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blooming-violets · 18 days

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private #5 bent over a table while somethings baking in the oven. is it too much to ask for tasm peter parker bending reader over?

[location based smut prompts]

The To-Do List

[tasm peter x fem!reader]

(reader is described as having a ponytail that is long enough for Peter to wrap around his hand and use as leverage)

His birthday cake was nestled happily inside the heated oven.

She got up early to make it for his special day. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face while she had prepped and she was still in her pajamas from this morning. She had planned to have the cake in the oven, get her shower done, and place out his presents on the table all before he woke up.

Peter, of course, had other ideas.

He leaned against the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin as he sleepily took in the sight of her. She paused when she saw him there, silent as ever, and crossed her arms.

“You are not supposed to be awake for another hour,” she chastised.

Thirty-five looked good on him. Every year he seemed to get more and more handsome.

His eye wrinkles grew as his smile widened. A strand of dark hair fell down his forehead and he absentmindedly brushed it away. He was shirtless with nothing but a pair of dark boxers to keep him decent.

She admired how defined his chest was. A hinting of his six pack was peeking out from just under the surface of his lean body.

“I smelled cake.” His voice was thick and scratchy with lingering sleep. Peter’s morning voice was one the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard.

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. It had hardly been in the oven for more than five minutes and it was already enough to get him out of bed.

“The kitchen is a mess. I was going to clean it all up and have your presents out and I was going to be all dressed up and looking extra cute. You ruined it all with your stupid nose.”

Peter laughed as he strode across the room to slip his arms around her waist. She looked up to admire him and wiped at a staining of toothpaste still clinging to the side of his lips. She caught it with her thumb and shoved it back into his mouth while he licked it off.

“You already look extra cute,” he mumbled around her thumb.

“I’m literally wearing your old, hole filled shirt and bright pink fluffy pants. This is not how I wanted you to see me this morning. It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special.” She tugged her thumb back with a huff.

Peter stepped back to appreciate her outfit in the morning light. She had already been in bed by the time he crawled through their window last night.

“I like it,” he stated. “It’s hipster.”

She let out a laugh in response, “I don’t think you know what hipster means, babe.”

Peter shrugged, “It means you dress like a bum, right?”

“Oh my god, why don’t you go back to bed and try this again in an hour when everything is all set up, okay?”

“No,” he whined. He latched himself onto her back, snaking his arms tightly around her stomach to press her against him. “I’m up. It’s my birthday. Say happy birthday to me and tell me you love me.”

She grinned, snuggling back against his bare chest, “Happy birthday and I love you.”

“That sounded insincere but I will take it.” His hand slipped up under her loose shirt to cup a warm hand over her breast, lazily palming it while he nibbled at the edge of her ear. He always liked the feeling of her nipple coming to life and growing harder against his hand. He held onto her chest like one might cling to the safety of a favorite stuffed animal.

She groaned, “Your presents were supposed to be all set out nicely on the table. Instead you’re just greeted with a kitchen disaster of my cake baking. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for another hour? I know you’re tired from last night. You were out late.”

Peter began to slowly waddle them back and forth towards the kitchen table, refusing to release his grip from around her waist or remove his hand from her breast, “I know of a present I can unwrap right here…”

She gasped under her breath, “Peter. This is no time. I’ve got a list of things to do.”

She felt him laugh quietly against her ear.

“Yeah and I’ve got a list of things to do, too. A whole list. Let’s see what the first thing to do is…” he pretended like he was reading off an imaginary piece of paper as he checked it over. “Ah, yes!”

He slipped his hands out from her shirt and placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the kitchen table. With a quick swoop, he tugged down both her pants and underwear, leaving them hanging around her ankles. She let out a shocked cry.

“Unwrap presents…check!” He chuckled to himself, giving her bare ass a soft slap. “And what a beautiful present it is. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Wow, you really know me, baby, I’m super impressed.”

“Peter,” she whined, pushing herself back up. “Not fair. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to get ready. I’ve-”

He cut her off with a kiss. His lips crashed against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth to stop her from trying to protest further. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste still clinging to his tongue and she moaned as he pressed his hips into hers. He was growing harder by the second.

“Shut up,” he mumbled against her lips with a smile. “My birthday. My rules.”

“Okay,” she said with a dreamy sigh. It wasn’t hard to convince her. Her complaints were more for show than anything else. If Peter wanted her, he had her. “I love you, Pete.”

“If you love me so much then why don’t you take off that shirt so I can see my second present.”

She did as she was told, stripping it from her body, until she was standing naked before him. The bulge in his boxers twitched which made her smile. She loved the fact that she could make him so hard from sight alone.

Peter’s hand reached out to brush a calloused thumb across her hardened nipple, “Beautiful.”

He lifted her up onto the table so she was sitting closer to him and he moved between her legs. They wrapped around him so she could feel the heat of him soaking through his boxers and against her pussy. His eyes traveled down to her chest, taking in the sight, and sighing happily. His head dipped down so he could capture the waiting bud between his wet lips.

She let out a satisfied moan and ran her fingers through the back of his hair while suckled on her. His tongue bathed her breast, teeth nipping at her nipple, and soothing it over with quick kisses and light sucking motions. His mouth was magic. He didn’t even need to touch her pussy for her to already be soaking through his boxers as she ground against him.

“Feel that?” He groaned, bucking his hips. “Feel how hard I am?”

She whimpered.

“All for you,” he whispered, finding her lips once more to kiss her deeply.

All for her.

It was his birthday. She should probably be getting down on his knees for him and sucking him off or tending to him in some way but she was nothing but putty in his hands. Lost in the feeling of seduction he was casting over her.

Peter dragged her down off the table, smirking at the wet spot she had left behind, and spun her around. He folded her back in half over the table, scraping his nails down the length of her spine and over the swell of her ass.

“The next thing on my to-do list,” he breathed, his voice low and deep. “Is you.”

She heard him discarding his boxers and suddenly felt the wet, hot tip of cock slide up her open folds. She was more than ready for him. He never had to do much to have her begging for more. Her hips grinded against the air as if trying to draw him in closer but he only continued to tease her with the tip.

“Someone’s eager,” he commended, giving her ass another slap.

“Peter, please,” she gasped.

He kept up his tantalizing torture. Every time his cock bumped over her aching clit, her hips would jerk backwards, and she’d let out a quiet cry.

“Please what?” He asked with an air of innocence.

She groaned at his teasing, “Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me.”

“Aww,” he cooed. “Does my poor baby need my cock?”

She whined and nodded.

“You got up so early, didn’t you?” His nails dragged along her hips, making her squirm, as she humped frantically in an attempt to get at his cock. “You got up early to make my birthday so special. You baked me a cake. It smells amazing, doesn’t it? Smell it, baby.”

Her eyes widened in frustration, “Peter! Fuck me! Please, stop it.”

He ignored her pleas, getting off of them, as his cock twitched between her thighs, “Did you slip that cake into the oven just for me?”

She was nearly sobbing from her own arousal, ready to attack him if he didn’t shut up and fuck her soon. She arched her back to better entice him, wagging her ass and rubbing it against his hips. She pushed herself up with her arms so he could get a peeking view of her tits swaying in wait for him.

That seemed to do the trick because he had gone silent as he stared.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Happy birthday to me.”

“I want it hard, Peter. Use me,” she whispered in an effort to finally push him over the edge. “I’m yours.”

He lined up his cock to her entrance and eased himself inside. She nearly doubled over against the table at the delicious feeling that flooded through her body.

“Yes, yes, thank you, baby, thank you,” she cried.

“You really love this cock, don’t you?” He breathed. “Do you love this cock more than me?”

“No, baby, never. I could never-”

He pulled out and rammed the full, thick length back into her with a loud slap.

She shrieked, falling forward into a flurry of mumbled moans, “I do, I do, I do. I love it more than you. I love it more than anything.” Tears pricked in her eyes from the overwhelming sensations taking over.

Peter chuckled to himself, “That’s my girl.”

Her ass slapped against his body with each plunging drive of his cock as he took her. Fast and hard, just like she asked. Every thrust felt like it was reverberating through her, waking up all her senses, making her feel more alive than ever before. It was sheer bliss. Anticipation already began to build. He knew exactly how hard to take her. Peter could be rough but he never went past her limits. He knew her inside and out. He knew just where to push her before retreating back to safety. The sounds of her tumbling moans and each inhale of breath was all he needed to direct his path.

He was filling her body, stretching her, taking her, building her up to that beautiful place of divinity. Her nails clawed at the table, scratching at the wood, trying to find some kind of purchase to steady herself with.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter!” She cried.

“That’s it, baby,” he panted. “I got you. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and jerked her head upwards. She arched her back to accommodate the move as he held her against him. She could feel his ragged breaths against her cheek and listened to his erotic panting in her ear. The sound was enough to almost send her flying straight into an orgasm.

The hand not keeping a tight hold of her ponytail wrapped around her to grab at her chest. He molded her breast between strong hands.

She loved taking his cock. Loved it so deep. Thrusting. Hard. Stretching her. Forcing her to take him. Peter was thick. Thickest man she had ever been with. He pushed her walls to their max. His beautiful body and the sounds he made when he fucked her where like heaven to her ears.

That familiar, sensual pressure began to grow inside of her with shallow waves lapping at the edges of her mind. Soon they would turn into giant swells. Taking her over until it was all she could feel.

His hand slipped from her ponytail to wrap around her neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing too forceful but enough to send her flying even faster towards that tsunami of pleasure. She was so close. So ready.

“Harder, Peter,” she sobbed. “Hard. Please. I’m-I’m…close…need it hard. Take me.”

Peter was never to deny a request like that. He shoved her back over the table and tumbled on top of her, humping frantically with long, heavy strokes into her cunt. He could feel her walls tightening. He could feel her body changing.

“Come on, baby,” he urged her. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

The universe exploded into blinding light.

She didn’t care how loud she was. Didn’t care if the neighbors would hear. In fact, she wanted them to. She wanted them to know exactly how well Peter Parker could fuck his woman.

Her toes curled and her legs kicked up as the sensory overload rocketed through her with golden waves of pure dopamine.

Peter took her straight to the edge and held her there, spasming and sobbing, as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. Even as the waves slowly receded, they still lingered in tiny aftershocks, due to his relentless pounding. He had gotten her where she needed to be and now it was his turn.

He reangled himself into her, getting a better grip as he held onto her hips, and switched up his rhythm to slow. Peter liked to feel everything. He wanted to drag it out and feel her body wrapped around him. From fast and hard to slow and steady. His change of pace caused a low, drawn out moan to escape from her throat.

“You like that, baby?” He panted. “You like feeling every inch of me?”

All she could do was whimper in response as her sex spasmed again around him. This was a man who knew how to lengthen an orgasm. She was completely helpless to him. Her body was his play thing.

“Let me hear how much you love me, baby,” he whispered down in her ear as his cock buried straight to the hilt inside of her. “Let me hear you.”

She struggled to make any noise besides sobbing whimpers and broken cries.

He moaned in response, “That’s it. Those are those sounds that I love so much. My poor baby, all ravaged on my cock. Can’t even speak.”

He gave a small shudder and she knew he was close. She did her best to work her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with her walls, sucking him in, clenching down.

“That’s good, baby, that’s good.” He moaned, his voice slowly losing itself as he got closer to the edge. “Ooh, fuck, keep that up. ‘M gon’na cum inside ya’kay?”

She loved it when he filled her. She loved feeling him drip down her leg as she carried him around with her. She would bathe in his semen if he wished it. It was his birthday, after all. The birthday boy could come wherever he pleased.

His long, slow strokes worked her up as another, tiny orgasm rippled through her. That seemed to be all he needed to follow.

Peter let out a low groan, his thrusts become more unrestrained with each passing second, and she took him. All of him.

With the sweetest of cries, he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him swell and pulse until she was impossibly full. That tiny orgasm grew into something much bigger, taking over her body along with him, as she felt him collapse on top of her, both shaking, as he bit at her shoulders with soft, love bites until he finally calmed down.

He stayed like that, laid against her back and squishing her into the table, until he cock began to soften and he sadly slid back out. She tumbled back into his arms as they both fell to the spooning position against the kitchen floor. Naked, wet, and breathing heavily.

Peter’s hand found the comfort of her breast once more.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Best present I could ask for. Thank you, baby. You’re too good to me.”

She grunted in response, still finding words to fail her. Instead, she rolled over in his arms, hooking her leg through his, and leaving a trail of kisses across his face to show much she adored him.

His eyes closed as he smiled happily at the feeling.

Eventually she would have to get up. Eventually she would have to shower and get dressed and clean the kitchen and set up his presents and frost the cake…but for now…

For now she was happy to just lay here on the floor in his arms.

399 notes · View notes

kallietell · 5 months

Text

A Little Extra Room

Justin clearly wants Trixie fatter, and her willpower is far too weak to resist. He takes advantage of it, forcing her to eat more and more while she grows larger and larger.

“Just two more bites,” Justin murmured, excitement leaching into the borders of his words. “You can do it baby, you're doing so good. Just open up your mouth again…good girl.”

Trixie groaned as she slowly chewed, head thrown back and eyes wrenched tightly shut as both hands rubbed her taut, overfilled gut. She forced a swallow then groaned louder, her bulging stomach rising and falling dramatically as she breathed heavily. Her moans had reached a fever pitch and she whimpered and whined, too full to even speak. “One more,” said Justin in a near whisper, eyes locked onto the groaning, bloated woman. She opened her mouth to protest but burped loudly instead. Giving her gut a couple of weak pats she burped again, only to have Justin gently grab a side roll and give it a few wobbling bounces, forcing a cacophony of burps and moans out of her food smeared lips.

“Look at you baby, god. Just one more bite,” he repeated breathlessly. “No.” Trixie whined, still making circles on her overfed gut. “No, I can't. I can't, I'm too full.”

“It’s ok baby,” promised Justin, reassuringly, picking up the fork with the remaining bite of cake. Crumbs were the only remnant of the grocery store sheet cake, and one glance at the scene would make it obvious where it had gone. “No,” protested Trixie weakly as he brought the fork up to her mouth. He grabbed her by the side roll again, shaking and jiggling her aggressively as she groaned again, feeling herself wobble. Justin gave her belly a hard slap and she let out a raucous burp, nearly embarrassed by how loud it was. “Good girl,” he praised gently, rubbing the spot he’d just slapped. “Now you have more room.” He brought the fork to her lips again and she opened her mouth obligingly, moaning slightly as she chewed the last of the sugary sweet confection.

“Good girl,” said Justin, making no effort to conceal how his words dripped with lust. “That’s my big girl. You’re getting so huge, aren’t you?” Trixie groaned in response, her chubby hands planted firmly on her gut as she whined. “Aren’t you,” Justin repeated, smacking her gut again at its right, rounded top. She burped again then resumed her groaning, too full to even sit up.

“God, look at you. You look like a beached whale, your blubber is spilling out everywhere.” He gave her fatty belly a pinch and she burped again, unexpectedly this time. “You sound like such a pig,” he teased, both hands finding their way to her overstretched gut. “You look like one too. God you’re so fat.” He gets closer, applying more pressure as he wobbles her gut harder and harder. She moans in protest, burping louder and louder as Justin shook her gut more and more roughly.

“Look at all this,” he marveled. “Look at how much I can grab. You’ve really let yourself go haven’t you? You’ve lost control.” Trixie moans in response but Justin shakes his head, pushing her further backwards into her couch as he squeezes her plush fat.

“I said,” he began, kneading her fat as she cried out from the pressure, “you’ve lost control. Haven’t you?” He gives her gut another firm slap. “Haven’t you?” Justin laughs as Trixie nods through her burp. “Come on, use your words piggy,” he instructs. “Have you lost control?” “Yes,” breathed Trixie desperately, both hands again rubbing her globular gut.

“Yea,” Justin affirmed in a low voice husky with desire. “Little out of control piggy. Stuffed so fat that you can’t even move. Seriously Trixie, look at all this.” He’d begun to wobble her gut slowly again and her entire fattened body shook from the movement, her plump tits bouncing up and down as they nearly escaped the tiny crop top she wore. Her thick arms and plush chubby thighs also jiggled along, the newly swelled fat all over her body shaking as one.

“You fucking whale,” Justin mummered, barely audibly as he gazed down at her hungrily. “You big fat pig, you bloated fucking pig.” Trixie’s eyes were closed now and she’d resumed her groaning, too full to do much else. “Stay right there, just like that.” He reached for his belt buckle with one hand, the other still glued to Trixie’s swollen gut. “Just like that. I’m gonna take care of you baby.”

The next day, Trixie awoke to the smell of bacon. She sighed. She wasn’t sure exactly how long Justin had been up, but smelling bacon was never a good sign when it came to him, especially after a night like last night. She stretched, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, then yawned. No matter how much sleep she got after one of Justin’s ‘dinner parties’, she was always still exhausted the next day, swollen and tender from how much food she’d packed in (among other things). Justin was always energetic afterwards, in a great mood, but she would be lethargic for the next week.

She surprised herself by letting out a burp, then she flushed. Her hand dropped to her stomach and she started, taken aback by how far her hand sunk into her own plushness. Her gut bulged out further than it ever had when she was stuffed, but instead of firm and taut her rounded belly bounced and wobbled at just a touch. Oh god, she thought, sinking her fingers into her fat as she investigated her newly plumped body. How much damage did he do last night, she wondered absentmindedly as she played with her wobbling rolls. How many calories was that cake?

She swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood up with effort, cringing as she noted how long it took her fleshy body to stop jiggling at the movement. She was completely naked, the previous evening's clothes tossed somewhere around the living room, and each step she took emphasized her weight. The swell of her belly shook and bounced as she plodded to the bathroom, and her ass wobbled cumbersomely behind her, nearly uncontrollable. She looked at herself in the mirror, pausing a beat before her hands fell to her gut for a second time. Things were really getting out of hand. She stared back at the fattened version of herself in the mirror, gripping her fat in disbelief.

Her face had swollen to a moon shape and her chubby cheeks had exploded with fat, squeezing her eyes into a smaller shape that peered out from a face framed by double chins. Her neck had nearly disappeared in a ring of fat and wobbled when she shook her head or chewed. She was unrecognizable, a fact that had been confirmed when she ran into an old friend from college who’d struggled to believe that the bloated tub in front of her was the once thin Trixie. Her body had fared no better, and she sported thick swollen arms hanging with fat, pudgy, inflated tits that sagged and bulged out of her bras, and most prominently, a porky, tubby beer gut that refused to succumb to gravity. The more she put on the more it bulged forward, and she was beginning to have a hard time buckling her seatbelt when Justin drove her to get more fast food.

He’d grown rock hard the first time he saw her struggle with that, speeding home to shove burgers down her throat until she was ready to pop while he moaned about how sexy she was. She couldn’t contain her gut in any of her clothes anymore, instead allowing it to hang out of the bottom in a way that drove Justin wild, enticing him to slap the exposed flesh and make it jiggle.

She sighs again, lifting her gut with two hands before releasing it with a plop. She felt it bounce, her entire middle shaking rhythmically. She was getting huge. Everything Justin was saying was right. Just the other day she’d burst out of her shorts while he fed her, the only time he’d ever ended a feeding prematurely to fuck her right then and there. She’d still been required to finish her food afterwards though, and Justin had been so gentle as he shoved in bite after bite, feeding her well into the morning. Her capacity was increasing, and even though she wanted to try and conceal it from him for her own sake, Justin knew. He’d been pushing her to her limits more and more later, and it was beginning to show. She was exploding. Every time Justin fed her she woke up feeling, and looking, much larger. It had to be her imagination, she couldn’t put on that much weight in one night, but the bloat never disappeared, swelling more and more with each greasy session.

She turned around, inspecting her widened, wobbling ass. This was the only reason she’d agreed to try this in the first place, she’d always wanted to be thick, and her wish had been more than granted. Her enormous, shelf ass wobbled dramatically whenever she walked, her thick thighs rubbing as she forced them past one another. Justin was obsessed, constantly smacking it sharply just to watch it ripple. Trixie took a step back. She could barely take herself in the mirror anymore, she was getting too wide. She pinched her belly, then sighed once more. Breakfast time.

She waddled to her closet to grab a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, wondering what Justin had prepared today as she turned sideways to slide her way into the narrow closet door. It had always been a tight squeeze, even when she was a size 4, but now she could barely work her way inside. She sucked in, pushing in her belly with her hands for extra room, then forced her way through the doors narrow frame sideways. The first time Justin had seen that little maneuver he’d taken her right there in the closet, not even bothering to grab a few boxes of Oreos to stuff her with first.

She grabbed a pair of XXL shorts that had grown one ‘X’ too small and stepped into them, her bulging round gut acting as an obstacle as always. She got the pants over her thighs after some resistance, then sucked in with all her might and yanked the waistband over her lower belly. The fabric creaked but stayed, and Trixie gently let out her belly in relief, trying not to dwell on how large its natural shape expanded as it swelled forward. Pants on, she turned to the problem of a shirt. Her belly refused to hang, instead protruding further and further outwards, which meant no shirt could be yanked down to cover its swell. She settled for T-shirt’s that wore more like crop tops nowadays, and let her plump, tubby gut round out unencumbered. She pulls down the shirt anyways, watching as it sprang back up immediately, then waddled out of the closet. Despite herself, she was hungry.

When she reached the kitchen Justin greeted her cheerily without turning, still focused on the mountain of pancakes he’d been constructing while she slept. “How’d you sleep?” he asked as she shuffled towards the kitchen chair. “Fine,” she replies lightly, dropping into the armless chair heavily as it creaked to make its protests known.

“You were so fucking sexy last night,” Justin reminisced wistfully. “So fucking sexy, he begins, turning to her. I…” he pauses as he catches sight of her, his breath hitching in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Trixie asks with sincerity, alarmed by the expression in his face.

“You…look huge,” marveled Justin in awe.

“Justin…” Trixie started, attempting to assuage him, but Justin couldn’t be deterred. “God, you look like you put on 20 pounds just last night, I’ve never seen you look so…fat.” He dropped the spatula and took a few steps towards her, the pancake browning on the stove forgotten.

“Stand up.” He instructed, and Trixie did as she was told, knowing it would be easier than letting him convince her. He poked her belly gently, pressing his finger deep into the swells of fat on her side rolls, then grabbed the lowest one firmly and gave her belly a series of hard wobbles. “What have you done to yourself?” he whispered, clearly growing more and more excited as he fondled her gut. “You're bursting out of those clothes,” he gloated with a grin, smacking the overtaxed shorts that her belly and ass were stretching paper thin. “I always am,” Trixie replied with an eye roll.

“Not like this,” murmured Justin in a near whisper. “You’re getting so fat.”

He grabbed her belly with both hands and pulled her near, Trixie feeling against her upper stomach just how excited he was by the way her shirt was fitting. “You’re getting so fucking fat,” he repeated, shaking her more aggressively now. “You’re so fucking fat. God, just look at yourself.” He smacks her gut, admiring the syncopation of its jiggles. “Look at all this. Look at yourself.”

By the time he’d started talking like this, it was already too late. He was going to feed her again, another little dinner party, except this one was at 10 in the morning. Justin usually only started his lustful, excessive sessions at night, but he had been overfeeding her during the day more and more often recently.

“Sit down,” he says with a point, and Trixie obliges soundlessly, knowing resistance was futile. Justin brings over a platter laden with bacon, two plates stacked high with pancakes, a plate of hash browns, a plate of sausage, and a gallon of orange juice.

“Justin,” she warned, her hands already resting on her stomach as if feeling its upcoming pangs of fullness. “Justin, I’m really not hungry.”

“Even better,” he replies casually, pouring half a bottle of syrup on the first stack of fluffy, golden brown discs. “Eat up.”

He hands her a fork and Trixie surveys the scene miserably, feeling her empty gut press into the table despite how far back she’s scooted her chair.

“You know you want it, fatty,” came Justin's voice floating into her ear. “You need it, don’t you?” He asked coyly, watching the expression on her face shift near imperceptibly as he pushed the plate closer to her. “Go ahead big girl. I know you can barely stop yourself.”

The mouth watering aroma became too much and Trixie relented, first shoving two pieces of bacon into her mouth greedily before also cramming in a massive bite of pancakes, the syrup dripping from her lips.

“Fuck Trixie,” Justin breathed. She hunkered down and began to eat with abandon, shirking her fork in favor of fingers quickly becoming sticky with syrup. She crammed bacon into her mouth by the threes, folding her pancakes so she could get the whole circle in her mouth at once. She paused, burped loudly, then dove back in, temporarily foregoing her bacon to scarf down the entire plates of hash browns and sausages in just a few moments.

“Keep going baby,” Justin cooed, beginning to trace gentle circles across her rapidly bloating gut. “Don’t stop.”

Trixie couldn’t stop if she’d wanted to, and despite her earlier complaints in the mirror she ate like a woman possessed, greasy and sticky hands easing burps out of her overstuffed gut while her breathing got heavier and heavier. She completed the first stack of pancakes and was now working on the second, the reminder of the syrup bottle upended over them. Her face was becoming a mess and her fatty chins were slick with syrup and bacon grease. She grabbed two more syrupy pancakes, folded them, and attempted to shove both in her mouth, her cheeks bulging and rippling as she tried to chew while forcing even more into her greedy face.

Another few handfuls of bacon and the once towering platter was beginning to run low, the remainder of the greasy meat sticky with the syrup her hands were coated in. She doubled down, alternating between massive bites of pancake and savory swallows of bacon, her gut swelling impossibly round and forcing her chair even further back from the table. Justin was watching in awe, face contorting into an lust drunk expression that bordered on the painful as his jeans grew tighter and tighter like Trixie’s gut. His hands were back on her body now, and she felt her belly being jiggled, wobbled, and shaken as she packed in bite after bite, feeling the swell and breathing deeper as her fat gut stretched tighter and tighter.

Just as she reached for the last pancake, slowing down a bit as the calories began to catch up to her, Justin muttered “Fuck,” and jumped out of his seat, heading towards the oven. She groaned then burped at the effort of turning her head, barely able to see what the urgency was.

Justin had taken the final, scorched pancake off of the stove and was now opening the oven to a decadent, sickeningly sweet smell to which Trixie was well accustomed. His famous cinnamon rolls, famous not only for their incredible taste, but also for the unbelievable amount Trixie can put away. She whimpers at the smell of the rolls then shoves the last pancake into her mouth anyway, syrup dripping down her chin. Justin sets them to cool then crosses the kitchen back to her, hands already extended to grip her impossibly fattened gut.

“You’re such a good girl,” he encouraged, beginning to rub slow circles on her distended gut. “You were hungry, weren’t you?” Trixie ignores him, continuing to moan, and he slaps her gut forcefully for the infraction. Trixies groaned then let loose an enormous burp, face flushing.

“I asked you if you were hungry Trixie,”said Justin once more, a wild look dancing behind his eyes. “Yes,” Trixie panted in between heavy breaths, attempting to lean back in the too small chair to relieve some pressure from her growing gut.

“You’re still hungry, aren’t you?” Justin informed her, no hint of a question behind his intonation.

“Justin no, no,” Trixie begged, squirming as she attempted to shift herself forward again. “No, I can't.”

Justin rubbed her gut lovingly, playfully kneading its rounded top. “Yes you can. You want to.”

“No!” she whined in a near yell.

Justin smacked her gut for her outburst, forcing a series of deep burps out of her mouth. She groaned as he rubbed her expansive belly, muttering comforting words before smacking her gut again, leaving her wobbling and burping while he went to grab the icing glazed rolls.

“Now,” He says on his return, setting the pan down on the table. “Are you hungry?”

Trixie was the picture of gluttony, absolutely beached in the chair by her massive, spherical gut that dwarfed the rest of her tubby body. She leaned her head forward with effort, rubbing her stretched gut fruitlessly.

“Trixie,” says Justin, taking a firmer grip on the bottom of her porky belly. “I asked you a question. Are you hungry?”

Trixie nodded listlessly and Justin began to shove the still warm rolls into her mouth with abandon, smearing cinnamon sugar and icing all over her face. Her plump lips opened again and again for more, moaning nonstop now as her belly slipped out of shorts and bulged free, her stretch mark covered love handles oozing over the back waistband. Her T-shirt was like a bra, and she noted with horror that even the sleeves were starting to cut into her chubby arms.

Her belly surged further and further forward, and Justin couldn’t keep his left hand off her while his right hand forced the rolls into her face faster and faster. “You’re so fucking fat,” he was saying, kneading the still pliable rolls as he filled her.”You're getting so fat.” The pan was nearing its end now, and Justin fed her even faster, cramming her cheeks until they were about to pop. She swallowed the massive bites with effort, her mind completely empty as Justin forced her further and further over her limit.

Trixie swallowed the last bite then burped loudly, gripping her gut with both hands.

“Look at you,” Justin choked out after a moment, his voice betraying his desire. “You’re such a fucking pig. Look at what you’ve done to yourself.”

Trixie was so full she’d begun to hiccup, and the alternating hiccups and burps made her jiggle slightly as she lay back in the chair, trying to catch her breath. “I *hic* didn't,” she responded laboriously. “You did this to me.”

Justin didn’t say a word, instead standing silently and reaching both hands toward her.

“Justin, I can’t get up right now, I can't,” she whined, drawing out the word. “Yes you can,” said Justin calmly. “I’m gonna take you to the bedroom, come back and get the whipped cream, and then you’re gonna show me exactly how you got to be such a fat, greedy piggy.”

She groaned again and Justin smacked her gut, eliciting her loudest, deepest burp of the day.

“There,” he said, watching her continue to wobble. “Now you have a little extra room.”

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matcha-flavored-cake · 2 years

Text

TRICK OR TREAT

⁰¹ I don't have regrets or shame. I was extremely horny and thinking abt tartaglia and scary clowns. Best things of the world

⁰² Yes i know that is Ghostface in the picture, I just couldn't find a clown to fit the aesthetic ok

⁰³ tw: dumbification, lots of "sweetie, cutie, slut, bitch", pussy pleaser tartaglia, primal play, mentions of cum and blood, exhibitionism, fucking in the woods, kissing, biting, creampie, lots of cum (I'm disgusting<3). And clowns.

⁰⁴ no beta we die like valorant players

Enjoy <3

You loved Halloween, it's the best part of the year. The screaming of kids, the candy, the ghosts. Even if people called you weird for liking this things.

Truth is, you were always a little weird.

But the best people in the world are.

When you and your friends decided to go to the Halloween Carnival that would take place in town, you were super excited. People scaring you from all sides? Cool costumes and games? You're in. And maybe you liked the idea of being chased by a fake killer clown a little too much? Yes but it wasn't your fault they were... attractive.

Your friends knew it, and they weren't the least bit surprised to see your excitement when they arrived at the Carnival. Between running away from clowns and even trying to kiss some of the "scary" clowns, you and your friends managed to have a lot of fun and even get laughs out of people who were working that night.

You and your friends decided to split up and play some games, between jokes and attempts to eat at some point you ended up losing the group. You just laughed deciding to look for them along the way, looking the costumes, taking pictures do maybe draw latter, and eating candy. You're humming a soft melody of "Scarborough Fair" when a sudden clown emerged in front of you making you scream and laugh.

"Trick or treat cutie?" the muffled voice asked you. He was tall, oh boy he as tall, and he did a good job with his mask, and he was holding a fake axe in hands. 8/10 of a costume.

"You scared the shit out of me!" You laugh, bending your body to take a deep breath. The clown seemed amused by your reaction.

"Usually people start crying out of fear and don't laugh you know?" you just let out a weak laugh in response.

"You'll have to do a better trick to get some reaction out of me y'know?" You laughed and stuck your tongue out as you continued walking.

"So will it be trick cutie?" he asked. For a moment you imagined a hint of second intentions in his voice. But so what if it did? It's Halloween, he looked cool, and walking out of the Carnival with wobbly legs and jaw aching from sucking cock seemed like a good idea.

"Yeah. It's trick for you Mr. Scary Clown." You looked behind, smiling at him. He was fast to catch the invite.

After making sure that he didn't catch wrong vibes, and you were sober and consenting to him (after all he's not a jerk and consent is important). He decided to torture you a little (in the best way possible) while leading you to one of the buildings used to prepare one of the haunted houses. He put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, giving a nice squeeze in your ass every now and then. You're nervous and smiling like a dummy, and honestly who wouldn't? Along the way he was asking things about you while going up in the building, and you could swear you saw a boner in front of his pants. When you reached the third floor of the building he stoped:

"Here's the thing, were going to play a little game." He said. You nodded, you're so dummy, such a good little bitch Tartaglia thought. "We're going to play hide and seek ok?" He got close, putting his hands on your waist, making small circles, you had barely started and your mouth was already dry.

"You can't go downstairs, unless you want everyone seeing what I'm about to do with you okay cutie? Yeah? Can you promise that?" He humped his crotch on your heat slightly, making you moan a little. "I'm going to count to 10, and you're going to hide ok sweetie? Be a doll for me and do as I say hmm?" You nodded, mind hazy already, he gave your ass another squeeze.

"By the way, you can call me Tartaglia. One... Two..." He started counting, you stupidly looked at the rooms and corridors of the small 5 floor building and started to run towards one of the rooms. Outside the window you could see the colorful lights of the Carnival, and below you could hear screams from the haunted house, you smiled at the thought that while everyone was playing outside you would be playing a dirty game inside the building.

You've finally managed to find a reasonable place to hide, behind a counter in a room. You heard Tartaglia saying that he stopped counting and started hunting you. You heart was racing, and your panties were starting to get soaked with the idea of being hunt like a prey. The anxiety and tension making you more excited than you wanted to admit.

"Cutie~ I can hear you panting~" Tartaglia said laughing, you covered your mouth with a red face. Had he turned you into a bitch in heat with just a few humps and ass squeezes? Damn...

For a moment everything was silent and you almost came out of your hiding place to check if Tartaglia had gotten lost or left you there alone. But a pair of hands appeared in your field of vision and pulled you out while laughed. "Fuck yeah, I've got you" he said and you screamed, laughing with him right after.

"Gotta get my treat now." He said next to you ear, turning you to face the window, leaning on the counter. He gave your ass a slap before start humping again, this time more harder and moaning louder. You started mewling felling his boner between your clothed ass. God he was so big, the way he was holding your waist tightly making you feel things.

He started to take off his pants, lowering them to his legs, and palming his boner in front of you. You imitated him taking off your pants and jacket, lucky you weren't in a costume. Tartaglia lifted his mask enough for his mouth to show and started giving you little kisses, with time you two were kissing like horny teenagers.

He was standing between your legs, lowering his underwear and squeezing your breasts. He seemed to try to hold every part of your body.

"Fuck, you're pretty, can't believe I got you all for myself" he said kissing your and giving your neck and collarbones some hickeys. He let his heavy cock rest against your tummy. You bite your lips while held his dick masturbating him. You felt hot and your mind was cloudy, you wanted to suck his dick really bad.

Tartaglia kissed your neck and took off your bra licking and sucking your nipples while looking at you. He was in his own Wonderland. He took of his mask, revealing that even under the mask he wore clown makeup, which was now slightly melted, giving him a chaotic look. He was so pretty. With blue eyes scanning your state: panting, in messy clothes, and breasts inviting him once more.

"Fuck" he said, going back to your nipples closing his eyes sucking and biting like he want to milk your breasts. He humped again rubbing his dick in you clit making you moan loudly and spread your legs. Your fingers twitched in pleasure as he lowered his mouth further and further.

"Can I lick your pussy Sweetie?" He asked nicely patting your belly. You nodded of course you nodded, smiling stupidly. He kissed your pussy, grateful and you're gone, moaning like his little bitch. Tartaglia sucked and licked you as if his life depended on it, his hands held your thighs steady, and even though you closed around him he smiled and rolled his eyes in pleasure like he was tasting ambrosia. The wet sounds of his mouth and you mixed with the excitement outside made your head full.

You rocked your hips against his face and Tartaglia started seeing stars, sucking you while one hand was on his own cock, moaning from both pleasures. He wanted to go on, he wanted to taste you. He hunted you and now he would eat you out and taste everything you had to give him. You were his prey, he was the hunter.

"Ta-Tartaglia-ah! I'm gonna... I'm" you tried to alert him, but oh boy he was long gone between your folds. Sinking his head deeper and his tongue even deeper into you, Tartaglia drank your juices as you squirted into his mouth. The sounds he made as he licked and sucked what was left of you were so obscene that they will haunt you for months. You on the other hand were a mess, your body vibrating and wet with sweat, panting like you'd run a marathon.

When Tartaglia finally left your poor cunt alone, he rose to kiss you, who responded happily, already limp after cumming so intensely. Without giving much time to you for recover, he started to overstimulate your pussy, rubbing his dick on your clit.

"Open your mouth" You obeyed, opening as he commanded. He stuck two fingers inside your mouth and after you had sucked them long enough, he put them inside your pussy. Your legs opened up giving him more room so his fingers could go in and out, like pistons inside your hole. You held his arm giving him little cries while he prepared and coaxed you.

"Shhhh, it's ok doll, you need to be nice and wet for me ok? So I can fuck this pretty little pussy." He slapped your cunt, making you jump. "I think you're ready" He said opening your folds and spitting, using his tongue to lick your clit. Tartaglia held his cock in front of your entrance, the head of his dick was red, like he was angry. It's not a surprise since he was holding back his cum so he could make a mess on you. He put the head inside you slowly, the rest going in without difficulty since you're so wet.

"Ffuck yeah..." He threw back his head. Hissing and moaning. You were so tiny, so hot inside. Your gummy walls gripping his dick like a vice. He wanted to cum already, paint you with thick ropes of hot cum and breed you. God this was already the best halloween for him.

The fact that you were so welcoming to him was the best, your silly face already dumb just for having your pussy eaten by him, god the things he wanted to do with you.

He started to move, going slow just to hear you breaking little by little, moaning like a little bitch on his cock. He held you putting your legs around his waist and started moving your hips faster, making you hold on to him to stay steady. Fucking you raw and in a fast pace, you could feel his cock kissing your cervix. Going deep inside you.

You were so warm, he couldn't stop, he don't wanted to. Tartaglia wanted to keep going on and on and on marking you as his. He had a smile into his face, completely drunk on your pussy. Already addicted into fucking you.

Going back to the counter he made you face the Carnival, pulling your hair while going balls deep into your warmth. Your eyes rolling back to your skull, your voice hoarse from moaning too much. One of his hands going to your clit, making small circles, causing you to hold the counter. The skin on skin noise going more and more fast, Tartaglia was on the verge of tears after holding his cum for so long. And you were cumming again, making Tartaglia hiss felling your insides getting more tight, almost milking his cock, you were already crying of overstimulation.

"You're so so tight doll! Yeah, so tight. I'm gonna make a mess inside you. Take it all like a good little slut hmm? Be a cutie and take all my cum f-fuck yeah!" He shouted, still going in and out while cumming inside your poor little pussy. His cum was thick and hot, making you feel more wobbly, your legs giving up, but Tartaglia was fast to catch you before your fall.

"There you go..." He said, panting. Sitting on the ground with you on his arms. You were fucked silly, saying incoherent words and holding him, with lazy expression. He gave you time to recover this time. And after a little nap you could talk like a functional adult again.

"Your friends called you, i answered saying that you're ok, gave my number and sent a picture of my ID card, they're sweet for taking good care of you." He said, holding your face. You laughed. "Yeah they do that."

"Wanna go to my place? We can eat something and sleep. I pay your Uber tomorrow, how about that?" He offered. You nodded "It's ok for me. But you'll need to carry me, because I think I can't walk anymore." You laughed and he just cover his face in shame. For someone with a sharp tongue, he was cute.

It was a good Halloween indeed.

#. extra stuffed cake #. scenario #. tartaglia #. childe #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #smut #genshin #genshin headcanons #headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut x reader #childe smut #tartaglia smut #ajax smut #clown x reader

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fatbellyboysstuff · 11 months

Text

I've seen many feedees write about how theyd love to be able to not work and just laze around, being spoiled like princesses/princes. and as much as I love this for them (I hope you get to live that dream someday!!) I can't really relate because I actually love my job/going to work! so here are some fantasies and thoughts for those of us who want to keep working:

getting fast food breakfast at a drive through on your way to work everyday

your feeder packing you a big lunch everyday

your uniform becoming tighter and tighter, having to ask for a size up constantly until your boss tells you they don't have larger sizes

eating so much lunch it'd have been enough for three of your coworkers and then trying to secretly rub your aching gut at your desk

having a snack drawer in your desk, snacking mindlessly while working, easily getting an extra 1000 kcal in every day

your ever fattening belly starting to push into the desk, your chair digging into your love handles more and more

your coworker bringing in cake on their birthday and giving you two pieces without you even asking

everyone around you talking about their newest fad diet while you are so proud of reaching your latest gaining goal

noticing your new fat getting in the way more and more, no matter what you do.

getting home all tired after being on your feet all day, your feeder waiting for you with a large home cooked meal. stuffing your gut til you feel like you're going to burst, leaving you still bloated the next morning

spending your days off just laying around, eating and eating and eating, your work clothes ever so slightly smaller on your next work day

your boss reassigning you to different tasks that are less physically demanding, making you burn less calories and growing fatter even faster

feeling yourself getting distracted from your work more often because of all the new softness on your body

being so aware of your size all the time, feeling your body jiggle with the slightest movement, getting more confident the more you grow

just some things I keep on thinking about, if you have more, feel free to add some! 🥰🤤

#fatbellyboytext #weight gain kink #gaining weight on purpose #feedism.#feederism.#wg encouragement #feedee text #feedee encouragement

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selineram3421 · 11 months

Text

An Adoptive Father's Day

Alastor and Child Reader Oneshot

Warning? ⚠

⚠ little hint of Reader's living life, alcohol, food mention ⚠

You had snuck construction paper and other supplies into your room for the past few days. Taking what you needed from the party supplies, knowing Charlie wouldn't mind.

Father's day was just a few hours away and you wanted to make a pop-up card for Alastor.

The plan was for you to stay up and make the card while he was asleep. Everything you needed was under the bed.

When the time hit nine, Alastor made sure you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed.

"Good night mon petit.", the deer demon said as he tucked you in.

"Good night.", you replied, hugging Murder Mittens.

He turned off the light on his way out and slid the door to a close.

Waiting for a good while, you heard the door to the hallway close and jumped out of bed, quickly bringing out the box full of supplies out from under it.

You turned on the lamp on the nightstand, setting out the papers and markers, scissors and glitter to the side for later.

"Let's start!", you whispered excitedly.

Alastor stared at the glass in his hand.

It was Father's Day. A day he didn't enjoy celebrating in his living life.

Husk hadn't bothered to start a conversation but that was fine. The Radio Demon didn't want to talk at the moment.

For a bit longer that's what he did, just sat on a bar stool and stared down at his drink with a fake smile. It wasn't until the clock struck one in the morning that he finished his drink and stood up.

"I shall be on my way now Husker.", he said and fixed his coat.

All the cat demon did was grumble, picking up the glass from the counter.

With that, Alastor made his way back to the hotel room. Humming a tune while walking, he wondered if his little demon had a parental guardian in their living life.

They'll tell me when they want to. He thinks as he reaches the door of his room.

After opening it and walking in, the demon in red notices light coming from the crack of the sliding door.

Did they wake up? He wonders, closing the door to the hallway and going over to his little demon's sliding door.

Taking a look in the room, he sees them on the rug asleep with many cut up papers scattered around them. Making his way over to the little one, he pics them up and puts them back in bed, noticing the card in their hand once he set them down.

He covers them with a blanket before carefully taking the card out of their hands. He finds red cursive letters on top with a old radio drawn with marker in the middle, it says to and from, his name and theirs half way done.

"Happy Father's Day..", he reads and opens the card up.

"I never liked celebrating Father's Day. But now I have you and I think I can enjoy it. Let's have fun and do something we like. Or you could have fun on your own. Either way, have a good time.

Love, -."

There's little drawn out figures popping out of the card and its the two of them holding hands, they even managed to add in his cane and shadow.

Setting the card down in his lap, he looks at the sleeping child.

Yes, we'll have fun today. Perhaps make some cake for dessert. The Radio Demon thinks with a real smile and puts the stuffed cat back in their arms.

"Sweet dreams little one."

He debates on taking the card but decides to leave it, wondering how they'll present it to him as he turns off the lamp and leaves the room.

I hope everyone had fun today.

~Seline, the person.

Extra!

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @naelys-the-aster @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

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missmugiwara · 7 months

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Got It Bad ♡ Part 2

Summary: fem!reader x Luffy // please read part 1 first // You need a snack. Luffy needs a snack. You should help each other out, but be careful because you really spoil Luffy too much. Warning: 18+, slightly NSFW, very suggestive, slight dom Luffy, we getting a little freaky with food but nothing crazy Note: Back by popular demand! I don't usually do this, but the amount of love I received from part 1 (which was meant to be a one-shot originally) has really touched my heart. So I am honored to give you more Luffy love. Thank you all so much!

♡ Please read Part 1 first! Here is Part 3! ♡

♡ This chapter is a gift for the lovely @kingofthe-egirls ♡

Oh, Luffy that wonderful tease.

Get him back? Get him back?

How could you possibly get him back for that dirty little stunt? That carefree, dirty, yummy, delicious little stunt that made your heart skip a beat. Let's face it - Luffy was too fast and too silly. An expert at shenanigans. Maybe you needed to think a bit harder, somehow be one step ahead of that goofy man.

Maybe… you needed to think this over while having a snack.

So you merrily walked into the kitchen, and Sanji greeted you with an adoring smile. You smiled back politely and glanced over to the table to see Luffy seated and stuffing his face.

Speaking of snacks, Sanji always prepared a succulent snack every day - one for each of the Straw Hats - but of course, Luffy's insatiable apetite always left said rubber man wanting more. And when he asked the cook for more, he was denied.

This was where you, Luffy's sweet savior, came in to be the answer to his food-related problems.

Sanji obviously had a soft spot for you. So if you asked Sanji for more food, then he gave you more. This was really easy. All you needed to do was whisper hotly in his ear, and he was swayed. Really, you could do anything and Sanji would be spewing his eternal love for you. Yes, it made you feel bad to use him, but you kept doing it over and over.

Why?

Because you were in love.

This was all solely for your captain. That gluttonous, silly, cute-as-a-button captain. The events of a earlier in the day kept replaying in your head. How Luffy grabbed you, how Luffy spoke, how comfortable he was and how…

How much of a hot mess he made of you!

It was truly no fair how provocative Luffy was and how natural it came. He made it effortless whilst you were over here struggling to tell him your feelings. You let out a sigh when you sauntered further into the kitchen at your dilemma, with Luffy so deep in consuming his snack he did not notice you.

Your attention flickered back over to the cook, who let you know he just finished baking a cake. Going back to the point about being Luffy's sweet savior, if you got extra food from Sanji then you gave it to Luffy. If Luffy ate the food, he was happy. If he was happy, then you were overjoyed. You would do anything for Luffy. Plus, Luffy knew you would do anything for him - especially if he asked you to work your magic on Sanji. Goodness, you really were spoiling him.

So when Luffy tugged at the hem of your shirt oh-so innocently, breaking you from your thoughts, you knew it was time for seconds. Sanji started to catch on to this, and when he inquired if you were handing off food to Luffy, you lied. In the end, he'd see you and Luffy cackle away, and he'd curse himself for falling for you once again.

Despite this, there was no problem from Sanji as you walked back from the fridge with an extra slice of cake in tow - chocolate with strawberry filling and frosting. Upon seeing you carry a slice, Sanji quickly excuded himself to go give one to Nami and Robin outside. You hummed as you sat down next to Luffy who had the biggest smile. You forked up a piece and held it up to his mouth.

Sweetly, you called, "Here, Luffy!"

With a big ahhh Luffy stretched open his mouth and chomped down, leaving you to giggle in content. He was too cute for his own good. Feeding him was the best because he was always so appreciative. As of lately, he was reciprocating. Luffy would feed you as well. At first, you both thought nothing of it since it was so innocent, but it was becoming one of these special things that only you two shared in.

For a split second, you two locked gazes. A small blush appeared on the captain's face, and in turn your face was becoming really hot. What was that look in his eyes? Moments like these kept happening more frequently. They were beginning to occur out of pure innocence, but they kept you hopeful that maybe, just maybe this was a sign of affection from Luffy somehow.

Luffy broke your gaze first, looking back at the table to grab a cookie. Trying to shake off this rising heat and a tingle now forming in the pit of your stomach, you quickly glanced back at the table to gain a sense of normalcy back. That's when you got a great idea.

"Hey, Luffy?"

With a mouth full of food, he spluttered out, "What?"

"Boop!"

You leaned in to gently tap him on the nose, wiping a bit of frosting on it. You pulled back to smile at the confused captain. Luffy went cross-eyed trying to stare at what was on his nose until he registered it as cake frosting.

"Hey! Why'd you do that?" he beamed at the spontaneity, trying to sound mad but really was only amused.

"Just thought it would be fun!" you cooed, swiping your finger across the cake to re-frost your captain. Could this really get him back? Probably not, but it was still fun nonetheless. You turned to him, laughing, ready to strike again - but Luffy caught your wrist.

"Nope!"

There was a hint of playfulness in Luffy's tone, and he somewhat roughly pulled you toward him - though he would never hurt you in a million years. Locking eyes with him, you parted your lips slowly in confusion. You stared at Luffy, and he at you for what seemed like forever. He grinned before pulling your hand up to his lips. He stuck his tongue out, and you twitched nervously.

Was he about to…?

And he took a long lick of your finger.

A long, slow lick. Luffy, who did not break his gaze from yours for even a second, watched your expression change instantly. An intense heat fluttered over your cheeks. So many thoughts flooded your brain. The biggest one being - oh gosh, what was that lidded gaze he was giving you? Your heart thundered in your chest and the room was becoming unbelievably hot, and this was unbelievably hot, and-

"Mmm, so sooo good!"

It didn't help as Luffy completely sucked your finger into his mouth, and you could feel his warm, wet tongue move against it. A squeak escaped past your lips, and Luffy only swirled his tongue around your finger before he released you with a pop of his lips, smiling widely at his work. In your stunned state, it was too bad you didn't notice his other rubber arm snaking around you quietly to grab at the piece of cake on the table.

Oh, my god - he really just did that!

What a tease.

What a freaking tease, but you only wanted more. Why stop there? You needed him, desired him. Gladly, you would let the captain put his mouth anywhere he'd like. Any part of your body! Just so long as his lips would -

WHAM!

Luffy was so good at invading your thoughts as well as taking you out of them. He smashed the cake right onto the side of your face. You had just the smallest fraction of time to think, so you raised your arm to block yourself. It wasn't quick enough. Luffy rendered you a mess. Cake in your hair, on your face, neck - all the way down into your shirt.

"Oh, Luffy!" You looked down at the mess that was yourself, "You got me real good, huh?"

You looked back at him with a sheepish smile. Normally, you should have been mad, but it was Luffy. Because of that reason alone, you let him do whatever he pleased much to the dismay of your crewmates. You laughed, and he joined you. It was no surprise that he would do this, however, what was a surprise was the way he seemed to look at you.

It was a different kind of look - a look of hunger, a look of pure starvation yet not aimed at food. Something a bit more hard to define. Perhaps it was a look of being bothered. The captain was staring at you with a sort of devious smirk, brows furrowed together in focus, and tongue sticking out of mouth.

"Uh… Luffy?"

Whatever that hungry look in his eyes meant, the butterflies were returning to your stomach.

"Luffy?" you meekly whispered, face turning hotter and hotter in that second.

Luffy smirked as his eyes snapped to meet yours.

"Still such a dirty girl!"

Lips parted as you released a gasp, face set on fire because - well, you weren't expecting him to say that again! The captain only let out a loud laugh at your flustered expression, and it only made your face heat up further.

"Oh, captain, please!"

Before you could even blink, Luffy's grip on your wrist tightened. He moved so quickly, leaning forward to grab you. Luffy lifted you, swiping his arm across the table to move any dishes out of the way. Immediately, your back was slammed against the table roughly, and your eyes clamped shut at the impact. When they opened, Luffy was on top of you. His hands on either side of your face, holding your wrists down. His knee parting your legs. He let out a small grunt and the corners of his lips curved upward into that loveable smile you adored so much.

"Sanji doesn't like wasting food, ya know!"

If Luffy hadn't spoken, you might have passed out right then and there from this compromising position.

"Well, I know that, but I need to… to…"

To fuck the captain's rubber ass.

Wait! Get it together!

You moved your face off to the side, biting your lower lip in frustration. Need to what? Go take a shower? You could never waste Sanji's food. Ignore the heat on your face? Too late for that. Ignore the heat in your lower stomach as Luffy shifted to press his lower body closer to yours? Ignore how damn hot he was? "I'm not done with my snack."

You froze, snapping your gaze back to him.

"So hold still, would ya?"

You breathed in sharply, and that was it. Your breath hitched in your throat at Luffy's tone. The low, seductive tone. It made your mind reel. He locked you in, and this is the moment where you regretted spoiling him so much. He knew! He knew you spoiled him immensely and you'd always be there for him. He knew you would never disobey, knew you'd practically do anything for him.

"Captain's orders." he smirked again, as if to make sure you heard.

Looking at your captain's lips, you breathed out huskily, "Yes, captain. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

There was that hungry look again. He grinned in response, "Good!"

Luffy moved like lightning. Another squeak came from your parted lips when his face went down to your collar bone, taking one lick from it (agonizing - yet tantalizingly slow) all the way up your neck right to behind your ear. Making sure not to miss a single inch of skin covered in frosting, the captain let go of your wrists to brush a stand of your hair out of the way. The man needed food, and damn it all if anything were to get in his way.

You mewled against his touch, instantly reaching to grab fistfuls of his opened shirt, doing everything in your power to not squirm because Luffy was being quite ticklish. Another squeak once Luffy's tongue stopped, and he decided it would be better to start sucking any cake left on your skin. It all felt so tingly under his touch, and though this was not really a true kiss - every spot his mouth landed on was like fire.

"Mm… Luffy-"

"I'm not done!"

Oh, thank goodness.

He smirked against your neck before moving down further, pressing his lips lightly to a enticingly low spot on your chest. He moved his mouth open, sucking off a small glob of frosting with a pop of his lips. He pulled away to prop himself up by the arms.

"Tastes even better like this!" he smiled widely, a slight blush at his face.

He was waiting for you to say something, yet you laid there with wide eyes. Did that just happen? Because… that totally just happened! Amidst the captain's laughter, somehow in this stunned stated you managed to move your hands to hold his face. His wonderful, wonderful face. Immediately, he froze to stare down at you. With your thumb, you gently brushed the side of his cheek with it, noticing how messy of an eater he was. Crumbs and frosting dusted his cheeks, his lips, almost anywhere on his face. It caused you to snicker, and Luffy blinked at this.

"Hold on, captain. You really are so messy!" you stroked his cheek again, "Come here."

This time, Luffy watched you with intense eyes. Softly, you pulled his face close with a lidded gaze. He was oddly silent and intenly focused on your movements. In this state, you realized your hands were trembling out of nervousness - but you wanted to try. Try getting a taste of him. You opened your mouth as you pressed your lips to Luffy's cheek, sucking off a small fraction of frosting in one fell swoop - and also, maybe just letting it linger in a tiny kiss as well. Once you were done, Luffy pulled back and cocked his head to the side as he seemed to be studying you. He broke out in a warm smile, and you returned it.

There was a pause.

"I like seeing you smile. I like being the reason it happens."

In one swift movement, Luffy was back at your chest to cause a gasp from your mouth and your fingers to clutch his raven locks when his hat fell forward from his head. Luffy really didn't skip a beat, especially when you heard him snicker against your skin again. You wished he would go lower on your breasts with his tongue - oh, please - but there wasn't as much of a mess there. Luffy promply worked his way back up, along your collar bone again and up your jawline, along your cheek until -

His mouth was very close to yours. A small amount of cake just barely touched the corner of your lips. Luffy leaned in to eat this one last bit, and you felt like you were doing backflips. It was just the smallest touch, ever so small, and if he had moved to his left anymore… it could have been a kiss.

But Luffy pulled away.

In the blink of an eye, the sultry look he had was gone. He bore a huge smile and laughed while placing a hand on the back of his head. It seemed he was almost a little bashful, but it was hard to tell with someone as confident and straightforward as he.

"I really like being around you!"

His face was flushed, and yours matched.

"Let's do more of this!"

More? More of what!? The eating or the kissing? Your heart was racing. Before you could attempt to agree (as your mind was broken at the moment, and your heart leaped out of your chest and landed somewhere), he was out of his seat and placed a hand on the kitchen door.

Luffy turned to smirk at you, "Oh, and I'll remember that you said you'd do whatever I want!"

Spoiled.

Again, a rising heat took over your face. You wanted to speak, to ask him what he was takling about - but he was out the door. Luffy left you to wallow in your sexual frustration yet again.

What a tease.

Luffy had to have known what he was doing to you.

#one piece fanfiction #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #op fanfic #one piece x reader #luffy fanfic #please i poured my heart into this #oh my god i'm sorry for being so late with this #mugi writes

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archive-of-alexandria · 7 months

Text

Mind Your Manners (Sanji X Reader)

A/N: ITS KINKTOBER! I have it in my head that head-over-heels, perverted Sanji would absolutely give the Reader snacks or food that are just a little bit too messy as an excuse to watch them clean up after themself and I just had to write it out. Kinda feels yandere? Smutty Food Play, because I haven't seen enough kinky Sanji action on here. xx

Sanji knows better than to play with his food. However, the way you're sitting at the dining table - pretty legs tucked up underneath you and breasts pressed together as you lean on your elbows - makes him think that he may have to make an exception.

Sanji's rule about manners doesn't extend to you, however.

No.

Sanji goes out of his way to ensure that you'll make a mess in his kitchen.

Back during the summer months, the Going Merry had made a pitstop at an island known for their enormous strawberries. Sanji had been eager to try his hand at pastries for a change - tarts, pies, the works - and the gargantuan summertime fruits seemed the perfect challenge.

A challenge the cook didn't anticipate, however, was finding you elbow-deep in the barrel of harvested berries that same evening, caught literally red-handed from the saccharine juices that dripped from your fingertips to the floor with a heavy tap tap tap.

The sight was enough to make his heart nearly stop.

Your eyes had been wide and your flushed cheeks were even wider, stuffed with sweet fruit as juice covered your face and hands...and every bit of you was dripping. Sanji had been unsure of where to look and his eyes darted between your slick fingers, your shy expression, and your perfectly tinted, glossy lips. He had never seen a more heavenly sight.

In his mind, nothing could ever compare...until your tongue ran along the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to clean yourself.

In the darkness of his room, Sanji thought about that tease of a tongue for weeks afterward.

Ever since then, he has taken extra care to make sure that you're given the messiest meals he can make. They're not gross, of course - Sanji is a chef first and a lover second. No, they're not gross. They are delectable. Every hum of enjoyment, every slurp, every squish...Sanji would lie awake in bed and dream of the different foods he wished to cover you in, if only just to watch you lick it up.

You had offered to help him make cinnamon buns one morning - though not without taking a generous helping of frosting on your finger and sucking it clean. "Labor tax", you joked with a wink. The image of your tongue licking the sinful-looking sweetness from your finger, mingled with your contented sigh, was seared into Sanji's brain from that moment forward.

Sanji became obsessed with watching you eat.

Food has always been an extension of Sanji's love for his crew and an expression of devotion. The act of cooking is artistic, and the act of eating is intimate. Hell, the kitchen itself is a lesson in foreplay: the preparation, the getting hands dirty, the building heat, the waiting game...all leading to a very satisfying end.

If only Sanji's cooking prowess had an excuse to leave the kitchen and move into the bedroom.

Sanji has yet to make his cake and eat it too in the ways of romance, though it would seem that you have recently taken a keen interest in his particular set of skills. The cook has noticed an increasing frequency of your kitchen visits, observing the way your eyes seem to latch to his hands and arms as he works. You've grown bolder, assisting him in his preparations and letting your elbows brush up against one another.

Sanji relishes the days you ask for his help and he nestles you between his body and the table, guiding your hands in his much larger ones.

The cook has grown bolder too, sometimes pressing too tightly against your back to allow his front to press up against your firm bottom as he huskily mumbles praises in your ear. He swears, sometimes, he can feel you lean into him.

The kitchen is the way to Sanji's heart, and he hopes that it may be the way into your bed.

And here you were, seated at his table awaiting the meal he had promised to cook for you once the Going Merry restocked at port.

As Sanji wipes down his cooking station, he lets his eyes drink you in without shame. Your breasts are practically falling from your tattered blouse, soft pillows highlighted by the dim candlelight of the galley. You're playing with your fingers, unaware of Sanji's gaze. He smirks.

"Sanji," You sigh, flushing pink as you look up to meet his gaze already set upon you,

"Is it almost ready?"

He chuckles, crossing his arms.

"My sweet girl is hungry, hm?" He muses, tossing his dishrag over his shoulder,

"Just a few more minutes, love."

"Wha-? But-!"

"You can't rush perfection now, can you?"

"Sanji," You whine, wiggling in your seat. His eyes once again meet your chest.

"If I had known it was going to take this long I would have taken up Zoro's offer to go to the pub."

Sanji stiffens.

The chef stands to his full height, a cigarette appearing between his tight-pressed lips as he turns from you to check on the pot simmering on the stove.

You, however, hold your ground.

It's silent.

"I didn't know you and mosshead had plans."

Sanji's voice is low. Much too low, and empty. It unsettles you.

"San-"

"-It's ready."

In a manner much too abrupt for the usually smitten Sanji, a steaming bowl is placed before you with an alarming thud. The spoon rattles in reaction to his aggressive delivery.

The enticing smell of the ramen can't mask the uneasy way Sanji stands perfectly still in front of you, face shrouded in shadow except for the blazing butt of his cigarette.

You're unsure of where to look, splitting your attention between the meal before you and the man hovering above the table. Sanji makes the decision for you.

"You were so hungry just a moment ago," he quips,

"So eat up."

You swallow, heat pooling in your cheeks and between your legs. This was nothing but the "Zoro effect" on Sanji, as you and Nami call it. Gingerly, you take hold of the spoon. Peering into the bowl, the meal looks heavenly - though you're soon aware of the way your hair keeps falling into your eyes, threatening to become part of the soup.

Your hair had grown long during the months at sea, and you had unwillingly lent Usopp your last bauble for slingshot practice. Your frustration doesn't go unnoticed.

“Here, my darling,” Sanji hummed, circling the table until he was behind you, “Let me help.”

At this moment, Sanji feels dangerous.

Your body erupts with heat as the cook looms behind you, your eyes glued to the steaming bowl of soup displayed before you. The galley feels all too warm, and the meal before you begins to feel more like a test - a challenge - rather than a token of whatever unspoken feelings float between you and Sanji.

Without another word, Sanji’s cold fingers glide along your feverish neck, scooping up your hair in their wake. He gives his wrist a well-practiced twist, eliciting a gasp from your lips at the feeling of your hair pulled taught in his grasp. Sanji feels his ego swell, giving your hair a sharp tug. Your head is thrown back as he lowers himself to your ear.

"Go on," His scruff grazes you, and your skin is suddenly on fire.

"Eat."

Heat floods through Sanji as he watches the way your neck moves as you swallow, nodding at his command. He eases up on his grip and observes the timid way you scoop the broth into your mouth.

He catches the way your eyelids flutter closed at the taste of his meal. You liked it. You always liked his food.

Tonight, simply liking wasn't enough.

"Eating so silently? Don't you know it's rude to the chef?"

Sanji's eyes darken as your fingers twitch on the tabletop. So, he muses to himself, you think you would get away that easily?

"Don't you like it?"

"S-Sanji-"

"Don't use your words, pet. Just enjoy."

From above, he watches as the plush peaks of your breasts begin to heave quicker. You allow yourself to fully dive into the meal, this time taking noodles and broth quickly between your lips. For a moment, you seem to forget that Sanji is there. You hum, in something akin to ecstasy - Sanji had made this meal just for you, just the way you liked it.

The obscenely wet squelches of your lips slurping up his creation elicit a deep groan from the chef, fingers tightening their grip on your hair. He can't help but chuckle at the idea of Zoro sitting alone in some corner booth and nursing a drink, all while you're here sucking up and savoring Sanji's affection.

You lift your head, lips puffy from the spice and heat of the meal. Sanji presses himself into your back, as his free thumb comes around and wipes your bottom lip. Your gazes meet, and Sanji brings his thumb to his mouth - tasting remnants of your meal.

A low chuckle escapes his lips.

"What, my love? Finished already?"

You understand his insinuation, whipping your head back to your meal and bringing the ladle back to your mouth.

Eat it all up, love. Made just for you.

In a moment of weakness, Sanji gently pushes your head down.

You gag on the spoon.

Sanji moans.

His hips buck forward, desperate for friction, meeting the soft dip of your arched back. His throbbing cock digs into your back, your buttocks...Unable to compose himself, Sanji begins to rut himself against you – and you don’t protest.

Sanji knows how fowl this display looks, and yet he can’t help himself. He has wanted you - really wanted you - for so long...the idea that Zoro could possibly take you away from him was enough to drive him over the edge.

When Sanji hears your voice rumble from your chest - "nnnugh-! Sanji...!" - he swears by the heavens that he'll do anything to make you his.

His hand moves from your hair and wraps around your throat, slick with the broth that dribbles from your lips. He wishes to lick every part of your sticky, salty skin, gently squeezing your throat as you gasp out his name.

Your head lolls onto his shoulder, hand gripping the table as it shakes under the weight of Sanji's wild bucking.

Sanji is everywhere, mumbling streams of thought between hot kisses along your forehead:

"I fucking love you, you know that? Would Zoro treat you so well?"

"That pretty mouth, always teasing me - you think that's fair?"

"Just wanna fill you up with all of me, darling...Want those gorgeous lips around my cock..."

For all his talk, he fumbles and lurches forward. His hand unceremoniously lands in the bowl, soaking him up to the cuff in warm broth. You're both breathing heavily, the high beginning to wind down. However, you see your moment to gain leverage.

You grab hold of his wrist before he can think, turning your face ever so slightly to meet his.

With a twinkle in your eye, you guide his hand to your lips. Sanji's mind is a fluffy haze, unable to anticipate your next move.

"We don't waste food, right?" You purr.

You take Sanji's fingers into your velvety mouth and he practically sees stars. He has been dreaming of this exact pleasure for months, straining to keep from collapsing on top of you as your tongue swirls between his fingers.

As your cheeks hollow out around his digits, your hooded gaze keeps his in a near mocking way.

So, you had known his game all along.

Sanji's chest heaves against your back, his hot breath fanning across your face with a stutter. His inexperience shows in this moment, numb and capable of doing nothing but watching the expert way your mouth moves around his fingers.

A faint pop of your cheeks accompanies the release, a ghostly string of spit connecting his fingers to your lips. The faint moonlight catches hold of his soaked digits. Sanji inhales sharply.

His hand, frozen in your hold, is easily guided down...

down...

"I've already had my meal," you murmur.

A shiver.

His eager fingers meet your soaking, pulsing warmth.

"It's time you eat yours."

#sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #opla sanji #YES CHEF #Sanji is something so personal #absolute brainrot #sanji imagine #yandere sanji #this is GROSS ahaha #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

title: in a feud with her neighbor

bonus scenes now available

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5621

summary:

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕

special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab

additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!

Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever.

Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool.

You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.

The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.

She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.

You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.

No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges.

You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.

Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.

The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.

Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.

He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.

It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.

When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.

One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.

It’s not like he would notice.

_________________

Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.

He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.

But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in.

Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.

He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router.

He needs to send a message, after all.

_________________

You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message.

No internet connectivity. Try again?

The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.

But instead you find a new name.

GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.

Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis.

You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.

Today you’re sending a new kind of message.

He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely.

_________________

“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath.

There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.

Which can only mean…

His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.

Here. Clean your own mess up for once.

xoxo

Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.

He’ll get you back.

He always does.

You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time.

When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.

“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”

Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach.

“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.

_________________

There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.

The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering.

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are.

This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.

“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.

“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied.

But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.

Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.

“Fuck!”

_________________

There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.

-Joel

The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.

“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.

“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”

“No, definitely not.”

She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”

“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door.

There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.

He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.

Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.

It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.

He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this.

Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.

He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.

He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.

_________________

You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.

Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.

If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.

Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting.

But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.

Interesting choice

-Joel

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”

Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.

It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you’ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.

He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.

Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one.

But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps.

Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside.

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.

“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.

Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.

“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”

_________________

Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.

Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.

“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out.

Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”

You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Does…what hurt?”

“Always having a stick up your ass.”

Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.

“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts.

You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.

“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask.

“I don’t have my suit with me.”

“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.

_________________

Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.

Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.

There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house.

You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.

“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.

“Hey,” he replies.

“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.

Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally.

“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”

The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town.

He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds.

Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.

“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.

“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”

“I guess…navy?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”

The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.

You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””

Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.

You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.

_________________

You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.

You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning.

You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“You asshole–”

Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”

“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.

Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall. He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”

You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.

“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”

“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”

“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin.

Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.

“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks.

You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”

Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.

You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.

Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest.

And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.

“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.

You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex.

You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.

“You stole my internet!” He exclaims.

“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.

“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”

“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”

“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”

“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.

Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”

He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”

_________________

Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.

He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.

“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”

“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”

You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.

“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee.

The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside.

“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”

Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”

You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.

He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him.

“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side.

“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”

“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”

“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.

“Sounds good to me, big guy.”

_________________

The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.

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