lea

“oh my god, stop being such a buzzkill!” your friend inori groaned, shaking you back and forth by the shoulders as if the bobbling would spawn excitement in your head. unsuccessful, you were the least excited you’d ever been! not to mention irritated.

you managed to shoo her hand away. “you people in your obsession with circus actors. this has to be some kind of sick fetish. count me out!”

a string of groans chased the words out of your mouth. did they think complaining would change your mind? your shoulder had become occupied by your friend lana’s forearm instead—she looked quite unhappy.

“i didn’t screw that basement freak just for you to not go. you’re coming with! even if i have to drag you by your thong!”

“you fucked a random guy for circus tickets? really?” you asked, trying your absolute best not to tear her a new one for being a fool. “and i’m not wearing a thong.”

she addressed your question only. “i did! so you better come. i endured so much odor so we could have a fun night.”

your palm found the skin left of your nose, rubbing your face in utter disappointment came naturally in these situations. what a bad friend you’d be to let her down. “i didn’t ask you to do that. but fine, i’ll go.”

your two friends squealed, both hugging you from each side like children fighting over a teddy bear. “thank god! i was actually lying, my job gave them to me!”

you were too generous with your trust, clearly. “you lying snake! maybe you’ll find the love of your life in that circus, since you’re crazy!”

“come on, can’t you get that stick out of your ass for one night? you know you want to come.”

“i’m offended you perceive me that way.”

and yet..you went anyway. you couldn’t explain why, but for some reason you felt like something crazy would happen, something you didn’t want to miss. you weren’t aware that you’d be the target.

you were stood by a cotton candy stand with your friends before the show, actively dodging the sticky hands of children knuckle deep in their caramel corn. what a nightmare.

there was a man standing about a meter away from you, he was dressed oddly formal for not being an obvious actor. he was pale skinned, almost sickeningly so. what he lacked in vitamin d, he made up with his other handsome features. he had markings on his face, in which you assumed were tattoos. but something about those markings seemed unstable.

a manly face and high pigtails, yeah, he was definitely apart of the circus.

you averted your eyes away, figuring it was rude to stare—even if he was probably used to it. the second you turned your head, you felt his eyes on you instead, it must’ve been his turn to stare. there was an intense weight that followed his gaze, and you couldn’t help but feel content with him being right where he belonged! profiling someone so fast must’ve been quite disrespectful, but seriously..this guy gave you the creeps!

when you looked to meet his stare head on, you noticed the markings on his face had changed, shifted. he held eye contact for a good three seconds, only to walk away, passing right behind you—too close.

“enjoy the show.” he said, you didn’t know if his deep voice fit his appearance or not. to be honest, you were surprised to hear he could even mutter a word at all. before you could reply with pretend gratitude, he walked off like nothing happened.

but something did happen. you felt lighter—but where? you could feel the seam in your pants much more prominently, your clit nudged right up against it. that was odd, usually your panties would mask such a feeling. though maybe the fact you’d become so conscious of every sensation made it feel that way.

your hands found the hem of your pants, your thumbs went under the band in search of the fabric you’d find by your hips, but there was none.

where the hell did your panties go!?

how one found their underwear to have vanished in thin air was more than beyond you. your eyes found your friends—did theirs disappear too? did your friend actually drag you to this place by your panties or did something else happen?

your gut told you it had everything to do with the freakish man you made eye contact with. you didn’t know magicians could preform real magic, let alone such lewd tricks. despite how furious you were, there was no certain answer.

“everything okay?” inori asked, though you could tell she was far more excited to see the show than fuss over you. she rubbed your shoulder, leaving lana to carry the heap of snacks she purchased.

you simply nodded, afraid that somehow, someone would realize you were involuntarily going commando. “yeah..all good. we should probably find a spot so we can get a good view.”

lana had a cheeky smile on her face, like the one you’d find on someone who believed they’d won a carnival game. “oohhh! so now you’re excited! did you see a cute guy or something?”

a cute guy, that was only half of the truth. you couldn’t explain to your friends that you believed a pale man in a suit robbed you of something very sacred. it was your prettiest lace pair too, what a bummer! “you think so lowly of me. can we just go?”

both your friends snickered, and you felt as if you were apart of the circus troupe. only there to be laughed and poked at. you might as well have pulled a deck of cards right out your ass! your distress must’ve been obvious, since your friends dragged you away from the concessions without a second thought.

backstage, choso was preparing for his act since he was up next. though, he wasn’t preparing in a way you’d typically find. no, not at all—he was occupied with the task of rubbing the lovely pair of panties he’d snagged all over his tightly set face. he inhaled deeply, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to take them home and—

—“choso, what the hell are you doing? you’re on soon!” his manager snapped from behind him, it was none other than a lovely woman named utahime. he didn’t perceive her as lovely, not one bit.

“..i’m getting myself ready.” what a lame excuse! he crumbled the panties into a tight ball in his fist. how does one live after being caught by the manager sniffing panties right before a show? he turned his head, quickly shoving them into his pocket. when he turned to face utahime, his eyes were still blown wide.

one of his manager’s eyebrows cocked upward, but she quickly remembered she couldn’t expect normal in a crowd like this. “are you on something?”

“no, ma’am.”

“are you lying to me?”

“no, ma’am”

utahime gave him a look that told him without words she was suspicious, then walked away to deal with things actually worth her time.

“oooh, i saw you.” satoru, another member said from another corner. he had just finished his act, and it seemed that whenever his ego was fed, he became all the more insufferable.

“i will throw a dove at you.” choso threatened. satoru knew he wasn’t joking, it had been done before.

“have you tried approaching women instead of just stealing their underwear? instead of plucking the fruit..you have to eat it.”

what the hell was he talking about?!

choso simply stood, so he could tie the scarfs for his final trick. “worry about yourself. my history with women is none of your business.”

“lack of history, you mean. is that your favorite fairytale, choso?”

choso was already pulling his jacket aside to let out his bodyguard dove, when satoru surrendered. “okay, geez!”

when he went back to tying scarfs, satoru’s eyes wandered to what he was doing. it didn’t take long for him to notice the lacey pair of underwear knotted in with the line of cheap scarfs. before satoru could warn him, utahime came back. “choso, you’re on!”

oh, fuck.

the start of choso’s set was as impressive as anyone could imagine. he did his part well, and people seemed to enjoy the intense atmosphere he created. every trick just seemed so classic, and that alone was enough for people to enjoy it, in a nostalgic way. it was everything they had seen before, a bunny out of his hat, doves flying from his coat—everything.

but what nobody seemed to notice was the change in the markings adorning his face. you knew well enough to keep an eye on them, those were thieving tattoos if they were anything at all! while your friends watched and enjoyed the show, your mind was only focused on waiting for him to fuck up. waiting for your panties to turn up in the middle of a magician act. it was ridiculous, but your gut told you it had all to do with this man.

well, they did appear—much to choso’s dismay. the final act: endless scarfs.

choso began pulling scarfs from his mouth, one after the other in a straight, endless line, giving it its fitting name. he was about four scarfs in when something felt..different. he had done this trick an uncountable amount of times, he knew what each texture felt like on his lips. though, this one felt familiar, like the one he had rubbed against his face before the show.

fuck!

you noticed it before he could try and mask it—your lovely pair of lacy panties, with the culprit you suspected! but you didn’t suspect you’d find them, not like this. not being pulled out of his mouth in front of a whole audience.

nobody seemed to notice, they were too amazed by the act to see that he had quite literally pulled a pair of underwear past his lips, as if it were the rest of the scarfs. it blended in as well as a white rabbit does a black hat, but still, only you seemed to notice. if anyone else did, they did a great show of hiding it.

but oh, choso was distraught inside. the idea of having something you’d just worn in his mouth was enough to seize at least half of his braincells. if he weren’t so petrified of being caught red handed, he’d surely have a boner. he wished he could keep them in his mouth a little longer.

if he wasn’t caught, he’d keep that desire in mind.

choso pulled the rest of the scarfs, wore a fake, forced smile, and bowed. the crowd cheered, roses found the tips of his sleek black shoes, but yet he couldn’t raise his head. because he knew that you were watching, and he knew that he was caught.

his head was throbbing, his heart banging against his chest like it was trying to find a way out, since dying was surely better than this.

the second his head lifted, his eyes found yours in the stands. like some sort of spiritual punisher led him there. surely that was karma! your expression looked utterly furious—that couldn’t be good for him.

choso looked absolutely mortified, you searched your entire moral compass and heart for even a sprinkle of pity, but you found none.

you saw the way he immediately tried to rush backstage, and it sent you shooting up from your seat. naturally, your friends looked at you with puzzled expressions. but you were storming out of the theatre before anybody could get a word out.

signs led you down a hallway to the left, though you were unsure where you could find a manager. you assumed there would be at least one person to talk to wherever backstage was, and you were sure as hell going to find it!

sure enough, you did. it was an obnoxious sign that literally read “backstage entrance” in bold lettering, right on top of some red and white popcorn bucket pattern. before you could even knock, a lovely face met you there.

the woman had a large scar across her face, but you couldn’t even bother giving it any attention. “can i help you m—“

“—i’d like to see your magician.”

the woman looked lost, almost as confused as your friends looked when you stormed out like you had seen something offensive. in a way, you had! such nice panties should’ve been seen in private, or at least not stolen by a thieving pervert.

utahime looked around, as if to search for a camera—like this was some sort of bit. “oh, you’re serious.” she scratched her head, “ma’am if this is some sort of crush thing, i’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“oh, please!” you scoffed. “that man is a thief, not to mention a total pervert! i ought to give him a piece of my mind!”

she didn’t get time to look alarmed, since the door opened once again, and it appeared you summoned said ‘total pervert’. you could tell by looking at him he wanted to disappear.

choso’s heart had dropped to his ass—his worst fear of the day came true! you saw the underwear, of course you did. dropping dead was a far better solution than anything that could happen.

“care to explain why this woman is so angry at you, choso?” utahime asked, one eyebrow arched towards her hairline. “surely it’s something you can say in front of me.”

choso looked about the same as an insect looked under a frogs tongue. before you could go on a long tangent about the morality of utahime’s employees, she was called away by the theatre manager. just your luck.

it was only lucky for choso, really. in fact, he instantly looked relieved, as if something could be said to save his own skin.

“i’m getting your ass FIRED, you circus freak!” you shouted, which prompted utahime to look back at the two of you. she knew something was off, but she didn’t know it was your underwear. she didn’t want to know—for both her sake and choso’s. not to mention the fact they’d been in his mouth. that’s a managers worst nightmare!

choso put his hands out, like he was trying to play peacekeeper. “you don’t have to do this. i’m sorry, okay?” when he noticed his apology did nothing, he began worrying again. “..it was an honest mistake. i can return them to you.”

even then, he seemed reluctant.

“return them to me? after they’ve been in your mouth? are you nuts?!” your palm collided with his chest, the very one covered by a sophisticated suit, to which you thought looked ridiculous on him. it was like a rat wearing jewelry. “you probably infected them! with your sexually transmitted diseases or something!”

“..i don’t have STD’s”

“oh! another lie!”

“ma’am, i’m serious.” at this point, he looked offended.

you rolled your eyes, deciding going back and forth was a waste of your time. what did you care? you weren’t going to sleep with him anyway. ultimately you decided you could disinfect them well enough to avoid risk. seriously, that pair was expensive. “whatever, give them back.”

choso’s eyes darted around the room as if he was being interviewed. “oh, yeah. right..” he trailed off, hesitant.

then it made sense to you, he didn’t plan on giving them back.

at that point, you were beyond fed up with this pervert’s bullshit. you stepped up to him, taking it within your right to search his pocket. you held his shoulder with one hand, while the other jammed its way into dangerous territory.

choso tried to step away, his hands could only hover fruitlessly around you, not touching you. while you didn’t find your panties in his pocket, you feels around enough to find out. he didn’t have to tell you it was a boner, his groan when you grabbed it was all the confirmation you needed.

“do you have any shame?” you asked, it was a bit surprising how calm you sounded.

“i can’t help it.” his eyes found the floor, and you couldn’t help but think about how pathetic he looked. “please let me make this up to you. just don’t get me fired.”

you scoffed, “make it up to me? what—with this?” you pressed down against his crotch, which sent a pocket of air bursting straight out of his chest.

choso only nodded, and you could see he didn’t look as worried anymore. there was an intense way he stared at you, it was the same why you observed his eyes when you first saw him in concessions. everything inside you was telling you to not fall for it! don’t fall for the way he looks at you, or the way you kind of like them perverted.

what a fool you were, truly.

“..fine then.” your eyes squinted up at him, as a warning. “if you disappoint me, i’ll have even more to tell your manager about.

“yes, ma’am.”

now, you’d typically never get busy in a place as risky as an employee room, but choso assured you he had his ways.

oh, he sure had his ways.

his face was positioned between your thighs, and you found that he was so pussy drunk, he hadn’t even begun eating you out. choso groaned into your sopping cunt, practically suffocating himself. he nuzzled right into it, like he was becoming one with everything he had fantasized about that day.

there was only you two in the room, you occupied a red couch pressed against the wall. he had thrown your pants somewhere to the side, though he had everything on except for his suit jacket and tie. oh, he unfortunately took the hat off!

choso buried his nose flush against you, inhaling the scent of your arousal, which he was surprised to find. he let out a pleased sigh, and all he could do was breathe you in—breathe in the scent of you.

you pulled on his hair a bit. “you’re losing me, pervert.” you complained , but it was far from the truth. you hadn’t been with a guy so happy to just stuff his face between your thighs in a long time.

“call me choso. just choso, please.” his voice was muffled, and you were almost certain he’d stick his whole face inside you. his nose glided through your slick folds, nudging right up against your swollen clit.

he flattened his tongue inside his mouth, before it darted out to lick a sticky drop right up from your waiting hole. as soon as he got a taste, he couldn’t stop himself. he frantically lapped at your cunt like a dog, hooking your thighs around his shoulders.

you let out a shaky sigh, unable to stay quiet despite how bad your ego wanted you to. “f-fuck..pervert’s got a tongue on him, mm?” you try to tease, but the sensation of his tongue slivering inside you made you shudder. “shit..”

you could tell very clearly he was inexperienced. but he made up for it with desperation.

choso can’t even think to pull away to respond, he only gave you a hum, then continued. his wet tongue slides in and out of your drooling hole, coaxing out more and more for him to taste. his nose nudged against your clit with every lapping motion, the mere tease of it had you grinding against his face.

when you looked down, choso’s eyes met yours. his stare was fervent again, though his eyes remained half lidded. his tongue momentarily abandoned its place, only to instead envelop your clit in this mouth. he sucked on the pearl hungrily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nerves in a delicious, circular motion. all you could do was take it.

he hadn’t even made you finish yet and you forgot all about what had happened. the image of it all was blurred in some other place, a place that didn’t compare to the stars you saw behind your eyelids. “just like that..keep going..” you whispered, holding eye contact with him the entire time.

choso continued to suck at your clit while one hand left your thighs. he brought his pointer finger to your cunt, preparing to lather it in slick. you shook your head, nudging him with your foot. “don’t do that.”

this confused him, that much was obvious since he halted his relentless pursuit on your pussy. he lifted his head, the bottom half of his face already drenched. “you..don’t want my fingers inside you?”

“i do.” you clarified, grabbing his hair and yanking him off. he gasped, like a starved man who had just been robbed. with his best efforts he tried to dive back in, but you didn’t allow him. to your surprise, he kissed the arch of your foot. “wet your fingers yourself.”

choso’s puzzlement only lasted a few seconds, then all he could do was scramble to obey you. his pointer finger found his lips, he quickly took the digit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around his skin to wet it. once he was done, he searched your eyes for approval. pathetic.

when you gave him a nod, he prodded his finger against your entrance, teasing the nerves there. he heard your sigh of contentment, and started to slide it inside. your pussy greedily swallowed the digit, so much so he almost struggled to move it. he slowly worked his finger in, then back out, every squelch making his breathing heavier.

his tongue found your clit again, it was pure desperation. he bullied another finger inside you, as well as increased the pace. you were certain nothing in your life had felt better than this, who knew a magician could work their magic on a pussy too?

only this wasn’t magic, he was hungry. famished and desperate.

your stomach started to tighten up like a coil, and a hazy feeling flourished throughout your entire body. you were close, it was so obvious choso noticed it by the way you clung to his fingers. he didn’t say a word, just kept sucking, kept curling his fingers right up against that sweet spot inside you.

“m’gonna cum, choso..” you panted, like he didn’t know. with a few more humps against his face, your orgasm was washing over you. you arched your back until your chest pointed towards the air, head flying back so hard you almost bonked it on something. you gushed all over his pale face, as if he wasn’t drenched enough.

choso just kept going, only he replaced his fingers with his tongue. he lapped at you desperately, as if he was ingesting some sort of elixir. eventually, you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him away.

and oh, his face. his chin was dripping, as well as his nose. he was covered in a mixture of your juices and his own drool. he wiped his mouth with the white sleeve of his collared shirt, though you could see a trail of slick lined over it.

“i don’t forgive you yet.” you said, unsure if it was true or not. realistically, you were being greedy—but you deserved that much.

“i didn’t expect you to.” choso replied, helping you sit up on the couch. he sat quietly, still staring at you with those intense eyes of his.

you rolled your eyes, scooting closer to him. one hand roughy grabbed his jaw, and you pulled him into a messy kiss. your lips tangled together in a sloppy mess of heat and hunger. he slid his tongue inside your mouth, and groaned at the memory of how it felt when he stuck the muscle inside your pussy only moments before.

your free hand busied itself with unbuckling his belt. the teeth of the zipper holding his cock back followed the path you dragged them down with an echoing zip! you could already see how hard he was, but you took it upon yourself to feel it.

your palm pressed against the heavy weight straining his boxers, and you swore you could feel a twitch. choso groaned into your mouth, drooling all over his own chin pathetically. when you pulled away, he chased your lips.

“didn’t think you were so obsessed with me.” you teased.

“baby, please—“

“ohh..baby, huh?” you pressed against his cock firmly, and an uncontrollable moan darted out of his lungs. “you think you can call me baby after stealing from me? is that what you think, you stupid pervert?”

of course, his cock twitched against your hand again. he didn’t have a response, he could only smash his lips against yours once again. choso didn’t have a way with words it seemed. only actions and joyous magic tricks could make up for that.

the moment you had his cock free, you had to look down out of pure curiosity. he had a flushed pink tip, with paired beads of precum catching the poor, fluorescent lighting. veins trailed up the length like a roadmap, and all you could think about was how they’d feel inside you.

choso naturally noticed you eyeing his cock, and pulled your eyes back to his. “i’m letting you take charge.” he said, rubbing your thigh with his thumb.

“you better.” you grinned, climbing on top of him. as you straddled him, you hovered over his twitching cock, legs framing the beefy thighs he had hidden under those dress pants of his. you unbuttoned a few of the buttons on his shirt, just to see his chest.

choso let out a punched out noise, despite the fact you hadn’t done anything. he grabbed his cock by the base, but began lining it up himself. of course you smacked his hand away! he looked wounded once you did so. “ah, ah. you said i’m taking charge.”

he said nothing, and simply let you do your thing. you slowly lowered yourself down, your warm entrance engulfing the flushed, twitching mushroom tip prodding you. your pussy sucked him in with a humiliating squelch, and a rhythmic pulsing nearly battered the cum out of him before he got a moment to fully enjoy how amazing you felt.

“fuck, baby..” he panted, weakly bucking his hips up. his movements were restrained, it was clear he was trying his best to hold himself to your terms and standards. “y’feel so good..”

you raise yourself up, then slowly sunk back down. a mean slosh followed, though it was drowned out by your combined panting and huffing. “you’re still c-calling me baby? r-really?” you laugh at him, which in turn earned you a pathetic little thrust up. it made you moan anyway.

every bounce on his cock made you needier, your pussy drooled all over him, coating his pubic hair in droplets of slick. you used your own juices as lubrication, gasping whenever his thrusts met the downward stroke of your hips.

ultimately, you decided he wasn’t nearly ashamed enough. you snatched the previously stolen panties off the arm of the couch, holding them near his face. choso made a choked noise, and something like a whimper crawled out of his throat. you clenched around him at the sound, noting how full you felt.

“oh? does these still get you going?” you queried condescendingly. “even though you’re inside me? even though you already lapped at me like a dog? you’re fucking pathetic. not to mention disgusting.”

choso’s eyes had officially rolled to the back of his head. he bucked his hips up again, only grab them and start moving you in a pace he desired. so much for letting you have control. “m’so sorry..i jus’ can’t help it. you were so—“ he was cut off by his own moan, as a result of slamming you down so hard the friction of his tip hitting your cervix almost hurt.

“i was..haah..so what? so attractive you had to go on and be a p-pervert?” you laugh in his face, and hope to god he tears up. “say you’re a pervert, choso. admit how repulsive you are. u-unless you don’t want my forgiveness.”

choso shook his head, his eyes so needy and starved. he wasn’t just a whimpering man, there was a different kind of pathetic that followed him. it wasn’t in a crying and whining way, just an intense, silent yearning way.

“i-im a repulsive pervert. i s-should..b-be—be ashamed.” he huffed out, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs so hard you were certain there’d be marks blooming there shortly. he rocked you back and forth. precum smeared all over your cervix, sloshing around lewdly.

you didn’t praise him, of course not. instead, you forced his mouth open wider, and stuffed your panties right in. his eyes rolled back.

“how many times are we gonna trade these, choso? i think i should just—ugh—let you h-have them..” you let him continue to bounce you up and down on his cock, but you had to hold onto him for stability. your palms traced the outline of his abs, and you wondered why a magician would be so built. that didn’t matter much, they were lovely to look at.

choso stared up at you the entire time, drool trickling down his chin from his mouth being full. if it weren’t for the lack of cum, you would’ve believed he already came. he picked you up suddenly, which made a moan of yours swirl into a yelp.

he pulled out, and gently placed you on your back. he was slamming back into you before you could complain “s-shit!” your body jolted upwards, tits bouncing and thighs quaking. he was fucking you much harder than before.

choso pulled the panties out of his mouth and lazily put them on your stomach, all soaked in his saliva. “s-sorry—cant..fuck—help it.” he didn’t bother wiping the drool off his chin, in fact, he leaned down to start kissing you again.

you parted your lips, his tongue meeting yours halfway. he moaned into your mouth, continuing to ram into you with deep, hungry thrusts. every time he pulled out even a bit, you missed how deliciously he filled you up. you loved how you could feel every vein, how whenever you clamped down, he’d twitch and stutter.

choso couldn’t pull away from your lips, he was simply addicted. every stroke was mean, it didn’t match how passionately he was making out with you at all. when he pulled away, he stayed close enough to your face that the string of saliva didn’t snap for a good few seconds. “you close?”

you nodded, panting and unable to suppress your moans. “yeah—mmh..yeah m’close..” you breathe, trying to fuck your hips against him to meet his thrusts. he let you, of course. his thumb quickly found your clit, which he started tracing slow circles on.

god, you were in heaven. you could feel how desperately he was trying to fuck the anger out of you, it worked before he was even inside you. you quickly realized it wasn’t only for the sake of his job, which gave you a complex you didn’t know you enjoyed.

with a few more drags along your g-spot, you were cumming again. “c-choso!” you keened, thighs trapping him right in place. you threw your head back, eyes rolling south into utter darkness, except for the small stars dancing through whatever thoughts in your mind he fucked out.

choso was a mess. you clamped down on him so hard he couldn’t move. his cock pulsed inside you, and he remembered he had to pull out. it was so hard with the way your cunt clung to him. “g-gotta..fuck—!” he quickly pulled out, though it didn’t work too well. a moan shot out of his throat, head hanging forward as if all the energy went to not getting you pregnant.

he didn’t need you angry again!

cum splattered all across your fucked out pussy, before he tried to aim it at your stomach. “thankyouthankyou—“ white spurts of his seed shot across your abdomen, right onto the drool soaked panties he left there.

for a moment, the two of you just panted. he looked up to see you staring at him, to which he mirrored.

you laughed breathlessly, feeling utterly limp. “i’m impressed you pulled out.”

for the first time that night, choso laughed with you. it was more of a huff, really, but he had a lovely smile. “i figured you’d be really angry at me if i got you pregnant.”

your elbows dipped into the cushion of the couch as you propped yourself up. “oh, poor thing. don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of chances to fill me up.”

choso’s eyes flew open the second those words left those addictive lips of yours. “wait—“

“i mean, considering you already started calling me baby, i assume you don’t want this to be a one time thing.” you pluck the cum and drool soaked panties off your stomach, then wrap them around his soft, over sensitive cock. his breath hitches.

the eagerness in his eyes was almost cartoonish. “thank you.” he said, because of course he said that after sex.

“yeah, yeah. you can keep your damn magician job.”

there was a loud knock on the door, which sent both of you jumping. maybe the state of his employment wasn’t up to you anymore.

a/n first event YAYYAYAYYY!!! i’m very excited to see what everyone else does!

It was raining.

The sound came first—the soft but relentless patter of raindrops against the tall windowpanes, like a thousand tiny fingertips drumming across the glass. From your spot curled up on the couch, you could see the streaks of water running downward in uneven trails, blurring the glow of New York City’s skyline into smudged ribbons of gold and white. The world outside was chaotic—traffic horns muted by distance, flickers of neon signs, blurred shapes moving quickly under umbrellas—but here, in the cocoon of your apartment, it felt quiet. The only light was the warm, orange glow of the small lamp you’d left on behind you, its shade casting soft shadows along the wall, making the room feel even more intimate.

You had half-forgotten the hour, half-forgotten the storm outside—until the quiet click of the door lock pulled you back down to earth.

Your head turned automatically, eyes locking on the entryway just as it opened.

There he was.

Stephen stepped inside with the kind of hesitant energy that was so distinctly him—like he wasn’t entirely sure if he was welcome, even though he’d been carrying your key for months now. The first thing you noticed was how drenched he was. His blue shirt clung to him in damp, wrinkled lines, plastered against his chest and stomach as though painted on by the rain. His brown leather jacket hung from one arm, dripping at the edges. Dark strands of hair stuck to his forehead, curling from the water, and his wire-framed glasses fogged immediately with the shift from cold night to warm apartment air.

“Hey,” he said softly, almost sheepish, like the single word had been caught off guard. His voice was tentative, shy in a way that made your chest tighten, as if he still couldn’t quite believe someone would wait up for him.

He bent down to unlace his shoes, doing it with exaggerated care so he wouldn’t make a mess on your floor. “The subway was a nightmare,” he muttered, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose with the pad of his finger, a nervous tell he always fell back on. “And then the rain—”

He trailed off, finally looking up at you.

Your heart skipped. He looked ridiculous and beautiful all at once—damp and tired and flustered, red blooming across his pale cheeks from the warmth, his glasses still foggy so you couldn’t quite see the blue of his eyes until they cleared.

You shifted the blanket draped over you, pulling it open to make room. The quietest, most natural invitation.

He hesitated only a second before crossing the room, his footsteps soft on the floor. He sat down close beside you, and the couch dipped gently under his weight. He smelled like rain and city air, and faintly of paper and ink, as if his job clung to him even through a storm.

“You look adorable like this,” you murmured, tilting your head toward him, studying the flush on his face, the way his lashes fluttered when he couldn’t quite meet your gaze. “All flustered.”

That made him shrink in on himself a little, shoulders lifting in that awkward way, his lips twitching into a shy, almost-bashful smile. His puppy eyes met yours finally, wide and uncertain, as though he couldn’t quite decide if you were teasing or sincere.

You leaned closer, closing the space between you. Your hand lifted almost on instinct, finding the loose knot of his tie, the silk damp and cool between your fingers. You tugged, gentle but insistent, pulling him toward you until his breath mingled with yours. His lips parted slightly, his blush deepening as if the nearness alone was enough to overwhelm him.

Then your mouth met his.

It started soft. His lips were warm and pliant beneath yours, a little uncertain, a little hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to kiss you back. But then he did—tentatively at first, and then with more feeling, more quiet hunger. You tasted the rain still clinging to him, the sweetness of his mouth. He kissed like someone who thought every moment might be the last he got, delicate and deliberate, as though he didn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast.

Your hand slid up the line of his jaw, thumb brushing the damp edge of his cheek, and you felt him melt under your touch. His glasses tilted slightly from the angle, fogged again between you, but he didn’t care. He kissed you as if that was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

Under the blanket, your body stirred restlessly, warmth pooling low in your stomach. The softness of it—the closeness, the way he seemed to give himself over so completely—made something sharper spark inside you. A need that grew with every second his lips pressed to yours, delicate and desperate.

You wanted more.

And from the way Stephen’s breath hitched when your lips pressed harder, from the tiny sound that escaped him when you tugged his tie again, you knew he did too.

You broke the kiss, lips pulling away just enough for a breath of air to slip between you. His mouth chased yours for half a second, needy without even realizing it, before he stopped himself. His glasses had fogged again, tilted slightly down the bridge of his nose, and the sight of him like that—kiss-swollen lips, flushed cheeks, wide eyes—made your chest ache with something equal parts tender and wicked.

“I missed you,” you murmured, your voice low but steady, weighted with the kind of sincerity that had his whole body stilling for a heartbeat.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back, almost shyly, the words brushing across your skin as he leaned in closer. His lips ghosted over the side of your throat, a soft, reverent press, before his nose nuzzled there. His voice sounded even smaller against your neck, muffled but sweet. “You’re so warm…”

That was when you realized his arms were already around you. You hadn’t even noticed him sliding closer, but now his long fingers were spread across your hip, his palm heavy and hesitant as if he was still afraid he’d overstep. It made heat coil low in your stomach, the sheer contradiction of it—he was tall, broad-handed, but in your arms he was pliant, unsure, clinging like he didn’t know where else he belonged.

“Stephen…” Your voice slipped out in a whisper, though it sounded different—lower, needier, threaded with something more dangerous. You let it hang there, just his name, just enough to make him glance up at you through those foggy lenses. “…lie back for me.”

He blinked, slow, as though the words took a moment to register. His glasses slid even further down his nose from the motion, making him look impossibly boyish. “Wait, lie back? You mean—?” His voice cracked halfway through, stumbling over itself before dissolving into a nervous laugh. He rubbed the back of his neck as if that might somehow save him from the weight of what you’d just asked.

Your hands moved with purpose, firm but gentle, pressing against the damp front of his shirt. His chest was warm beneath your palms, his tie still loose from earlier, and you could feel the way his heart picked up speed under your touch. You leaned close enough that he couldn’t mistake the seriousness in your tone, your lips brushing the curve of his jaw as you whispered, “Mhm. Right here, on the couch. Don’t think too much. Just… let me.”

That was all it took.

He let you guide him back, his body sinking into the cushions until his head landed against the pillow at the corner of the couch. His hair was still damp against the fabric, glasses crooked on his nose as he blinked up at you with wide-eyed disbelief. The sight of him laid out like that, waiting, made a rush of heat spark through you.

“I want to ride your face,” you said immediately, no hesitation, your voice dripping with confidence. The bluntness of it made his eyes widen further, his lips parting in a sharp little intake of breath.

“Oh my god…” he whispered, so soft you barely caught it. His blush deepened all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked away for a second, one shaky hand hovering up toward his glasses like he needed a distraction. “I should probably—”

His fingers touched the frames, fumbling at the edges like he meant to take them off, embarrassed to let you see him like this. But you caught his wrist before he could finish.

“No.”

The word was firm, sharp enough to make his hand still instantly. His head jerked back toward you, lips parting like he wanted to question it but wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“…no?” His voice broke again, higher, flustered, thick with nerves.

You leaned over him, your hand still on his chest, pinning him there without effort. “Keep them on,” you told him, tone low and deliberate. “I want to see you look up at me with those nerdy eyes while I use you.”

The effect was immediate. His entire body shivered beneath you, a rush of air leaving his lungs like the words alone had knocked the breath out of him. His glasses were still askew, his lashes damp from the rain, but his eyes—those big, ocean-blue eyes—shone up at you with a mix of awe and disbelief.

For a second he just lay there, frozen, as if he couldn’t process that you’d said it, that you meant it. Then his lips pressed together, failing to hide the small, shaky smile that tugged at the corners. His blush deepened, red blooming across his cheeks, down his neck, staining his skin.

“Okay,” he whispered at last, voice soft and obedient, like he’d do anything you told him to. His glasses glinted faintly in the lamplight, fog still clinging to the edges. “I’ll… I’ll keep them on.”

And god, the way he looked at you then—like you were terrifying and irresistible all at once—made your body pulse with restless, desperate need.

You didn’t give him a chance to second-guess.

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of your pajama shorts, tugging them down your thighs and letting them drop onto the floor beside the couch. The air kissed the newly bared skin of your bottom, cool compared to the heat burning through you. His eyes widened instantly, a quiet gasp catching in his throat, though his lips didn’t dare form words.

You swung one leg over him, straddling his chest, feeling the sharp hitch of his breath as your weight settled there. His shirt was still damp under you, and you could feel the tremble in his chest with every inhale. Slowly, deliberately, you shifted forward, sliding up along him until your thighs framed his head.

That was when his eyes found you again.

They locked on you with an intensity that almost startled you—those impossibly blue, wide eyes behind fogged lenses, cheeks burning red. The steam on his glasses was clearing now, leaving the glass transparent enough that you could see all of him—his pupils blown wide, shimmering with nerves and something hotter underneath.

You leaned down just enough to adjust him, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead, tucking the loose strands behind his ear. The gesture made him flinch slightly, not from discomfort, but from the sheer intimacy of it. His blush deepened, and your lips curled in satisfaction.

“You’re so shy, Stephen.” Your voice was calm, teasing but firm, and it made his breath stutter. “But you’re going to be good for me, right?”

He swallowed, throat bobbing visibly, before nodding once. “…yes,” he whispered. His voice was already muffled by the nearness of your thighs, small and obedient. “I’ll be good.”

That was all the permission you needed.

Slowly, you lowered yourself, inch by inch, until the heat of you finally brushed his lips. The first touch nearly undid you. His mouth was soft, pliant and warm, but he didn’t hesitate. He opened his lips wide beneath you, a greedy little sound humming in his throat like he wanted to devour you whole. His mouth trapped you there, sealing you against him in wet, desperate worship.

Your head fell back immediately, neck arching, breath catching in a moan that tore from your chest before you could stop it. Your back curved with the pleasure, one hand shooting down to tangle into his hair. The strands were still damp, and when you tugged harshly, he groaned into you, the vibration sending a shiver straight through your core.

“Oh god, Stephen,” you gasped, the words shaky, broken, as though the sound of his name alone could ground you in the storm of heat rising inside you.

But he didn’t stop.

His tongue was fire—hot, relentless, moving with surprising determination as if proving he could keep up, proving he could be good for you. He licked broad and slow across your folds, then quick and precise, switching patterns instinctively, desperate to find every way to make you fall apart.

Your hips began to move without thought, grinding down against him, chasing more. The friction, the heat, the rhythm—it consumed you, made your thighs tremble around his face. Every breath he took was your scent, every sound you made a command that he followed eagerly.

And then—oh god—when your hips pressed harder, your clit throbbed right against the hard ridge of his nose. At that exact moment, his tongue slipped just a little deeper inside you, pushing past the edge of your entrance with a needy, desperate flick. The combination tore another moan from your lips, louder, sharper, your fingers yanking his hair back as your body shuddered.

He gasped into you, muffled, but he didn’t dare stop. If anything, he pressed harder, nose nudging against your swollen clit again and again as his tongue slid in and out of you, uncoordinated but devastating in its raw, frantic need to please. His glasses slipped further down his nose, catching the dim light, but still clinging on as he stared up at you through the lenses, eyes glassy with devotion.

You looked down at him—cheeks flushed crimson, lips wet, nose slick, glasses fogging again from the heat of you—and your stomach clenched almost painfully at how good, how perfect, he looked like this.

You rode his face harder.

And Stephen Glass, shy, nerdy, trembling Stephen, let you. He let you use him completely, holding onto your thighs as though they were the only anchor he had in the world, his whole body given over to you in worship.

You tilted back, losing yourself completely in the cascade of sighs and moans that tumbled from your lips. Every nerve in your body was alive, every touch amplified, and you felt the friction, the wet heat pressed so perfectly against him, every inch of him beneath you. Your eyes locked with his through the foggy lenses of his glasses, seeing him—really seeing him—as your thighs clamped around his head, feeling him shiver beneath you.

His hands gripping your hips, firm and trembling, holding you steady as your back arched instinctively, pressing further into him. The warmth of his mouth, the soft insistence of his tongue, sent another moan tumbling from your chest.

“You’re making me so fucking wet, Stephen,” you gasped, voice thick and needy. Your hips rocked faster, impatient, desperate for more. The wet, messy sounds of skin on skin filled the small space of the room, loud against the quiet hum of rain outside the window. Each motion made your heart hammer, each moan made his tongue work harder, following your rhythm, exploring every inch of you.

“Oh, fuck… Stephen,” you cried out, fingers digging harshly into his damp hair as heat rolled relentlessly through your body. His soft hiss escaped into your folds, muffled and needy, vibrating through you and sending shivers along your spine.

You were trembling now, thighs clenching with every pulse of tension. Your body tensed in perfect, delicious agony, your core on fire with the mounting pressure. His tongue, desperate and careful all at once, circled and flicked over your clit, nose rubbing harshly in tandem, drawing every whimper, every gasp from your mouth.

Every nerve ending was alight, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You grabbed more of his hair, tugging hard as you leaned down slightly, pressing your wet slit fully against his warm lips. The combination—the friction, the sloppy wetness, the desperate worship beneath you—pushed you over the edge.

Your body shuddered violently. You came on his face, thighs squeezing his head instinctively, your moans loud and unrestrained, echoing through the apartment with the rain as your backdrop. Every small muscle in your body clenched and released in waves, shaking, trembling, utterly undone. Your hips moved in little automatic motions, pressing and rocking just enough to drag out the pleasure as long as possible, feeling the orgasm spike and linger across your nerves.

Even as you rode out the aftershocks, you pressed him closer, wet slit sliding against his lips, feeling the slick heat coat him, your hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place like he belonged there—because he did. Your eyes found his again, glassy, fogged, blue pupils shining up at you, full of need and awe, and your chest heaved as you lost yourself completely in the sensation of using him, of watching him worship you like the perfect, obedient little puppy he was.

Your body gave out all at once, every muscle loosening in the heavy warmth of your release. You exhaled shakily, letting the tension drain from your spine as you let yourself sink down, your thighs trembling and your weight settling fully on him.

Stephen let out a soft, strangled sound against you, his fingers tightening instinctively around your hips. The tips of them dug into your skin, not rough but pleading, like he needed you to understand he was still there, still holding on. You felt the subtle tremor in his hands, the way his chest rose in uneven pulls of air beneath you.

It took you a second to realize—he needed to breathe.

You lifted yourself off him quickly, your body sliding down until you were sprawled across his chest. His head tilted back against the couch, glasses crooked and smeared, his hair a damp, disheveled halo against the pillow. His lips were red, swollen, slick and shiny with the evidence of you, and for a moment you could only stare at him—at what you’d just done to him.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, breathless and warm, spilling into the quiet. “You’re ridiculous,” you teased softly, brushing your thumb across the corner of his mouth where your wetness glistened. “Glasses still on, face ruined.”

He blinked at you slowly, dazed, the blush still painted high on his cheekbones. “…did I do good?” he asked, his voice shy and unsteady, a hint of something fragile under the words. His big blue eyes darted up to meet yours through the crooked frames, searching your face for approval like it mattered more than air.

“You did amazing,” you murmured, the words falling out, your tone warm and sure. “My sweet boy.”

He melted at that, a shy smile tugging at his lips as your fingers threaded through his hair again, smoothing the damp strands back. You couldn’t stop touching him—couldn’t stop feeling the way his hair curled around your knuckles, the way he relaxed into your palm, eyes fluttering shut like he’d never been handled so gently after being used so completely.

“I’d let you do that every night if you wanted,” he mumbled after a beat, voice still rough and breathless, but full of sincerity.

You laughed, light and wicked, leaning in to press your forehead to his. “I’ll think about it,” you teased, and his smile widened a little, shy but proud, glasses still askew as he gazed at you like you’d just rewritten every rule he thought he knew.

Another short one, but I promise I'll write better ones over the weekend. Today was my last test, so I can relax for a month.