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hazelfoureyes · 6 months

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I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late.

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence.

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth.

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash.

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off.

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim.

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now.

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow.

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of.

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter.

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you.

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.”

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better.

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so.

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up.

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his.

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror.

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks.

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean.

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile.

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely.

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek.

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon.

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?”

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before.

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad? Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star.

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes.

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.”

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.”

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers.

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man.

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die.

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying.

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy.

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving.

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously. He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there.

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat.

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead.

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps.

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you?

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth.

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.”

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning.

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move.

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch.

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm.

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you.

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone. You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean.

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

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socialistexan · 2 years

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Hey, remember 10 years ago when Marriage Equality was upheld and a bunch of cis LGB people decided that they got theirs so fuck everyone else, but especially trans people?

Remember when they acted like trans rights being the next big target meant that their rights were safe and they decided to either a) check out, keep their heads low, and allow trans people to die on the alter; or b) actively joined the fight against trans rights in a misguided attempt to get in good with their oppressors.

This is a wake up call to those people. You aren't safe either, you never were. Once they started winning victories against us trans folks they were going to come after you, but this time with the cultural momentum (and 3 more SCOTUS Justices) they didn't have last time.

Lawrence v Texas is on the chopping block, you better pay fucking attention.

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luvs4matt · 4 months

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Can you do headcannons about all the times matt and reader got caught

𝟑 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐌.𝐒 & 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - bf!matt x sub!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - SMUT 18+, sir kink, nicknames (baby, honey, hun, princess, my girl), squirting, breeding, riding, missionary, orgasm denial, pervert!chris, toys (vibrator), p in v, begging, getting caught, edging, overstimulation, couch sex, no aftercare (matt obvi does aftercare tho)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 3 different scenarios of when reader and matt got caught during sexual acts.

𝟏.

• the first time you and matt got caught, you didn’t even know you had been caught.

matt was laying down with you laying on top of him as you bounced up and down on his cock. your head was buried in his neck muffling all of your moans and crys of his name.

his hands were gripping your waist helping you, his head was buried in your shoulder with his eyes clamped shut “you’re doing so good for me honey” he praises.

you let out a louder cry as your pleasure increased “sh sh sh, don’t want them to hear do you?” you struggled to speak from how matt was now meeting your hips in the middle “n- no sir”

“then stay quiet baby” little did you know, chris stood in shock in the doorway as he watched this whole interaction happening. he originally was going to sneak in the room to scare the couple.

but when he seen the situation, he was too shocked to move. he seen you cum all over matt, and that’s when he realized what he is seeing and doing, quickly leaving the scene quietly.

𝟐.

• the second time was caused by you screaming, and they thought you were hurt.

matt had been edging you for the last hour, he was using a vibrator on you to make the feeling more intense. you were sore from all of your ruined orgasms “you wanna cum princess?” you rapidly nod your head, begging to release “yes! yes yes yes! please! please!”

“10…” he starts counting down

“9…” you aren’t allowed to cum until he was done counting down

“8…” you had been so desperate for your orgasm that it hurt

“7…” you were using all of your strength to hold back

“6…” only six more seconds, can’t be that hard, right?

“5…” a front door slams but neither of you acknowledged it

“4…” you let out a scream from matt suddenly sticking a finger inside of you

“3…” nick and chris hear your scream

“2…” they start to run towards matts room to make sure you’re okay

“1…” chris and nick burst through the door

“cum.” both you and matts head look at the door

“oh my god, i- I’m so sor- ah fuck! no no no! i- i’m c- oh my god!” your orgasm hit you unexpectedly

your hips lift off of the bed as you turn on your side, trying to get the vibrations off of you but they won’t. of course your hands were handcuffed behind your back, and the vibe he was using on you wasn’t handheld.

“please! take it off! take it off!” chris had almost immediately ran out of the room when he walked in on you, while nick is still standing there frozen “not yet hun” he looks back at the door to see nick standing “you can go now!” matt yelled

“oh, yeah, right.” he hurried out of the room, grabbing his laptop to find a new therapist.

𝟑.

• the most recent time you got caught, you weren’t even surprised considering you were on the couch in the middle of the night.

your back was against the couch as matt made slow, deep thrust into you. “you feel good baby?” his voice was low so no one would wake up and catch you at 1 am.

“y- yes” you whimper, your moans were muffled by either biting your lip or matts hand over your mouth “being such a good girl f’me” chris walked up the stairs quietly hoping to wake no one up.

he walked by the couch, not noticing you, and you didn’t notice him. he was getting close to the fridge to grab a drink, but came to an abrupt stop when he heard your moans and whimpers.

“matt, i- i’m gonna cum” he quickens his thrust a bit more “can i? please” he places soft kisses on your jaw “go ahead baby”

“t- thank you” your noises start to pick up in pitch the closer, and closer you get to the edge “open your mouth” he demands. you expected him to spit or stick his tongue in your mouth, but instead he stuffed your panties in your mouth.

“gotta keep you quiet honey, don’t want chris to hear how pretty my girl sounds.”

chris felt weird for hearing all of this go down, but he felt confused for why matt mentioned his name. he stood in the kitchen, listening to your muffled moans as you reached your climax.

matt continued to thrust into you, which got you over stimulated. he could tell you were trying to say something so he removed the panties from your mouth “t- too much matty, i- i can’t”

your voice cracked while tears built in your eyes from the overstimulation “yes you can, give me one more then ill stop, understand?” your whimpers start to get louder again “y- yes sir”

he stuffs your panties back into your mouth. he watches your face contort in pleasure, your third orgasm of the night approaching (matt the munch), but this one was different, it felt like you were going to pee.

matt could tell that and started rubbing your clit. his orgasm was approaching just as fast as yours “you gonna let me cum inside of of you? hm?” you nod your head, desperate for him to fill you.

chris walks to the first step, standing behind the wall. “fucking shit, i’m cumming baby, cum with me, i know you wanna squirt all over this cock” you feel him finish inside of you which triggered your release.

your juices fly out from between you two with a loud moan from you and a loud groan from matt. chris finally walks down the stairs to his bedroom, he should be disgusted from what he has heard but he can’t help it when he takes care of his ‘problem’ by thinking of your noises, your words, your reactions, he can’t help but want to be the one cumming inside of you.

he never got his drink.

#smut #luvs4matt #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #smutty smut smut #chris sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #tumblr fyp #christopher sturniolo #headcanon

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bsturnzmtt · 3 months

Text

Accident (Part 3) - M. Sturniolo

Enemies to lovers

Part 1

Part 2

Paring: dom!Matt x sub!fem reader

Contains/warnings: Smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), mention creampie, overstimulation, rough sex, pet names, getting caught, filming while doing it.

Summary: You are best friends with Nick and Chris Sturniolo, Matt hates you for some reason. One day you're home alone at their house, or so you thought so. Looking for a charger you enter Matt's room. You walked in on Matt doing something no one wants to walk into...

—————————————————————————————————————

Matt gives you one last look, a mix of satisfaction in his gaze, before he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. You're left lying there, his cum drying on your thighs, his words still echoing in your mind…

Next morning…

You wake up, your body still sore from yesterday. You want to get Matt out of your head, but you can’t. Your head replays what happened over and over again. Matt’s stuck in your head. You can’t believe he just left, like nothing happened, after all that happened. He left you lying there like a used toy.

*You get a call from Nick*

“Hey Nick”

“Hey, what happened yesterday? I thought you were going to wait till we get back?”

“… right. Uhm yeah, I just wasn’t feeling well”

“Ohhh are you better now? What happened?”

“I’m fine, it was just a headache”

“Ohh okay okay, but we can hangout today, right? Me and Chris bought a shit ton of snacks, you should come over”

“That’s cool, I’ll shower and head over there”

“Great! See ya”

*End of call*

Y/n pov:

Ugh I know this is a bad idea, Matt’s gonna be there. I feel nervous or embarrassed? No! I can’t let him win. This is probably what he wants, for me to feel this way. God I hate him. I’m just gonna ignore him, like I always do. I’ll act like nothing happened. And I can’t let it happen again, no matter how good it was.

I stand up barely my legs hurt so much. Somehow I get in the shower and start showering. I finish showering and put on a chill outfit. I throw on some baggy jeans, and a white baby tee. Brush my hair add some perfume and I’m ready to go. I get in my Uber and 10 minutes later I’m in their house. I knock on their door, and Chris opens.

End of Y/n pov.

You arrive at Sturniolo residence, your heart beating faster than usual. Chris opens the door and greets you. You can feel Matt's presence looming over you before you even see him. When you finally do see him sitting comfortably in the couch, he's giving you a cocky smile that immediately makes your blood boil. You decide to ignore and walk into the kitchen with Chris, where Nick was.

“Hey Nick!”

“Heyyy glad you could make it, there’s some coffee in the pot if you want.”

“Thanks” you pour yourself a cup of coffee. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Matt walks into the kitchen without saying a word.

You take a sip of coffee, trying to calm your nerves. The tension in the room is palpable, and you can feel Matt's eyes on you, like he's undressing you with his gaze. You still ignore him, you start making conversation with Nick and Chris as Matt serves him self a cup of coffee. He turns around taking a sip of his coffee. He chuckles at the sight of you struggling to sit on the tall barstool.

“Struggling much?” He let out with a chuckle interrupting the conversation going on. “Looks like yesterday was leg day at the gym.” He adds.

You let out an awkward laugh. “Actually, it was. You know what they say, ‘no pain, no gain’ right?”

Matt chuckles at your response, taking a sip of his coffee. "I couldn't agree more."

“Wait, didn’t you had a headache yesterday? That’s why you left.” Nick asks.

“Right… but a headache is no excuse for not working out, plus the headache lasted way less than I imagined I would, I just took a pill and forgot about it.” You respond and then give a teasing look at Matt.

Matt observes you, not entirely convinced, his eyes narrowing for a second before he speaks. "You know what else works for headaches? A good night's sleep. But you didn't get that either, did you?"

“You know… you’re actually right. I didn’t. I had this weird nightmare about this stupid man, I don’t remember much.”

"What can I say? Men are weird creatures. We're hard to understand and even harder to forget." He takes another sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim of the cup.

“Can you guys stop fighting for a second, or whatever it is what you do.” Nick says annoyed because you guys always fight.

“Nick, our Uber is here.” Chris says.

“Uber? Where are we going?” You ask.

“It’s just me and Nick, we ordered some stuff and we have to go pick it up.” Chris responds.

“Great” you say sarcastically, and rolling your eyes.

“Please don’t kill each other while we’re gone.” Nick says to you and Matt.

"Don't worry, we won't." Matt replies with a smug smile.

“Don’t take too long!” You say as Nick and Chris are walking out the door.

Matt watches as they leave, before turning back to you, his stupid smirk widening.

You roll your eyes at him and walk to the living room, and sit on the couch.

"You know, you have a cute eye roll. I would love to make you do that more often." He follows you to the living room, sitting down next to you on the couch.

“Oh I’m sure you would.” You respond.

Matt lets out a low chuckle, his hand finding its way to your thigh,squeezing gently. "Well, I do have a few ideas on how to get that reaction out of you.

You can feel yourself getting wet by his words and touch, but you quickly pull yourself together, not letting him win. “Keep them to yourself.” You respond, as you push his hand away from your thigh.

Matt's smile only grows at your response, he finds you absolutely irresistible, and this little chase is only turning him on more. His hand drops from your thigh, but he does not back away. “You mad or something?”

You can’t believe he’s actually asking you that. “Mad? No… Why would I be?”

“Mmhh maybe you’re mad because I left yesterday.” He says sarcastically. You stay silent. “Aww is that it?” He chuckles. “You’re mad because you didn’t get aftercare?”

“No! Shut up. I told you im not mad. I just… find you annoying.” You reply. Matt smirks, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your words.

He loves how hard you try to resist him, and that only fuels his lust for you even more. "Annoying, huh?" Matt leans in close. "Is that why you're squeezing your thighs? Because you find me annoying? Or is it because you’re wet?" He trails a finger along your jawline, tilting your head to face him. His eyes darken with desire as he notices your nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. You stay silent, hating how right he is.

Matt takes advantage of your silence, closing the gap between you and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, exploring the depths of your mouth with a possessive hunger. He breaks away after a moment, leaving you breathless and flushed. "So, you're not mad then?"

“I fucking hate you.” You say with your eyes filled with desire and lust.

Matt smirks, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your words. "You're lying." He murmurs against your lips before kissing you again, slowly and deeply. His hands roam over your body, exploring every inch of you as if he owns you. "Say it again."

You’re soaked at this point, your body feels on fire. “I hate you so fucking much.”

Matt growls, before claiming your lips once more. Despite your words, your body betrays the desire and need that you have for him, your actions telling a completely different story than the words coming out of your mouth. "I love it when you curse at me," Matt says, his voice low and husky. "It's so fucking hot."

He leans in close, his hot breath against your ear. "You want to hate me, baby? Fine. Hate me while I make you cum." He whispers before trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. "You want me to make you fucking scream?" You basically whine at his words, then desperately nodding. His hands move to your waist, lifting you up as he carries you to his bedroom.

Matt tosses you onto the bed, crawling over you. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them and your underwear down in a teasing manner.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name," he promises, his fingers already working to unzip his jeans.

He finishes undressing you and himself, then you see as he pulls out his phone and sets it down in the nightstand, giving the camera a perfect angle of you two.

"Oh, you have no idea how fucking hot you look, spread out like this for me," Matt says, leaning down to kiss you again. His lips trail down your chest, stopping to suck on your nipples as his free hand continues to play with your other breast.

"You know, if I post this, I could" he smirks, nodding towards his phone. "Make you famous."

Matt lips move lower as he kisses a path down your stomach. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you open wider for him. "Fuck, you're so wet already,"

Matt buries his face between your thighs, his tongue flicking against your clit. He teases you for a few seconds. "I'm going to eat this sweet pussy until you cum all over my face," Matt growls, his hot breath against your already drenched folds. He dives in, tongue delving deep as he licks and sucks your clit with a fervor that makes you arch off the bed.

“Mmhp fuck” you moan.

Matt growls as your hands grip the sheets beneath you, using them to push yourself harder against his mouth. "You taste so fucking good, I'll never get enough of this sweet pussy," Matt moans against you, tongue lapping at your folds and flicking along your wet lips. "Tell me when you're about to cum, baby," he commands, sliding a finger into your wet entrance. He reaches up and squeezes your tits as he continues to fuck you with his tongue. He loves how responsive you are, how fucking sexy you sound moaning and whining for him.

“Matt mmh feels so good” you whine.

"Mmh," Matt groans, the vibrations of his growl making you tremble. He slides another finger into your tight pussy. He curls his fingers, finding that spot inside of you that makes you scream. He takes notes of every little moan, every sound you make as he sucks on your clit. He starts to rub at your g-spot, circling it in a way that makes your back arch off the bed. "You like that?"

“Mhm please don’t stop” you moan.

He starts to fuck you faster and harder, sucking on your clit with more intensity. “I could do this all day.”his voice muffled as he continues to eat your pussy with a passion that makes you moan out loud. He curls his fingers inside of you, fucking you faster and harder as he sucks on your clit.

“Matt, I’m close mmh”

Matt knows you're close, so he doubles his efforts. He sucks harder on your clit, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. He finger-fucks you faster, curling and twisting inside your wet heat. “Hold it.” He demands.

“what? I- I can’t”

He pulls back, his face glistening with your juices. "Don't cum yet, baby. I want to make this perfect for the camera," he says, his voice low and husky. He reaches over to his already recording phone, and puts it on the bed pointing directly at the side or your face.

“Matt please” you whine.

"Don't worry, baby. Just keep those beautiful legs opened for me," he says as he starts to rub slow circles around your clit with the tip of his thumb, letting your body tense back up again before going in for the hard sucks and finger fucking.

You moan loudly and cover your face feeling a little embarrassed being recorded in a moment like this.

Matt smirks, seeing the flush on your cheeks as you cover your face, the recording device now capturing your shy embarrassment. "Such a good girl, letting me make you cum on camera," he says, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace inside you.

“Matt I’m so close” you moan.

"I want you to cum loud and hard. I want your pleasure on full display. Don't hold back, and look at the camera while you cum." he demands, finger fucking you faster and harder as he sucks on your clit with full force.

You moan any whine while still covering your face.

"Look at the camera." Matt growls, his fingers curling deep inside of you, rubbing your g-spot relentlessly. He sucks harder on your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. "I want to see your face when you cum,"

You obediently look at the camera.

His fingers fucking you hard and fast now, his mouth glued to your dripping wet pussy, his thumb rubbing teasing circles around your tight little hole. "Cum for me, my naughty little slut,"

“Mmhp Matt I’m cumming”

"That's it, cum for me! Squeeze my fingers, drench my tongue," he growls, his own arousal evident as he feels your pussy clenching around him. He sucks hard on your clit as you come undone, his other hand reaching under you to roughly palm your breast.

“Mmh fuck”

"Good girl, good fucking girl," he praises, his fingers still working your sensitive, post-orgasm pussy. He nips at your clit, causing you to jump and moan. "Again. I want another one."

“Mmhp fuck no matt, please… I need your dick inside of me” you beg.

"You want my cock?" Matt snickers, a hungry glint in his eyes as he withdraws his fingers from your spasming pussy. He grabs the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss, his tongue dominating your mouth. "You want this big, hard dick splitting you open?"

You nod eagerly. “Mhm please Matt, I need you.”

"Fuck, saying shit like that makes me wanna shove my cock in your slutty mouth," he grates out, his other hand coming up to knead your breast roughly.

“Mmh please fuck me.”

"Dirty little slut," he mutters, grabbing your hips and flipping you over onto all fours. "Look at how eager your cunt is for my cock," he hisses, running the head of his dick through your juices.

“Mmhhh Matt.” You whine.

He slams his cock into your pussy, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Matt grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back as he thrusts into you again and again. "Fuck, you're so tight." He pounds into you mercilessly, his balls slapping against your clit with each forceful stroke. "Take it, you filthy little cumslut."

You’re basically screaming in pleasure and moaning his name.

"Scream for me," he demands, his grip on your hair tightening as he fucks you even harder. His other hand reaches around to rub your clit, adding to the overwhelming stimulation. "I want everyone to know who's making you cum so hard." He grabs the phone and records from his point of view. "You fucking love this, don't you?" Matt grunts. "You're just a stupid whore who loves having her hole stretched out by a big cock. You can't get enough of this dick, can you?"

“Matt I’m so close”

"Cum for me, bitch," he growls, giving your ass a hard slap. “Cum for the camera” His finger rubs furiously at your throbbing clit as he thrusts into you with reckless abandon. "Cum all over my cock you dirty slut."

He takes the opportunity to flip you onto your back, keeping his dick buried in your pussy as he gazes down at your face, contorted in ecstasy. He continues to pound into you, the wet sound of his thrusts filling the room as he aims his phone at your face.

"You're such a good little whore," he praises.

“Fuuuuck Matt” you cum and moan loudly.

Matt groans as your pussy clenches around his dick, milking his length. "Shit, you're so tight when you cum," he gasps, his own orgasm approaching. "Fuck, I'm gonna fill this cunt up,"

Suddenly… the door to Matt’s bedroom opens. It’s Nick and Chris.

Nick and Chris stand there, both of their jaws dropping. Matt quickly stops his movements and tries to cover your exposed body with the bed sheets.

“Shit sorry!” Nick says quickly shutting the door.

“Shit! We’re fucked.” You say to Matt.

“They weren't supposed to be home for another hour." He starts dressing himself quickly, "I'll talk to them. Go into the bathroom and clean yourself up,"

“Are you sure?” You ask.

"Yes, just go," he barks, his tone laced with a hint of annoyance and embarrassment. He quickly adjusts himself, making sure his erection is hidden before turning to face the door, trying to compose himself. His head trying to come up with something to tell his brothers.

You slip into the bathroom and quietly shut the door behind you. As you lean against it, your mind is racing with what just happened. The excitement of the encounter still lingers in your body, but so does a sense of unease, knowing that his brothers who are also your best friends unexpectedly walked in on you two who supposedly hate each other.

Matt takes a deep breath, before opening the bedroom door to face his brothers. He knows he needs to come up with a good excuse, but he's also aware that he can't just lie about everything. As he steps into the hallway, he sees both Nick and Chris looking at him expectantly.

"Look, I know this looks bad," he starts, avoiding eye contact with his brothers for the time being.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, "But I can explain." He turns to face his brothers.

“Explain what? You guys pretended to hate each other and fucked when no one was there?” Nick says and then chuckles. “Ugh I knew you guys didn’t hate each other.”

At the mention of what they just did, Matt feels his face heat up in embarrassment. "Shut up, Nick," he snaps, trying to cover up his discomfort. "It's not like that." He pauses for a second before continuing, “This was just a one time thing.”

You finished cleaning up and got changed. You went downstairs to the living room, you supposed they were there. “Uhmm hey guys…” you say as you enter the living room.

Matt looks up and sees you walking into the living room. He feels a mix of emotions at the sight of you, attraction, guilt, and a desire to talk to you. Both Nick and Chris look up as you enter, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity. Nick smirks and leans back into the couch, while Chris just raises an eyebrow. "Well well, look who decided to join us," Nick teases. Matt gives Nick a death stare and the says, "I was just, uh, explaining things."

“I mean, it's pretty simple," Matt continues, “We were just-" Matt struggles to find the right words to say.

“I- it was just a one time thing.” You say trying to help Matt.

Nick snorts and rolls his eyes, "Sure, just a one time thing," he mocks in a high pitched voice. Chris looks unimpressed, but Matt feels a twinge of annoyance at Nick's teasing.

“Okay okay, fine. This was the second time. But that’s it!” You explain.

Matt sighs and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "I mean, it's not like we're dating or anything. It's just...I dunno, something that happened." He says defensively.

“Yeah exactly. We still hate each other and everything” you add.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying," Matt agrees, trying to emphasize his point. But even as the words leave his mouth, he can't help but think about how much he actually wants to be with you, despite the fact that you guys ‘hate each other’.

As the tension in the room grows, Matt feels a shiver run down his spine. He glances at Nick and Chris, their eyes full of amusement and confusion. Nick and Chris exchange glances and Chris speaks, "So, let me get this straight," Chris says, his voice low and even. "You two are secretly hooking up behind our backs, but you still insist you hate each other?"

“Uhmm I-“ you don’t know what to say.

Chris stands up from the couch, his eyes fixed on you. "Listen, whatever is going on between you two, you guys need to talk about it," he says, Nick nods in agreement.

“Nothing is going on.” You say.

“Yeah nothing is going on.” Matt adds.

Matt's heart pounds in his chest as he watches Chris and Nick exchange a knowing look. He can tell they don't believe him, and he can't blame them. The tension between him and you is palpable, and it's not hard to figure out what's really going on. "Come on, guys," Chris says.

"We're just messing around," Matt interjects, trying to downplay the situation. But even as he says it, he knows it's not entirely true. He wants more than just a casual fling with you, but he's too afraid to admit it out loud. The room falls silent as Matt's eyes lock onto yours. For a moment, he's tempted to cross the distance between you, to pull you into a kiss and make his feelings known.

"Maybe you guys should stop playing around and just admit it already," Nick suggests, his tone lighthearted but his eyes serious. "It's pretty obvious there's something there." Matt's heart races at the thought, but he still can't bring himself to confess his real feelings.

“Admit what?” You ask, even though you know what he means.

Chris jumps in, not giving Matt the chance to respond. "Yeah, come on. Don't play dumb.”

“Ugh just… shut up and let’s drop this.” Matt says roughly.

“Yeah… uhmm it’s getting late, im gonna call an Uber.” You say.

Matt's face tightens at your mention of leaving. "Uber?” He doesn't want the night to end, not when he's finally found the courage to acknowledge his feelings for you. "I'll drive you home,"

“You don’t have to.” You say.

"I want to," Matt insists. He won't take no for an answer. His eyes dart to your lips, but he forces himself to look away before he does something reckless.

Chris and Nick share a look, smirking at each other as they sense the tension between you and Matt. "Well, we're gonna get outta here," Chris says, clapping Matt on the shoulder. "We’ll let you two lovebirds have some privacy.”

You jokingly roll your eyes at Chris comment and watch as they leave the room. “Okay… let’s go.”

The moment the door closes, leaving you and Matt alone in the living room, tension fills the air. Matt hesitates for a moment before walking over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. He gently takes your hand in his and leads you out to his car. Matt opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing against your lower back as you slide into the seat. He closes the door behind you and walks around to the driver's side. Matt starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, heading towards your apartment complex. He glances over at you, taking in your features as he tries to come up with something to say.

Suddenly, Matt pulls into a nearby parking lot and cuts the engine. He turns to face you, his eyes dark and intense as he reaches for your hand. "Look, I know I've been a bit of a jerk lately," he admits, his voice low and earnest. You turn to look at him.

Matt's hand tightens around yours, his thumb caressing your skin. "I've been trying to figure out what's going on with me, and I realized... I really like you," he confesses, his voice cracking slightly.

You feel your stomach fluttering at his words. “Really?”

Matt's chest rises and falls rapidly as he nods, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. "Yeah, I really do," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "I know I wasn't always the nicest guy to you in any aspect, but I really like you.” He takes a deep breath. "I thought I could just be cool with you, hang out and fuck around... but it's not like that, I can’t.” He confesses. He feels scared you don’t feel the same way. “Do… do you not feel the same way?” He asks with a tone of vulnerability in his voice. “I mean, I totally get if you don’t-“

“Matt… Matt, I do.” You interrupt him.

Matt's eyes widen at your interruption, his breath catching in his throat. He leans in closer, his face inches from yours. "You do what?" he asks, his voice low and hopeful. "Feel the same way?" He leans in closer, his free hand reaching up to gently brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. He searches your eyes, his heart racing in his chest.

You nod looking deeply into his eyes.

Matt's heart races as he sees the sincerity in your eyes, his breath hitching slightly. "Fuck, really?" he murmurs, his voice low and awed. He doesn't break eye contact, his own eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Yes Matt.” You chuckle. “Really.” You lean in close and kiss him softly.

Matt's lips meet yours in a soft kiss, his hands gently cupping your face as he deepens the kiss. He exhales shakily, a mixture of relief and happiness washing over him. "Fuck," he murmurs again, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. You can’t help smile at him. Matt returns your smile with a soft, genuine one of his own, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He can hardly believe it, the weight of his fear and anxiety slowly lifted off his shoulders. His hand reaches up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. "Hey," he says.

“Mh?”

"You make me crazy, you know that?" Matt says with a hint of amusement in his voice. He looks at you, his eyes shining with affection. "But in a good way.”

You laugh softly. “You make me crazy too.”

"I think maybe we should get out of here," Matt suggests, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Go to your place?" His hand slides down to intertwine with yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I don't think I can park here.” He laughs.

You laugh with him. “Yeah let’s go.”

The end.

—————————————————————————————————————

TYSM for the support in the first two parts 💕

I had a lot of fun writing these🩷

I got some requests in my inbox so I’ll probably start working on that.

Hope you guys like the ending 💗

—————————————————————————————————————

Tag list: @chrislittlewife @christophersgf @mattsturnihoe @suyqa @ilovechrissturniohoe @mattsfavbitchhh @sturnioloarchive @maexsturnz @dollannabelle

Tags 🏷️:

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo texts #matt sturniolo texts #smut

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arcanefox207 · 1 month

Text

See How She Rides

Pairing🔹 Joel Miller x f!reader Rating🔹 Explicit, 18+ MDNI Word Count🔹 4.4k [ AO3 ] Summary🔹 BoatMechanic!Joel Miller is just doing his job when you show up unannounced to soak up some summer sun. Warning🔹 Reader age undefined. Joel is late 40’s. No Outbreak. I don’t want to ruin the plot but this one is mostly smut. Unprotected P in V. Oral. Infidelity. Sleazy behavior. Not beta'd!

F I C U P DA T E S 🔸 M A S T E R L I S T 🔸 A O 3

“S’cuse me, Ma’am.” The greasy boat mechanic says when he notices your shadow looming over him from the dock. “Didn’t know anyone was coming out today.” He leans back from the engine compartment to get a good look at you.

You are standing there in your skimpy bathing suit with a sheer coverup. A wide brim hat and worn flip flops. A canvas tote slung on one arm and your other hand holding a small cooler.

To his point, it was mid-week and an unusual time to be at the marina. Your no-good husband had been on a ‘business trip’ and you were tired of spending the hottest days of summer cooped up at home.

You pull your sunglasses down slightly and look over them at the greasy mechanic in your husband's boat.

Greasy and absurdly handsome.

It was high noon and the sweltering sun rays were wearing him down. He looked wilted and totally done for. The deck of the boat was a mess of tools and oily rags. Clearly he was not expecting company.

He grabs an oily cloth and wipes his hands on it. He looks up at you with scrunched eyes as the sunlight was facing him.

“I’ll be another 10. You mind waiting?” He brings his hand to his brow to act as a visor so he can see you better. You notice how the sun catches the emerging gray streaks in his messy hair and how his weathered skin shows years of hard work. He was probably in his late 40’s if you had to guess.

Not at all. You think to yourself. In fact, this was exactly the type of excitement you needed. After all, why shouldn’t you get to have some fun too.

The soothing sounds of the water plopping against the side of the boat and the dock creaked under you. It made the pause seem extra dramatic and drawn out.

“Hurry up then.” You snap at him, with a hint of playfulness.

He nods and tosses the nasty rag on the floor as he kneels on the backseat and lowers himself back over the engine area. He stretches his arms out long as he reaches to tighten something with a wrench. A sliver of his skin on his lower back peeks out at you and shows more and more the further he reaches. Sweaty and tanned by many hours in the sun.

He was doing some sort of maintenance your husband probably requested they do. He cared more about that boat than he cared about you, that was for damn sure.

You decide that standing on the dock and waiting wasn’t really your style, and you want a better view. You toss your canvas bag and cooler over the edge and step into the boat from the side dock. It shifts slightly with your weight and brings attention to your presence.

The mechanic turns around with a concerned look.

“Careful, ma’am” He reaches his filthy, oil-stained hand out to you as you step into the boat. You grab it, reluctantly, to help with your balance. With both feet firmly inside the boat, you look up at him. You are taken aback by his size. His wide shoulders and tapered waist sculpted perfectly as his sweat soaked t-shirt clings to his body for dear life.

“Joel Miller.” He introduces as he gives your hand a squeeze with his massive paw and pulls it away after you share yours. The corner of his lip pulls up slightly and he eyes you up and down briefly.

“Be outta’ your hair soon.” He turns back to the engine, but can’t help looking over his shoulder to steal one more look at you.

Typical sleaze, but this one was charming.

You let out a deep breath, not realizing you had been holding it. You wanted to tease him initially and have some innocent fun, but now you feel a heat bubble inside you. It was obvious to Joel, too.

You grab your things and kick off your sandals. You make your way to the front of the bow.

This was your favorite part of the boat. The open bow had a lounger that wrapped along both sides and plenty of room to sit at the very front too. It was the perfect place to read a book and sunbathe. The perfect place to distract Joel.

You pull off your coverup and toss your hat to the side. Your hair falls loosely over your shoulders. Your royal blue bikini was an excellent choice for today. This one tied around your neck and made your boobs look fantastic. Your bottoms were strappy and high cut and accented your curves beautifully.

You reach into your bag and grab your suntan lotion. You tie your hair up into a messy bun.

You take your seat at the very front so that you are facing towards the back of the boat. Joel is bent over the lifted back seat where the engine was stored, and head first in there working.

His jeans were tight on his ass when he was bent over. His meaty thighs sticking to the grungy denim. He looked hot and uncomfortable working in the heat, but damn he looked good.

You slather yourself with the lotion while you watch him work, getting more turned on by the minute. When he backed out of the engine to grab a tool his biceps flexed and his sweat beaded on his brow as he met your eyes. He caught you looking.

You bend your knee on the lounger and rub the lotion slowly up the full length of your leg while you turn your eyes away from him. Pretending to be busy and uninterested.

You can still feel his gaze on you as you spread your legs spanning between the two loungers and work on the other side. The minimal coverage from your suit leaves little to the imagination.

Joel stands up with his back to you and his hands on his waist. He shakes his head like he is telling himself not to get involved and closes the engine compartment. His knee turned outward just slightly in a slutty stance as he waits for the hydraulics to finish lowering the lid.

He pushes the top firmly to make sure it latches, and his arms flex as he puts his weight into it. He looked so strong. So capable. So competent. Masculine in every sense of the word.

As he turns towards you he pulls the front of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. His tanned and sweat slicked skin glistens. You can see his tastefully toned abdomen in all its glory. Your eyes can’t help but notice how his jeans hug his hips and a messy thatch of hair trails up his belly.

“Got a water on ya?” He interrupts your gawking.

He wipes his face once more with the shirt before letting it fall back in place. He scrunched his eyes and his lips pursed while he waits for you to respond.

“Yeah. Sure.” You snap out of your daze and reach into your cooler for a water bottle and bring it over to him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The bottle crinkles under his grasp as he makes quick work of it.

He hands it back to you, empty, and smirks when your fingers feather over his.

He gathers his things and poorly wipes down his grease stains with the cleanest of his shop rags.

The back of your boat looks recognizable again with a full length seat spanning the width of the boat and another padded lounge area above it. Your other favorite place to spread out in the sun.

Joel tosses his things onto the dock. He turns around and leans on the edge of the boat. His fingers tap the sides and he is stalling his departure, maybe deciding if he is going to make a move or be on his way.

You are also wondering if you should just say goodbye and be done with it. It would be the right thing to do, after all. Even though your no-good husband was probably knee deep in his mistress at this very moment. You had little loyalty to him these days, and tolerated just enough to get by with your comfortable life.

“She’s a real beauty.” He slides his hand along the fiberglass edge, slowly and intimately. He pushes himself back up to his feet. He is towering over you again.

“Excuse me?” You know he isn’t really talking about the boat, but you play dumb.

“Would love to see how she rides.” He eyes you up and down and has a deadly serious expression on his face. He chews the inside of his cheek while he waits for your reaction.

You were done for now.

“I’m sure my husband paid you well. Better check your work, and all. Be thorough.”

Joel’s serious expression tries to hold back a grin. His brow softens.

“Alright, I’ll be thorough.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile and hand him the keys.

Joel goes into full captain mode and starts the boat up. He jumps onto the dock to unwind the ropes from the metal cleats. He was a sight to behold. Letting out a few grunts as he scooched down to the ropes.

You make yourself comfortable on the passenger side lounger, knowing full well you will be in his line of sight while he drives. You grab yourself a wine cooler.

“Listen to her purr.” He taps the steering wheel as he gets back on the boat. He stands at the wheel and moves the throttle just enough to ease out of the slip. He tunes the radio to something playing yacht rock.

It doesn’t take long to get through the channel. The lake is quiet today.

When you finally reach open water Joel pushes the throttle and your sporty boat glides over the waves. The breeze is refreshing and the occasional mist from the waves when the boat catches them just right feels good.

From his angle Joel has a perfect view of your cleavage. You bring your knees up and knock them to the side so he can get an eyeful of your entire body. The suntan lotion makes you shine in the sunlight and you smell tropical and delicious. Coconuts and vanilla. You let your hair down and it blows in the breeze as you cruise along.

After a few minutes you are in the middle of the lake. There is little boat traffic and you are far enough from land on either side. You look like specs in a sea of water.

You reach your hands back and untie your top and let it fall to the floor. You lay back with your chin up and arms to your side, pretending to soak in the sun. All you have left is the tiny strip of fabric barely covering your mound.

It makes you feel alive and rebellious. No one can see your naked chest. No one except for the one you are showing off for.

You are not looking at him, but you know he is staring at your body. You know his jeans are getting uncomfortably tight. You know where this is going.

“Goddamn.” You hear him mutter and out of the corner of your eye you see his arm move to rake through his hair.

Joel slows down the boat and kills the engine. The radio continues to play softly, but the sounds of the waves clacking against the boat are much louder.

“Does it bother you if I do this? I don’t want tan lines.” You innocently ask as you turn your head over your shoulder at him.

Joel is eyeing you.

“Bother aint the word for it, sugar.” He rakes his hand down his face and scratches his scruff. He crosses his arms in front of him and leans against the captain's chair.

You puff your chest out as you adjust in your seat.

“You gonna stop teasin’ and get over here already?” He asks.

You drape your legs back properly to the floor and push yourself up, sliding your skimpy suit bottoms down. You saunter over to Joel, naked and confident.

He is still looking greasy and miserable, but considerably more refreshed. Your eyes go to the bulge in his denim and you reach out to grab his waistband. You want to climb him like a tree.

“I will...” you hook your fingers over the top of his jeans. “.. if you keep this little boat ride between us.” You trail one of your hands lightly over his zipper.

Joel looks you straight in the eyes with a feral hunger. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Deal.” He enunciates it with finality. No more charades.

He grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap as he sits back in the seat properly. Your legs are straddling him and you can feel his hardening cock grind against you. He presses his mouth into yours and roughly pushes his tongue into you. His hands roam your body.

You break away for a moment and grab for his shirt. He pulls it over his head and lets it fall to the floor. You bring your hands to press flat against his chest. His skin is firm and his muscles are tense. He smells sweaty and metallic. It isn’t pleasant, but it brings out some animalistic lust inside you and you don’t want him any other way.

His calloused hands find your tender breasts and he grabs at you. His rough fingertips brush over your nipples and he thumbs your hardening peaks. He is so rough, and it is exactly what you need.

He breaks his mouth away from yours and nips at your jawline and the supple skin in your neck. His movements are ravenous. His hands travel further down your body until he has them firmly on your hips.

He hoists you up so you are sitting on top of the steering wheel. You brace one arm on the side windshield of the boat and the other grabs onto Joel’s hair as he dives into your pussy.

He licks a broad stroke from your asshole all the way up to your clit, taking pause to swirl his tongue when he reaches your most sensitive part.

You let out a moan and buck into him, tangling your fingers in his mess of curls and holding on for dear life. His scruff scratches against your tender skin.

Joel pushes further into you and puts your legs over his shoulders, giving himself more control. His nose nudges your clit while he presses his tongue inside you and laps at the wetness he is extruding from you.

You lay your head back and gasp for breath as he just goes at you deeper and with more ferocity. It is a good thing he is supporting you with his shoulders as your legs are becoming weak. He digs into your hips to pull you even closer into his face.

“Joel! Oh my… god.” You can barely speak. He is devouring you and you can feel your insides surge with elation as he worships you. Your thighs start to clamp firmer on him as you feel the wave of pleasure building and building.

He pulls away briefly and sneers up at you.

“What a messy cunt she is.” His words are crude and vulgar. His mouth is as filthy as he looks. It makes you pulse even more.

He resumes lapping at your folds and is relentless. Pressure is building inside you and you grind against him as he starts to pull away and deny your release. You whine a little, relishing the final brush from his scruff leaving your thigh.

You were so close to coming. This was surely payback for teasing him.

“Ain’t you a sight to see.” He sits upright in his chair and keeps you at arms length with his hands still firmly grabbing your hips and your legs slip off his shoulders. He eyes your swollen and needy cunt. “I got just the thing for you.” He brings a hand to his jeans and unzips.

The audible moan you make when you see its size makes him smirk. He is already hard and leaking. His shaft is impossibly thick. Uncut and girthy.

“You want this?” He strokes his full length and the head of his cock is swollen and seeping as he pumps himself. You have never seen such a beautiful dick. You feel like a feral cat, ready to beg for scraps.

You let out a moan and slide yourself back into his lap. The heavy weight of his cock slaps against your belly. You try to rut up against the underside of his shaft. Anything for some friction. He denies you contact and takes it back into his hand.

“Gonna’ have to ask real nice, sweetheart.”

“Joel. Please.” You beg.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

Joel shifts under you and gets up from his seat, pulling you up with him. One arm finds the small of your back and pulls you up close to him, and the other he snakes between you. He brushes two fingers up and down the length of your slit until they are wet. He thumbs at your clit and plunges his two fingers deep inside you.

The stretch is a lot to take so suddenly but you are primed and begging to have any part of him inside you. His fingers were thick. If you weren’t soaking wet for him you might shudder at how gritty and filthy they were.

He can feel your walls flutter around him as he thrusts his fingers deep, finding that perfect spot inside that makes you come undone.

“There she is.” He smirks as he looks over his nose and down to you and watches your eyes go wide when he touches you just right. Writhing by his hand.

He fucks you until you come, soaking his fingers with your release and breathlessly moaning his name.

He pulls his fingers from you and licks them clean with his tongue. Savoring your sweetness. Pleased with his handiwork.

While you are looking fucked out but still wanting more he doesn’t give you time to recover.

“Oh, did you want a taste, sugar?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond and presses his mouth into yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue. Under normal circumstances you may have found that revolting, but he had a way of making you feral for any contact with him.

You moan as he wraps his tongue around yours. His taste mixed with yours is intoxicating. He reluctantly bites at your lip when you find the strength to pull away.

As much as you enjoy being pleasured by his touch, your mind is clouded by desire to have his cock inside you. Under the baking sun, nothing could quench your thirst more than having his cum spilling into your throat.

“Your turn.” You bite your tongue as you hold back a wicked smile and press away from him. You tug at his jeans and boxers enough that they slide down him. He hastily kicks off his work boots and steps out of them fully.

You take in his perfectly sculpted body. Under all that filth he really was a sight for sore eyes.

You drag your hand down his chest and your fingers trace over his thick happy trail. You step towards him and back him to the edge of the boat while your hand wraps around his shaft. Your delicate, soft fingers are laughable in contrast to his size. You slide a finger down his full length, tracing his pulsing vein. You tease his sensitive tip with a feather touch. He is ready to burst and you don’t want to wait another moment.

He widens his stance and groans softly as you drop to your knees and take him in your mouth. Your hands hold him at the base while you swirl your tongue around him and lick the underside of his cock.

His fingers tangle in your hair as he firmly holds onto you.

You bob your head slowly as you take in more and more of him and he bucks into you. You move your hands to wrap around the back of his thighs as you take him deeper.

You can feel his restraint to take it slow and gentle but it is waning the longer you have him in your throat. Your eyes swell with tears as you try to relax and let him fuck your mouth.

“Look at you. Taking me so well.” He rests his head back and grunts as you pull back and suck on his tip. The salty taste of his precum invigorating you to suck harder as you hollow your cheeks. You feel his cock twitch and pulse and he is so close to bursting inside you.

He suddenly pulls you off of him with a rough grip in your hair. Your swollen lips and open mouth looking pitiful as it loses contact from him.

“Not yet.” He groans. “Gonna make that pussy mine first.” His words fire out through clenched teeth and his eyes are blown out and dark. He pulls you up by your hair. You gasp at the audacity and his roughness.

You stumble over your words of protest and excitement as he pushes you over to the back seat. Even if it’s morally fucked up, you do want him to claim you.

He bends you over the back seat so your knees are perched on the seat and your body is splayed over the back. He pushes his body up against you and nudges you with his cock as he leans over you to speak into your ear.

“Look.” He sighs, picking up that you are having some concerns about this behavior. “Seen him fuck more than one woman on this boat. He’s a loser.”

“Don’t I know it.” You nod in agreement.

He presses his cock against your ass and has you pinned down under his weight. He slides a hand up the side of your thigh and around your front to make a little room between you and the seat. He gently grazes your clit and lets his middle finger dip into you to gather some of your slick. There is no hiding how wet you are for Joel Miller.

“I’m gonna fuck you right, f’this is what you want.” He kisses you in the crook of your neck as you push back against his cock.

You want him inside you. You need him inside you.

“Fuck me, Joel.” He drags his free hand down your spine as he stands upright. You arch your back as he slinks his hand between your legs to press them open.

His cock is still wet from your saliva and he rubs your slick over it for good measure.

“Alright, sugar.” He pushes the head of his cock into you and you claw at the seat under you. His fingers were a lot but they paled in comparison to this. He grunts as he pushes in deeper, taking it slow and letting his cock drag heavy against your walls.

“Goddamn you’re tight.” He picks up the pace and digs his nails into your sides as he pulls you hard against him.

The stretch from him hurts so good. With each thrust he makes more room for himself inside you and you welcome him in eagerly.

He grabs a fistfull of your ass and slaps you hard. You wince at the sudden sting. He claws his fingers back into your sides and holds you tight. He has to be close to finishing. He has been painfully hard for too long to hold out much longer. You are almost there yourself. Filled to the brim by his thick cock.

He lifts one leg onto the seat for more leverage as he pounds into you. He pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest and furiously grabs at your breasts. Each plunge of his cock goes deeper and harder. His hands grab desperately at anything to hold onto, pinching at your skin.

You are teetering on the edge of release. Screaming his name loudly where no one can hear but him. It's cathartic.

He pushes you back down roughly and comes undone inside you. Snarling and panting as he unloads his hot cum deep inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He pants.

You moan and milk his cock as you ride out your shared climax.

As your breathing slows he plants his foot back down and eases out of you slowly. His spend drips out of you and down your leg. You feel like a slut. Joel’s slut.

You crawl down into the seat and lay on your back, with the biggest smile on your face. You have never felt more alive.

You both take a much needed dip in the lake before ending your boat ride. It is refreshing and intimate floating with Joel. For a greasy boat mechanic, he was good company.

When you get back to the marina and Joel parks the boat the moment is bittersweet. You know this can’t happen again and you know you will never stop wanting it to.

“She rides good.” Joel teases as he peels himself away from the captain's chair and goes to step off the boat. “Hope my works’ to your satisfaction, ma’am.”

“Joel?” You bite your lip as you smile at him.

“Mmm?” He looks at you from the dock.

You smile, shyly, struggling to find the words. Joel makes a zipper motion across his lips. He knows exactly what you are trying to say.

“Between you and me, sweetheart.”

With a wink he turns and disappears down the dock.

You resume your leisuring in the sun, plotting when you can do this again.

As always love to my sluts 🧡 @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @exquisiteserotonin @for-a-longlongtime @pink-whiskey-woman

@youandmeand5bucks @sparklefarts38 @redhotkitchen

And tagging friends who I hope will enjoy this one too. Love you all, thank you for supporting my shenanigans 🧡

@toxicanonymity @joelsgreys @yxtkiwiyxt @itwasntimethatdidit40 @thebeldroramscal

@schnarfer @tonysopranosrobe @milla-frenchy @nerdieforpedro @mountainsandmayhem

@sin-djarin @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @iamskyereads @maggiemayhemnj

@gasolinerainbowpuddles @yourcoolauntie @inept-the-magnificent @604to647 @sawymredfox

@murder-wife @pedroswife69 @yorksgirl @moonlitbirdie @pedropeach

Banner by me. Divider credit to @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal fandom #the last of us hbo #the last of us #arcanefox fics #see how she rides #boatmechanic!joel #boat mechanic smut #pedro pascal #sleazy joel

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x0xomady · 4 months

Text

But Daddy I love him !

(based on the song from TTPD)

part 2

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

warnings: smut, p in v, marijuana consumption, oral sex, pet names, 18+

(harrystyles!dealer x female reader) both are 18!

summary: senior year of high school y/n falls in love with the new plug at school.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

i HATE high school.

that might sound stereotypical like i’m one of those emo girls that hates everything, but i’m not. i just HATE high school.

for the first couple years everything was going great. freshman and sophomore year were so much fun. i had a big group of friends and i was pretty popular. i was even dating the cute skater boy! it was literally a teenage romcom like ’10 things i hate about you’.

however, that all went to shit.

the downfall of my teenage years first began when my asshole ex thought leaking my nudes to the entire junior class was a good idea. so naturally instead of standing up for me, my friends turned on me and said i was a slut.

after that traumatizing incident, i learned one thing. high school is temporary so why waste my time on bitchy friends?

that’s the attitude i had coming into senior year and it’s the one that’s kept me going for the last few months.

i stopped dressing preppy and popular because my “friends” wanted me too and i started dressing like i want to.

life is going fucking great now. i smoke weed, go to class, and binge watch gilmore girls. i don’t have to go to those god awful parties on the weekends, i can just relax.

the only way thing going bad for me right now was the fact that my dealer moved away. now i had to find a new one which isn’t hard, just annoying.

from what i’ve heard there’s 2 other dealers on campus. one is a freshman that steals shit from his dad and sells it. the other one is a random british guy that moved here last year.

i’m probably going to choose the new british guy.

so that was my goal for today. i’m going to find the new british guy in my class and buy weed so i don’t die during midterms week.

from what i’ve heard about this mystery british guy is his name is either harvey, harry, or harden. i’ve also heard he’s insanely hot and rejects all the girls that ask him out. although, if we’re being real here, most british guys are hot just because of their voices. so, i’m doubting he’ll be that hot. he’s probably going to have nasty ass teeth and be short.

walking down the halls of the school is kind of fun for me. i blast music in my headphones and pretend like i’m not in this hell hole. my outfit is casual and comfy so i’m honestly pretty confident right now.

as i walk into my first class i sit in my usual seat i see a new guy sitting next to me. i glance at him and can’t remember if i’ve ever seen him before. i don’t think i’ve ever seen him, but i can say for a fact that he is very, very, VERY attractive.

the new guy is sitting back against his chair, manspreading of course, with his headphones in. he’s wearing a black hoodie and dark blue jeans. he looks so casually perfect it’s slightly alarming.

i turn towards the front of the classroom as my teacher begins to drone on about different math equations. however, throughout the 50 minute class, my eyes kept wandering back over to the very attractive boy sitting next to me.

i TRIED to keep my thoughts off of him. i mean, i have completely sworn off dating and crushes for the rest of high school because of the last one that fucked me over.

my thoughts are cut off by the boy tapping me on the shoulder. my mind freezes and i turn towards him.

“yeah?” i try to act all nonchalant and mysterious but i said yeah WAY to quickly and excitedly.

the boy smiles slightly and leans over whispering to me. “do ya get a thing he's droning on about?”

oh fuck. the british accent.

“no i really don’t i'm completely zoned out right now.” i whisper back to the british boy.

he nods and leans back in his chair watching the teacher talk. he is sitting there with his knees casually spread and his arms crossed.

we sit there for another 10 minutes listening to the teacher talk about different functions until he announces.

“alright for the last 15 minutes of class go over the problems on the board with the person next to you.” the teacher points to the problems then sits at the desk so we can all work with our partners.

the boy smirks and turns his head back towards me. “ready to fail together?”

i can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my lips. i usually try to stay pretty unbothered and calm at school, but something about the way this curly headed boy was smiling at me made me a bit giddy.

AND he has weed, small plus.

“yeah lets do it” i nod and we start working on the equations together. he scoots closer to me and rests his head propped up on his arm while i start writing things down.

he watches me write for a second before speaking up. “y’have pretty handwriting.”

i look at him a bit surprised but smile a little bit. blush slowly creeps up on my cheeks as he compliments me. “really? never heard that before.” i shrug.

“yeah never seen someone write their three’s with a curl before. it’s adorable.” he smirks and looks up at me for a second before looking back down at my writing.

i’m about to speak up again but the teacher cuts me off. “if you haven’t finished the problems yet, do them tonight and turn them in tomorrow morning.”

he looks over at me with a smile, “we still have quite a few questions left."

“yeah this is going to take a while.” i sigh looking down at the 32 questions we have to work on.

he turns his body towards me more and props his arm up against the back of the chair next to me. “where do you eat lunch?”

i shrug. “probably in the library today because i have a fuck ton of work to catch up on.”

“hm okay. mind if i join you? we could finish the work then.” he has a small smile on his face while i sit there looking flustered as ever.

“oh yeah sure.” i nod and smile a little bit. “i’ll just be on the couches in the back. come find me.” he nods and we both exit the classroom.

holy shit. THAT was the guy i’m supposed to buy from? i’m going to be needing a LOT more weed than i thought.

throughout all of the drama that went down junior year, i have had one friend remain loyal to me. y/bsf/n and i have been friends since freshman year of high school and have stayed close ever since.

as soon as i walked out of math i rushed to find her. naturally, i found her touching up her makeup in the girls bathroom.

“GUESS WHAT?” i squeal as i burst into the girls bathroom.

she immediately drops her mascara and whips around to face me. “WHAT WHAT”

i smile and grab her shoulders. “I’M EATING LUNCH WITH THE HOT BRITISH PLUG”

y/bsf/n face drops and she squeals excitedly. “OMG I SAW HIM THIS MORNING HE IS SO- ”

“can you guys shut up? i’m trying to wash my hands” a random girl glares at us.

“um no? can you go wash your shit covered hands then leave?” she snaps back at her. the girl rolls her eyes and walks out of the bathroom.

i’m too excited to even care. we stand there for the next couple minutes before class starts talking about what i’m going to do and how to talk to him.

another girl walks up to the mirrors and suddenly turns to us with an “i’ve got gossip” look. “you know i heard he only wears long sleeved hoodies and shirts to school because he’s a heroin addict that’s covering track marks.”

both y/bsf/n and i roll our eyes and shake our head. “that’s a dumbass rumor don’t spread shit like that.” i glare at her.

the girl rolls her eyes and shrugs. “might be true.”

“wait wait pause.” my face drops as i look at y/bsf/n.

“what?”

“i don't even know his name. the only thing i know is that it starts with an H” my eyes widen in the realization that i didn’t even introduce myself in class today.

“uhhh i think it’s harvey? i’m like 80% sure.” she shrugs and continues doing her makeup in the mirror as i stand there freaking out.

“harvey?! like steve harvey? theres no way thats his name.” i roll my eyes.

“whatever, just ask him! oooh maybe if you guys hookup he’ll give you free weed!” she smirks at me.

“NO i’m not using him for free stuff. that is so fucked up.”

she rolls her eyes and applies her lipgloss. “fine fine. be all moral if you want.” the bell rings and the both of us leave the bathroom. i head towards my english class with the elated feeling of what’s to come.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

by the time lunch rolls around i’m feeling giddy as ever. y/bsf/n had been hyping me up for the last four periods which wasn’t helping my excitement die down at all.

i walk into the library building and walk to the back where my usual lunch study couch is. i set my tote bag and lap top down and get comfy waiting for “H” to show up. if his name is actually harvey theres no way in hell i’ll be able to take him seriously.

after about five minutes he walks over and plops down on the couch next to me. “ready?”

“yeah lets finish this shit.” i nod and pull out my work while he grabs his. “so can i ask your name? i totally forgot to ask this morning.”

he pauses and turns to me with a smirk. “wait you don’t know my name?”

my eyes widen and i try to play it off. “uh… no how would i know your name?”

he instantly starts laughing and covers his mouth. “really? we’ve been in the same math class for 5 months!”

i stare at him in shock and guilt for a second before snapping out of it and smiling. “i’m sorry. i’m pretty zoned out or high during math.”

“yeah i got that.” he smirks and looks at me. “i even know your name y/n”

i feel blush start to creep up my cheeks as i hear my name drop from his lips. is it from embarrassment or being flustered? we’ll never know, but it’s probably a mix. he knows my name? fuck.

“oh i’m so sorry.” i meet his eyes with a nervous and embarrassed look.

“no you’re good. this is only the second time we’ve ever interacted so i understand.” he still has a smug smile on his face. “well my name’s harry.”

“ohh harry? my friend told me something completely different.” i smile. thank GOD i didn’t call him harvey. i would’ve died from the humiliation if that slipped out.

harry smirks and looks back over at me. “wow already talking about me to your friends? good to know i make an impression.”

my face heats up at his teasing words, but i try to play it off. “well it’s not often a british guy sits next to me in math.”

“yeah i guess thats true.” harry nods and leans back against the couch. “i’ve always known who you were. which might sound creepy but i promise it’s not.”

“really?” how would he know who i am? besides math we don’t have anything together. we don’t even run in the same friend group.

“yeah you’re like the hot girl that got trashed by her friends right?”

i roll my eyes. “yeah thats me. i’m guessing you saw my nudes.”

harry frowns and shrugs. “i didn’t look at them myself but i heard descriptions. i’m not a pervert i wouldn’t look at some random girls nudes.”

“okay thank you but, oh my gosh hearing about it is 10x worse!” i groan in embarrassment.

“hey, it’s not your fault. that ex and those “friends” of yours were total assholes for doing that to you.” harry gives me a sympathetic look before returning to the math problems.

“wait. if you’ve been in my class this whole time how have i not seen you before today?” the realization hits me that i’ve never even seen harry in class before. i would’ve remembered if i had, he’s not a face you would forget seeing.

harry shrugs. “i usually sit in the back on the other side of the classroom.”

“oh. so then why did you sit next to me in the front today?” i look at harry slightly confused.

“because you’re pretty.” he smirks at me.

my eyes widen and i blush a little. “oh thank you.”

for the next 30 minutes we talk mindlessly back and forth while working on our homework together. as lunch time comes to a close i remember why i was originally seeking out harry.

“hey i totally forgot to ask, but are you selling?”

harry puts down his notebook and crosses his arms looking at me with a small smile. “hm depends what you’re trying to buy.”

i roll my eyes and give him a look. “i think you know what i’m trying to buy.” harry chuckles quietly and continues teasing me.

“wow what is an innocent girl like you doing trying to buy pot?” he looks absolutely gorgeous like this. he’s leaning back comfortable with his arms crossed. those emerald green eyes search my face with an amused grin. “i think you’re daddy would be disappointed if he knew.”

“oh whatever.” i try to act annoyed but the way he is looking at me right now is intoxicating. “so you have it? because if you don’t i’m going to have to go to that weird ass freshman.”

harry laughs and rests his head agains the back of the couch. “of course i have something for you y/n. except i don’t sell at school so if you want something you’ll have to come over later.”

oh. OH go to his house? don’t have to ask me twice.

“yeah for sure.” i nod at him and play it off with a smile like i’m not internally squealing with joy.

harry pulls out his phone and holds it out for me to take. “put your number in and i’ll text you my address.”

my heart beat speeds up as i take the phone from him carefully. i quickly type in my number and create a contact with my name as, ‘y/n 💞’

a bright smile appears on his face when he sees my contact in his phone. harry glances back up at me and says, “god you’re so cute.”

i blush brightly and feel extremely flustered but i ignore it and nod. “text me your address and i’ll come over after school.”

harry smiles and nods. “alright.” he quickly types something into his phone. i hear a ding from my phone and see a text message from an unknown number. harry’s address is written so i quickly set the contact to ‘harry 🍃’

“cool see ya later y/n” harry nods at me and exists the library.

“bye” i sit there in shock of everything that just happened. he called me cute AND pretty? tonight is going to be un-fucking-real.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

the first thought that comes to every girls mind when they are invited over to a guys house is, their outfit. so that’s where i am now. running around my room throwing shit around trying to find a cute outfit.

y/bsf/n was sitting on my bed telling me different things. “okay don’t wear a skirt that’s trying WAY too hard.”

“i know!” i groan and drop all my skirts on the ground before scrambling back to my closet.

“y/n look. the more you try the more shallow you’re going to come off. so just wear jeans and a cute top.” she shrugs and throws me a pair of my low rise jeans.

“yeah yeah you’re right.” i sigh and put the jeans on with a cute top, and my outfit is ready to go.

“ugh SO cute honey. you’re gonna wipe that sexy ass off his feet.” she claps happily and smiles.

i roll my eyes but smile. “okay whatever i have to go.” i kiss her cheek than head towards the door.

“yay go get high and laid bitch!” she giggles as i leave my bedroom.

harry’s house is a 15 minute drive from mine so i had to leave now if i was going to make it. i hate to admit it, but the gnawing feeling of anxiety and nervousness was finally hitting me.

usually when i’m over at guys houses, it’s very chill and i’m not worried because theres no reason to be. however, this time i’m actually nervous because i’m actually into the guy i’m seeing.

sure we only met officially today, but he’s hot, nice, and he has weed. what’s not to love?

as i drive up to harry’s house and see a decently sized house with a couple cars parked outside. i park on the street and touchup my makeup before walking up to the front door.

before i can chicken out and run away i ring the doorbell.

after a few seconds i hear someone run down the stairs and open the door. there, looking hot as ever, is harry. he’s wearing a white wife-beater tank top, and of course, the heavenly gray sweatpants.

it takes every ounce of self control in my body not to check him out.

“oh hey y/n. come in.” harry smiles at me and opens the door so i can enter his house. i step inside and see the typical suburban house. it’s very clean and there’s voices coming from the kitchen.

“thanks for letting me come over” i look up at harry as he is closing the door behind me.

“yeah for sure. cmon let’s go upstairs you don’t want to meet my parents.” he smirks and nods towards the staircase.

“okay” i nod and follow him up the staircase towards his room. it’s always fun going to other people’s houses and seeing little glimpses of what they’re day-to-day life is really like. it’s easy to put on a persona at school and hide yourself, but at your own home it’s impossible.

harry’s house is extremely nice. his parents have to be doctors or something because this is definitely upper middle class. there are pictures across the walls, awards for each person in the family, and paintings. It looks like harry has a sister… cute.

“that’s pretty.” i say pointing towards the large pairing hung in the middle of the wall. the painting really is beautiful. it was a picture of what looked like the New York skyline at sunset.

harry turns around and looks at the painting and then me. “oh yeah. my mom made that.”

“really? she's talented” i smile and continue following him down the hallway towards his room.

“hm yeah she’s an artist. we have a fuck ton of paintings around the house.” harry shrugs and opens the door to his room with me trailing behind him. “anyways… this is my room. just sit anywhere while i grab my shit.”

i nod and plop down onto the beanbag chair next to his desk. harry hums quietly as he goes over to his drawers and starts rummaging through them. harry’s room is decorated completely with posters, a guitar hung on the wall, and pictures pinned up.

i couldn’t help but admire him for a minute. it really was surprising to me how attractive this man was. theres cute guys, and then theres hot guys… like harry.

he continues looking through his drawers for a minute before pulling out a small paper baggie. i watch him put a couple things into it and then walk over to me.

i take the bag from harry gratefully and look up at him. “how much do i owe you?” i ask while pulling out my wallet.

harry shakes his head and sits down on his bed. “how about you smoke a joint with me and we’ll call it even?”

“really? that sounds like a win-win for me and a lose-lose for you. it’s fine harry i can pay.” i protest while opening my wallet and looking at him expectantly.

“mm nope. sounds like a win-win to me. i get to supply you so you don’t go to that weirdass freshman and i get to smoke with the pretty girl from my math class." he smirks and pulls out a joint shaking it between his fingers teasingly at me. “it’s alright y/n first times on me.” i roll my eyes but sense that he’s not going to give in and let me pay him.

“fine, fine, but next time i’m paying okay?” i never felt good about taking things for free. it made me feel like i owed a large debt to them in the future.

“sure whatever you say, love.” harry shrugs and pulls out his lighter and then pats the spot on the bed next to him. “now get up here with me so you can pay up.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 2 hours later ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

how did i end up straddling harry’s lap? good question! i have no fucking idea.

it started out chill. we were passing the joint back and forth while having a casual conversation. we talked about the bitches at our school, our summer plans, blah blah blah.

it was all going great and chill until harry decided to switch things up. maybe it was the fact that we are both baked, maybe it’s that we’ve had a weird sexual tension since this morning, but it switched up so fast.

it first started when harry made a comment about my lipgloss.

“hm i’ve never had strawberry pot before.” harry smirks and hands the joint back to me. i look at harry confused for a second trying to figure out what he meant.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean… you’re pretty pink lipgloss is getting all over it and it’s making it taste sweet.” he has the most smug look on his face as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.

i roll my eyes as harry teases me about my lipgloss. “quit acting like you don’t like it.”

“i never said i didn’t like it! i was just saying, i think i have some lipgloss on too.” he chuckles and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. there was, in fact, lipgloss. oops.

i’m too high to even care so i just start giggling at harry’s fake angry expression. my giggling pulls a small smile onto harry’s lips.

“hey! i’m just trying to be a good friend here. you need to moisturize your lips regularly curly.” i erupt into a fit of giggles as harry simply smirks and takes another drag.

“oh you’re such a good girl trying to keep my lips moisturized.” harry rolls his eyes sarcastically and hands me the joint. i take it him from him and take another hit letting the smoke fill my lungs before turning back to harry.

“seriously harry, i’m a great friend. girls won’t kiss you if you have crusty ass lips.” i try to say that with a serious and straight face but i instantly burst out laughing again.

“wow what would i do without you?” he chuckles and takes the joint from me. “you know now that i’ve tasted your lipgloss… i kind of want to taste those pretty little lips of yours.” harry grins and taps his index finger agains my lips lightly.

i smile and shift so i’m sitting on harry’s lap straddling his hips. “that’s fine with me.”

harry puts the joint down on the ashtray next to his bed and rests his hands on my hips. “really that’s okay with you?”

“mhm” i nod and bring my hands up to play with his curls. harry’s green eyes search mine for a second before placing his hand on my cheek. he hums and traces his thumb carefully across my bottom lip.

“such a pretty thing hm.” he smirks and leans his head forward nudging my nose with his. i smile and play with his curls.

“so… can i have a kiss petal?” harry cups my cheek and leans in. without hesitation i lean in and connect our lips. harry sighs against me and holds my head close to him.

i wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss opening my lips to him. harry bites my bottom lip and pulls away for a second. i smile and look at him. “you’re a good kisser”

harry hums softly and kisses me on the jaw making me blush slightly. his hands grip my hips lightly has his kisses make their way down my neck.

“so fucking pretty, you know that? i’m obsessed with you” harry mumbles against my neck. “how did i not ask you over sooner?”

i smile and shift my hips so i’m sitting closer against him, a light blush painting my cheeks. “you should’ve. i would have said yes.”

“hm that right? i’ll keep it in mind.” he smirks and pulls my hips against him. his kisses continue to travel down my neck before stopping at my collar bone.

“lay down for me y/n” he says while kissing my neck.

i roll off harry’s lap onto my back onto his bed. he smiles and crawls over me. he props his arms up on either side of my head. harry looks so hot above me.

“can i taste you petal?” his bright green eyes turn dark filled with lust as he looked at me desperately. i nod eagerly and press my lips against him once more.

“please harry, need you.” i let out a soft moan as harry nips at my neck and travels down my body until he’s between my legs.

“gonna let me see you y/n?” he asks before pulling down my jeans and tossing them off the bed. i nod and watch as harry smirks up at me. his eyes travel down from my eyes to my core.

“so fucking pretty i swear.” he hums and presses a kiss against my clothes center. i moan quietly as his lips travel down my panties before pushing them to the side.

he pulls my panties to the side and lets out a groan as he presses a sweet kiss to my clit. i gasp and hold harry’s hair tightly.

“you taste so sweet baby.” he hums against my clit, sending vibrations up my body. i tug harry’s hair to escape the delicious torture but he just smiles up at me and continues kissing me. his thick ring clad hands holding my hips against his face.

“please harry- ” i whine and press my hips up against him. he sticks his tongue out flat and runs it up my pussy while keeping eye contact with me.

he pulls away for a second and grabs the joint for a second. his lips wrap around it taking a deep hit while watching me sit there impatiently. he smirks and pulls the joint from his lips pushing it between mine. “hold that for me petal.”

i take the joint willingly and take a hit while harry reconnects his lips with my core. i let out a groan as harry sucks my clit between his lips just as he did with the joint.

my body is racked with pleasure as harry hungrily sucks on my bundle of nerves. my hand holds his curls tightly as he eats me like a starved man.

“fuck harry!” i gasp as harry pushes his middle finger into my tight hole. he continues lapping at my clit while pumping his finger into me. the ring resting at the bottom of his finger left a cool sensation run through my body.

“how are you so bloody wet?” he moans against my core while adding a second finger to the mix. my pussy clenches against him greedily as the sensations filled my heat.

harry moves his fingers faster while wrapping his lips around my clit once more. my hips buck up against him searching for the last bit of stimulation needed before i could let go.

“fuck m’gonna cum harry!” i gasp as he speeds up.

“that’s it pretty girl. let go for me, i wanna taste your sweet mess.” he smirks up at me and adds a third finger. this pushes me over the edge, my body consumed with pleasure. harry helps me ride out my orgasm by lapping at my core gently.

he crawls up my body and hovers over me. “i need to feel you baby. is that okay?” he whispers as he presses kisses to my neck.

i nod and wrap my legs around his hips, pressing my core to the front of his sweats. “please harry.”

harry groans and pushes his bulge against me for some relief. “okay petal. gonna fuck you.” he quickly tugs his sweatpants down and kisses my neck. “ready baby?”

i nod eagerly watching him. he sighs and carefully pushes past my tight entrance. my body eagerly welcomes him as i hold onto harrys shoulders tightly for support.

“oh fuck harry!” i groan as he pushes in all the way. he’s much thicker and longer than i thought he would be. my walls tighten against him tightly as he pushes to the hilt.

“so tight and wet for me.” he sighs and pulls back so it’s just the tip left in. harry moves his hand from my wait to my stomach so it’s resting just below my belly button.

as he pushes back into my cunt his large palm presses down on my stomach. at this angle i’m able to feel all of the veins and ridges decorating his cock. a loud whine slips past my lips as harry continues fucking into me.

he quickly brings a hand to hold over my mouth while the other continues to press down on my stomach. “shh i love hearing your sweet moans baby, but we can’t let my parents here.”

he picks up the pace, and the only sounds heard are the obscene squelching coming from where harry is fucking into me. he changes his angle a little bit and my body instantly floods with pleasure as i gasp.

“there it is.” he smirks and continues pounding into me at that angle. the tip of his cock perfectly hitting my spot as i moan into his hand.

harry moved his hand away from my mouth and brings it down to play with my abused clit. he groans as i clench around him and he picks up the pace.

“so- fucking- tight” he groans and pushes his face into my neck to muffle his moans. his hips continue to snap up into my mine while his fingers move quickly against my bundle of nerves.

i’m so overstimulated from the orgasm before this, so it doesn’t take long for my second to build up. “harry!” i whine as his hips move against mine furiously.

“yeah? gonna cum again for me? that’s good baby, m’gonna cum for you.” he moans against my neck and keeps his quick pace up.

my walls clench around his thick cock tightly as my body finally releases. i bite down onto harry’s shoulder gently to muffle my moans. harry groans out and thrusts a few more times sloppily before letting his release paint my walls.

we both ride out our orgasms slowly for a couple minutes. before harry pulls away shakily and speaks. “we’re doing that again”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

2 months have past since harry and i first got together. it’s an understatement to say we enjoy each others company. as y/bsf/n said, we’re “fucking like bunnies”

if we weren’t at harry’s house, i was sneaking harry in through my window. luckily, harry’s parents were very chill and always let me come over. i’d really grown to like his mom, sister, and dad. my parents however, had NO knowledge of harry. if they did, i’d be dead.

harry and i are currently cuddled up in my bed at 1am. i always had to wait until my mom and dad are asleep before letting harry in through my window.

so, here we are now, wrapped up in each other whispering about dumb things.

“ugh anyways i hate her bitchass.” im currently complaining to harry about a girl in our class that’s being an ass to me.

“me too.” harry whispers back. his arms wrapped around my waist so im pulled against him. his tight embrace comforts me like nothing else. i can almost forget all the shit i endure at school when i’m with him.

“you don’t even know her.” i giggle as harry presses kisses to my jaw.

“doesn’t matter. i hate anyone who fucks with my girl.”

i roll my eyes and smile at harry’s cheesy comments. he pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. i cuddle into his chest as he starts talking about other things.

“i’m so obsessed with you baby.” he whispers against my neck making goosebumps travel down my spine.

“i’m obsessed with you too.” i grin and kiss a sweet kiss to harry’s cheek. in all honesty it is much more than that. i can feel it, im very quickly falling in love with harry.

“good, because you’re mine now.” he whispers and kisses my neck.

it was WAY too soon to tell harry i loved him. i mean for fucks sakes, i’ve only known him for a few months. he is just one of the few teenage boys that has ever been truly kind to me.

harry and i continue talking about mindless things. both of us are too wrapped up in each other to realize how late it is.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

my door is burst open as light pours into the room. i immediately sit up and panic fills my body. my dad and mom stand there looking furious as the see harry sitting there next to me.

“i- uh” i don’t even know what to say in this situation. my parents are NOT easy going people. this is quite possibly, the worst case scenario.

“who the fuck is he?” my mom yells as he sees harry sitting up. my dad is completely dead silent which is even scarier to me.

“i-im sorry- this is harry.” i say quietly.

“harry? oh so you’re bringing random guys into your room?” my mom yells loudly.

“no mom! this isn’t a random guy! this is harry, my boyfriend.” i quickly stand up and stand between my parents and harry. i give harry a look saying ‘don’t talk’

“YOUR BOYFRIEND?” she looks absolutely furious screaming her head off at me. my dad is completely silent and just glaring at me and harry.

“i’m sorry okay? we’ve been together for two months and we really like each other.” my eyes are begging my mom to stop yelling in front of harry.

instead, my dad steps in. “how could you bring a boy into your room? let alone be sleeping in the same bed as him!”

“i’m so sorry. i just really like him and wanted to spend time with him!” harry is quietly watching, not interfering with our argument.

“NO! you cannot see this boy anymore! get him out of my house!” my dad yells and points at harry.

“w-what? daddy please no!” i beg him.

“no! you went behind our backs and brought a boy in our house!”

“that’s because i knew you wouldn’t let me see him! please don’t do this!”

“yeah you’re damn right i wouldn’t let you see him. i don’t want my daughter getting knocked up at 18! you’re not even out of high school yet!”

my eyes prick with tears as i desperately try to defend harry. without thinking, the words slip out.

“but daddy i love him!”

everyone freezes. i feel guilt and embarrassment flood my body as the words spill from my lips. my moms mouth drops as she looks between harry and i. my dads angry face dissapears as he looks at me in disbelief. harry is sitting there with a small smile on his face.

“you what?” my dad looks at me with utter disbelief.

“i- i-,” i hesitate and glance at harry. he looks overjoyed at my words despite the situation. “i love him…”

“you love this kid? why? you’re a teenager y/n! you don’t know shit about love!” my dad says firmly.

fuck it

“yes i do dad! i know that harry makes me 10x happier than anyone else on the planet! i feel so completely happy when we’re together! that’s why i brought him over tonight. i was having a shitty day at school and needed to feel happy for once.”

i let out all my emotions to my parents telling them how much i love harry. “you can’t make me stay away from him! i love him!”

my parents look shocked at everything i say to them. they turn to each other and whisper quietly. i stand there unsure as they talk. harry remains silent as he stares at me with a small smile.

“okay y/n… maybe we’re a bit too strict with you” my mom says quietly. “you’re 18 you can have a boyfriend.”

“r-really?” this was coming from the same woman that wouldn’t even let me have a boys number in my phone until i was 16.

“yes. you deserve to be happy. we’re just looking out for you honey. we don’t want you to make a mistake and end up pregnant at 18.”

i nod and look at them with eyes full of gratefulness. “so i can have harry over to the house now?”

my dad sighs and rubs his forehead before nodding. “just no sex under my roof, okay? i don’t want a grandchild yet.” he glares at harry.

harry nods and finally speaks up. “of course sir. i care for y/n a lot. she’s an amazing person and i plan on taking care of her.”

he looks at my mom and then back to me and harry. “fine. but no more sneaking through the window, got it?” he looks at me sternly.

“yeah of course!” i grin and hug my dad tightly. “thank you.”

“okay y/n… walk him out for the night. we’ll continue this conversation later.”

i nod and pull away. my parents exit the room and head towards their bedroom. i turn back to harry and smile.

harry smiles back and gives me a peck on the forehead.

“i love you too petal.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

hope you loved this! i definitely plan on writing more for this story.

(i was a lil high when i wrote this so ignore the bad parts hehe)

- xoxo

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tabootoji · 2 months

Text

"YOU COLD? LEMME WARM YOU UP..."

✰ - SYNOPSIS: you try to learn more about your cryptic partner, but toji has plans of his own... (OR) you cockwarm toji and he fucks you on the couch while you while you have company over. (ft. naoya zenin & shiu kong) ✰ - WC: 4.0k ✰ - TAGS: age gap, size diff., teasing, pet names, impact play, alcohol use, nipple play, dry humping, cockwarming, exhibitionism, v. penetration, f. orgasm, creampie, (mentions of threesome), no use of (y/n), all lower case, reader is female ✰ - A/N: my first toji fanfic can you tell i'm excited?!?! i ended this with a pretty fluffy ending to my own surprise, so enjoy! (age gap is 10 years, reader in 20's, toji in 30's)

first impressions are important. people use them to determine their initial opinions of you that they'll probably hold on to for as long as they know you. most of the time it's hard to sway them from it once their minds are made up about the type of person they think you are.

which is why you're currently standing in front of your bathroom mirror for the third time in the past 20 minutes to do another check on your hair and outfit. you smooth down your t-shirt and skirt with your hands along with your hair, and take in a deep breath to calm your nerves.

the reason for your anxiety? any minute now you were going to meet your boyfriend's best friend and cousin, two guys on a very short list of people toji seemed bothered enough to care about.

you and toji began dating only recently, but the two of you have been smitten since meeting at a grocery store where he promptly asked you out. you weren't the type to accept date offers from random men you just met, but there was just something about his unwavering confidence and devilishly good looks that made you unable to say no. and oh did toji know how to use his attributes well. you both moved fast, even deciding to move in together after only knowing each other for such a short amount of time.

despite the fast development of your relationship, you cared deeply about the older man, and you enjoy the time you spend together...it's just that you wished you knew more about him.

whenever the two of you are together, you're usually the one doing the most talking while toji listens, with the occasional head nod to show he’s paying attention to whatever you're saying. but he barely talks about himself. you know nothing about any family members or friends, in fact, anything that happened before you met him is a complete mystery to you. you're not even really sure what he does for a living, only knowing him to be a contractor of some sort. at times you're brutally reminded that you're practically living with a stranger.

you've expressed your need to know more about the mysteries you know he’s hiding behind the opaque glass emerald of his eyes, but toji only chalks it down to the fact that he's just a boring older man that just enjoys the simplicities of life. you know he’s lying to you, a man like toji gave everything but the ordinary. but you let the issue go anyway, not wanting to pry.

toji knows how much you want to learn more about the inner workings of his life, and he can admit seeing you act so despondent about it bothers him, which is why he's arranged this hangout - to give you some insight on his complex past. and although you're incredibly excited for this, you’re also extremely on edge. you had to use this miraculous opportunity to ensure that the people most important to toji not only accepted your relationship, but liked you as a person.

in the middle of your thoughts, you hear said boyfriend call out your name, making you jump back into reality. they must be here! you take one more glance into the mirror before coming out of the bathroom.

you rush to the entrance of the apartment where you heard toji's deep voice boom from. "are they outside?" you ask with a slight squeak of your voice as soon as he's within your field of view. toji stands at the front door waiting for you, his tall frame almost surpassing the height of it. he had on his usual wear, black compression top that you always teased him for wearing a couple sizes too small (which he would always answer: "can't ever find any that make my size") and gray sweatpants that held onto his narrow waistline beautifully, then fell loose around his extensive legs.

he bobs his head, answering your question. walking to his side, you watch his verdant eyes take their time to look you up and down. once you're finally within arm's length, toji grabs your waist and pulls you into the lateral side of his solid abdomen, bending down to plant a smooch on your cheek. "relax ma, y'er gonna jump outta y’er skin. don’t worry, they'll love ya."

"okay toji..." you decide to listen to him, attempting to shake the nerves out of your body. "ya look damn good, that's f' sure." he smirks, the scar on his calloused lips curving upwards before he slaps your ass, causing you to gasp in surprise. he then abruptly opens the front door, not giving you anytime to recuperate before your face to face with your visitors. oh how he just loved messing with you.

in the hallway of the complex stood an average built man with a tapered haircut, the sides on the top sticking out. his small yet enigmatic eyes displayed politeness as he smiled at you and toji. beside him was a taller guy with a fitter build, his haughty attitude emitting through his relaxed posture. and if his flashy blonde hair didn't put you off, his edgy piercings did.

you gather yourself quickly, greeting them with a clumsy "hi" and a small wave of your hand. the latter shamelessly gives you a once over blatantly. once it seems he’s determined that he likes what he see’s, he utters a "nice" to toji with a nod of his head, arrogantly pushing his way past you both to enter your apartment. you stand frozen in disbelief, blinking your eyes in confusion. no way he just...?

"shut y'er ass up naoya." toji warns playfully, shoving his shoulder as he passes by. "that's my rude ass obnoxious cousin. this here's shiu." he flicks his thumb towards the dark haired gentleman's direction.

"nice to meet you." he says, his mouth arching up in union, making you take notice of the peach fuzz on top of it that seemed to complete his corporate look. once you've all entered, naoya looks around at the ensemble of the living room with a look of disgust, while toji and shiu begin to catch up with one another. not knowing what to do with yourself, you skittishly announce that you'll go and get drinks for everyone, scurrying into the kitchen.

you rush to the shelf filled with bottles of hard liquor that toji stashed and decide to grab a bottle of whiskey, along with four old fashioned glasses in the neighboring cabinet. as you fill the cups a little more than halfway, you strain your ears to listen into the trio's conversation.

"been a while since i've seen you. this meetup all of a sudden? ya must be serious about this one."

"sure am, so quit ya gawking dickhead."

you hear shiu snicker at the two’s playful banter while you set the glasses on a tray, building up the courage to head back into the main room. you stride to the three, holding out the platter to serve them their drinks. toji and shiu thank you before taking a swig of theirs, while naoya cockily snatches his own wordlessly and goes to take a seat at one of the lounge chairs in the room, leaving the three of you to join him on the corresponding arm chair and couch.

when you're all seated, shiu turns his attention to you and toji. "so fushiguro, how'd ya manage to trick such a cute girl into dealing with'ya?" he jests, leaning forward onto his knees and taking another gulp of the dark substance. after sipping your own, you already start to feel the liquid amplify your bravery as you ease up for the first time since your guests arrived.

"he's not so bad." you say sarcastically, leaning on his brawny arm. "oh yeah?" toji combats smugly, wrapping it around you and laying his rough palm on your hip. shiu peers at the two of you with a look of appreciation. naoya mutters "how cute." with a roll of his eyes.

"toji's never told me how you both know each other." you blurt out, not missing a beat. with your newfound boldness, you weren't going to waste anymore time not utilizing this chance to learn more secrets about your lover. toji’s gaze raises from yours to shiu's, who's already silently watching him. the two exchange a wordless stare down for a while, shiu being the one to break it with a laugh. "we used to work together, a long time ago." he finally says. you glance at toji and he's guzzling down his beverage, seemingly refusing to elaborate. hm, that was definitely something...but what?

"this meaningless chit chat bores me." naoya suddenly announces, swirling his chair to the direction of the tv in the room and turning it on with the remote he somehow found to flip through the channels, forcing everyone to watch his selected program. looking at the group's glasses on the table in the middle of you all, you realize the guy's have already finished their spirits. you take it upon yourself to clear the area, getting up and gathering everyone's empty cups besides yours back on the plate to put into the sink back in the kitchen.

once you return, it looks like naoya has decided on a film to watch. the lights are off, the television providing the only dim light in the small area while all eyes were trained onto the moving pictures. as you're about to take your seat next to toji, he swiftly takes your arm, pulling you to him to plop onto his lap instead. "wrong seat girl." he whispers, making you shiver slightly when you feel his hot breath hit your clavicle.

toji wastes no time holding your small frame with his arms that are more than twice your size, adjusting both of you so he could lean his back on the plush sofa, and you could lean on his broad, sturdy chest. he's rubbing small circles on the exposed skin of your hip with his thumb, and you can already feel his budding erection poke you from beneath your skirt that barely covered your crotch.

you may not know much about the enigma of toji fushiguro, but there is one thing he's made sure to make apparent to you very quickly after the two of you got together: the fact that he's a total horn ball. the man always needed to have his hands on some part of your body whenever you were together. and it's not like you don't enjoy the physical attention, you were just hoping that toji could master some self control, especially in front of others.

at first, you only feel occasional pecks on the back of your neck caused by him pressing his moist lips onto various sites of your nape. then, toji's hand moves from your waist to underneath your shirt. this evening, you decided to forego a bra and instead wore pasties to cover your nipples, which he easily peeled off to expose them. the cotton material of your shirt rubbing against the swell of your chest coupled with the hasty grazes of toji's hand already leaves them stiff, ready to be played with.

he takes one of your peaks in between the rough pads of his fingers and gives it a teasing pinch, almost making you leap right out of his lap. chuckling at your reaction, toji then uses his knuckles to gently twist the other, planting his mouth right below your neckline and sucking on the skin there.

you bite the inner flesh of your cheek at the prickling sensations that start to rush through you, very sure you've already made a mess of your panties from toji's touches. the alcohol you've been drinking is doing wonders for your assertiveness, and your libido, because you begin to rub your groin against his growing bulge, seeking relief at the neediest part of your body.

for a while toji leaves you be, grunting softly at the friction from your humping. he feels your damp underwear on his clothed cock as you rut against him like a dog. suddenly, he pushes you forward momentarily to fidget with the drawstrings of his joggers. when you turn around to see what he's doing, your eyes sparkle in amazement and excitement at the sight of toji's fat cock lying on his abdomen, his swollen head already threatening to dribble precum onto his shirt. he pulls you back till you're close enough for him to mutter in your ear. "sit on my cock doll face"

if you were sober, you'd have already reprimanded toji for being such a pervert, especially in front of their guests. worst case scenario you'd have at least snuck him into the bathroom and dealt with him there. but the liquor was making you feel more and more risque as the seconds passed.

so you reach forward and grab your lone glass to take another sip of its bitter contents. arching your back, you make sure toji has a good view of your ass. once you confirm he has when you hear him hiss "oh shit..." you pull your panties to the side to uncover your drooling cunt. you set your cup down and take a deep breath to brace yourself, taking toji's dick to align with your awaiting pussy before slowly sinking down onto it.

"fuck..." he breaths out once you finally manage to take in all of his thick girth. he rests his head on your shoulder, holding you even closer to his solid body. you can feel the mass of toji's penis expand your squishy insides, the bulb of his cockhead pressing against your cervix deliciously. your tight, moist hole provides a snug hold to his large shaft. was it always this hot? a bead of sweat falls off your brow as you try not to bring attention to yourself.

but when toji returns to tugging on your taut nubs while he licks up and down your slender throat, your mixed fluids seeping out of your conjunction, you almost let out a moan before shiu abruptly breaks the silence in the room. "hey fushiguro, win any bets lately?' he asks, freezing the both of you in your tracks.

toji clears his throat, remaining cool calm and collected as always. "nah, not yet. m' not worried though. been feelin' real lucky lately." he answers, satisfied at the clench of your pussy around his member at his suggestive words. shiu simply lets out a snicker, continuing to watch the television.

whew, that was close. "you cold baby?" toji asks you all of a sudden. you give him a confused raise of your eyebrow, baffled by his worry of your temperature now of all times. "poor thing, ya got goosebumps all over ya." he teases you, running his digits up and down your arms. "don't worry, got just tha' thing to warm ya up..."

taking a blanket on the other side of the couch, toji lifts you up with one arm like your weight is nothing to him. he lays you both on your sides, covering your bodies with the rug. his previous question finally clicks for you once the two of you are situated in this new position, one of his large palms gripping your bent leg while the other supports the side of his skull so he can look down at you.

it'd be risky, but naoya seems to have fallen asleep, and shiu appeared to be entertained enough with whatever program was on to pay you guys any mind. all you had to do was try and stay as quite and still as possible till toji was finished. hell, who were you kidding? you needed him just as badly. if toji didn't move inside of you soon, you thought you were going to combust.

you get your wish when he begins slowly thrusting into you. "i...change my mind, ah...you're bad all the time." you moan quietly. toji seems to be making each stroke count, plunging deeply into you with every push of his hips. he bends down to kiss your hot temple with a cocky grin. "and ya love it."

toji ended up being right, because if you thought you were hot before, you're sure that you're boiling now. nevermind the blanket serving as cover while toji fucks you, you were enveloped by the warmth of his tight embrace, his large body caging your small one against him. you try your best not to squirm, covering your mouth with your hand in case any lewd sounds fell from your lips as toji continued to drag his cock against the goopy walls of your pussy.

it was getting harder and harder for toji to contain himself as well. he wanted nothing more than to fuck the living daylights out of you, like he always does. he had half a mind to throw his guests out right now so he could thoroughly have his way with you. though he could admit this was another level of naughtiness that turned him on even more from doing this in secret.

by going so agonizingly slow, toji could take his time to not only feel each and every inch of you, he could admire how cute you looked trying to contain yourself as he stuffed you with his bulky cock. each time he was fully inside of you, he paused to stare at your pretty face scrunch up as you took all of him, the weight of his hefty member prominent.

he's partly surprised he's even able to go this far with you right now, given the current circumstances. but seeing how cock hungry you are for him, uncaringly giving into your lustrous cravings just as he was fills his heart with a mixture of adoration and desire.

a layer of your slick coats the rim of toji's rigid dick, allowing him to easily slide inside of your warm mound. you start to push your butt back to meet his tantalizing jabs halfway, causing toji's breath to hitch in his throat. he looks forward to make sure the added movements haven't caught the attention of his friend and cousin. once he's confirmed that the coast is still clear, toji returns to focusing on the leisurely pace of his throbbing cock.

your bosom bounces off of his lap each time he drives himself into you, and the way you pivot your hips back and forth allows toji to reach even deeper inside of you, your g-spot being consistently stimulated by the round end of his shaft. wet strings of your combined arousal begin to form and snap, and it all becomes too much for toji as he lets his head fall behind you. he uses both of his arms to cuddle your waist to hold you still, afraid that he’ll cum just from the gracious movement of your hips alone.

now that he has a good hold on you, the force toji uses to propel further into you knocks you forward each time. he’s squeezing you so tightly, almost as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear from him. and when he begins to flick the sensitive nub in between your legs, you fear your chest will cave in from the pleasure at any moment.

toji rubs your responsive bundle of nerves with his long digits, using the wetness your pussy made from being played with. an overflowing amount of your sap leaks down onto his pelvis as he continues to use your body like his own personal flesh light. he peppers the length of your neck with kisses before gliding his tongue against the veins protruding from it. you can feel the indentation of his scar as his lips brush your pulse.

you feel toji's desperation as he rocks you back and forth; he's close, and you want nothing more than to feel him erupt inside of you. you reach underneath to clasp onto his weighty nutsacks. toji almost chokes on his own breath when he feels you start to massage them with your soft hands. you take both masses into your palms, utilizing the moisture from your sex and rubbing prominent circles into his scrotum. for fuck's sake, it was like you were manually attempting to milk him dry.

both of your heads fog from the overwhelming satisfaction you were giving each other. neither of you were even sure if you were still doing a good enough job keeping up your facade of ‘cuddling', too entrapped with the task of helping the other climb up their ladder of gratification. toji sinks his canines into your collarbone while you press your face into the cushions of the couch to muffle your noises as you both reach your climax.

with a final thrust, toji stills inside of you before emptying his load into your awaiting womb. hot ropes of his cum shoot inside of your trembling cunt, and it's so much. toji always cum's like a horse, but this particular time it's like its never ending, to the point where it begins seeping out of your pussy that's still contracting around him from your own release.

the combination of the heat of the moment plus the liquor must aid in your exhaustion, because your eyelids close right away, ushering you into slumber. toji takes a moment to calm his rapid heart beat by controlling his erratic breathing, bathing in the tranquility from his orgasm. the slow rise and fall of your body tells him you've already fallen asleep, which makes him chuckle.

oh but toji was far from done with you. his engorged balls that were still filled with more of his cum twitched as his cock began springing back to life. the velvety texture of your inner walls that still gripped his length even in your sleep had him rock hard again in no time.

he contemplates waking you back up, knowing you'd probably feel bad later about falling asleep while your guests were still over. but his good girl worked hard to be a good hostess, and a good cock sleeve, so he opts to letting you rest for now. you'd need it anyway, especially for what he has planned for you later after he kicks his companions out.

speaking of, toji looks up at the two in question who, in his opinion, were now overstaying their welcome. naoya is still knocked out, snoring obnoxiously with his mouth hung open. but to toji's surprise, shiu was not only still wide awake, he was already looking back at him knowingly.

"you know, you two aren't as sneaky as you may think you are." he says, shaking his head with a tsk. not seeming too affected about being caught, toji shrugs, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear while admiring your sleeping form. "what can i say? can't keep my hands off of her."

humming in acknowledgement, shiu speaks again, a sly grin on his face. "fuck your girlfriend on your own time. or at the very least, ask me to join, like old times." toji makes eye contact with his old friend, a long pregnant pause stilling the room.

his first reaction was to entertain shiu's comment with a snide response of his own, which has always been the nature of their friendship. however, as toji looks down at the girl who's managed to capture his mind, body, and heart, someone who was able to awaken emotions inside of him he thought he abandoned a long time ago, he can’t bring himself to joke around about the most important person in his life: you.

"nah, not with her." toji finally says, giving your forehead another kiss and gazing at you lovingly as you continue to sleep peacefully. observing the tender moment between you two, shiu smiles to himself, content with seeing his friend express genuine happiness after so long. "she must be real special."

"yeah, she is."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader

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kenzlie · 3 months

Text

just one more? c.s

𝗒𝗈𝗎 were a 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇..

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUTT, oral (male receiving), degrade kink, praise kink, inappropriate language, p n v, unprotected sex, hair pulling, slapping, probably more idk i’m ℱ𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀𝓎..

A/N: This is like my 1st post on tumblr, btw this is short bc the first time i wrote it, it got deleted, anyways if you do not like what i write and say, you can leave!! (it’s free) anyways enjoy 😈.

Orange = chris speaking, pink = fem speaking

i was sitting on the couch watching a movie, i was waiting for my boyfriend chris to get back from dropping matt and nick off at a sleepover

me and chris have a good relationship we understand each other very well and get along good, well sometimes just not always, anytime we have sex it’s gentle sex and always protected

the movie ended a few minutes ago and i’m scrolling on my phone, i hear the front door knob rattle before being opened “i’m back baby” “hi chris” i say while putting me phone away and smiling at him as he sets his stuff down and plops next to me on the couch “sorry i took so long, matt and nick got hungry so we stopped to get them food” “don’t be sorry baby, wanna make some brownies?” “yeah sure”

we’re standing in the kitchen mixing the batter, well i was, chris was just standing and watching “are you gonna help or just stand there?” i say with a bit of a attitude “you can do it” “no come help chris” i say annoyed, he ignores me “oh so now you can’t hear?” “i can hear perfect but you wanted to make them” “i thought you’d be a good boyfriend and help, i mean come on it’s common sense chris.” “i’m okay you got it” i groan at his annoying comment

i was pouring the batter into the pan making sure it was just perfect and right “let me lick the spoon” chris says trying to grab it from my hand, i pull my hand back “no, you should’ve helped” i say licking the spoon while keeping eye contact, teasing him by the minute

i had put the brownies in the oven to cook about 15 minutes ago, they’d be done it 5 to 10 minutes, me and chris were sitting on the couch looking at our phones, chris wasn’t speaking to me over the spoon thing, typical childish chris

“your a brat do you know that?” he says breaking the silence “excuse me?” i say knowing i have but chris never minded it “you heard me, you’ve been a fucking brat.” “so? your point is?” “my point is you should your attitude before i fix it for you.” “ok bud..” i knew then i had got under his skin, he HATED when i called him bud,buddy,bro or any sort of name like that, he gives me a death stare and was about to say something before the oven timer went off, i get up walking over to the kitchen,i turn off the oven before bending down with my oven mits, grabbing the pan and placing it on the counter, i turn around about to go grab a knife to cut the brownies, but instead i turn around to chris death staring me "can i help you chris?" i ask, without a word chris picks me up putting me on the edge of the counter before smashing his lips against mine "chris.." i say muffled "i warned you, did you listen? no."

all of a sudden he’s carrying me up the stairs to the bedroom, chris has never been like this with me he’s always gentle and soft, he tosses me on the bed “you wanna act like a brat? i’ll fuck you like one.” he stands in front of me unbuttoning his jeans “come here slut” he says as he pulls his boxers down, his long hard length slapping against his lower stomach, i crawl over to him as he stands at the end of the bed “chris i’m not giving you head after you didn’t even try helping me in the kitchen” he pulls my face up to look at him “do you really think i care? now open.” he says slapping my cheek slighty, i open my mouth slightly as he shoves himself in without warning “mph!” i say muffled, i suck slowly since that’s usually how we always go, slow and gentle, “faster whore..” he breathes out grabbing my hair and fucking my mouth, i stroke what i can’t fit, “fuck..” he moans, almost whimpering, i speed up my pace with both my hands and mouth, all of a sudden he shoots warm white ropes to the back of my throat, i swallowed his load as i breathe out

before i can even speak im being pushed onto my back, chris wastes to time pulling off my shirt and pants, leaving me only in my underwear and bra, my underwear was soaked, i looked away embarrassed, chris grabs my face to look at him “how fucking pathetic..” he slips my underwear off my body before rubbing his tip around my folds “please don’t tease..” i beg letting out a whine that was quickly replaced with a gasp that was caused from chris shoving himself inside me, his thrust were fast and rough “c-chris!” i moan as i throw my head back, chris’s hand snakes behind my head grabbing a fist full of hair, pulling on it to make me look at him, his free hand was stabbing into my hip as he fucked me without mercy “g-gonna cum baby..” i warn “c’mon baby cum for me..” my orgasm hits me hard, i moan out grabbing onto whatever i can, chris doesn’t stop, “can’t take it!” i whine “c’mon ma, just one more?”, chris thrusts into me harshly a few more times before i cum again, i could tell he was close, clearly from his now sloppy thrusts “fuck fuck fuck..” he whispers before pulling out and spilling all over my stomach

after chris cleaned me up and helped me change, he simply threw on some plaid pants and a white tank top, he crawled in bed next to me cuddling up behind me “i love you baby..” he whispers into my ear “i love you too chris..” i whisper back.

A/N: this is my first smut in a while so ntm, anywho i hope you enjoyed this!!

@chrissslut

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #smut

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year

Text

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)

pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4.5k

summary:

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.

But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

author's note:

my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!

Translations you may need:

Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York

Sí - Yes

Dios mío - My god

El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics

Mierda - Shit

Te lo prometo - I promise you

Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god

Arañita - little spider

Cállate - be quiet

Mirame - look at me

te sientes tan bien - you feel so good

Perfecto - perfect

________

You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes.

“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York.

A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly.

“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.

“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”

Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.

“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”

Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?”

“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”

A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.

“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order.

“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you.

Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.

Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.

You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you.

“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”

________

Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.

You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output.

He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years.

Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming.

He just doesn’t know what.

________

Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—

No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor.

He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom.

You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on.

“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.

“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room.

“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer.

“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space.

There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.

“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him.

“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”

“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips?

“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”

“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.

You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.

________

Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.

“You can tell me to do anything.”

Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail.

“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks.

“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”

“You knew there was a risk of that.”

You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”

Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”

You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis.

“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks.

“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”

You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.

After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.

“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.

You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.

“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”

“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”

“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.

“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.

But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.

“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.

“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”

“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”

“Are you sure you want—“

Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”

“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”

As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.

_______

Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins.

“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.

“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”

He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”

“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box.

“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”

You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”

Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm.

“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you.

He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.

You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom.

You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”

“It did,” he replies.

“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”

Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.

“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“

His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

“Dr. O’Hara—“

“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”

“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp.

“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”

Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.

His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.

“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.

“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.

“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”

You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.

As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.

“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”

The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel.

He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.

“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”

“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body.

“I can’t!”

“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.

“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.

“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.

“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”

You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.

“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast.

Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.

His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.

Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.

“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls.

“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”

“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.”

“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.

He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.

His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.

“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.

He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.

“That was—“

“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”

He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.

“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.

“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded.

You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”

You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”

The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:

#miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #atsv fic #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #alternate universe #no use of y/n

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elsfairy · 1 year

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ㅤㅤ﹕ ꒰ ྀི 🧁 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑!𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ー ♡

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who clams up and starts to sweat when she spots you in the same room as her. tries to act like she’s all cool and hip, but how can she when you’re smiling at everyone, and making conversation while she’s just slumped in the corner of the room, blushing furiously because you’re here so close yet so far from her, and are oblivious to the fact she’s got a raging crush on you? and to make it even worse, for her . . you’re always catching her staring at you, and that fucking smile you offer her, makes her weak in the knees.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who fidgets relentlessly the first time you place your hand on her shoulder, as you try to move past a group of people. aware that it wasn’t intentional but she couldn’t stop the way her face flushed, hands began gripping her thighs tightly the longer you were touching her. thankful that her hair was covering the side of her face, so you couldn’t see how bright it became at the small touch. but god did you smell good. hints of flowers and something sweet that she couldn’t fully put her finger on. almost passing out when you whisper a small “hey” in her ear.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who shamelessly stutters the entire time when you finally sit down and talk to her. you though, being oblivious as usual, aren’t aware or noticing the way she’s got her fingernails digging into the chair or the way she has to stop looking at you and making a fool of herself as you talk about your day. It’s hard for her, you’re the prettiest thing she’s ever seen and she didn’t want to fuck it up by randomly blurting out you’re hot or fuck me. or simply has to bite down on her lip at the sound of your sweet, soft voice. she was utterly fucked.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who does indeed let her mouth get the better of her, and before she can stop herself she’s already rambling out “you’re just really pretty, why are you talking to me? There are more less awkward women here for you” and for a second, she’s scared you’re gonna up and leave her mid-conversation. instead, she’s blushing madly, bashfully nervous when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and a small “you’re more interesting than them, Pink” comes tumbling out your lips.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who ends up falling over a shipment of boxes at work when you surprise her, your hands barely doing any damage when placed on her shoulders, but you make her so nervous that she’s bound to fall over something and make it more embarrassing on her part. constantly and nervously chewing on her bottom lip the longer you just . . . stare at her with that fuckin’ pretty smile of yours. “was just wondering . . . do you wanna go on a date with me? that’s if you want to of course, Pink” to which she stutters a nervous “v..violet, my name . .” let’s just say it took her a solid 10 minutes to realize you were dead serious about a date.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who spends the entire first 30 minutes just gawking at you. she watches the way your fingers trace the wine glass, the way your nose crinkles up when you’re focused on reading the menu, and how the corner of your lips twitch upwards when spotting a group of dogs walking outside the restaurant. she still had no idea how to act cool around you, because watching, sitting there looking all elegant while she just stared like a damn perv, was nothing but cool. It’s your fault for being so pretty. pretty girls, especially you, are her weakness.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who outright almost whimpers and has to clench her thighs together tightly when you let out a soft moan, the taste of whatever food you ordered, she doesn’t remember honestly, hits your taste buds. how can someone even moan all pretty? she doesn’t fucking know but all she knows, is that she wants to hear it again, amongst other sounds, she’s dying to get you to make. she felt gross, thinking about you this way and imagining the way you would look, makeup ruined, tears staining your face as she buries her face between your thighs. would you run your fingers through her hair, tug and pull until she felt light-headed? would you damn near suffocate her with your legs? she would let you do anything, but if you keep moaning like that, she’s gonna burst.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who forgets how to speak or function the minute you somehow end up on her lap after eating. Shit, you aren’t really sure how you ended up sitting on her toned, hard thighs but you weren’t complaining. Violet, on the other hand, was panicking. her fingers were twitching, she could feel the sweat on her forehead trickling, and her throat was so dry because she you were so close to her, also didn’t know where to fucking put her hands. on your hips? on your neck? hell, in your hair? girl was so lost in her own gay panic that she didn’t feel your hands pulling her arms around your waist until you pat her on the head, placing your own on her shoulder. “you worry too much. you can touch me” don’t give her that fucking idea.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who for the first time in her life, is burnt like a tomato and insanely shy the minute you go down on her. she’s got one hand over her mouth trying to conceal the pathetic whimpers and moans, the other tangled in your hair. Your hands are gripping her hips for dear life, creating crescent moons in her soft skin, fucking hell— she doesn’t even know how long you’ve been between her legs, lapping up at her cunt like a starved woman. all she knows is that she’s on cloud nine. the feeling of your nose bumping against her clit, and the way your tongue feels between her folds is enough to have her panting like a dog. until of course, a sharp but gentle slap lands on her cunt, a needy whine slipping from her lips. “take your hand off your mouth, and let me fuckin’ hear you, yeah? can you be a good girl and let me hear you?”

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who is so loser by her 3rd orgasm that she’s touching you every with such a need. gripping your tits, pinching your nipples, kissing and sucking your neck. occasionally switching to your jaw, but always coming back to your neck, leaving pretty purple marks as she goes. hearing those moans and whimpers in her ear is another plus.if she could record every sound you’ve made tonight and make it on a loop, she would have done that hours ago because to her, you sound so angelic that she needs to hear it more.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who is obsessive when she hands her hand in your back pocket, keeping you close to her when someone gets too close and personal with you. she’s really not afraid to show people you are hers, and no one else’s. although she does panic a little at the thoughts of maybe she’s being too clingy or being way too possessive towards you, but it’s when you hold her free hand tighter, damn near breaking her fingers, that she calms down and can finally breathe.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ loser!violet who finally without a doubt, will steal your underwear, no matter if it's before or after sex or you are getting ready for the day. she will with no shame just take them out of your hand after you just picked out which pair you want to wear, and stuff them into her pocket. that smug grin on her lips when you looked at her, mouth open and eyes wide, hair still unbrushed and sticking out in different directions. “what? I’m taking these because you’ll be working and now i won’t miss you as much, if i have something to remind me of you, Sweetness”

#loser!violet #is this even loser behaviour? we will never know #vi x reader #vi x you #arcane vi x reader #vi imagine #vi arcane #vi smut #violet arcane #arcane violet #vi headcanons

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jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

Text

The way that you move

It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader

warnings: porn with 10% of plot. p in v sex. english is not my first language. 1,1k.

Even if it’s recent, your marriage to Prince Jacaerys was very promising and pleasant due to the commitment employed by both parts. Your husband was very polite, good-natured and kind, and you strove to be the proper and loving lady wife that Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir needed. In addition, the engagement period was charming and prepared the ground for a young and happy union, much better than most of the weddings of the other court ladies in all aspects. Or almost all because unfortunately not everything was flowers. The subject in question referred to the misfortune moment of bed that tormented you and your husband.

Neither of you had experience, which made it a little traumatic for both of you, especially painful for you but quite fast too, proving to be a great relief (not crookedly for Jace). Throughout the act the prince remained redder than a ripe tomato and hated several aspects that were part of that situation, the first was not being able to reverse the pain you felt, because he didn’t know the female body to bring some relief to his good wife and because it ended up faster than dornish wine in celebrations. The precocity wasn’t at all bad for the situation, but it wasn’t exactly the virtue that a man should be proud of — but it served to your beautiful face was no longer dented with discomfort.

He apologized vehemently after that and assured that he didn't want to hurt you and that you didn't need to do it again without wanting to, a really sweet gesture that had you waving to him and ensuring that everything was fine. “My mother said the first contacts are painful for the chaste ladies,” you said. And in fact it was terribly uncomfortable, until last night...

Gods, what was that? It was the best physical feeling you felt in your life and it seemed so profane to admit it while letting pleasurable sounds escape your throat. It was so good! And that was the problem!

How should you approach your husband about repeating that night? It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting, so your only mission that day was to find a demure way to ask your sweet Jace to make you come as your friends had instructed. What a scandal! There was no way to say this out loud, not even other ways to approach the topic seemed decent! Everything seemed like a complete disaster until the moon emerged and the inhabitants of Dragonstone gathered in your chambers, just like your husband and you.

The thick sheet that wrapped your body was responsible for hiding most of the bold and light blue lacy dress you wore, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the watchful eye of Prince Jacaerys, especially when he joined you in bed. That was the ideal moment to execute your plan in the urgency of the last minutes, which consisted solely of action.

"Jace, husband, can I kiss you?" You tried to contain the anxiety of what you wanted to happen next by leaning over it gently.

“Of course you can, my love,” he smiled sweetly and his beautiful brown eyes shone with tenderness. He was so adorable.

After many attempts (some slow and others sloppy) you understood a part of the mechanics of kisses and began to appreciate and perform the art often. His full and terribly soft lips were pressed so pleasantly against yours in the initially chaste kiss, who became sensual and lustful thanks to your desire. Oh, you couldn't wait any longer.

Climbing on his hips, you interrupted the kiss to face those beautiful brown eyes. "I want to do what we did last night."

“D-do you, my lady?” He asked surprised, "do you really want to?"

“Yes, husband,” you purred and kissed him deliciously again, playing with his tongue as you moved your intimacy dressed over his groin, making you both sigh. “I want it now,” you said during the kiss, sitting in the center of his body to remove the dress and expose your naked body.

The poor prince followed the whole situation astonished, stunned by his newly existing disinhibition but not a little dissatisfied (just worried). "M-my lady, shouldn't we wait until you're ready?"

“I'm already, my prince, I've been ready since the first rays of sunshine,” you knew what he was referring to and learned from the other ladies that the moisture between the thighs was a positive indication. And you've been uncomfortable wet since you woke up. "Do you want that?"

“I do,” he nodded hypnotized, holding his soft hips to squeeze the flesh gently.

It was not secret that the prince has never been with a woman before and the fact never bothered him, but he would like to have experience to properly satisfy his wife in pleasure meetings. He quickly flipped through a book on the subject as his cheeks warmed up and his limb hardened shamefully. After that he tried to remember some information to use at the moment, such as knowing that women needed time and a certain humidity so that they could feel pleasure, however, almost all reasoning was lost when your hands released his masculinity and involved him. He grunted low in response, breathing hard to prepare for the- Seven heavens!

You sank deliciously into the thick and soft shaft, ecstatic by the indiscriminate sensation of being filled. There was no way for something so good to be considered depravity, no, it was totally adequate, it was so right to jump freely on the cock of your charming Jacaerys and enjoy what he had to offer. The prince was so confused, drunk and excited by the way everything happened that he was dazzled by the beast that mounted him ardently. If in the previous times he made an effort not to end quickly, this time he was begging the seven heavens for the moment to last.

“Take off your tunic, my love, I want to see you,” you said between sighs, moving up and down constantly, moaning shamelessly.

He did what was asked, sitting in bed with you on your lap just to kiss you fervently and pull you down with him, moving your hips with yours. The gesture was much appreciated when his legs got tired of doing all the hard work, limiting himself to rubbing against his groin while he repeated the action, the constant and strong friction.

“Wait! Wait! I need some time... I-I want this to last,” he said between heavy breaths, almost begging.

"Right, right."

— "It's hard to describe, it's intense, hot and your whole body shudders at the sensation. It's probably the best thing you'll feel in your life."

Your friend Belinda's explanation of the apex of female pleasure returned to surrounding your mind again, making you yearn to discover such a sensation. It was torturous to accommodate your husband inside and not be able not to move your hips, even though it was for good reason. And he, well, he was almost exploding with pleasure.

Jace pulled you for an excited and demanding kiss, very different from the ones you used to share but just as good. Good? No, better. His tongue touched yours in a different and sloppy way, which would strumble you

The prince wasn’t blind about women but never dared to give himself to a pleasure before the wedding — he was less man for that. He thought he wouldn’t be so affected by carnal pleasure, but he could not deny that the attraction he felt for his beautiful wife increased every day and each time you lay down together. He longed for it more quietly.

“Keep going, my love,” he held your buttocks when you remained in the same position, moving your hips experimentally to keep up with your pace.

“Yes, husband,” you sighed numb, kissing him again as you moved sloppyly, dragging your hips against his groin. Gods, how good it was.

Although he was loving the position he was in, Jace felt a sudden urge to cage your body against the bed, so he turned you lovingly to take control and pushed your hips against his at a constant pace that stole the air from both of you. The thought that happened in your head was indecent, but it was the complete reality of the situation. It wasn't love made between you and your husband, no, you were fucking with all the lust there was.

He rested his face on your neck as he hit you deeply, the delicious and maddening friction building a euphoria in your unknown stomach and making your walls squeeze madly. “Jace!” You moaned loudly, scratching his back as you held him more between your legs. “Oh! Jace!” Your sight turned white and your whole body spasmed on bed, the most wonderful feeling in the world numbing your senses.

That was too much for him. Both the grip around his cock, as well as your sounds, as well as the call by his name and his own limit sent him to the apex in the blink of an eye, grunting in your ear in such a sensual and deep way that it made you squeeze even more. For the seven, what had just happened?

Such pleasure from such indecency made him hot, confused and red like wine. Your breaths were heavy and agitated, stabilizing slowly and silently on the soft bed as you sighed satisfied with what had just happened. "So that's how it feel? Now I understand why some people indulge in promiscuity," you commented in a good mood, feeling your body return to normal. "We will do this more often, yes, husband?"

Who was he to deny your request? (Especially on the content of the request).

"Of course, my lady." Yes, your husband was perfect.

═════════════════════

taglist

general: @valeskafics @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

jace velaryon: @howyouloveyourdragon

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys smut #smut #jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon smuy #jacevelaryonswife masterlist #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon x you #harry collett #jace velaryon #hotd fic

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hazelfoureyes · 4 months

Text

A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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