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specshroom · 1 year ago

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°~ A MAGE IN THE JUNGLE ~°

Includes: Use of she/her, Slimy naga dick, Size difference, strangers to...fucking? Idk.

In which: Our Mage searches the jungle for a rare species to add to her "research".

She curses as her boot clad feet catch on another root, almost sending her tumbling into the dewy jungle ground. Deciding to stop for a short break, she swats at the buzzing mosquitoes, taking her hat off to fan herself futilely while eyeing the map she bought.

The vender who sold it to her was an eccentric type, which is always a good sign in her eyes. If you're going to scam people at least commit to the whole "mysterious merchant" bit. The old hag managed to make her cough up 7 copper coin for this "traveler's essential".

Her goodwill has not been paid back as apparently the map was more unreliable than she expected. The mage curses herself as she glowers at the useless map, trying to decipher where the hell she is.

After a few more minutes of squinting and pointing to random places on the map, she just scrunches the flimsy paper in her hands and sets it on fire, burning it up before the embers could even reach the floor. She wasn't looking for anything any cheap map could show her anyway.

She came here to follow an urban legend about a deadly beast that stalks the jungle. The creature has many different variations depending on who's telling the story but what is consistent is the shining gold scales adorning the creature. Stories vary widely from village to village, some say it's an old wrathful god sent down to punish those greedy enough to seek it out and some say it's a beautiful maiden with a golden tail here to bring good fortune to those deserving of it.

Which ever story is the truth, she just couldn't hold back her fanaticism. A strange creature that apparently nobody has seen before but for some reason is being spotted closer to nearby villages more and more? That is absolutely right up her alley.

Now if she could only find the damn thing. The villagers seemed almost relieved that someone else was going to try and find this thing, so getting information was quite easy. While the area has been narrowed down, it's still a huge chunk of jungle. At this point it would be easier if the monster just came out and tried to eat her already.

The mage percs up when they hear water flowing and walks in that direction until she stumbles on a river. She kneels down by the waters edge, it looks pretty deep or maybe the water is just too murky to see the bottom. She hums and pulls out the flask she enchanted, fills it with water and waits for the magic to properly dispose of the dirt particles and bacteria before taking a long gulp.

This river is wide and the water flows slowly but surely past her. She places her hand in the water, curious to see if she can see the bottom or perhaps any fish to eat.

She softly chants an incantation, forcing the dirt particles away from her hand. This proves harder than she thought as she's never had to cleanse flowing water before.

She leans in closer to concentrate her energy and eventually the water becomes clearer and she can see something glistening at her from the water. Is that really treasure at the bottom of the river? Could she be that lucky?

She squints and leans closer to get a better look, the golden specs glinting in the murky water blink at her through the surface.

She freezes and the blood in her veins turns colder than the depths of the river.

Before she can even move a huge clawed hand shoots up from the surface and clings onto her arm, tearing through her cloak, undershirt and skin. There's no time for a painted scream as she's pulled into the water with great force. She can feel the waters resistance against her body as it's dragged into the murky depths.

Before this beast actually drowns her she manages to force her other hand against the current to grip onto the beasts scaly wrist. She casts the first spell she can think of, Combustion.

Suddenly the surface of the water explodes outwards, splashing water high into the air. She propels herself upwards and breaks the surface to hover above the water. She curses and looks around frantically, she can't lose the monster now. Panicking, she summons her hat and starts chanting, willing the plentiful vines of the jungle trees to plunge into the river and search for the beast.

When she feels a tug she wills the vines to pull the heavy struggling mass to the surface. The huge mass writhes and thrashes in its confines as it rises from the water.

She can finally see just how massive this thing is as it fights and snarls at her. It's much bigger than any Naga she's seen before, the human half is near orc sized! The bottom half being even bigger with the long thick tail thrashing in the water below. She reinforces the vines to bind the rest of the ridiculously large tail and sets the beast down on the ground next to the river.

When her feet meet the ground, she sighs and wills the water out of her soaked clothes. She checks her bleeding arm and sucks in a breath at how deep the gashes are.

"Now look what you did. Fucking hell, thats deep. How long are your claws?!"

Of course she can heal it but it's such a pain. The monster on the ground hisses and spits in response.

She takes a better look at it, or him, she discovers. His scales really do shimmer like gold with black scales painting a pattern all the way down his back and tail. His white underbelly fades into something resembling human skin as her eyes move up his rapidly moving chest. The gold scales fade into a darker black down his shoulders to the tips of his clawed fingers. Her eyes flicker to his intense stare, pure gold flickers in his irises. His drenched black hair gets in the way of his glare.

"Wow."

She can't help but verbalise her awe. She carefully moves around him to look at him in a different angle.

"I knew you were a naga. I knew it."

She summons a book into her hand, not her spellbook but one for these special cases. She flips to a new page and licks the tip of her pencil. She crouches down to look at him expectantly,

"Do you happen to know how much you weigh? What do you eat? Most nagas are some sort of omnivorous but I'm assuming you eat mostly fish. How many fish do you have to eat to stay this size?"

She gestures incredulously to all of his giantness.

He just growls some more, quiter this time as his confusion overtakes his anger somewhat.

"Come now, I know you can understand me and I know you can speak."

He stops growling to stare at her incredulously. How could she possibly know that? The giant snake man tries to readjust but hisses again, this time in pain. She jolts up and immediately goes to assess the wound on his wrist, which is tied tightly to his back. She cringes at the red, fleshy wound she created on his body. So much for first impressions. Without much warning she immediately starts with the healing spell. This creates great discomfort for him, as his cells rebuild themselves but she knows this is better than dragging it out for longer.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

She coos at the massive man almost like he's a child or a small animal. This woman evades him. Once she's done and his wrist is good as new she springs up and clears her throat, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Sorry about that but...you did try to eat me so..."

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn't know how exactly. By the scowl on his face it doesn't look like it would be anything good. She crouches down again, peering down at him.

"Do you still want to eat me?"

He growls, nothing but hatred in his beautiful eyes as he hoaursly spits out,

"I want nothing more in the world."

"..."

The mage tries and fails to hide a girlish giggle behind her hand as she rocks back and forth on her feet. She reacts as if he'd just complemented her outfit. The Naga man pulls his mouth into a snarl and huffs in irritation, hating how this woman continues to confuse him.

After composing herself she summons her little reaserch book again, holding it against her crouched thighs to write.

"Have you actually ever eaten a human before? Be honest."

The Naga writhes in his bonds to eventually turn away from her so atleast he doesn't have to face his captor. He lies there for awhile just squirming every so often, he's already tried to cut the vines with his claws but she must have done some kind of reinforcement magic when she healed him. Damn witch.

While he devises an escape plan, he can hear scratching on paper from behind him. The mage seems to be writing quite a lot in her book. When the Naga looks back at her he catches her gaze staring intently at the intricate patterns on his back, the way the scant black scales blend with the bright gold makes for a very unique pattern.

"How much will you sell it for"

She stops sketching and looks back up at his eyes. She lets out a confused "hmm?"

This only makes him angrier.

"My hide! It must be worth a fortune! That's why you're here!"

Her gaze softens a bit, kicking herself mentally for being so unthinking towards the man. He might be big and intimidating but that doesn't mean he can't be scared for his life.

"Look, I don't want your hide. It would be much easier to just fake one anyway since nodoby knows what you actually look like. I just want to ask you a few questions and then let you get back on with your day. I'll even cook you a meal as a thank you."

The snake man is obviously skeptical, all he does is stare back at her with those gorgeous eyes.

She sighs and opens her book back up, flipping over to a particular page.

"Researching rare and perculiar creatures is a hobby of mine."

She rolls down onto her stomach and shuffles closer to the massive Naga. She leans on her elbows to show him the open page as if they were best friends at a slumber party and she's showing him her dairy.

"You're not even the rarest or most sought after Naga species I've met."

She points to a drawing she sketched of a male Naga, this one with the torso and arms of a human but the tail and head of a snake. There's a bunch of scribbles and descriptions around the drawing in a language he can't read.

"Where he's from people worship him like a god. He's a very rare species that can hypnotise someone just by looking into their eyes."

She chooses to leave out the part where she willingly let the Naga hypnotise her and use her as he pleased for weeks.

He doesn't have a response to give the mage, staring blankly at the pages as she rattles on about other species she has in her book. His skepticism somewhat dampened by these sketches of Naga just like him but with characteristics he's never seen before.

The mage notices how dark the sky has gotten, catching a few stars glinting overhead. She gets up and starts assembling the tent she brought. Pulling thick fabric out of her infinitaly deep satchel.

The Naga man just lies there watching, wondering if it would be so bad to comply with this mage. They don't seem dangerous or malicious at all but the magic they wield is still a concern. She talks to him as she works on building her temporary abode.

"Y'know, the village folk are quite nice. If you want I could talk to them, I'm sure they would rather cohabitate than live in fear of a man-eating monster in the jungle. Since you're definitely a rare species this part of the jungle could even be named as a conservation zone."

She keeps yapping stuff the Naga man doesn't care to listen to. The mage erects her shoddy little tent, does some sort of chant and then hurriedly crouches inside the small space.

She stays inside there for a while to the point where the Naga man thinks she might not return for the night. He smells something absolutely devine and realises it's cooked beef coming from inside the tent.

The damn mage walks outside with a steaming bowl of that devine smelling concoction. She stabs a piece of meat with a fork and offers it to him after blowing on it a little. She doesn't really give him time to react before poking the fork into his mouth. His taste buds are lighting up and he almost moans at the taste.

The mage grins at how he accepted her offer and stands back up.

"I just want to ask you a few questions. I'm sorry for causing you trouble but I didn't come all this way for nothing. I'm more than happy to repay you for your troubles if you just come inside."

After that she turns and walks back into the tent. As she walks away the vines binding his body loosen until they fall from his body entirely.

He's free. She's giving him an out. He could just leave.... But he can still taste the meat on his tongue. Nothing has happened to him yet so atleast he knows it's not poisoned or spiked. He turns to where the dark water of the river calls to him and turns back to the fire light coming from inside the mages tent. He sighs and hangs his head. As if the jungle itself is trying to urge him, a cool breeze blows past that seems to urge him closer to the tent.

The Naga sighs, stretches his sore limbs and slowly slithers towards the tent. He takes a deep breath before parting the fabric of the opening and crouching inside.

As he expected, the tent is much bigger than it appears on the outside. Bedding and pillows cover the floor and there is a fire with a pot over it in the middle.

The mage is humming to herself while pouring more steaming hot stew into two bowls. He sits across form her coiling his tail into a pile to sit on top of it.

She holds out a steaming bowl to him and waits patiently for him to take it. He hesitantly accepts the offer and, after watching her eat a fair portion of her own bowl, starts slurping up the meaty stew.

After the first and second serving the mage places her empty bowl aside and picks up her book. As the Naga pours himself a third helping she clears her throat, making him look up at her expectant gaze. He huffs but nods, lazing back against his tail to keep enjoying his meal. The mage gleams across from him.

"I don't know how much I weigh, I eat mostly fish and I've never eaten a human."

The mage scribbles all this down as he speaks, very pleased with his cooperation.

"How often do you shed?"

The Naga rests his arms on his tail like it's a comfy backrest. He takes a generous gulp of his stew before answering,

"...Once every season."

"So you grow moderately quick then? And you're still growing? Or do you think this is how big you'll get."

"I still shed, so I'm still growing."

The woman nods and jots that down.

"You're a constrictor type, right? No venom or hypnotising?"

He gives her a deadpan stare, as if to say "What do you think?". She gets the idea and confirms her own theory.

she chews her lip, deliberating something before she finally asks.

"Can I measure you?"

He gives her an irritated look before he slowly unwinds his tail from it's bunched up state, unfurling it out on the floor as he lies on his stomach.

The mage wastes no time springing up and pulling a rolled up tape measure out of her hat. She holds it out to him and says,

"Hold this at your head, please."

He boredly does as she asks and she carefully walks back the length of his body. He doesn't know why but he straightens his tail as much as possible while looking at her over his shoulder. When she gets to the tip of his thick tail she exclaims some numbers in a measurement he doesn't know but from the look on her face it's clearly impressive. She hurriedly scribbles that in her book.

The measuring roll disappears and the Naga goes back to his meal. He pours what's left in the bowl into his awaiting mouth before he feels a soft touch on his tail and freezes.

He slowly looks behind him at the culprit. He watches her with a predatory gaze as she hesitantly tests his patience. He watches her, as if daring her to go further and so obviously she does. She inches higher up his tail to where is gets much thicker, lightly tracing the patterns on his reptilian skin. She softly touches his golden scales as if they're fragile.

The mage gets more confident and crawls higher up his tail, getting more inquisitive and bold.

"Is the underside more sensitive?"

She asks, genuinely curious. He doesn't answer, just keeps staring at her with a look that says "Try it", so that's what she does. She looks into his eyes and slides her hand down the side of his tail towards the white underbelly.

He strikes before she can even blink. He has her on the floor coiled up in his tail as he entraps her whole body with his. She doesn't offer much of a fight besides some squirming but his tightening hold on her body forces her to still.

"Is this what you want mage?"

She says nothing, only looks up at him with those same curious eyes. He can feel her heart beat as he squeezes her rib cage, it beats steady and bold. She's not scared of him at all and that intrigues him more than he likes.

The Naga looms over her, he reaches out to grab her jaw tilting her head around to look over her face. He's tried to ignore it but he's also quite curious about her and her own species. He pinches his fingers slightly so that it makes her lips pout together before he reaches out with his other hand to take her pink tongue in between his thumb and pointerfinger. She just stares up at him, offering no resistance.

He strokes the small wet muscle with his thumb, rubbing over where it would split into two if she was a Naga like him. It's so small compared to his fingers and much warmer than he anticipated, probably due to the warm meal they just shared. He sticks his tongue out to lick the air and pauses when he smells something unfamiliar but unmistakable, coming from the Mages lower parts.

He's smelled it once before when he caught sight of a human woman bathing in the river, he couldn't help but linger in the brush and watch the human as she touched herself. He feels the same need now that he felt then, a curious burn in his stomach.

The mage struggles in his hold,

"I know you're curious too..."

She says up at him, almost hopefully. She slowly struggles her legs free to wrap them around his wide torso, squeezing him between her thighs. As he looks down at her the snake man feels her warm body heat radiating off of her seeping into his skin, the movement of her chest, her pulse. He can feel his cock poking out from the slowly parting slit on his white underbelly.

He licks the air one more time before his mouth catches hers in a needy kiss. She immediately kisses back with fever, fidgeting more in his hold making him tighten the heavy coils which only makes her let out a pleasured cry into his mouth. His tongue feels so odd on her own, it's much longer than hers and he pushes it down her throat with abandon.

His tail slithers around her body, lifting her shirt up. When she first feels his cold skin against her warm stomach she's filled with need to feel him against every inch of her skin. She struggles in his hold, kissing him with more need and trying to grind her neglected cunt against something.

The Naga huffs a laugh and watches her kick her legs helplessly.

"Do you have other clothes?"

He mumbles against her lips, she nods into the kiss.

His claws tear her pants and underwear away as if the garments were made of tissue paper, doing the same to the neckline of her shirt and undershirt. She groans at the feeling of his cold skin against hers and the humid night air on her cunt.

She feels a slick substance drip onto her pussy and groans loudly.

"Show me. Let me see."

She pleads and struggles even more. He chuckles and nibbles on the skin of her neck,

"Little thing like you should be scared. What if it's too much for you?"

His concern is real even if he's insanely turned on by this situation. Her body might not be able to keep up with her inquisitive mind.

"Try me."

She looks into his eyes with determination, he looks back. One of his hands go to stroke his growing cocks as they unsheath from their slit. She stretches to pear over his tail wrapped around her. There's two, one big cock clearly meant for insemination, the same colour as his white underbelly and a second reddish coloured one, she assumes is meant for extra stimulation. The Naga strokes the big one with one hand, both cocks have slick ooze spilling from them and they're dripping with slick which she guesses is produced from the slit they come out of.

She worms her hand over one of his coils to grip onto his tail, she whines loudly at him. She wants it inside her so bad. He chuckles at her again as more of his precum drips onto her pussy lips.

He can't deny her pleas for long and against his better judgement he prods at her entrance with his cock, rubbing the tip up against her hole.

She grinds up into him and he takes that as the go ahead to slide inside her. The slippery tip sheathes inside her rather easily, it's the rest of him he's worried about. He struggles to hold himself back from pounding the hot tight pussy squeezing around him, he truly doesn't want to hurt the Mage.

Said Mage is almost in tears at being unintentionally edged by him. She squeezes her thighs around his massive waist, squirming around as much as she can. The Naga finds he likes the way her soft naked body wriggles in his coils, he especially likes the way her thigh muscles tense and relax. His sharp claws gently caress the fat of her thighs, curiously squeezing and jiggling the fat slightly. She whines again and he decides to be merciful and slides his cock further inside her while gripping her thighs.

He's too slow, too cautious and she just can't take it anymore.

She mumbles a little spell and the Nagas body feels a sudden force pulling him closer to her making him hiss as his cock is suddenly thrusted to the hilt. The smaller cock is rubbing up against her clit delisciously and the slick coating his cock seeps out of her pussy.

"If I want you to stop, I can make you. Stop, pussying around fuck me."

He stares down at her with blown out eyes, she stares up at him so determined while still being thoroughly bound in his hold. His breathing is more ragged and a grin finds it's way on his face. He looks almost feral and it makes the mages pussy clench around him which makes him reactively thrust back.

She's spun around suddenly in his hold, his tail unwinding until her arms are free and there's one coil left around her waist. Her arms are quickly bound by his own hands, gripping her much smaller arms. He gives a hard thrust into her cunt and growls in her face as she moans back up at him.

He starts a rough pace, having thrown all cation to the wind. Her tight human pussy squeezes him so tight like he squeezes around her body with his tail. The loud wet slapping sounds his hips make against hers make everything even more erotic. His coiled tail around her grips her waist tightly and he groans when he can feel his own cock bulge against her stomach where his tail holds her.

He brings the end of his tail to wrap around her wrists binding them together while his ramming into her soaked pussy.

He speeds up even more and places his palm on top of his smaller dick, pressing it against her clit. His other hand is gripping her under thigh so hard she's pretty sure his claws have pierced her skin. The stimulation on his sensative cock makes him frantically thrust into her until he releases deep inside her. He shakes and spasms as he empties himself into her. If he was more conscious he would be embarrassed at how needy he must have looked.

His orgasm lasts quite awhile longer than she expected, she realises he must have been really pent up as his cock just keeps shooting seed into her every few seconds. The poor Naga looks exhausted when his orgasm finally ends. His eyes are closed, breathing deeply with strands of black hair fall delicately around his face. The tail around her wrists loosens and she immediately goes to pull him down into her embrace, clutching his sweaty body into her warmer one.

He hums into her neck, enjoying her warm softness. His tongue flicks out occasionally to lick her salty skin and smell her on the air.

"Did I tire you out, big guy?"

She jokes, while her hands caress the comparatively massive expanse of his back. She tries to remind herself that he might be inexperienced and more sensitive than usual, she doesn't want him to feel bad about getting overstimulated.

The Naga lifts his head from her neck, his body casts a shadow over hers as he looms over her again. He gives her a sharp fanged grin.

"Don't be so cocky, Mage."

The end of his tail slowly comes from behind to wrap around her neck as the coil still wrapped around her waist lifts her torso up high. His softening cock slips out of her dripping cunt as he lifts her up with his tail. She groans low as she feels the copious amounts of slick and spend fall from her pussy to the floor.

The naga curiously runs his thumb up the length of the mages pussy, gathering up the fluids. He feels a strange urge to keep as much of his cum inside her as possible. Careful of his sharp claws he opts to push his spend back into her pussy with his tongue, feeling the way she squirms and clenches around his forked tongue. The Naga hisses lightly in delight and smooshes his face into the fat warmth of her thigh while looking into her eyes. She peers at him with a dazed look, loving the way his tail lightly squeezes her thoat.

"I'm far from done with you."

As it turns out she didn't get to ask him many questions that night. Not that she complained about it much.

#omg finally finished this thank god #shitty title but idk #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #I know snake skin isn't called a hide but it just sounded weird calling it skin???#teratophillia #terato #naga #naga x human #naga x reader #monsterfucker #monster lover #Mage! Reader

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suksatoru · 4 months ago

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morning muse — ft. sae itoshi x fem!reader

waking up every morning next to a man with the body of a greek god is something you never take for granted.

if there's one thing sae itoshi knows about you, it's that you are shameless when it comes to his back muscles.

he's used to feeling your curious hands rubbing up and over the slopes and expanse of his back in the early hours of the morning. and you're cheeky—you make him shiver under the duvet whenever you place those feather light kisses all over him.

you start by moving the hair resting at the nape of his neck, pressing a single kiss onto the soft skin before gliding your lips downwards, your path traveling to his shoulder blades. and from there, you move down to his back.

sae is used to it now. the moment he feels your fingers brush against his cheek and move towards his neck—he hides the small, rare smile threatening to break out onto his face by smushing his cheek into his pillow. today, you start by pressing a soft kiss onto his scalp.

"good morning, handsome," you giggle, eyes gleaming and far too lively for it being six am in the morning as sae hums sleepily, his voice gravely and deep with exhaustion. instinctively, sae rolls onto his stomach for you, folding his arms and resting his head onto his forearms in the process.

you're crawling onto his back moments later, with your thighs pressed flush against his bare skin. the light streaming from the open balcony window shines directly onto sae, and you pause—taking a moment to admire the sight in front of you.

the sunlight makes him appear like he's glowing—pink tufts curl and wrap around his head like a halo, and the particles in the air look like shimmering glitter in sae itoshi's presence.

sae had that effect on things around him. your eyes move down to his back—your favorite part—and you're trying so hard not to sigh at the mere sight. his muscles flex with impatience when he doesn't feel your sweet kisses worshipping his body like they did every morning, and he squints an eye open to glare at you from where he laid.

"y/n," he mumbles, moving a hand backwards to tap your thigh impatiently as you shush him

"shh...let me grab my phone. my 'sae itoshi's wet hair out of the shower' wallpaper is about to be replaced by my 'sae itoshi's back in the morning' wallpaper," you laugh quietly, leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table as you snap a quick picture—tossing it onto the edge of the bed once you get a good angle.

sae is the perfect muse—he stayed still for you while you took your picture. whether it was out of laziness or the fact that he just didn't care, you were grateful either way. he rolls his shoulders, and you watch his muscles ripple like waves as he lets out a quiet come on now.

and so your sweet assault begins. sae's entire body relaxes, and he feels like butter melting under you as your lips and tongue paint their devotion in the most passionate manner he'd ever have the pleasure of knowing. no one does it like you do—loves him, that is. those words are muffled by the pillow he's smushed his face into as he speaks them, and sae wonders how he ever woke up peacefully before you came into his life.

your lips transverse sae's back longingly—and you're peppering kisses onto his milky white skin, creating your very own constellation of stars. and sae thinks nothing, absolutely nothing in the world could bring him out of this moment of pure serenity with you.

well, that is until you bite him.

"fucking—ow!"

"oops! sorry, baby!"

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penascigarette · 7 months ago

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Smooth Operator Ch 1. A New Client

Joel Miller x f!phone sex operator

➴wc: 6.7k | summary: You unexpectedly find yourself drawn to a new client during a late-night call, who ignites a surprising wave of desire within you. As you engage in a steamy conversation, you realize this encounter is unlike any you've had before, leaving you eager for more and questioning the boundaries of your professional life.

➴warnings: mdni, phone sex, mxm phone sex, fxm phone sex, m&f masterbation lots of dirty talking, use of princess, shitty moodboard

➴an: hi! i hope you enjoy the first chapter of the first fic I have ever posted. if I have missed any warnings please let me know. feedback is super appreciated! now I will go run and hide lol. and a big tysm to @saradika-graphics for making such lovely dividers!

masterlist | series masterlist | pt. 2

You love sleeping, and just as passionately, you love your bed. Whenever you wake up in the morning, you spend at least ten minutes wrapped up in your duvet, savoring the warmth and comfort as you tease yourself with the idea of a nap.

This morning is no different. The sun shines outside, making your dark purple curtains look lighter than they actually are. If you open your eyes, you know you'll see dust particles floating through the air.

You take a deep breath through your nose and immediately wish you'd opened your windows to let in some fresh air. But you never do, even though you think about it every morning. It's too risky. Open windows are an open invitation to your worst fear—spiders.

Just the thought of their tiny, hairy bodies and long, wiggly legs sends a shiver down your spine. You pull the duvet tighter around your shoulders, practically imagining the creepy crawlies on your skin.

And of course, that's when your roommate, Elliot, decides it’s the perfect time to tickle your ear with one of his long, pink, kinky feathers—used for who-knows-what.

You scream, jump, and scramble off the bed like it’s suddenly caught fire. Your eyes—probably bloodshot with dark bags underneath—narrow at the grinning culprit, who is currently doubled over in a fit of laughter on the right side of your king-sized bed.

“What the fuck,” you huff, too tired to find any humor in this. You were so warm and cozy, and now that feeling is ruined for the next twenty-four hours. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

“Y-your face!” he chokes out between giggles. He looks far too fresh-faced for someone who’s just rolled out of bed. Still in his pajamas, his messy hair—short on the sides with a wave on top—looks like it hasn’t seen a brush this morning.

“It's not funny!” you argue, your voice rising over the sound of his laughter. You’re this close to stomping your foot at him. “I thought you were a spider!” Standing there in nothing but pink pajama bottoms and a black strap top, your skin prickles with goosebumps. Yet again, you curse him for ruining your warm, safe burrito.

That only makes him laugh harder. It’s hard to believe this man-child is twenty-eight years old when he acts less than half his age most of the time.

At the sound of his snort, you feel your lips twitch against your will. No, you’re pissed at him—there’s no way he’s going to make you laugh. But very quickly, you’re losing the battle. Have you ever tried not laughing with someone who has an impossibly contagious laugh? It’s damn near impossible.

“Whatever!” you say, rolling your eyes as a reluctant smile finally breaks across your face. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to look stern, but Elliot knows he’s won this round

“It’s getting late,” he says, still chuckling. His green eyes are watery from laughing, making them sparkle as he grins at you. Rolling onto his left side, he props his head up with one hand—the one holding the feather—while his other hand runs through his sandy-brown hair, slicking it back. “And you slept through your alarms again, so I thought I’d help you out.”

Damn, have you really? It wouldn’t be the first time. Waking you is like trying to wake the dead.

“Oh,” you say sheepishly. Fair enough, he had to wake you, but—“Did you have to use your kinky, sex feather...thing?” You shiver in disgust. “Who knows where that’s been.”

He shrugs innocently, twirling the offending object between his fingers. “Nowhere gross...” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles once more. “Only up Danny’s ass.”

Your eyes widen, and you splutter. “What? Oh, my god—Jesus, that’s just—” You gag in the back of your throat. “You said it hadn’t been anywhere gross!”

He laughs again, sitting up. “I was telling the truth. Danny’s ass was far from gross.” A faraway look crosses his face. “It was heaven,” he muses wistfully before frowning. “God, I miss him.”

“Oh, honey,” you soften immediately, making your way to the bed and crawling toward Elliot to offer some comfort.

You know Danny and Elliot’s breakup was hard on him. He’d been completely in love with that man and was about to ask him to move in—with you both—when Danny decided to end the year-and-a-half relationship. It just wasn’t working was his excuse, but Elliot later found out the truth when Danny updated his Facebook page: he’d left Elliot for someone else.

“He didn’t deserve you,” you say, trying to make him feel better as you drape an arm around his shoulders. Sitting back on your heels, you add, “He was a dick for what he did. You shouldn’t be sad. He’s the one who lost someone who loved him. The only thing you lost was—”

“A twat-waffle who didn’t deserve me, I know,” he cuts you off, reciting your usual line before you can finish. You’ve said it enough times in the past three months since the breakup that he knows it by heart. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but...doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“I know,” you respond quietly, your thoughts drifting to your own breakup. It’s been over a year now, but the pain still lingers. Your ex had been your first boyfriend—hell, your first everything. You’d met when you were seventeen, and you moved in with him before your next birthday. Everything happened so fast, and you didn’t see the cracks until it was too late. “But we have each other, right?” you say, giving Elliot a little shake.

He glances at you, his expression vulnerable. Big eyes, plucked thin eyebrows, a slight bump on his nose from when a bully broke it in his teens, full lips, high cheekbones, and when he smiles, dimples form on his cheeks.

“Yeah?” he replies, hopeful. “Even if I wake you up with a feather that’s been up my ex’s ass?”

You roll your eyes, pulling away to thump him on the arm. “Fucker,” you mutter as he starts giggling all over again. “Remind me why I love you?”

Grinning, he reaches into the pocket of his pajama shorts and pulls out his phone. "Because I'm adorable," he answers distractedly as he stares at the screen. "Oh, my first caller of the day! And it's Simon," he whispers the last part to you as if Simon could hear. "He sounds like a whale when he comes, but boy, does he have a gorgeous sex voice," he informs you. You snort as he accepts the call. "Why hello there, lover."

While Elliot makes himself comfortable against your pillows, you climb off the bed and head toward your wardrobe. You already have your outfit in mind—a pair of leggings and a plain white shirt.

"Mmm, that sounds so sexy, baby," you hear Elliot purr in the background, and you smile, shaking your head. You can’t imagine what people would think about you being in the same room as your guy roommate while he talks dirty to one of your clients, meanwhile, you're getting changed in the corner.

It’s a strange situation, to say the least.

As you remove your shirt with your back turned to Elliot, you can’t help but listen in to the conversation.

"I'd love to touch your nipples," Elliot hums behind you, getting into character. You know how much he loves talking dirty to guys. It’s a turn-on for him. Unlike you, who only really enjoys sex if it’s with someone you love. Elliot is way more adventurous and has had more one-night stands than you can count. "I'd love to stroke them, caress them, lick them. . .”

"Suck them," you add when you hear Elliot hesitate. You pull the straps of your bra up your arms and hook it at the back.

“Oh, and suck them," Elliot says as you pull your top on.

Since Elliot is still fairly new to this, he needs help sometimes. His situation had been very similar to yours—a broken-up relationship, no job, and forced to move back in with his mum until someone came along and gave him hope. For Elliot, that person was you. For you, that person was your boss, Jane.

Elliot's voice lowers as he talks to his client. "Your body is so pretty, honey. I can't wait to trace my tongue up and down your belly, and then start going lower and lower until I reach your—”

You cough quietly to yourself, trying to hide your smile as you change into your leggings and slip on a pair of fluffy pink socks. You’ve heard Elliot talk dirty loads of times, and he’s heard you talk dirty just as many. Part of training him was him having to listen in on your conversations, and then you monitoring his. Neither of you gets embarrassed around it anymore. It’s more amusing, to be completely honest.

Deciding to leave Elliot to it, you grab your phone off your bedside cabinet and quietly tiptoe to the door. Before you leave, you look over to Elliot and mouth, Coffee?

He nods enthusiastically at you and mouths back, Yes, please!

You’re halfway down the steps when you rub your eye and feel the crumbly sensation of mascara under your fingertip. You’ve forgotten to take your makeup off the night before. You curse to yourself before heading back upstairs to fetch a makeup wipe.

When you reach your room once more, Elliot looks at you questioningly before he notices your face. His lips curl into his mouth in an attempt not to laugh. You roll your eyes and put your middle finger up at him before heading over to your dresser, which sits directly opposite your bed. You open the top drawer and feel through the ridiculous amount of makeup and beauty products you’ve collected over time. As your fingers search, your eyes stare forward at your flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. You can see Elliot's reflection.

"God, you feel so tight around me," Elliot is telling his customer, and you bite your lip in an attempt not to laugh. Finally, your fingers grip the packet of wipes, and you pull them free. "I'm gonna come inside of your ass so damn hard—," Elliot is cut off by a muffled roar, and you turn to look at him questioningly.

He is still sitting on your bed, back against the pillows with one hand holding the phone far away from his ear. He has an uncomfortable look on his face, and it’s then you realize the noise has come from the phone. Or, more accurately, the noise is the loud, animal-like groans of a man coming hard.

Oh my god," you whisper to him quietly, now understanding what Elliot had meant by Simon sounding like a whale when he came.

Elliot uses his other hand to cover the bottom half of the phone, preventing Simon from hearing you speak. "Every. Damn. Time," he replies just as quietly, looking so serious it makes you giggle. He cracks his own smile before bringing the phone back to his ear. "Oh, that sounded like a good one, baby."

You’re glad Simon isn’t one of your callers because you’re not sure you’d be able to stay professional with that sound in your ear. You take care of your makeup before finally getting started on coffee.

Your living room and kitchen are all in one room. The only thing separating the rooms is the counter you eat at. Silver stools with black padded seats sit underneath, four of them for when you have guests over.

You walk past the L-shaped sofa and the counter. Once the coffee is on, you get started on breakfast. You decide on some cheesy, ham-scrambled eggs. Just as you start mixing the ingredients, your phone vibrates where you’ve placed it on the counter. You lean over far enough to see the screen. When no name appears, only a number, you figure it must be a new client since you save existing clients in your phone book.

You accept the call and bring it to your ear. "Hey there," you purr in your sexy voice. You never thought you had one until Elliot pointed it out to you. According to him, it’s a hot one too. "Tell me, gorgeous, what’s your name?"

"Josh." He’s breathing heavily, sounding as if he’s already started the party without you. "I-I'm new to all this…phone stuff," he informs you.

"That's fine, Josh," you say with a slight smile. "My name's Angel, and I’m going to take care of you, all right?" Your name isn’t Angel, but for safety reasons, you’re Angel as far as your customers know. And yes, you’re well aware of how clichéd it is.

"Yes," he tells you, his voice rougher than before. He’s probably getting more excited. Now, all you need to do is find out what he likes.

"Tell me, honey, you like it hard or soft, hm?" you question just as Elliot’s footsteps sound on the stairs.

"God. Hard. I like it hard," Josh answers. "I like it when you take control, with a little pain. Yeah, I like that a lot." In the background, you can hear the sound of his hand working his dick. At least you know he’s enjoying himself.

"Okay, Josh," you nod to yourself, knowing exactly where to go from here. Elliot appears in front of you, his lips forming an 'o' shape when he sees you’re with a client. You nod your head toward the food you’ve been preparing, signaling him to take over as you move away from the counter and toward the living area. Elliot passes you on the way, his hand patting you on the shoulder.

You flop over the arm of the chair and onto the sofa, landing with a bounce on your back. "The first thing I want you to do is to strip for me, now," you order him, reaching toward the coffee table when you spot a magazine there. You bring it over to you and open it. "Are you naked yet?"

"Almost," he practically gasps to you. You can hear some more shuffling, and then he's telling you, "Yes, mistress, I'm naked."

Mistress? You sigh internally. You seriously can't believe how many men are into the whole dominatrix kink. In the beginning, it was kind of fun, but by now, it’s getting pretty old.

Mentally awakening your inner dom, you relax further into the sofa and flip through the magazine. "Good boy," you coo, finding a 20 Sex Tips for Women article. Huh, how fitting. "Now, here's what I want you to do, and you better listen closely, pet."

The call ends up lasting 2 minutes and 28 seconds. Not bad for a newbie.

________

“I might have a date this weekend," Elliot mentions casually, making you glance over the top of your book at him, eyebrows raised.

A few hours have passed since breakfast, and you've had at least seven phone calls since. The two of you are relaxing in the living room, you on one side of your L-shaped sofa and Elliot on the other.

"And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" you respond, feeling rather hurt. You tell each other everything. You know the penis size of every boyfriend he's had. How can he share that information so easily yet let something like a date stay secret?

He cringes, and you just know you're not going to like what's coming next. "Because..." he hesitates, takes a deep breath, and rushes out, "BecauseitswithDanny." He says it so fast it almost doesn't register, but the name Danny sticks out like a sore thumb.

"What!?" you exclaim, book falling forgotten onto the floor as you sit up. You're completely shocked, and you imagine your expression says everything before you even open your mouth. "How can you—why would you want to after what he did?" You can't understand what's going through Elliot's head, but you seriously want to knock some sense into him.

"I tried hinting to you this morning!" Elliot tells you, sitting up. The magazine he'd been reading earlier falls onto his lap, his attention now completely on you. "I told you I missed him!"

You scoff at that. "A hint is, 'Oh, by the way, I'm thinking of going on a date with my ex.' Not, 'I'm going to tickle you with Danny's ass-feather, complain about missing him, and hope that you get the hint that I'm going out with him this weekend despite the fact he broke my heart!'" You take a deep breath, oxygen running low after that rant. "Look, I know it's none of my business—"

"Of course it's your business. You're my best friend."

"—I just don't want you to get hurt," you continue as you both stare at each other with similar expressions. You're both desperate for the other to understand how you're feeling without wanting to cause any upset. "I love you, honey...and it destroyed you when he left."

"He said he's sorry," Elliot tells you quietly, making you realize just how much they've been talking. A pang of hurt goes through your heart, knowing that Elliot felt like he couldn't talk to you about this. "He said it was a mistake, one he wouldn't make again. But I don't want to jump back into things so...I told him we'll start slow."

"Well," you nod slightly. "That's something, I guess." It comforts you to know that he isn't rushing into the relationship again. Maybe, if they start from scratch, it could work this time. Unfortunately, your gut tells you different. "I'm going to be honest with you, okay?"

Elliot gives you a lopsided smile, causing a single dimple to form on his cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You smile back for a moment before turning serious again. "I think...you're thinking with your heart and not with your head," you tell him softly. "I think you're in love with him, and you miss him, and you're not thinking rationally about this. Which I totally understand, honey. You love him; I know you can't help that. I just worry that Danny knows how you feel about him, and he's going to use it to his advantage." You watch Elliot's expression closely; he's nodding, letting you know he's listening.

You give your lip a quick nibble before continuing. "But if this is something you feel like you need to do, then I'll support you, you know that."

"Thanks, babe," he responds sincerely, but his eyes are sad. "You're right. I know you're right, but...my heart wants this so damn badly."

"What's your gut telling you to do?" you ask him curiously. You’ve always believed in following your instincts.

"Run," he answers with a painful laugh. "Run and don't look back because he's only doing this as a rebound."

You frown at the information. "Rebound?"

Elliot nods, tears filling his eyes. He crosses his legs underneath him, which surprises you given how skinny his jeans are. One arm goes to the back of the sofa while the other runs through his slick-backed hair. He pulls his lips into his mouth for a moment, a habit of his, before telling you, "Him and Voldemort broke up. Danny says he broke it off because he misses me, but I checked Voldemort's page, and it looks like he's gone and gotten himself a new guy."

You hold back a snort at his nickname for Gary. Voldemort. It suits him. From Elliot's information, you're guessing that Danny is only after a rebound, but Elliot doesn't want to admit it because he still wants to be with Danny.

"Honey..." you sigh, scooting across the sofa so you can give Elliot a cuddle. He immediately returns the gesture but stays seated, whereas you lean up on your knees, making you higher than him. You rest your head on top of his, your arms around his neck. You know you don't need to say anything. Elliot knows he's burying his head in the sand. You think he just needs to find out the hard way; otherwise, he'd always regret not trying.

"I'm here for you," you assure him. This is something he needs to do, and you can't protect him from it, no matter how much you want to.

"Thank you," he tells you tearfully. You can hear how upset he is, but he's trying to hold it back. You squeeze him tighter, wishing you could take away all his pain. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for."

Your lips curve at that. "I know," you joke because really, you're not that big-headed. "Now," you say as you pull away but keep your arms around his neck. "What do you say we turn our phones off for a while, get a Chinese, and watch some crappy chick flicks?"

His eyes are bloodshot and wet with tears, but the smile he gives you is genuine happiness. And that you completely understand because food makes you feel the same way. "I love you so much."

The film you end up watching is beyond cheesy, but the humor is awesome, and you find yourself giggling along. Your Chinese food is now in your overly-stuffed belly, and the only things left are the containers sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You sit side-by-side with Elliot, shoulders touching, a leopard-print blanket draped over your laps. Both of you ordered a beer with the takeaway. It isn’t enough to get you drunk, but that wasn’t the plan since you need to turn your phones back on for work later.

By the time the film ends, Elliot seems to be in a much better mood. Hopefully, he’ll stay that way for the next few hours.

“Gosh,” Elliot starts, reaching behind the sofa to the side table where a lamp sits. He switches it on, making you both blink against the sudden brightness. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”

“Same,” you say, squinting as your eyes adjust. Your muscles feel cramped, so you throw off the blanket and stretch. As you straighten your body, you begin to slide off the sofa but don’t bother stopping it. You let yourself slip onto the floor.

With the coffee table in the way, you have to arrange yourself so you’re lying between the sofa and the table. The wooden flooring is cold against your right arm, while the left side of your body enjoys the comfort of the fur rug.

“Weirdo,” Elliot snorts from above.

“Don’t judge,” you respond, letting out a yawn. Watching films always makes you tired. Maybe it strains your eyes. The floor is oddly tempting right now—so cozy—or maybe Elliot is right, and you’re just a weirdo.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Elliot speaks again, his foot nudging your side. “Can’t sleep now. We’ve got horny customers waiting.”

It’s only then you realize you’ve closed your eyes. “I’m up,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit upright. The smell of Chinese food still lingers in the air. It was absolutely delicious, but your stomach protests now, begging you not to even inhale another whiff of it. You pat your belly proudly, knowing it did a good job handling the feast.

“Good,” Elliot says. “We gotta get to work.”

Neither of you moves.

“For fuck’s sake,” Elliot sighs after a moment, making you crack a smile. “It’s so much effort. I hate... effort,” he says, spitting the word as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

You tilt your head to look at him better. “Just think about all those handsome, horny men stroking their dicks, waiting for you to—”

“I’m up!” Elliot exclaims, jumping to his feet. His hands dive into his pockets as you laugh loudly. “Christ, where’s my phone? My customers need me!” He’s being overly dramatic on purpose, and it makes you giggle even harder.

“It’s not funny!” he tells you, though he’s trying his hardest not to smile. “Who’s going to give those guys their orgasms? This is a serious situation!”

You giggle again, but then you try to put on a straight face. “You’re right. There could be a riot!” you gasp dramatically. “I’ll get on the phone to the prime minister right away!”

“And the president!” Elliot chimes in, but then you make eye contact, and the two of you burst into laughter. Sure, you can act pretty silly sometimes, but it’s healthy. At this age, you feel more mature than most people your age, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be childish once in a while.

Once you both calm down, you know playtime is over. It’s really time to get to work. Sighing, you take Elliot’s hand when he offers it to you, and he easily pulls you up from the floor.

“Thanks, kid,” you tell him, standing on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. You know he hates when you do that.

He lets out a high-pitched squeak and backs away. “You know my rules!”

“No one touches the hair,” you recite dutifully.

“Yes!” he says, rolling his eyes. “And yet you always forget. And what do you mean ‘kid’? I’m older than you!”

“Yes, well, mentally you’re the age of ten, so…”

“Bitch,” he says, lightly punching your arm, and you laugh.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you tease.

He plants his hands on his hips, cocking a hip at you and raising an eyebrow. “Honey, you can’t handle what I’ve got.”

“I’m heading upstairs. Gonna talk dirty to some dudes, grab a shower, change into my pajamas, get some more horny people off, read a book, then go to bed.”

Elliot takes the phone and nods. “Sounds like a damn good plan,” he says, holding up his hand.

You smile and give him a high-five.

One of the hardest parts of your job is keeping things fresh and coming up with new ideas. That’s why you love working with Elliot. He’s a guy; he knows what men like, so whenever you feel like you need something different, he’s your go-to.

New customers are always the easiest to please. No matter what you say, it’s fresh to them. Exciting. It’s your recurring customers who require more effort. There are only so many ways to describe a blowjob before it starts feeling repetitive. When you get that feeling of déjà vu, you worry your client does too.

Oh, and trying to figure out what a guy likes? That’s another challenge. Sometimes, it feels like a seriously fucked-up game of I-Spy.

“I spy with my little eye…” Imaginary-you says in a hopeful voice. “A foot fetish? No? Fuck.” You’re rocking back and forth now, losing hope. “I spy with my little—oh, I know! Voyeurism?” you practically beg, thinking about pulling your brains out with a spoon if this doesn’t work. “…Golden showers?”

Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but you get the point. It’s frustrating, especially when the client is shy and doesn’t know what they like themselves.

Deciding you’re getting cranky—probably because you’re tired—you decide to finish half an hour early tonight. You shouldn’t, especially after already losing a few hours of work earlier, but you’ve made enough money to cover your half of rent and bills this month. You’ve still got a week to earn more for food and anything else you need.

So yeah, you’ll finish early.

Yawning, you pull the covers out from underneath your ass before throwing them over yourself. You’re already in your pajamas—a loose pair of pink shorts and a white strap top—and your book sits next to you, waiting to be read.

But just as you pick up your phone, ready to turn it off, a new number flashes on the screen. You stare at it for a moment, wondering if it’s worth leaving. The problem is, with it being a new customer, leaving a bad impression could mean they wouldn’t come back.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, knowing the professional businesswoman in you can’t risk losing what might end up being a recurring customer. As far as you know, this phone call could change your career. You snort at that. Highly unlikely, but it’s going to bring in extra money, which is a good enough reason. “Just this last one, then I’m going to bed,” you tell yourself.

You place the earphones back into your ears and press the green button on your touchscreen. “Hey there, handsome.” There’s a pause, and you briefly wonder if they’ve decided to hang up when he finally speaks.

“Hey,” he responds simply, sounding kind of awkward.

“You caught me just in time,” you say naughtily.

“Oh?” he sounds intrigued, though the awkwardness remains. He’s probably just shy or clueless about what to do. “Why is that?”

For a moment, you’re taken aback by how much you’re attracted to his voice. That’s never happened to you before, and he’s barely said five words. Masculine, educated, and gruff. Swoon.

“Um...” You try to get back into character while scolding yourself. The conversation has only just started; you can’t screw it up already. Get your head in the game, girl. “Because I’m wet and needing a man to help me out.” Internally, you wince. That’s pretty weak considering how good you usually are at this.

He doesn’t seem to think so because he releases a sexy, “Shit. I—” He’s breathing heavily, and you wait for him to finish, sensing he has something else he wants to say. “I don’t know if this was a good idea,” he admits after a moment.

Fuck, you’re losing him, and you’re losing him fast. You need to think quickly if you want to keep him on the line. You don’t want to admit it, but your interest in this man goes beyond the money you’re earning from him. He’s ignited something in you. “Wait! Please,” you breathe. “I—I’m so horny. I need you. Please? Just stroke your dick for me. I need it.” There you go; you knew you could do better.

“Damn it,” he hisses, and then there’s the sound of a belt buckle, and you know you’ve got him. “What’d you need, sweetie? Tell me,” he demands, and for the first time since doing this job, you feel a wave of lust hit you.

Swallowing in an attempt to bring moisture back to your dry mouth—it all seems to have headed south, if you know what you mean—you respond truthfully, “You.” Jesus, you shouldn’t be doing this, but before you can stop yourself, your left hand is slipping underneath your strap top and finding your breasts. “I need you, please—” You pause for a second. You don’t know if it will work, but if you’re right about him, this is going to go down a treat. For both him and for you. “—sir.”

And you’re right because he lets out a loud groan, making you squeeze your thighs together in response. Jesus, you haven’t wanted someone this badly in what feels like forever.

“Fuck, you’re going to be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You’re already nodding before he finishes his sentence. “Yes, god, yes.” You move your right hand so it’s also caressing your breasts. In this moment, you completely love your headset, which allows you to talk and touch at the same time.

“Mm, you’re so obedient, baby,” he tells you, approval evident in his husky voice. “Tell me, Princess, tell me are your nipples hard?”

Your pussy clenches almost painfully, and you try to remind it to calm down because it’s only just started. “They’re hard. So hard they’re showing through my shirt.”

You’re getting so hazy with lust you’re not sure what to do with yourself, so you pinch your nipples roughly and almost cry out in frustration, knowing it would be so much better if he were doing it for you.

“Damn, that’s beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you, and your belly does a funny flip. “You touchin’ them? Want you to roll them between your fingers. Not too hard, just enough pressure to leave you needing more.”

It’s not easy to admit, but you think he’s better at this than you are, and it crosses your mind that you should probably be paying him. “I already am,” you confess with a guilty laugh. “Your voice... it’s, uh, fucking hot.” You hesitate because you’re not sure if you can say that to him. It’s not very professional, but then you remind yourself that you’re only second-guessing it because you’re actually getting off on it.

"You that eager for me, princess?" he sounds pretty damn pleased with himself. "Tell me how it feels. You know, I'm stroking my dick to this. Getting hard over the noises you're making, and the pretty picture you're giving me."

The image of this man, who you are undoubtedly attracted to, stroking his hard cock over the thought of you pleasuring yourself drives you crazy. He seems so generous, something rare nowadays.

"It feels..." you breathe, trying to find the right words. "Like it's not enough. I need more. Christ." You throw your head back against your pillows, frustrated with yourself and the way you're acting. Completely unprofessional.

"Shh," he coos softly. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you. Okay, princess?" He's so freaking good at this. You're practically shivering in anticipation of what he might say next. "I want you to get naked for me. And tell me, baby, you got any toys?"

"Um," you think about his question as you pull your strap top over your head. It gets caught on the earphone wire. "Wait a second." You quickly untangle yourself before placing the earphones back into your ears. Moving on to your shorts, you push them eagerly down your legs. "Yes, I have one of those little bullet vibrators."

"Good. I want you to get it for me, princess."

You bite your lip for a moment, feeling extremely dirty about what you're about to do. "Yes, sir..." you say before reaching toward your side cabinet and opening the bottom drawer. In an old, tiny, purple purse with a single zip sits the bullet. You take it out before getting comfortable on the bed once more. "I've got it."

He hums in approval. "Now, I'm more than happy to go slow, make this last, but I'm sensing that my girl wants to come hard and fast, am I right?"

You suck in an unsteady breath. Being called his girl really shouldn't make you feel as giddy as it does. Why and how does a complete stranger have such an effect on you? You're never one of those girls who fall for a man's charm easily. Yet here you are, swooning over a guy because he's good at talking dirty and has a sexy voice.

Apparently you were easier to seduce than you originally thought.

"Yes," you choke out, wondering if you'd wake up if you pinched yourself hard enough. You wouldn't try it, though, just in case you were dreaming. You really aren't ready for it to end. "God, yes."

"All right then," he chuckles, the sound warm. "I'll do what you want this time. Next time, what I say goes, okay, princess?"

Before you have a chance to respond, he's giving you more orders, and in no way are you complaining.

"I want you to spread your pretty little thighs for me, baby." His voice, and the way he's breathing, gives you the impression that he's getting just as excited as you are.

"Okay," you squeak rather embarrassingly. Cool air hits your most sensitive area as you do what he orders, your hands resting against the inside of your thighs, fingers clutching your vibrator as you wait impatiently for his instructions.

You have yet to turn the bullet on, but it already feels like your insides are vibrating.

"Now, take your hand and spread your pussy lips for me."

And there you go, once again speechless—and breathless—because of this man and his words. Seriously, he could do this job better than you. You have to admit, you're storing parts of this conversation away for both personal and professional use later on.

Your hands automatically do as he says, your body desperate for some kind of release. You feel overwhelmed and don't know where to start or what to do in order to relieve it. Thank God you have him to guide you; otherwise, you might combust. Then again, if he wasn't here, you wouldn't have this problem in the first place.

"Okay," you breathe, feeling more and more like a client than a sex line operator. But taking control is obviously something he enjoys, so who are you to put a stop to this? What’s the saying? ‘Customers are always right?’ Well, you absolutely, completely, one hundred percent agree!

"Stretch yourself out," he continues, his voice starting to strain. "Force your sexy little clit out of its hood. I don't want it hiding when you start fucking yourself. All right, princess?"

Fuckkk. Just when you think he can't possibly get any hotter, he goes and says that. Your pussy feels like it’s on fire; your clit is so swollen it hurts. You wouldn't be surprised if you came the second you put any pressure on your nub.

"Now," he continues. "Turn your bullet on and press it to your clit. You're not allowed to stop until your legs are shaking and you're calling out my name. Got it?" You can hear how hard he's pumping his dick now. For a moment, you feel guilty. Are you neglecting him? But then you remind yourself again that this is what he wants.

You know you're not going to last long. You're too excited. Not to mention, it’s been a while since you've spent some time with your right hand. You twist the top of your bullet, putting it on the highest speed. You know you're worked up enough to take it; usually, you start on low and build your way up because you're overly sensitive. Right now, you know it won’t be an issue.

The bullet starts to shake violently, but the noise is low, like a quiet buzzing. Your left hand holds yourself open, fingers forming a 'V' and spreading your lips as far as you can, just as he instructed.

You don’t need to tell him what you’re doing; the moment you press the bullet to yourself, a half-gasp, half-moan escapes your lips. You’re right—you definitely won’t last long. The vibrations are intense, and you draw small circles on yourself, pushing yourself even closer to the edge.

“Damnit,” he hisses. You’re quickly learning it’s one of his favorite words. “You sound fucking sexy. Wish I could see you. Watch you,” he inhales sharply. He’s just as close as you are.

“What’s—” you attempt to speak but end up gasping instead. Wetness gathers below, soaking your entrance and trailing toward your clit. The added lubrication lets the bullet slide more freely around your nub, the sensation unbelievable. “What’s—”

“Princess?” he chokes, likely having the same problem as you.

So close now. So fucking close. You just need a little more. The rhythm is perfect, and you can hear him breathing in your ear, letting out the occasional groan. It’s too damn much, but you can’t let yourself go—not without— “What’s your name?”

"Joel."

"Fuck - Joel!"

You see stars, as cliché as it sounds. Your whole body breaks into spasms, your left hand falling to the sheets and gripping the fabric desperately. Your right hand forces the bullet between your slippery lips, and your thighs clamp around your hand. Incoherent words tumble from your mouth: “Oh god,” “Fuck,” and Joel’s name.

As you come back down to earth, you can hear that Joel barely followed two seconds behind.

“Damn it, Princess. You’re so fucking good. Sound so pretty. Done so well,” the words spill from his mouth like sweet wine. He probably isn’t even aware of them. The sound of him fisting his dick is irregular and off-beat. “Fuck. Damn. You’re such a good girl.”

You remove the bullet from yourself—if you leave it there any longer, it’s going to become painful—and let out a giggle. Your cheeks are flushed, your body buzzing with pleasure. Lightheaded and giddy, you think to yourself that this guy must be amazing in bed. “That was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah,” he laughs breathlessly. “You can say that again. I can’t believe I almost hung up.”

“That would have been bad,” you reply, wondering if your heart will slow down anytime soon. “Very, very bad.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, then pauses before adding, “Let me ask you something.”

“Go ahead.” You hesitate for only a moment. It’s unusual for clients to stick around afterward, but you’ve quickly realized this guy isn’t a normal caller.

“What’s your real name?” he asks. “No way is it ‘Angel.’” He snorts, finding your alias hilarious.

Is Angel that bad of a name? You think it’s kind of cool. The company is called Angels and Demons, with you being the Angel. Elliot’s alias is Daemon because it’s close to “demon” but sounds way better. When a customer calls, they get an automated voice instructing them to press the number for their chosen operator, complete with a brief description.

You’re losing your train of thought; you can’t give him your real name, can you? It’s against the rules. If Jane found out, she’d be pissed. She wouldn’t fire you, but her anger is almost as bad. With the image of facing her wrath in mind, you tell Joel, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Your tone is regretful because you’d really like to tell him. “My boss would…it’s against the rules.”

“Ah,” he responds, masking the disappointment. “It’s all right. I understand.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again, hating the idea of letting him down, especially after how amazing he just made you feel.

"Seriously, Princess, it’s fine,” he reassures you, easing the guilt. “I had a really good time tonight. You can bet I’ll be expecting a repeat tomorrow.” You just know that if you could see him right now, his eyes would sparkle with mischief.

Your pussy throbs again just thinking about it. God, he makes you insatiable. “I’m really, really looking forward to it,” you tell him honestly.

“Me too.” There’s a brief pause, then, “Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” Hanging up the phone, you place it against your lips, letting everything sink in. Alone with your thoughts, you can’t believe you just had full-blown phone sex with a client. It’s so unlike you. It’s more like something Elliot would do. Speaking of…

“Elliot, you won’t believe what just happened!” you shout at the top of your lungs.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader

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fogaminghub · 4 months ago

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🌺✨ Ready to unlock the Infinity Nikki White Jade Quest? Our step-by-step guide will lead you through every part of this exciting New Bloom Festival event! 💎🎶 Answer Professor Aventura's questions and claim your rewards before the event ends on February 25, 2025!

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love0nstrike · 3 months ago

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☆彡He’s a D*ck, So She’s Tess?

Bill Dickey x Reader

Summary: A new girl transfers to Eltingville high and Bill writes her off as another bimbo who’ll hardly look at him. Until he spots her Dick Tracy comics. He’s in over his head after that.

TW: literally all kinds of misogyny. This is Bill Dickey we’re talking about. I might’ve made him a little nicer than usual, but that's just because I think if he was ever with a girl he had a real chance with he’d be too shocked to actually be an asshole. At first at least.

“Captain, are you alright?” buzzed a serene voice from Bill’s radio.

He set his phaser rifle down and sends a transmission over, “I’m alright, sweetheart. I’ve always got things under control.”

He puts a hand above his eyes as he surveys the area. He had just landed on an unknown planet with his crew of bombshell broads. The power cell on his phaser rifle was fully charged and he still had some kiss marks from the crew.

He was ready to conquer any potential threats.

The ground beneath him was hot and sand-like, but firm enough to act like gravel. There wasn’t much he knew about this strange planet. The sun was much stronger out here, and it was evident on the ridiculous amount of sweat that had begun accumulating on him. These damn Starfleet uniforms weren’t made for this kind of weather. Fighting against the glare of the sun, he squinted for some sort of sign of life.

He had been wandering for quite a while, and yet he hadn’t seen a single moving thing beyond the particles of sand he kicked as he walked. Sick of the overbearing weather, he sighs and gets ready to head back.

Until he spots it. Not too far in the distance is a figure. Immediately back on alert, he lifts his rifle and stomps toward it. The form gets clearer, but the shine of the sun prohibits him from seeing much.

It was a girl, that much he could make out. Oh.

It’s a girl.

A smirk immediately plasters itself on his face as he holsters his rifle and confidently walks forward. He would never miss an opportunity to add another fine woman to his ship.

When he feels close enough he puts his hands on his hips, “Need any help, princess?”.

The figure stays quiet. He puts a hand above his eyes in an attempt to shield the sun. He still can’t fully see her and it’s really starting to get on his nerves. Part of her ankle comes into view, which is enough to satiate his impatience, for now.

He could tell that she was wearing a loose dress. What kind, specifically? How was he to know? He didn’t care for that girly bullshit. It was short enough for him to see her beautiful legs. While his eyes hungrily raked over them, he noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes either.

“What the hell?” he muttered, furrowing his brows. He motioned toward her feet with his hand, “how aren’t you fucking melting out here?”.

As if at the mention of it, he suddenly realized just how hot he had gotten. His sweat was leaving pools in his uniform and he felt much, much weaker. His vision wavered as he tried to keep his balance. He looked back up at her but the figure was gone. Before he could search for her, the alarm on his ship started to blare. His head shot up and turned to see the emergency lights shining. He reached for his radio but it was gone.

It was then that he realized just how close the sun had gotten. Way too close. And way too fast. And somehow it was getting even closer. Fuck. He abandoned any visions he had for the girl. She was probably ugly anyways. He had more than enough women to keep him company onboard. He realized if he wanted to keep his crew and his life, he needed to head back immediately.

He dropped his rifle and ran for his life. The sun was moving impossibly closer and his skin felt like it was burning up. As he neared the ship, his heart dropped at the sound of the engine starting. It was going to lift off without him!

Had even his beautiful crew decided to abandon him?

His despair was interrupted at the sight of the figure from earlier. The girl was alive. And on his ship.

She stood on the edge, holding her hand out. Bill could hardly breathe as the sun overtook half the sky and his skin ached. Yet, he kept running. He would be damned if he let his ship of beauties leave him to die like this.

As he neared the ship, he heard the girl scream at him to jump and it gave him one last kick of energy. As the ship lifted, it kicked up a flurry of sand that blinded him. Moving blindly, he jumped forward as she caught his hand. She held onto him as the spaceship lifted and he dangled by one hand. He looked down as the planet below him burst into a grand ball of flames. The flames seemed to get closer and closer and closer till—

He woke with a start.

Panting and sweaty, his eyes were wide open. He immediately groaned and threw his hand across his face. The sun was beating down on his face through his curtains, and he felt like he was back in his dream. Another stupid dream about imaginary women, and this time he doesn’t even get to see the damn broad. He can even still hear the stupid alarm. Wait. Alarm? Christ, it’s his alarm. He furiously rubs his eyes and sighs. If he’s tardy again, that’s his 4th absence of the month. He’ll get another call from the attendance office and his bitch mom will ground him right on time for the Star Trek marathon on Friday.

He quickly rose, staggering toward his drawer. No brushing or washing today, not like he cared for it usually. He shoved the first shit he could find on and walked to the bathroom. His clock glowing an angry red as he walked past. 7:30. Fuck, not even enough time for a morning sesh. He shoved his porn mag to the side and walked right up to the sink. Splashing cold water on his face, he ran his hand through his hair. Eh, good enough. He slipped his bag on and hurried out the door. What a shitty start to the day.

—----------------------------------

There was one thing he would never get over. He was on his 4th year of high school and there was one question he could never answer. Why was everyone so fucking loud in the morning?

A pack of stupid broads in the corner, laughing and huddled together, throwing glares at the rest of the class. The nerdy, but boring freaks at the front. The sounds of zippers and books slamming as they prepped for class unusually early. Try-hards. Deep laughs hit like nails on a chalkboard in front of him as he watched the meathead jocks shadow box each other and leave a whiff of axe body spray as they moved. At the very front sat his old hag of a teacher who was probably too close to a retirement home to hear a damn thing anymore.

He sighed, trying to look away. Sat in his usual seat, it felt like he never woke up as the bright sun hit him right in the eyes as he turned. He dropped his head into the safety of his arms. Between the usual chatter and the blinding light, he felt like his head would explode. So caught up in feeling like shit, he hardly noticed the new silence.

Shifting in his now unusually loud seat, he finally caught up to reality. Slowly lifting his head, his eyes followed the still class to the front of the room.

There was a girl.

With the glare of the sun, he could hardly see more than her outline. He shoved his hand up like a shield, and finally, he saw her clearly.

Had he died and gone to Valhalla?

Surely, he died in his valiant dedication to fandom and was finally being rewarded for his efforts. With a heavenly glow surrounding her, there stood the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. His eyes raked her top to bottom, from her shining eyes to her shifting feet. Christ, she was a wet dream reincarnated.

As his jaw hung slightly open and his eyes stayed glued to her form, he finally noticed his teacher motion her forwards. There was movement from the girl’s beautiful lips. Only it was too late. He had no idea what she said and she was walking right toward him. He forced his jaw to close and stood up in his seat slightly. Don’t wanna look like a pussy. He gulped as she got clearer and prettier. There was an empty seat next to him and he was certain she was gonna take it.

Visions overtook him of suavely talking her over as she laid her head on her hand, looking at him with the most desperate fuck-me eyes.

He’d hand her a pencil, maybe an eraser too. She’d flutter her lashes at him and laugh at his jokes. She’d put her hand on his shoulder as she laughed and she’d follow him as class ended right to the band room. He didn’t even take band, but he heard from Josh that kids got up to some freaky shit in the closets over there. He’d undress her slowly and– Nope, can’t think that far right now. Think of something else.

As his hopes soared, they were smashed into the fucking ground with the force of Mjölnir as she turned left. Oh, Fuck off. The stupid popular bitches were waving right at her, motioning her towards them. Just like that, he knew it was over. He felt like the world's biggest moron. Every bitch is the same, he knew it. He dropped his head in his hands again. It was going to be a long morning.

The bell brutally tore him from his nap and he immediately scrambled to get out. He speed walked toward the bathrooms, aching to get his one moment of peace going over Pete’s "Sci-fi’s Hottest Whores" scrapbook he made with magazines he stole from the supermarket. Obviously, hanging out by the bathrooms that had an air of shit from the broken plumbing wasn’t his favorite, but it was the club’s only safehaven from bullies. He felt his tense shoulders relax as the club came into sight. As he nodded towards the boys and set his bag down, Jerry asked him how he was doing.

Bill groaned and his eyes narrowed. Jerry immediately regretted asking, but Bill already began his (first) rant of the day as he opened his leaky lunch bag. The club all brought their own lunches to school. They knew better than to go to the lunchline, where they’d get robbed before they even got a glimpse of the food.

Bill ate and spoke at the same time, dropping crumbs everywhere. As he got to the part where he saw the new girl, he set his sandwich down and paused his messy bites. “I’m telling you, she was the most beautiful bitch I’ve ever laid eyes on. I almost bent her over my desk and took her right there,” he grumbled as Pete raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Bill sighed and looked down, “For a second, she looked just like the girl in my dreams. I really thought I had a good premonition going on there.”

Josh was scarfing down his mom’s meatloaf, not entirely interested in the conversation. “So?” he muttered through his mouth full of food.

Bill slammed his hand down as he continued, “She was walking right to me! Till the stupid cheer whores motioned her over. And of course, she took the bait. Just like that, the love of my life is gone.”

Pete rubbed his hands along his knees, ”She might not be yours, but if she’s that hot she might be mine. Send her my way, ya’?” he smirked.

Bill sent him a deep glare, “Over my dead body. She won’t want your shrimp dick, freak.”

Josh laughed, again with his mouth full, “Like she’d want yours. She’d need to be Bionic-1 to see a thing on you.”

Jerry sighed, “She won’t want any of ours if she joins cheer. She’s gonna get passed around the jocks like a football.” He fumbled through his magic cards, trying to sort his sliver deck. He was half listening to the conversation, too distracted by the task in front of him.

Bill kicked the cards right out of his hands, “Don’t say some shit like that around me. You got a cuck fetish or something?” he sneered.

Jerry scrambled to pick up his cards, now definitely too distracted to listen to the conversation. Bill hardly had an appetite after that, realizing how right Jerry might be. He shoved his sandwich down his bag and wiped his hands on his pants. He took Pete’s scrapbook from Josh’s hands, “Gimme that. Like you can see it over your fat fupa,” he grumbled. Josh protested for it back but it fell on deaf ears.

______________________________

He hadn’t thought about her again for the rest of the school day. Once he was free from hell, anything school related trickled right out of his mind. He was walking out the main gate with the club, arguing about the X-Men Age of Apocalypse comic that made a totally bullshit turn in his opinion. His day had seemed to finally even out.

With a gentle breeze flowing through the trees and his jacket tied around his waist, he felt much lighter in the moment. The clumsy steps of the group against the pavement was all he could hear as he passionately continued his rant. He had just finished slapping Jerry across the head and cackling with Pete when a movement in front of him caught his eye.

He almost bit down on his tongue as he realized who it was. He felt a sudden lump in his throat and didn’t even notice the pause in his steps till the rest of the group were a few feet ahead of him.

It was her. She was walking in the opposite direction as the group, straight toward them. He stood in the middle of the path and anyone with an ounce of awareness in the moment would notice that he was in her way. Luckily, he was the dumbest motherfucker in the world at the moment. He failed to move out of the collision course and her gaze was too busy with her bag as she fumbled to get something out.

She rammed right into him and they fell with a thud.

He took note of her heavenly scent before anything else. It was almost good enough to distract him from how much of a fool he had just made out of himself. He didn’t have much time to ponder over it though, as he sat up on his knees and noticed her bag’s contents littered along the ground. His eyes lazily raked over the pile in his daze.

Until he spotted it.

If he was dazed before, he felt on the verge of a stroke now. His blood rushed to his head and his heart thundered like it would burst out of his chest. He started breathing manually as he felt himself break out in a cold sweat. His hands fumbled at his sides in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

Comics. Not just any comics. Not the stupid, girly romance kind. Dick Tracy comics. It didn’t take a detective to realize what that meant. As if his body was moving on its own, his hands shakily picked up the comics and he turned toward her.

The angel rubbed her shoulder as she looked up at him with a small smile on her shiny lips. Her eyes were soft and glittered as she looked at him. At least he thought so.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking at all,” she said sheepishly.

Her voice felt like warm honey and the light seeping through the trees enveloped her in a beautiful glowing frame. Her head tilted and he felt as if he could see the gears turn in her mind. “We have a class together, right? I remember you,” she said with a smile.

At his newfound discovery that he had just gone mute, she continued. “I remember you because of your Magik shirt, I think you’ve got good taste.” His mind short circuited as he looked down. He had no memory of even picking it out this morning and it was slightly stained… wait, how did she know who Magik was?

He felt like he was going to pass out and struggled to find his voice. It cracked as he choked the question out, “Are these yours?” he questioned as he held out the comics. Her eyes widened and she quickly reached out for them.

“Oh fuck, yeah, those are mine. Hope I didn’t scratch them up, they were in mint condition when I got them,” she said as she squinted and flipped them around to inspect them.

And he was a goner.

He smiled at her. A real, albeit shy, smile. Maybe he had never woken from his dream after all.

Still in amazement, his thoughts stumbled out of his upturned lips, “You’re heavy.” She tilted her head at him with a blank expression. Oh. Wait, fuck. “I. I meant your bag. It looks heavy. Ya need help?” he stammered as his face burned.

She smiled softly and nodded “Yeah, thanks.” She dusted her knees as she rose, “so, you like Dick Tracy too?” she asked.

He nodded, suddenly growing uncharacteristically shy. Fuck. How the hell do you talk to girls? He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants as he rushed to pick up the rest of her things. It was the only thing he could think to do as his mind scrambled to think of a pick-up line. Should he tell her he had a 10 pack of condoms ready if she could handle it? He wiped the thought from his mind, he didn’t even know where to get condoms or how they worked. Although, obviously she liked him if she was keeping up a conversation with him for this long. Maybe it was worth looking into. He hurriedly stuffed her things back in her bag before putting it on. Was he seriously gonna carry a girl’s bag for her? He looked up, ready to protest.

His words died on his tongue when she held her hand out and smiled at him. Christ, l need to see her in some erotic cosplay. As his shaky hand touched hers, he felt like he was born again. Her soft skin made his heart throb and he felt like he just came down with a fever. I’m touching a real life girl. His knees felt weak as he attempted to rise. Any issue he had with carrying her bag was gone.

He’d kick a kid into oncoming traffic if she asked, as long as she’d keep touching him like that.

____________________________

Unbeknownst to Bill, his friends stood frozen in place a few feet away. The club was too shocked to do anything but watch. A cold, eerie feeling washed over them all. A girl being nice to Bill. And Bill being nice to a girl. They’ve got to be in hell. The world has to be ending. Someone’s gotta call the fucking police.

“What the fuck,” muttered Pete.

Jerry stood slack jawed and Josh hadn’t even noticed he dropped his brand new Superboy comic.

A cold breeze carried their silence. Yet, Bill had never felt warmer.

#welcome to eltingville #bill dickey x reader #bill dickey #josh levy #jerry stokes #pete dinunzio #the eltingville club #eltingville jerry #eltingville bill #eltingville pete #eltingville josh #bill dickey x you #eltingville fanfic #eltingville x reader #bill probably stinks in this & reader doesnt know him well enough to tell him to brush his shit #dorkin look away from this pls #eltingville oc #eltingville self insert

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dulcet-aurora · 2 months ago

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permanent . damian wayne x reader. ⸼ ࣪ ✿ ❛ when you press me to your heart, i'm in a world apart. ❜

❪ in which. ❫ what better an idea to immortalize your best friend in time.

⸼ ࣪ ✿ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. pining, pining, pining. did i mention pining? slightly ooc damian but like whatever i just want a yearning man. ⸼ ࣪ ✿ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕. 1.3k. ⸼ ࣪ ✿ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔. @di-lucss, @ephemerensis, @dollishmehrayan, @aangelinakii, @minorlyatfault. ⸼ ࣪ ✿ 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒓. inspired by thinking of you by sister sledge! the writing is an actual excerpt from my diary about a man because if he won't yearn i obviously have to. ignore how shitty this is because it was 10pm and i miss the girl i used to be. enjoy!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝒊f i were any other version of myself in this timestream i would say that i am exhausted of being in love. my thoughts are blurred by a fog where each particle of water is one tiny thing creating this sole, large, mystical being that cloud my senses and drive me half to insanity.

but i am a changed man and unlike the child formed of snapped bones and spilled blood that was deemed as useless as water, i have found myself thriving on the galleons of blood pumped daily by my palpitating heart for this girl. she is magic incarnate and i am under her spell. i cannot explain it and it is terrifying and awfully thrilling all at once because this is the first time i have not been able to draw a conclusion or a reasonable answer based on fact nor logic to my feelings. my feelings themselves have always been buried— crushed by burdens and grandfather's teachings that emotion was weakness, but for some reason she has latched them by a hook and drawn them up and claimed them as her own.

in my own way i fear her. she is the very opposite of every lesson i've been taught, the moral behind every beating i took. she took my heart of stone and cracked it in two and found the humanity within me, glowing like the contents of a geode and it shines just for her. i do not know how she managed it. i do not know how i let her manage to do it. i have never been vulnerable and never did i think i would ever be vulnerable and yet i stand here pouring out my feelings in ink like the blood i spilled as a child.

yes, it on paper but i would rather stain the carcass of a tree than the blank canvas which is her and risk leaving the mark of my impurity on something as pristine as her. i cannot bear damaging her because i felt too much.

— d.t.w.

damian sat on the floor at the foot of the piano bench, the tip of his pen hovering limply over the paper. his feelings stared back at him like a mutilated corpse, ugly and disgusting and something he couldn't believe he'd done in a moment of clouded judgement. the sound of the piano echoes through the empty ballroom of wayne manor. the space was empty and rarely used more than twice a month for when bruce held a gala. you sat at the beautiful grand piano, your fingers delicate on the keys as the instrument sang a solemn melody.

you pressed aimless keys as the moment of serenity faded and the melody fizzled out. "do you ever get frustrated with a piece of your art?" you sighed, leaning forward on the bench to peer at the sheet music of your newest piece that you'd scribbled out on a few sheets of loose-leaf paper. the penmanship was horrendous, chicken scratch only a musician could read in between wrinkles and creases from being folded time and time over to fit in your pocket.

damian snapped his journal shut. "exasperation in the creation of beauty is inevitable," he said. "you as a musician should already know this."

"you always make it look so effortless, though," you groaned, supporting your weight with your hands as you leaned back on the bench.

"do i?" he arched a dark eyebrow, his viridian eyes glinting with something between curiosity and amusement.

"yes," you sighed. "you can paint, you can sculpt, you can write the perfect essay. art comes naturally to you."

damian pondered this for a moment. "i come from a long line of individuals who took pride in the destruction in beautiful things," he said. "i suppose i did not want to be like them, when there are so many specks of the heavens in the world around us. i chose to trap them in time then to make them memories."

"you would be a lovely playwright," you declared after a beat. you cleared your throat, "i bethink thou art something of a twenty-first century shakespeare." you reached over the side of the piano bench and gripped the cover of his journal.

damian's heart stopped. he yanked the journal from your grasp so hard you pitched forward and had to steady yourself by gripping the piano. "methinks you jest." he snapped.

"methinks thou hadst a stick up thy ass."

"methinks thou shouldst shut thy trap." damian tilted his head back to look up at you.

you put a hand over your mouth and laughed, and damian's heart jackhammered against his ribs. that laugh, that feeling reminded him why he chose to paint your smile that he saw every time he closed his eyes, why he sculpted your jaw that he dreamed to hold with the tenderness he was never shown, and why he made you a permanent fixture in time with his words.

"play me that piece again," he said, his voice soft, almost reverent.

"you've heard it a thousand times," you complained, wringing your hands. "along with my tears and sobs and fussing."

"i enjoy it," damian said simply, rising from the floor and sitting beside you on the bench. your knees pressed against each other. damian wishes it was your lips.

"well, you have to," you pouted, "you're my best friend."

"i am not obligated to 'liking' anything, i enjoy what is enjoyable and your piece fits the criteria of pleasurable things," he said. "so play it again."

you groaned and before damian could even exhale to protest again you poised your hands over the piano and began to play.

magic flowed from your hands, infusing the keys with some sort of golden ichor with every press of your fingers. it was a piece in f minor, but transitioning to a sweeter major with a signal of a small breath from your lips. it was incomplete, damian could see the question marks replacing notes on the staff on the last page of music but, oh, was it beautiful. if your hands hadn't both been on the keys he would've laced your fingers together.

eventually the melody tapered off again and you sighed in defeat, slumping your elbows against the keys with an exasperated huff. "yeah, that's that," you sighed.

"it is a lovely composition," damian said earnestly.

you smiled faintly. "i had a great inspiration."

he tilted his head. "did you?"

you sighed, your gaze almost dreamy. "the best."

your words stuck with damian all day, even till the dead of night where he lay awake and his brain did its usual run through of the thought of you. he lay in his bed and you were tucked against his side, passed out after hours of trying to figure out the right notes. your sheet music lay on your stomach and your pen was clasped loosely between your fingers. damian sighed.

"foolish girl," he mumbled, brushing hair from your face. you sighed in your sleep and damian softened. he took the sheet music off your abdomen and plucked your pen from your limp hand. he turned around as gently as he could to set your sheet music on his nightside table. as he laid it down on the top he caught a glance of the title and his breath hitched.

damian's theme. a musical memoir to the boy i adore. written in a handwriting that was messy and barely legible and that could only be yours.

he stiffened. "i had a great inspiration. the best." you had said. his heart slammed against his ribs once more and he was sure his bones were painted red from how often that happened. he looked over at you, his sleepy musician, his modern day clara schumann, the reason he chose to create instead of destroy.

damian made art because it was permanent, and it was precious. he'd never felt precious or had anything remotely permanent in his life other than the ghosts from his past that followed him. but now he realized that he truly was treasured. and it wasn't so bad.

#❪ dulcet-aurora ❫ 我 ⸼ ࣪ ✿#caroline writes ₊ ⊹ ❀#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul #dc comics #dc #dc x reader #damian al ghul x reader

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anakinstwinklebunny · 3 months ago

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hi bunny 💕 may i request bodyguard knight ani and princess? and maybe their love has to be hidden? i can imagine them being so in love and pure 🥺 and he's so gentle with her .. my heart !

PAIRING: bodyguard!anakin x princess!reader

FLUFF ❦

The library was rather quiet. Surrounded by old, almost ancient for you, books, you wandered through and through the shelves, looking for yet another inspiring lecture to read. Sunlight shined through the stained glass windows, painting the marble floors in hues of gold and rose. You could see dust particles float lazily in the air, catching the light, adding to the whole aura of this place.

Yet in all of that, Anakin sees only you. You - sitting by the window, while the soft fabric of your gown spilled over the seat, head tilted slightly as you lost yourself to a novel, lips parted just enough to leave him aching to touch them

And God help him, he can’t look away.

But, he shouldn’t do that. After all, he's supposed to be watching the door, guarding your life with his own, and not staring at you like a starved for touch man. Like he never felt a woman's touch before.. Yet it’s hard to remember that when you smile, with your eyes lighting up at something you’ve read, fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of the page or the leather, old cover.

His lips parted, sinking in your eternal beauty as his heart stuttered, then beat faster, harder, painfully so even. He knows you shouldn’t be his to love. His devotion, his angel. You shouldn't even be called his at all.

“Ani?”

Your voice was soft, hesitant, like a sunlight in the spring's heat, like a warm shiver of wind's touch. He straightened immediately, clearing his throat, the hand resting on the hilt of his sword twitching with nerves.

“Yes, Princess?”

You looked at him, and what he could name, you tried to study his expression, your brows drawn together, concern swimming and pooling in your eyes. “You’re so far away,” you murmured. “Is something wrong?”

Only that I can’t touch you ~ he thought

He shook his head, offering a small smile. “Just keeping a watch,” he said, voice even, careful. Emotionless, so he'd not be so ready to be read. But his answer didn’t seem to soothe you. If anything, your frown only deepened.

“You’re not usually this quiet,” you noted, tilting your head with a soft smile that was enough to make him want to kneel at your feet.

His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, leather creaking beneath his gloves. It was the only thing that could distract him - fingers flexing, curling, gripping tight enough to hurt a normal person, but not really him. Anything to keep him from reaching for you, from brushing his fingers along the silk of your gown, from cupping your cheek, tilting your head up and—

“Perhaps I’ve nothing of worth to say,”

Your lips quirked, a delicate twist that made his mouth go dry. “I doubt that,” you teased lightly

Anakin cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away, eyes fixing on the floor instead. It was safer—he couldn’t betray himself if he wasn’t looking at you.

But he should have known better already. You never made it easy.

You rose from your seat, the scent of lavender and honey wrapping around his throat, squeezing just right to make his mind go off. His jaw clenched when he felt the barest brush of your fingers against his gloved hand—light, tentative, completely forbidden.

“Ani, you’ve been… different, lately,” you confessed, eyes searching his face. “Distant.”

“I’ve been trying to do my duty, Princess,” he replied stiffly, yet his voice faltered when your fingers slipped down, brushing against his wrist.

Gods above, he was a weak man.

“Your duty,” you echoed, voice small. “And what is your duty, Anakin?”

“To protect you,” he bit out, almost too harsh, jaw clenching when your eyes flinched. Damn it.

To love you.

To worship you.

To fall to his knees for you if you so much as asked.

Your eyes were too bright, too hopeful, too beautiful, like the rest of you, and he couldn’t lie to you. Not when you were close enough for him to see the faint freckles dusting your cheeks, the flutter of your lashes, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath.

Not when your fingers were curling around his wrist—soft, kind of trembling. Your lips parted, eyes flickering with hurt that made his chest splinter, crack. He couldn't bear it anymore, really. With a slow sigh that fell from his swollen lips, he leaned in, daring himself to connect himself, in a way, with you. Light brush of your mouth against him made him spiral, his other hand so gently, so worshipfully grabbed your waist, curling into the thick material of your dress.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake

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ilium-ilia · 13 days ago

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you're an angel // i'm a dog

kyle "gaz" garrick x fem!reader | omegaverse | alpha!gaz, omega!reader | masterlist

Chapter Five: fever

tw: minor smut

The office is quiet today.

Every particle in the air vibrates at a frequency that sends a buzz barreling through the base of your skull. White bone jittering into enamel, teeth aching with each tick of the clock nailed into the wall above your head. Your co-worker types away on her phone, and the sound of her nails tapping against the screen only makes your jaw tighten.

Something is off. An atom out of place. Molecules rearranged until the base source is unrecognizable. Wood turned to stone. Food turned to rot.

It isn’t until John MacTavish enters your office that you realize what’s wrong.

He’s a kind man. Everyone calls him Soap, and it’s a name you’ve picked up on too as a way to differentiate between the two John’s within the same team, though no one’s been brave enough to tell you how the nickname came around. Bright eyes glistening with an uncanny blue, his fingers tap against a thin stack of papers with your name written all over it. Something to file away and process. He greets you before holding it out for you to take, letting the silage of John Price wash over you, and though you take it with a smile, something stirs within your chest.

“Fresh off the printing press,” Soap teases.

“Hmm. Still warm,” you play. Pausing, you look at the heading as you allow yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. “Is Kyle doing alright?”

Soap’s lips press together in a tight smile at your question. “What do you mean?”

Momentarily forgetting about your work, you put the new report to the side as your shoulders tense with a shrug. “Well, it’s just that he’s usually the one to bring me Captain Price’s reports, and I realize I haven’t really seen him at all the last few days.” You attempt to shrug off your tension and brush it aside with a taut laugh. “Guess I’m just worried about him is all.”

He nods along with your words as you speak, attentive to every syllable. Soap leans back on his heels, hands shooting up towards his chest. Though he’s been back from deployment for a week or so now, his brain must still be in combat mode with fingers attempting to reach for straps that aren’t there.

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout him, he’s fine,” Soap assures you. “Just caught a wee bug. Price sent him home for a little while until it’s run its course.”

There’s something hollow about his words—something you can sniff out but can’t pin. “Oh. That’s unfortunate.”

“Aye. He’s tough though,” he humors.

There’s a lull in the conversation. A doldrum that leaves your ears ringing. For a long moment, neither of you make a move to speak, but you’re not ignorant to the way Soap’s eyes scour you. Surveying every nook and cranny, pupils dilating at the clean crook of your neck.

“Though, he’s been alone for a couple of days. I’ve hardly had the time to drop by and check on him,” Soap adds flippantly. “Been meaning to, but thing’s ‘ve been so busy lately since we got back, especially with him being down for the time being and—”

“I can check on him.”

A grin. Bright teeth closed by thin lips—Soap leans forward. “Aye, really? That’d be real sweet of you.”

“Yeah, sure. Just give me his address. I’ll drop off some stuff for him. Do you know what he’s sick with? What his symptoms are?”

There’s a glint in Soap’s eyes. Something that shines so bright it momentarily blinds you, rendering your gaze useless to his smirk. “Ah, just a bad fever is all, pet.”

The moment the clock strikes five, you’re rushing off base and to the pharmacy. These walls and shelves are familiar to you—this is not your first time helping someone sick. When you were a kid, your mother always told you that you should be a nurse. Always ready and eager to help others; more so than the average omega. You’re not sure why the urge overwhelms you as much as it does, this desire to aid others. Bandaging the bent wing of a bird. Cooing to kittens as you feed them with bottles hardly larger than the size of their own bodies.

Maybe you just like being useful.

You scrape off several cold medicines from the shelves before approaching the counter with your arms full. Cough medicine with a sleep aid, acetaminophen, pseudoephedrine—the pharmacy tech looks at you with raised brows. There’s enough here to cure a small battalion. Certainly enough to raise suspicions within the system. You set aside the pseudoephedrine with a breathy chuckle before snatching the other items and booking it to the grocery store.

Canned soup. Something with high salt. Electrolytes. Then, something of substance. Plain crackers, bread—you think of things that used to comfort you when you were sick as a child and add those to your trolly. A side of hard candies. Animal crackers.

You think of your mother. Her arm around your side, your face buried against her with a cold rag on your forehead, small body hidden beneath swathes of blankets that could have suffocated you. You swear, each time she planted a kiss on your face everything felt lighter, as if your sickness was siphoned out of you with her touch alone. Though you might not be able to offer Kyle that, you’ll do the best you can with a replacement.

Kyle’s home comes into view just before the sun kisses the horizon. His off base housing is more accommodating than you ever would have expected—a quaint townhouse standing tall with faded bricks and obscured windows. Not a single morsel of light bleeds through the panes, and if it wasn’t for Soap’s word, you’d be convinced that he isn’t even home at all.

It takes several minutes for him to answer the door at your beckoning. Knuckles tapping against solid wood, free hand clutching the bags of groceries—he’s shirtless when he undoes the lock. Padded muscles glow dimly in the porch light as he peeks through the open crack soaked in sweat. He’s panting as if he’s just run a marathon, chest heaving with each inhale, eyes widening as they lock onto you.

“Oh no. No, no, no,” he murmurs.

Kyle stumbles away from the door, not even closing it all the way before he vanishes into his den. Blinking, you follow after him, groceries long forgotten by his work boots as your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness that consumes you.

“Kyle, is everything alright? I brought you—”

It hits you. A tidal wave of redolence crashes down around your body, weakening your knees to the point they nearly give way beneath you. It’s thick with musk and desire, and it envelopes you with saccharine whispers just as you make sense of the sight before you. Kyle, sitting on his haunches, spine curved forward, fingers curling against the hardwood floor as if he’s ready to rip the building apart from the ground up.

The realization knocks the air from your lungs—this sweet beta isn’t a beta at all, and he’s in rut.

“Please leave.” He’s begging through gritted teeth, tongue hardly kept in check behind his incisors, eyes refusing to look up at you. “You don’t wanna be here for this, pet.”

Your heart can hardly stand the sight of him—Kyle Garrick, always so kind and sweet with his playful banter. Now, he looks scared. Terrified that something will spring forth—something he can’t stop. Ignoring his warning, you step forward, hands already reaching for him.

“I was on suppressants,” he heaves. Though he’s shirtless, he still has trousers on; a pair of joggers that can hardly hold anything back. Even with his torso curled forward, you can still see the want growing below his navel; how it pulses and screams for something—someone. “Been on them for a long time, love. But you… your scent… It drives me mad. Cuts through me like a knife.”

Another step, you’re lowering yourself so you’re closer to his level—a skittish creature attempting to snuggle up to a predator for warmth. “When was the last time you were in rut?”

“Too fucking long,” he snaps. “Please go. I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Oh, Kyle.” You’re on your knees now, hands resting on your thighs for only a split moment before you decide to reach for him. His metacarpals flex beneath your palm, as his nails dig into the wood—you swear you see scratch marks left in their wake. “You’re always working so hard to take care of everyone. I see it. How you fuss over the others. How you’re always wanting to be there for everything. Let me help you.”

He finally garners the bravery to look you in the eyes now, even though he’s certain it’ll destroy him. “You dunno what you’re asking for, pet. You shouldn’t have to do this.”

“Kyle, I want to do this,” you assure.

Your hands wander up over his arm. Crossing his wrist, his elbow, along his shoulder and the side of his neck, all the way until you’re cupping his cheek. When you add your other hand, it’s all over. He falls apart like wet tissue paper caught in a storm. He leans forward, honey-gaze darkening as his hands yank on your shirt, dragging your bodies together.

Needy canines graze against your bottom lip as he kisses you, taut fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt to the point you swear you hear it tear. Everything swirls so quickly you can’t comprehend it. His hands over your body, tongue in your mouth, brine on your lips—then it’s your back colliding with the ground, his knees slotting between your thighs, a whirlwind of desire culminating between your bodies.

His mouth trails lower, kissing over the valley between your breasts, tracing a line to your stomach and hips. “You’re too good to me, pet. You… are you sure?”

His tongue questions but his actions have already made up their mind. Fingers curling into your hips, torso sliding along yours—his nose nudges at your fly before his head completely slots between your legs, face pushed up against your sex. You gasp as he breathes in, mind spiraling as his scent overwhelms you into submission.

“I’m yours for tonight, Kyle,” you assure. But he’s already lost in you. Mouth against the inside of your thigh, nipping at you through the fabric, he growls when you wiggle, skin too sensitive. “All mine,” he says, and it sounds dangerously close to a promise.

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#ilium writing #kg ilia #alpha!gaz #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod omegaverse

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