s a master at this game,” you warn Jonathan, who cracks his knuckles.

“Nothing I can’t handle. I beat Lucien at this all the time,” he says, and Lucien protests.

“Only because you cheat,” Lucien says matter-of-factly.

“Well, since you're the moderator, you can make sure I don’t, huh?” Jonathan bites back.

Neil cackles while Lucien purses his lips together into a line, wordlessly watching as Nina separates the color pieces.

“Fuck,” you seethe, dropping your head onto your arms.

“Fuck is right, my dear,” Neil slides the lever, letting all the pieces fall onto the table, “Now strip.”

“Neil, my guy, you look like a tomato,” Nina teases.

“Do not,” he protests childishly, gathering the colored pieces and putting them back into their little bag.

Jonathan checks his watch, “Shit. Gotta head to bed. Double shift tomorrow,” he frowns.

Lucien also checks his watch, “Yeah, I oughta go too. Early morning.”

Neil sighs, “Well, if you guys are up for it,” he motions to you and Nina, “I’ll still play.”

“I actually am getting sleepy, but I think Y/N is totally down to stay,” Nina volunteers you with a smile.

You go to protest, but everyone is already heading out the door, leaving you with Neil.

“Well, shit. I guess it’s just you and I,” you scratch your neck.

“Yep,” Neil nods, pulling out UNO, “Wanna rematch?”

“Sure,” you chuckle, “But you can’t pout when I beat your ass again.”

“Noo,” you drawl, and Neil cheers.

You put your head down on the table in defeat.

“Time to-”

“Strip. Yeah, I know,” you sigh, lifting your head.

“We don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable,” Neil says.

You shake your head, “I’m fine. I’m not pussying out.”

“Alright,” Neil puts his hands up.

“I’ll, uh, be right back. Don’t look at my cards,” he says, his voice strained.

When he stands, you notice the painful bulge in his jeans, and the alcohol gives you a moment of bravery.

“Neil. Stay.”

Neil stops in his tracks, not turning to look at you, “Can’t.”

“Why is that? Never seen a pair of tits before?”

Neil rolls his eyes at your joke, turning back to you, “It’s not that. I just-”

You grab Neil’s hand, pulling him down harshly so his face is level enough with yours to kiss him.

“You’re not helping,” Neil whines after he pulls away, uncomfortably shifting around.

“I mean, I could if you let me,” you say, biting your lip nervously, worried he’d reject you.

But maybe he won’t. Maybe he needs you badly enough that he won’t pass up your opportunity. You hope he doesn’t.

“Wouldn’t it be, I don’t know, weird?” Neil grimaces.

“Not if you don’t make it weird,” you say sassily, your hand now in his hair, gently pulling at his locks.

“Fine,” Neil closes his eyes, exhaling shakily, “Let’s go to the couch.”

“Just like that,” Neil praises, his fingers carding through your hair.

“Sorry,” Neil cringes, a moan leaving him immediately after you keep him deeper in your throat, letting it pulse around his head.

“Fuck my throat,” you say breathlessly, jerking his wet cock with your hand as you wait for his answer.

“Are you sure?” Neil asks.

“Yes,” you say before putting him back into your mouth.

“You like me fucking your face like this, sweetheart?” Neil grunts, his hands holding your face and wiping away your tears.

You attempt a nod but fail, letting out a hum of content instead.

“Gonna cum in your pretty mouth,” Neil moans.

“That’s hot. I didn’t know you could do that with that sassy mouth of yours.”

You shrug, “There’s lots of things I can do with it. Now, lay down.”

Neil obeys, scrambling to lie down on the couch. You stand up, peeling off your soaking underwear and moving it away with your toe. You climb above Neil, “Ever had anyone sit on your face?”

“No,” he exhales, shaking his head.

“Would you like to?”

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” you moan, meeting Neil’s eyes below you.

Neil doesn’t respond but instead dips his tongue into your entrance, twisting it as he starts fucking you with it. Your grip on his hair tightens as you start rocking your hips on his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you seethe, feeling warmth spreading in your belly.

“I’m close,” you warn, the tight knot in your stomach threatening to come undone any moment.

“You’re a filthy little fucker,” you chuckle, running a hand through your hair as you dismount from Neil’s face.

“So who wins this round, hm?” he asks jokingly, wiping his face with the back of his arm.

“Truce?” you ask sweetly, moving to sit on Neil’s fully clothed thighs.

Neil sighs, a weak smile on his lips, “Sure.”

“Now take off your pants,” you urge, “It’s time for round two of this game.”

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