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lizzieisright · 24 days

Note

I’m so not normal about how you write alpha!abby I need more😩

Palestine: what can you do

Thank you for your req, I've missed writing alpha!abby it was so fun!(although this one is sappy)

Fri(end)s

alpha!abby x omega!reader

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, hurt/comfort, "alphas and omegas can be friends!!" delusion, they really stretch the definition of friendship. No full smut but they get horny.

Inspired by "Friends" by V.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

People say there's no such thing as a friendship between an alpha and an omega. You disagree.

People just need to embrace the inherent lust that comes with being friends with your opposite and you can be great friends. Instead of fearing to make everything awkward when you both smell your attraction, you should acknowledge it and laugh about it. Be each other's ego boosters. It's not that hard.

For example, you and Abby - you've been friends for years. It did start with Abby hitting on you, but she backed off immediately when you explained that you're not interested. Anyway, Abby stayed and asked to be your friend, and you agreed - Abby was cool and smart. It later became a running joke between the two of you where Abby'd jokingly hit on you just to get on your nerves or make you smile.

That's pretty much how you overcame the awkward barrier: you started being honest with each other about everything. You formed a bond so intimate between the two of you that people often mistook you for a couple. You didn't mind. It wouldn't happen anyway, since Abby was a player.

You had no idea how many omegas Abby's fucked in her lifetime, but you rarely saw the same omega twice. Abby kinda had a reputation around campus. She was aware of it, but what could she do? It wasn’t her fault her dick was good. And listen, Abby wasn’t an asshole, no one could catch her disrespecting omegas or talking who and how and when she fucked. People just knew. Well, it was hard not to know when her partners reeked of her after, but the point stood - Abby was a lady, not a prick when it came to privacy.

She fucked omegas that no one would believe to even have such dirty thoughts/time to fuck around/ability to feel sexual attraction or whatever reason insecure incel alphas kept telling themselves - and Abby always stayed discrete if omegas asked her too. Because that was how you got pussy, you fucking morons, not by insulting and being entitled.

So Abby didn’t care that she had a reputation - she only cared if her partners felt safe and enjoyed themselves, and as long as it stayed this way, Abby was happy.

And you knew all of this, because you were her best friend. She told you all of it during one night when you were drinking wine and you asked her about how she felt about her reputation.

Then Abby asked about your deal, and you honestly told her that you didn't know: you loved the touch and flirting but you felt like you didn't have space for relationships. That you haven't met anyone yet who'd make you want to make an effort - of course Abby joked about her being the one and you laughed.

“Well, if I ever need help, I'll come to you.” You winked and Abby laughed as well.

It was easy between the two of you to what some would say, an alarming point where the boundaries of friendship became blurry.

It wasn't a rare occurrence when you'd be at a party, pleasantly drunk, and then after what felt like an hour of dancing, you'd find Abby, sitting somewhere and sipping her whiskey, looking unapologetically hot in her muscle tee and jeans, and you'd get onto her lap, hugging her neck while she'd support your weight by grabbing your thigh. Her scent would get stronger and you'd smile into her shoulder, teasing her. Sometimes, of course, you'd find Abby with another omega already, her hands exploring and grabbing her partner, and you'd grin and go do something else. You always expect yourself to be upset, but strangely, you never are - Abby is your friend and you're happy she is getting some.

Tonight is a little different. You're sleepy and horny and overall, want to feel someone's warmth and touch. So you find Abby and straddle her. She doesn't even lift a brow, just holds you by your waist and keeps you safe. Abby smells your arousal and chuckles, but you stick your tongue out.

“I fucking hate being an omega.” You say and start playing with Abby's hair while she is caressing your back. It's soft and cosy despite you being all horny. It's not flirty, it's not subtle: you two just love being close, and Abby radiates her presence, making everyone look away in fear of challenging her. Abby locks her arms behind your back and you arch into her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna fuck so bad.”

Abby laughs and looks at you with her red eyes: she can't control it when she is drunk and has you on her lap. Abby smells your scent and smirks, her canines growing longer, her presence getting stronger, scaring other alphas away.

“Well, you know I'm always available for you.” You smack her on her shoulder and Abby laughs.

“Don't fucking tease me, bitch.”

“We can make out if it'd make you feel better.” Abby shrugs. You think for a second.

“Yeah. Let's make out. I bet you're a good kisser.”

“Five stars reviews, baby.”

You laugh, but Abby is already cupping your cheek and guiding you down to her level so she can kiss you. You go pliant when her warm lips touch yours: Abby is a good kisser. She is slow and gentle, but you feel the power and control behind her movements. She is holding you with one arm on your waist while she is grabbing your neck with the other one, her thumb stroking your jaw.

It doesn't feel like you two are toeing on some kind of line you're not allowed to cross: it feels natural and normal, like you've done it a million times before. Maybe you feel this way because Abby is confident and knows what she is doing, but she also doesn't push you further. You're just lazily making out, her warm tongue is on top of yours, exploring your mouth. It feels good.

You feel Abby getting harder under you and you grind against her crotch just to be a little shit, and she stops kissing you.

“And I'm a tease?”

“I love seeing you suffer.” You grin and Abby kisses you again, holding your hips down so you won't be able to grind anymore.

It's affirming, it's an ego boost: you love seeing Abby, hot and amazing alpha, being so weak around you. Abby loves knowing she is the only one who you allow to touch you - loves smelling how horny she can get you. So you keep making out and talking for the rest of the night, existing in your own little bubble. It’s beautiful.

After, Abby takes you home and you cuddle in her bed before you fall asleep, Abby's strong arm pulling you close, her hair making a cloud of her scent around you, keeping you safe and protected.

In the morning you wake up with her hard cock pressing into your thigh and you sigh - you want to sleep more, not being humped by a sleeping alpha. Abby shifts and grinds against you in her sleep, and your cunt throbs: you've never been so close to an alpha who is aroused. New experience, but this is Abby, and you want to fucking sleep.

You just shake her shoulder and she grunts, unhappy.

“Come on, Anderson, you have a morning wood.” You tell her, still sleepy. Abby shifts and turns on her back, taking you with her so your head is on her chest and if you could've been bothered and opened your eyes, you'd have seen the outline of her cock under the covers.

But you go back to sleep.

So this is how your friendship is: you're so close there's almost no boundaries between you. You're not afraid to smell horny around Abby and you feel good about yourself when you smell her being horny about you. You're never upset about her hookups and she doesn't growl at every alpha who looks your way. It's perfect.

The smell of love comes early into your friendship, and you both tease each other about it, “can't believe you love me it's so embarrassing”. Abby is your closest friend and you love her, and you two are proof of an alpha and an omega capable of being friends.

You're comfortable with each other to the point where you complain about your cycles and how fucking horny and unsatisfied you both are during this time: usually it's you who complains because Abby fucks through her ruts. You always tease her about smelling like her lucky omega, but Abby just smirks, still rut high. She looks deliciously dangerous after her rut and the smell of attraction grows stronger between the two of you. Usually Abby’d invite you for a bottle of wine after her rut ends and your drunk makeouts would get more passionate too, since Abby wouldn't hesitate to grab and knead your ass, making you grind on her cock. This is the only time when you let awkwardness fill the room: Abby doesn't control herself and you have to stop her before it goes too far.

(This is the only time when your heart flutters and your hopes rise. This is the only time that threatens to ruin your perfect friendship.

You know if you sleep with Abby, you'll never be friends again. You'll get territorial about her, and Abby doesn't need it - it's a question of incompatibility between the two of you.

So you stop her.)

But the universe doesn't like anything that is perfect - it's against her nature. The balance is in imbalance, and it tries to restore itself.

For the last few months your heats have been getting worse - you’re stressed, you can’t sleep and you feel like shit. Your mood swings start to get worse as well - if before you’d just get a little sad and then fall down into the horny fog of a heat, now your mood stays longer in the sad space. It’s tiring.

And this heat hits you very hard. You're not horny, you're in pain and sad and it's hard to maintain your mind. You wish you were just horny - you could just bury your nose in Abby's hoodie that she always lends you before your heat and you'd keep fucking yourself until the heat wave would pass.

You do bury your nose in Abby's hoodie, but it makes you cry even more. You feel so alone and so useless, like no one truly needs you and you'll never find your happiness, like you're bound to die alone. It's terrifying and makes you sob, and you can't be bothered to be horny because what's the point of it if you will be alone all your life?

Abby:

u ok?

You scramble to your phone and cry harder: Abby cares. Abby knows about your last struggles with your heats and she checks on you. You're not alone.

So you call her.

“Doll, I'm not doing phone sex-” Abby says jokingly, but then she hears you sob loudly. “What happened?” Abby's voice shakes. “Where are you? Fuck, talk to me-”

You take a big breath before Abby'd worry herself into an early grave.

“I'm fine. I'm home.” You sniff. “I just- It's so bad, Abby.”

“Are you hurt?” Abby is still worried.

“No. It's a mood swing.” You cry again, feeling so broken. “I feel so fucking alone. And you texted me and I- sorry, fuck.” You wipe your tears and hug her hoodie, pressing the phone closer to your ear. You feel ridiculous - you know it’s your hormones talking.

“Hey, I'm here.” Abby says, trying to soothe you, but you cry harder.

“What if I end up alone? What if I never meet my person? I spend all those fucking heats alone and it's so hard, and I can't think of doing it for the rest of my life all by myself.” You fall into another fit of sobs. Abby is silent for a moment.

“I'm coming over.” Abby says, dead serious, and you suddenly sober up.

“I'm in heat, Abby, you can't come over!” You sit on your bed, worried.

“I don't fucking care! You're hurting and you're alone, I can't let this happen.” You hear Abby rustle around. “Can you do something for me while I'm on my way?”

“I can try.” You say without any hope.

“Go drink some water and take a shower. And send me some pics so I know you did it, okay?”

“I'm so not sending nudes, Abby.” You chuckle without any bite. Abby huffs.

“Go drink your water.” Abby ends the call and you stare at your phone for a second.

You try to keep yourself together - you send Abby pictures of an empty glass and a hem of a towel when you're done, but it takes five minutes before your mood swings again. You shake and try to breathe through another spiral into hell, but it's so fucking hard. You get to the point where you start rocking back and forth like an anxious child, trying to self-soothe. You feel like you're in some kind of trance until you hear your doorbell.

You fly to the door before your dam would break: you open the door to Abby who's panting loudly - she probably ran up the stairs.

It takes a second for both of you to comprehend the situation before Abby throws everything on the floor and scoops you in her arms, and you break, sobbing into her chest and clinging to her shoulders. Abby's scent soothes you, protectiveness radiating from her while she holds you tight and kisses your head.

“I'm here.” She murmurs and you cling to her harder. “I'm not going anywhere. I'll keep you safe.”

It takes five minutes of breathing Abby's scent for your hormones to calm down. You sniff before moving away, but Abby doesn't let you, still holding you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You say honestly and Abby lets you go.

Her eyes are red and she tries not to breathe too much, and you feel ashamed - she got here to comfort you but you stink of heat. Of course Abby reacts to it, she can’t help it, and now she will be stuck between taking care of you and taking care of you. It’s unfair to her.

“I will take scent blockers.” You turn to go to the kitchen, but Abby stops you, gently holding your bicep.

“No. It's not the heat. It's the hurt.” You wince: you know it's hard for alphas to smell hurt on omegas. “And I have pretty good self-control.”

You chuckle and let Abby take her shoes off. She is in joggers and her favourite hoodie, looking cosy and comfortable. You want to cuddle her, and this is exactly what Abby does. She makes you drink another glass of water, feeds you a banana and takes you to your bed.

Abby stops when she sees her hoodie on your bed like she didn't expect you to actually use it. (Like she totally doesn't use your hoodie when she is too sad to find a rut buddy). But Abby doesn't say anything and just tugs you to the bed, enveloping you in her arms and her scent. It's warm and beautiful and you bury your nose in her skin.

You don't talk. Abby caresses you and kisses you head from time to time while you get upset again.

“I fucking hate being an omega.” You sniff. Abby presses you closer, her scent gets stronger, reacting to your distress. “There's something wrong with me, I swear.”

“You're perfect.” Abby murmurs and you blink your tears away.

“It's so hard, Abby. It's unbearable. With every heat I get more worn out and upset.” You cry quietly. “I will go on suppressants, I don't want to suffer like this anymore.”

Abby swallows. Suppressants are no joke, they ruin people’s health - that’s why they’re taken in emergencies. For everything else there’s scent blockers that don’t disturb cycles and don’t put people in danger.

“We will figure it out. We will get you back into normal horny heats and you’ll complain about it to me, I promise.”

It soothes you and you fall asleep, your scent slowly changing to your usual love scent, the one that Abby loves the most.

Abby knows that sometimes omegas go through their cycle with a lot more pain than normal, but seeing you, the fucking light of her life, suffer like this is torture. She’d honestly prefer to hold herself back from fucking you because you’re in heat, and not wipe your tears while you tell her how scared you’re of ending up alone.

Abby watches your calm face and caresses your cheek. If you only knew.

“I’ll always be here.” Abby murmurs, knowing you won’t hear her. “I’m yours.” She kisses your forehead.

When Abby moves away she is met with your wide eyes.

Her heart stops. You’re silent, lost for words, but something starts happening: your scent gets stronger and Abby can see golden sparks as your eyes start to change colour.

“Fuck.” You sigh. Your chest gets tighter and your cunt starts pulsing with need. “Ab-”

Abby kisses you roughly, pressing your head into the pillow and she shoves her tongue into your mouth, her hands gripping your waist, and now you’re lost in her scent and touch, arching and whimpering into her mouth. It feels amazing, you’re soaking your pants while you cling to Abby and relax under her, submitting to your alpha. You’ve never felt so good during your heat and you want more. You buck your hips into Abby and she grinds her cock on your pussy, making you shudder and moan. The kiss gets messier, there’s a lot of spit on your chins, but you don’t care - you want Abby closer, you want her in you, stretching you on her cock, knotting you.

“Abby-” You moan into her mouth and Abby growls. “Fuck me, please.”

Abby growls louder and licks your neck, her canines brushing against your skin and you whine, desperate. But then Abby stops kissing you neck, stops moving and her grip on you eases.

“Fuck.” Abby sighs into your neck. She smells how worked up and desperate you are, and she has to fight herself to not fuck you right now. “You’ll regret it. I’m not going to hurt you like this.” Abby rasps and your heart breaks.

You feel rejected and the smell of hurt fills Abby’s nose. She looks at you and her heart breaks from seeing you cry, knowing she did this. You can’t just reject an omega during their heat - it messes them up and then they won’t be able to keep you in their lives after, too hurt and ashamed.

“I want to, doll.” Abby tries to console you. “I really fucking want to, but I need you to be sober before we do anything. Look at me.” You obey and Abby kisses your tears. “I promise you, if you agree to this when this wave subsides, I’ll do whatever you need me to. For now we can keep kissing.”

It makes you feel better and you nod, tugging Abby down to kiss her again. You still are very horny and Abby has to pin your hips so you won’t grind against her, but you want to cum and you keep squirming under her while Abby tries to slow down the pace of your kiss. She is so gentle and careful, and eventually you melt and relax, the heat wave going away. It takes a solid twenty minutes of kissing and Abby holding you down before your head gets clearer. You break the kiss and sigh, relieved you’ve finally got a break. Abby looks like she has everything under control and she totally didn’t have to fight you and herself so you wouldn’t make a mistake. Her scent though tells you how much she has to restrain herself - it’s thick and heavy, aggressive, domineering. Abby didn’t lie when she said she wants to fuck you as much you want her to fuck you, and it makes you hormone-crazy heart feel better.

“You weren’t lying when you said you have amazing self-control.” You murmur and brush Abby’s hair out of her face. Abby chuckles.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I’m not all sex crazy right now, if this is what you are asking.” You keep caressing Abby’s hair. She blinks a few times, but the red doesn’t leave her eyes. “Thank you for handling this so well.”

Abby smiles and kisses your cheek. The question hangs in the air.

“I’m-” You take a deep breath full of Abby’s pheromones and it messes with your head, but you try to find the right words. You don’t want Abby to feel rejected too. “I’m not ready to spend my heat with a partner.” I won’t be able to let you go if we do this.

Abby does smell of regret, but she smiles at you.

“Of course. But call me if you get upset again. I don’t want you to be alone.”

You nod and walk Abby out, kissing her goodbye. You lock the door after her and sigh, knowing what is ahead.

You spend three days fucking yourself to a memory of Abby saying I’m yours.

Only after you’ve recovered and got back to yourself you’re hit with a realisation that Abby actually told you she is yours. You try to find a way to justify her words, to connect it with your friendship and how close you two are, but even your levels of almost no boundaries can’t create a good excuse.

You were not meant to hear her. She thought you were asleep. It was her secret.

So Abby didn’t say it to make you feel better or trick you heat-brain into calming down - her scent and touch already did it. There was no reason for her to say it unless she fucking meant it. You don’t know what to do. You never thought Abby’d be interested in something like an actual relationship with you.

Your perfect friendship was built on two opposing facts: Abby is a player, and you’re fine being alone until you meet your person. And now you’re not fine being alone because deep down you know she is your person, and Abby said she is yours without wanting you to know.

You feel like you’re going crazy. You’re terrified of any awkwardness that will inevitably come with this whole ordeal. You know you won’t be able to hide your uncomfortable, shaking discovery from Abby - she is your best friend after all, she will know something is up with you.

You manage to act normal for a week without Abby getting suspicious - you two are still flirty, but now when Abby touches you, you feel like she sets you on fire with how your cheeks burn. Now there’s a hidden meaning behind her touch - the one you were not supposed to know.

The song on the radio makes you break.

Abby is driving you two to the Korean restaurant she found and wanted to show you, and you two sit in comfortable silence - Abby is focused on the road and you stare out of the window, taking the view of this part of the city, when this song comes on the radio.

You're in my head / I had plans for the weekend / But wound up with you instead / Back here again / Got me deep in my feelings / When I should be in your bed

Your cheeks burn. It is a weekend and Abby spends time with you, taking you, her best friend, to the restaurant. Does she want to be in your bed?

You and I go back to like '09, it's like forever / And you were there my lonely nights, yeah / Keeping me together / So wouldn't it make sense if I was yours? / And you could call me your baby / But we say we're just, say we're just-

You breath hitches. This song is stripping you of any kind of pretence. Your smell changes and Abby looks at you for a second.

Friends, just for now / Yeah, but friends don't say words that / Make friends feel like more than just / Friends, just for now / Now, I'm over pretending / So let's put the "end" in friends

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just remembered something.” Abby hums and doesn’t ask you further.

Friends are not supposed to get too close / And feel emotions that / We're feeling now, now, now / We ain't slowing down, down, down / But once we cross the line / There's no denying you and / I can never turn around, 'round, 'round / Know we'll never be the same

You take a shaking breath when you think back to your heat, begging Abby to fuck you. Yes, you will never be the same. But you have a choice to make.

“This song is about us.” You chuckle nervously.

“Really? Sorry, I didn’t pay attention.” Abby laughs, but starts to pay attention now, while you wait for the traffic light to turn green.

Friends, just for now / Yeah, but friends don't say words that / Make friends feel like more than just / Friends, just for now / Now, I'm over pretending / So let's put the "end" in friends

Abby clears her throat. She doesn’t joke or flirt - she understands.

“Yeah. It is about us.”

Abby doesn’t say anything more, but her scent gets a little spicy - she is nervous as well. You also don’t say anything - she is driving, after all. Not the time for this conversation. It’s the first time in your friendship when there’s so much thick, nervous tension between you.

Abby parks the car and you just sit for a moment, feeling like you need to talk about it right now. Abby clears her throat again.

“So do you want to put the "end" in friends?” Abby asks quietly, not knowing why did you bring it up - do you want to stop being friends or do you want to be something more?

You chuckle, endeared by Abby’s nervousness - she is always confident and calm, you’ve never seen her like this.

“You told me you’re mine.” You start, fidgeting with your fingers. You’re scared to cross this line and change everything, but you want to. “It made me happy. And very fucking confused, because- You know what I mean.” You cringe - you’re not going to include Abby’s sex life in your confession. “Were you serious about it?”

Abby lost any filter right after she heard “it made me happy”, so she just bursts, spilling all her feelings for you.

“I’m in love with you. I wanna marry you and have a fucking picket fence and a dog and two and a half children with you.” Abby says while her scent becomes ten times stronger with love. “You’re the one for me.”

You blink your happy tears away and look at Abby’s face, full of love and devotion.

“Maybe we should start with a date?”

Abby smiles and takes your face into her hands, kissing you with so much love you can swim in it.

“A date sounds good.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #alpha!abby #player!abby who is whipped for the reader? my favourite fucking trope

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sunkendreams · 4 months

Note

Can I ask for a Vincent Sinclair smut PLZZZ🛐🛐 (I love him sm)

redamancy.

➾ pairing ; vincent sinclair x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 4.4K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), fingering (f!receiving), dry humping, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, making out, scratching, rough sex, slight breeding kink, vincent is pretty obsessive/possessive, darker vincent, choking

author’s note: I haven’t written for vincent in a hot minute but boy, this was a perfect way to get back into it! I plan on writing another bo/reader/vincent thing at some point and more bo/reader. Trying to ease myself back into all of this! Thank you all so much for your love and support!

Hot pearls of pale wax trickled from the numerous candles littered throughout the basement, basked within an orange glow. It only served to add to the warmth of the underbelly of the House of Wax, temperatures maintained to prevent any form of melting. Vincent had learned to temper it all over time — control the heat, master the atmosphere.

A silver scalpel idly shaped a column of wax, something that would soon join the displays up above. His movements were methodical, purposeful — he was a perfectionist. Every stroke had to mean something, appear flawless and without any imperfections.

He’d been making up for imperfections all his life — even still, Vincent was continuing to work himself ragged, to further his mother’s work. Perhaps, someday, it would make him more worthy in her eyes.

Footsteps reverberated throughout his underground mausoleum of wax, and he knew that it was you. Bo rarely, if ever, came downstairs, and his gait was often far more purposeful and aggressive than yours could ever be. He was hunched over his desk, guiding the flickering flame toward the wax, letting it melt and bend.

Vincent carefully began to mold the wax, shape it to whatever he pleased. It was a statuette, meant to resemble that of a serpent. Using the edge of the scalpel, he quickly carved in intricate designs as the surface began to cool, brushing off any excess with the pad of his thumb.

You quietly crept through the basement, making your way toward Vincent’s coiled frame, perched within his rickety chair. You always enjoyed watching him work — his artistic talent was mesmerizing to behold. With a light shrug, you tugged your robe around you, feet absorbing the warmth from the concrete floor.

It was common for him to wake up sometime in the night, leaving the space beside you to work. Sometimes, it was the only thing that could quell the raging thoughts inside of him, or the one activity that took his mind off of everything. Vincent could think of other activities to distract himself, but you needed to agree to it, too.

The cold dusk of Louisiana couldn’t reach either of you — not here, not in the warmth of the basement. It was akin to a sanctuary for you, this wax cathedral built to destroy and to create anew. There was something so fascinating about this place, something hauntingly beautiful and macabre all rolled into one.

“Hey,” You murmured, lazily rubbing at the back of your neck. His shirt clumsily hung from your frame, the robe haphazardly tossed over the garment. Vincent regarded you with a tender look in his eye, countenance shrouded by that familiar waxy veil. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Vincent shook his head, dark tresses idly brushing across the back of the woolen sweater he wore. You were often amazed at his heat tolerance, wearing thicker garments in a sweltering basement. He turned slightly within his seat, an open invitation for you to come and inspect his work.

There was a point in time where he had little desire for you to see any of his projects, but that sentiment had drastically changed. Vincent valued your admiration above all else. He turned the partially-finished serpent over, noticing your look of recognition and delight.

“That’s a basilisk, isn’t it? It’s beautiful so far.” You gently traced your index finger along some of the scales Vincent had carved into the surface. The initial grogginess of slumber was beginning to wear off as you stood at his side, gaze flickering toward the assortment of art tools, wax, and glowing candles.

“It’s for you.” Vincent’s hands moved sluggishly as he signed, feeling your fingertips grace his shoulder, nails idly raking across his back. He shivered, enjoying the light sensation of your touch, knowing that it was bound to contort and twist into a different sort of feeling.

Your lips curled into a smitten smile, teeth absentmindedly toying with your lower lip. “For me? Are you sure?” It belonged in the House of Wax, amongst all of his other sculptures and pieces of art. However, you weren’t about to stop him from his sentimental gesture. You loved everything he’d made for you.

With a brief nod, Vincent placed the statuette back down onto the debris-laden desk, swiping at a fine layer of wax flecks with his hand. Along the mantle situated above his workbench, you noticed a weathered photograph, partially obscured by a series of half-destroyed wax masks that he’d worn at one point or another.

Admittedly, you hadn’t seen the picture before — and you had memorized every square inch of this place by now. “Hey,” You motioned toward it, pointing at the obstructed photograph with visible intrigue. “What’s that?” You inquired, head cocking to one side.

Vincent’s jaw tightened, posture becoming somewhat stiff and rigid as he deliberately removed the picture from behind the masks. He’d forgotten all about it until you pointed it out — a sliver of him wondered why he’d even kept it at all. He cradled the tattered, dusty photograph within one hand, brows furrowing together.

It was Trudy Sinclair, forever immortalized within one still image, holding a very young Vincent, whose countenance was indistinguishable — marred and torn from his conjoined state with Bo. Her expression was arguably the kindest it had ever been, gazing down upon the near-infant Vincent with a look of fondness.

Even through the faded granules of color, you were able to make out the affection she held for him. Your heart clenched within your chest, primarily out of empathy for Vincent himself. Despite all his talent and efforts to regain some favor in his mother’s eyes, part of her would always see him as some disfigured freak, doomed to be trapped behind that wax mask.

Wordlessly, Vincent offered you the photograph, letting you inspect it for yourself. You treated the object like a priceless relic, gently turning it over within your hands. It pained you to know the fate that had inevitably befallen the Sinclairs — locked within a household filled with vitriol and parents whose passions often overrode any love they might’ve had for their children.

“This is Trudy, isn’t it?” You uttered, watching as Vincent’s head bobbed up and down in a stoic nod. Bo had received the short end of the stick when it came to Trudy’s love, but things were far from perfect with Vincent, too. “I’m sorry, Vincent.” Your voice barely drifted above a whisper, lips curling into a sympathetic frown.

His shoulders sagged in a gentle shrug, taking the photograph from you before placing it behind a cluster of half-burnt candles. “Nothing to be sorry for. You can’t change the past.” Vincent signed, concentration turning to you, instead.

He’d spent most of his life wishing that he could change his tumultuous childhood — he’d stopped long ago. He and his brothers would always be chained to Trudy, and there would always be a certain level of loyalty to her, even in death.

“I understand, Vincent.” With a soft murmur, you gently rubbed at the back of your neck, trailing your fingers across his spine. “Come back to bed with me?” You asked, head canting to one side. Vincent reached for your wrist, gingerly cradling it between his fingers, stroking along your forearm.

He wasn’t tired, but Vincent didn’t want to leave you alone, either. He moved up from his chair, lean musculature towering above you as he kept hold of your wrist, fingers drifting to twine around your hand. The two of you retreated into the alcove that served as his bedroom, if one could call it that.

The mattress was littered in blankets, indents visible from where the two of you slept. He’d fixed it up with doors that folded shut, similar to that of a closet. You settled back down, Vincent right beside you as he tugged you close, letting you lounge against his chest.

You sat up just a little bit, enough to see his masked countenance. “Could I ask you something?” Your voice was nothing more than a tender whisper, and now that you were awake, a string of thoughts began to nag at the back of your head. Pillowtalk with Vincent often became very emotionally-charged.

“Anything.” Vincent nodded as his hands moved, propping himself up enough to look at you, too. He had told you about his life some time ago — the intricate details and his own sentiments on the matter were left out and simply implied. You were a precocious and inquisitive individual, but above all, you were empathetic.

“This,” With a feather-light caress, you traced your finger along the cheekbone of his mask. “Why do you still wear it around me?” Your inquiry was innocuous, spoken out of genuine concern instead of malice or confusion. Vincent had shown you his face once before — and it never bothered you. It wouldn’t bother you.

Vincent’s throat became tight, jaw unusually tense as he attempted to muster up a feasible answer. It was an anchor for him — one way to feel less like a monster and a freak. “Habit,” He signed, but he knew better than to give you a false response. “I don’t want you to feel guilty or pity me.”

Your brows furrowed together, visage contorting with a look of mild confusion. “What do you mean, Vince?” You wondered if you’d done something wrong, stomach swelling with a wave of anxiety, but he seemed to catch this. He pressed a finger against your lips before he began to sign in a flurry of animated hands.

“I don’t want you to pity me for how I look. I’ve spent my entire life being looked at like a freak — like something fragile, something to feel sorry for.” Vincent finished with finality to it, hoping that you would understand why he continued to wear the mask. He knew that you still loved him, regardless of how he appeared.

“No, no,” You uttered, sitting up enough to stare at him, hands gently splayed across his taut chest. “When I saw your face, that night in the kitchen — the only thing that I saw was a survivor.” His eye sparkled whenever you spoke, hanging upon your every word. “You’re resilient and you’re talented, Vincent. You’ve never been a freak.”

It was the first time in his life that someone labeled him as a survivor — he hadn’t thought of it like that.

Most of his life had been about preservation — keeping the Sinclair name alive, to continue his mother’s dream, keeping Bo and Lester safe. Vincent hadn’t considered that his face was also a sign of resilience, of an endurance that even he wasn’t fully aware of.

You felt his hand reach for you, cupping your jaw with calloused, roughened digits, the practiced hands of an artist. His touch was filled with both adoration and a dark yearning, thumb sweeping over your lower lip. “You mean everything to me.” He signed, and you knew that he meant it wholeheartedly.

“You mean everything to me, too.” You murmured, careening into the warmth of his embrace, lips pursing to kiss the pad of his thumb. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.” A breathy, passionate sigh left you when he coaxed you closer, slotted against his musculature.

His hawkish eye picked you apart from where you sat, the distance slim between the two of you. You were vaguely aware of his obsession with you, disguised as protectiveness and adoration — Vincent often made it explicitly clear that you belonged to him, drew a line in the sand with Bo over and over again.

As you lavished him in kind, tenderhearted words, Vincent’s innate possessiveness over you seemed to flare to life, malignant and very much alive. You were tethered to him until the end of time — a pretty, iron-wrought cage, inescapable — and admittedly, you didn’t want to be free from it at all. You stopped thinking that way a long time ago.

Vincent exhaled, dragging his hand across the slender expanse of your neck, digits exploring the canvas that was your flesh — all belonging to him. “You’re mine.” He signed, staking his claim for the hundredth time. Even through signing alone, his nature was desirous and rapacious.

Long before he’d entered this relationship with you, he was very indifferent towards you. It stemmed from insecurities, from rage, and from confusion — girls were always Bo’s forte and never his. Having you, something to covet, something to protect and to keep, Vincent was always worried that he’d lose it.

You nodded, breath hitching within your throat when he traced the pad of his thumb across your pulse point. Your heartbeat had climbed to erratic, excitable heights, mouth somewhat dry as he applied pressure underneath either side of your jaw.

“I’m yours.” Parasitic — you leached from him, and it always took your loneliness away. You used to hate him for taking away your friends, but it almost felt like a wandering dream that didn’t feel real. Ambrose was where you were meant to be — meant to be with Vincent. You empathized with him, surrounding him with your affection and comfort.

A rugged huff emerged from the depths of his throat, feeling you climb closer, gaze glazed-over with desire. Wordlessly, Vincent removed his mask, placing the waxy veil aside as his mouth clamored for yours. The kiss was blistering, full of a rather oppressive possession and greed — he felt entitled to you, in some depraved sense.

Reciprocation made him giddy as your lips eagerly pressed against his, responding with a desperation that nearly bordered his own. Vincent squeezed your jaw, other hand relocating to slip underneath the baggy shirt you wore, brazenly groping at your breasts.

Your fingers scraped through his hair, digging into the base of his skull as he coaxed you down against the mattress. Vincent crawled on top of you, mouth briefly disconnecting from yours before he crashed back into you, parting your legs with his knee.

A low, raspy grunt escaped him when your lips continued their relentless assault, mouth parting to allow for a sloppy kiss. He was needy, desperate to feel you as he rucked your shirt up with one hand, fingertips tracing across the plane of your stomach. Goosebumps coalesced along your spine, arousal pooling between your thighs.

Heat blistered between the both of you, an amalgamation of desire, want, and the emotion of your charged conversation moments prior. Vincent savored it all — it still didn’t feel real sometimes, being physical with you. Some time ago, he felt unworthy, too horrid and too scarred, but you changed everything.

You changed the way he touched you — no longer hesitant or wrought with deliberation. He felt like a god, capable of conquering anything — even you. Instead, each touch was charged with lust, and the sensation was beyond mutual as you slipped a hand underneath his sweater.

Vincent was made of taut, sinewy muscle, littered in plenty of scars. His broad shoulders tensed when your hand pressed into the nape of his neck, toying with the collar of his sweater. In one fluid motion, he lifted it up and over his head, discarding it toward the foot of the bed.

He lifted two digits toward his lips, pressing them upon his tongue as he coated them in saliva. Vincent’s eye glistened with a ravenous sheen, fingers drifting toward the warmth between your legs. He brusquely shoved your panties aside, dragging those fingers along your slit, peppering your jaw in kisses.

“Vincent,” You moaned, feeling him cage you against him, arm bracketing you in, keeping you for himself. It was explosive — everything felt hot, as if the both of you were running out of time. “Touch me.” Your voice was high-pitched with a sense of urgency.

Your hips jolted forward, chasing after the friction his digits provided, feeling his mouth press hot kisses against your sternum. He branded you with his embrace, hoping to make it permanent — a mark, something that bound you to him. His lips sought to take one of your pert nipples into his mouth, suckling on the sensitive bud.

At last, he gave into your breathy demands, slotting his thumb against your clit as his middle fingers explored your cunt. An elated sigh escaped you, knees squeezing at his waist, hands splayed across his shoulders. He looked immaculate beneath orange candlelight — a deity of wax, perfection immortalized.

A ripple of bliss consumed you, body keening and arching into Vincent’s touch. His fingers lightly traced your core before dipping inward, forcing his way inside of you, feeling your cunt clench pathetically around his practiced digits. He lavished your breasts in a flurry of attention, throat echoing with a hoarse grunt.

Scars were crisscrossing all over his body, remnants of his victims that left their mark. Bullets, stab wounds, the diagonal, uneven slashes of knives and sharp objects. His skin served as a canvas for chaos, and you traced your fingertips over a livid mark on his chest.

Vincent shuddered, rutting his fingers inside of you before withdrawing halfway, finding a steady rhythm to piston in and out of your aching heat. He kissed his way back to your mouth, lips crashing into one another as he pressed against you. You could feel his erection snug along your thigh, prompting you to squirm.

You needed him terribly, unable to vocalize that want unless it was through a mess of needy moans. With a gentle shove, your lips tangled with his, tugging on his mane of dark tresses. Vincent huffed, digits curling into your cunt, eliciting a simpering cry from you.

He watched you through a lustful stare, glazed-over with rapture, drunk with desire. Vincent kissed at your throat, teeth teasing your flesh, feeling you roll your hips into the sensation of his hand. “Need you inside of me,” Your voice emerged as a hungry groan, clawing at the muscle of his shoulder. “Please, Vincent.”

Admittedly, he hadn’t seen you quite like this before — tangled up within your own need, aching for him in ways you hadn’t felt before. Vincent was delighted to oblige you, feeding off of your desire like a leech.

“How?” Vincent signed, and that singular word seemed to set off some chain reaction. Your stomach sloshed with anticipation as you rolled over onto your abdomen, able to hear the audible hitch in his throat, a raspy grunt tearing past his lips.

Vincent slipped his fingers from your cunt, digits coated in a thin sheen of your arousal. He grabbed at your hips, chest reverberating with a low rumble as he tugged you back against him. The metallic rattling of his belt sent shivers down your spine, able to feel the heat of his cock press against your slit.

“Vincent,” You moaned, and that was enough to get his blood pumping, accompanied by a surge of adrenaline as he let the head of his length slide through your slick a time or two. A soft yelp tore past your lips when he pushed himself inside of you, hunched over you, flesh feverishly warm.

A hand gently held the back of your neck, thumb grazing over the slender muscle of your jugular. His face was buried near your shoulder, tresses sweeping across your exposed back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He filled you in a way that you never thought possible, causing you to whimper.

With a sharp thrust, Vincent began to invade your cunt, somewhere between tender and rough. He was always sporadic and unsure when it came to pace, but you thoroughly enjoyed the unpredictability. His cock lewdly slapped into your cunt, followed by the sound of his ragged breathing.

Wax-laden palms skirted across your body, one hand grappling at your hips while the other gathered at the nape of your neck. You huffed, face partially pressed into the mattress, body contorting and submitting to him as you had many times before.

You were perfect — his paramour, his muse.

A twisted desire began to wash over him like a tidal wave, borderline insidious as he rutted into you. Vincent’s love might’ve been perceived as sweet on the surface, yet it often veered off into a very vitriolic obsession. He wanted you all to himself, as much as humanly possible.

Vincent’s grunts resonated just beside your ear, full of a lustful fervor. Every inch of him was consumed by your cunt, tight around him as he continued to fuck you. It was hot and messy, his pace sometimes scattered and erratic, as if he didn’t know what rhythm to adopt.

He brought you back against him, caging your back to his chest as he rocked onto his knees. Taut, muscled biceps locked around you as he pistoned into you, cock reaching new depths until he couldn’t go any further. Vincent’s mouth clamored to your neck, kissing and biting wherever he pleased as he kept you snug against him.

“V—Vincent, shit,” You stammered, the newfound position taking you by complete surprise. A sensation of sheer want flooded through you, coupled with overwhelming arousal. He filled you completely, flesh dewy with a layer of perspiration, black strands stuck to his temples from exertion. “Please cum in me.”

Another hoarse, throaty grunt ripped through him, hands relocating as one palm groped at your soft, pliant breasts. The other had a mind of its own, snaking to the cleft between your thighs as he toyed with your clit. Euphoria gripped you then and there, causing you to squirm and writhe with pleasure.

Again, Vincent locked you in against his chest, huffing into your ear, biting at your jaw as he filled you up. Part of him wanted to devour you, but the added heat and friction, the swiftness of the moment was enough to make him exert all force.

If he could, he would’ve gladly drowned himself in you, let himself float away within your very presence. Even covered in a veil of sweat, your scent was saccharine, accompanied by his own musk from the cling of his clothing.

Vincent felt you reach for his hand, digits curling around his wrist as he played with your clit, hoping to get you to your peak, right alongside him. His palm wandered from the plump flesh of your chest toward your throat, wrapping around until he applied pressure along your windpipe.

Within the stifling warmth of the basement, the only sounds that reverberated throughout were your moans and his occasional grunt. Vincent’s breathing was heavy, chest heaving against your back. You moved with him as best as you could, nails digging crescents into the taut tendons of his forearm.

Arousal sat heavy within the pit of your stomach, thick and viscous. Vincent was relentless and unyielding, continuing to pound away at your cunt, gently squeezing underneath your jaw. The combined pleasure that assaulted your clit and throat were preparing to send you cascading over the edge.

“M’close,” You huffed, feeling his lips meet the dip between your neck and shoulder, face buried there as he rutted into you. Everything felt incendiary, as if you’d been set ablaze, only to sink further into the fire. He touched you as if you were molded from obsidian, covetous and desperate for you. “Vincent!”

He never slowed, still pounding away at you, cock unable to go any further before he pulled out just a little bit, only to shove himself back in. A sheen of perspiration glistened across his features, forehead pushing into your shoulder, still clutching at your throat.

You belonged to him — you always would. There was no one else for you, only him.

Vincent huffed, teeth sinking into your flesh until he slammed into you one last time, painting your insides with hot, virile ropes of his seed. He continued to rub circles around your clit, dragging you toward your peak. Your cunt clenched around him, eliciting a throaty groan from him as you came.

A myriad of moans and sighs escaped you, shivers rolling down your spine as your thighs twitched, ecstasy flooding throughout your body. Vincent soothed any bites over with kisses, staying in you for a moment longer until he reclined against the mattress, taking you with him.

You were on top of him, layered in sweat and his cum, palms spread across his chest. Vincent stared at you with complete and utter devotion, gently tucking away any strands of hair that were stuck to your temples.

“You’re perfect,” Vincent signed, tucking his thumb and forefinger beneath your chin. The sienna glow of waning candlelight flickered throughout your shared space, basking you in such an atmospheric light. “You look perfect like this.”

There was a darker undertone to his sweet words — and to him, you did look divine this way, covered in his seed, wracked with want for him. Vincent cared very little for moving in that moment, content to stay with you in the oppressive heat of the basement.

With a soft caress, your fingertips swept across the scarred part of his jaw, mouth clamoring for him in another kiss. He didn’t protest, hand slipping toward the base of your skull, coaxing you closer to him.

“I love you,” You murmured, watching the way his pupil dilated with understanding. “M’tired.” You sank down into the mattress, still staggeringly hot with no sign of changing, either.

Visibly, you were spent, exhilaration and your post-orgasm haze beginning to dissipate into exhaustion. You smiled, laying down at his side instead, head curled toward the broad expanse of his shoulder. He locked an arm around you, caging you in, nowhere else to go — it was where you belonged.

There was nowhere you could go where he wouldn’t follow.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #house of wax smut #house of wax fanfic #house of wax 2005 #house of wax #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #sunkendreams masterlist

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luveline · 2 years

Text

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary it's a hot summer in hawkins and you're bored. plus, your best friend eddie is very distracting. it was inevitable, really, that you'd end up messing around [4.6k]

warnings smut, 18+ only please, fem!reader, p in v sex, oral both receiving, awkward giggly best friend sex <3, fluff, clueless idiots, weird stains etc, eddie being hot and soft, less awkward more giggly part 2

𓆩❤︎𓆪

The midsummer sun toasts the back of your neck as you walk through the trailer park. By the time you're knocking at Eddie's door you feel frazzled by the heat, ducking under his arm and into the shade gratefully when he swings open the door.

"Hey, babe," your best friend says, a hint of derision in his tone.

"Yeah, hi," you say.

You beeline past the couch to the fridge, kicking open the stiff freezer door for something cold to hold to your cheek. "It's, like, a thousand degrees outside," you say, garden peas soothing your sweaty forehead.

"It wasn't much better in here 'til I opened all the windows," he agrees. "If you told me you were coming I would've picked you up."

You raise your eyebrows, laughing. "Yeah, I'm never getting in that thing again."

"It wasn't that bad."

"You almost killed us-"

"I jumped a curb," he cuts you off, waving his hand at you. "You're ridiculous."

Eddie rolls his eyes at you and you roll yours harder, following him down the narrow space into his bedroom. Even the window thrown open can't hide the smell of pot and cheap beer, though you're pleased to see he's changed his sheets. You sit down carefully, worried to disturb the notebook on his bed.

"What were you upto?" you ask, lying back.

Eddie stretches. One arm behind his back and the other pushing his elbow down, a loud click echos. His shirt rides up, a snaking snail trail of dark hair exposed.

You don't shy from looking though you won't ogle him. Your best friend has always been hot in the grungey way he is, long hair and big eyes, cool clothes, tattoos and Marlboro's and everything that had ostracised him from your peers.

You'd ended up friends because you hadn't always been attractive. In fact, you'd suffered through an awkward stage for the entirety of high school, and only now two years after your graduation do you feel any type of hot or desirable. Eddie, soft-hearted, loser weirdo Eddie has never been anything but ridiculously kind to you.

You pull up your jeans where they're slipping down, tugging your shirt from your lightly perspiring chest with a dramatic huff to fan yourself.

"I was trying to make music," he says with usual bravado, throwing himself down behind the composition book. He tucks the pen between its curling pages and shoves it across the nightstand. "But it wasn't going anywhere."

"No?" you ask, moaning under your breath as you move the frozen peas to your chest.

Eddie clears his throat. "Nah. Now you're here, anyway. Like you knew I was bored to tears."

"I'm psychic," you agree.

"Major. Summer is so fucking boring," he says.

You smile at him, turning on your cheek to take in his casual attire, his grey sweatpants and his too short shirt. He's missing his rings but his chains remain, dull silver against his white skin.

"You could study," you say lightly. "You know. Actually graduate."

Eddie smiles at you sweetly. You glare at his condescension. "They're making me do the year again, therfore making me take the classes again. I don't need to study."

You want to laugh. He does need to study, he does, but you know the difficulty doesn't lie in laziness or anything, he just has a difficult time concentrating. Every year you offer to informally tutor him and every year he declines, but not this year. You're gonna get him through high school if it's the last thing you do. And it might be, with this heat.

"We are gonna study," you say sternly. "Not today, though."

"Not today," he agrees, laughing.

He crosses his arms, hands hugging his biceps as he leans towards you. You watch his actions carefully though he's not planning any mischief, only looking down at you.

"Your eyes are all smudged up," he says.

You sigh with frustration and loll your head back. "It's 'cos it's so hot. I'm gonna freshen up," you say, standing, offering him your defrosting bag of peas.

He's not looking at the peas, you realise, but your chest. You follow his gaze, watching as a cold rivulet of melted ice runs between the valley of your boobs.

You don't comment on his watching as you leave the room. You don't really care if he looks at you like that because you know he doesn't mean anything disrespectful by it, the way your eyes tend to drift to his hands, his wrists and their stark green veins. Some things are distracting.

You clean up in the bathroom, your face, your sweaty body, sniffling from the heat. You can't stay in there long.

"It's a fucking sauna in there," you say as you emerge.

Eddie has changed positions, his legs crossed with a pillow in his lap, the stereo remote in his hands. His bracelet has fallen down from his wrist, stopped at the curve of his forearm.

You look away. Distracting, you think.

He gestures at the window, wide open, curtains blowing in the breeze. "That's how hot it was when I woke up."

You settle down next to him against the wall, box springs groaning beneath you. This close you can smell his green apple shampoo.

"You're not wearing any cologne?" you ask.

He smiles smugly. "You're sniffing me."

"You smell like shampoo," you say instead of denying it.

"Showered this morning."

You gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. "No fucking way."

"Get fucked, Y/N," he says, chuckling.

Maybe it's on your mind. Maybe it's the sheer level of comfort you feel with him, you don't know, but you fall silent at his words and drop your head into his shoulder. You spend long minutes at his side, listening to his humming, wondering what you're going to do all summer. You make a questioning sound.

He pulls it out from under you and only puts it back when you don't laugh. "What?"

You look up at him and then quickly look back down.

"What does that look mean?"

You don't decide what you're going to say so much as you feel it, the words escaping you before you can think any better of it. "Do you want to have sex?"

Eddie laughs, a nervous lilt of sound that bubbles up and hurts your feelings. You pick at your nails and he leaps to ask, "What? You're serious?"

"It's fine if you don't want to."

He waits for you to say more. When you don't, he raises his eyebrows at you. "I never said that."

You decide to be cool about it, shrugging your shoulders like this is an obvious, regular suggestion. "We're both bored. I don't know. It could be fun."

"Are you sure that's something you want?"

"You're hot."

"Thank you," he says sincerely, "but what I mean is, is that something you think we can deal with? It changes our whole dynamic." His words have that similar too-casual tone, the both of you trying to be cool.

"Doesn't have to," you argue with little heat, looking up at him from his shoulder with wide eyes.

"You don't think so?" he asks. His voice is quieter now, and he's looking down at you with a heat that quickly gives you butterflies.

"No," you say under your breath. You lick your lips and say, slightly louder, "No. It can just be fun. If it sucks we'll never do it again, and you can stop wondering what my tits look like."

"I don't wonder about that," he denies quickly, guiltily, giving himself away when his eyes flick down to your chest and dart straight back up.

"So you don't want to find out?"

He bites his lip. You wait, tilting your head just slightly and giving him your best approximation of the doe eyes girls do in movies. "It's fine if you don't want to, Eddie," you say honestly.

"I do want to."

"Yeah?"

"If it's just for fun, right? What else is there to do?" He asks, shrugging his shoulders.

You grin. This is how you find yourself kneeling in the middle of his bed as Eddie pulls the curtains closed and locks his door, your eyes following the dark mess of his curls as he tucks them behind his ears, the way his arms shift as he turns the light off now the sunlight's hidden. He pauses before he turns to you, hand held to the light switch.

You start to take your shirt off. He hears the noise and spins on his heel. Warm, worn shirt in hand, you try not to show how nervous you are as your chest settles, bared in your bra alone.

Eddie blinks. You laugh nervously and he laughs back, wavering at the end of his bed.

"You're fucking pretty," he says.

"Don't lie," you say, though you know he feels like that's true, an earnestness in his voice that shoots sparks straight down to your core. You move off of your calves and squirm onto your back. "Help me take these off," you say. Before I lose my nerve.

Eddie pulls your legs towards him with surprising strength, knocking your hands away from where they're struggling with the button on your jeans. You can't help the sound you make, a hiccup of air has he undoes the button. His fingers are warm at your waist and as they drag down your hips. You arch your back so he can work them over your thighs, one socked foot pressed to his chest. You give him a smug look, as if to say, yeah, you do that.

Ever amused with you he huffs a laugh and pulls your jeans off in one big sweep, discarding them in a crumpled heap on the ground.

You're surprised at the lack of talking between you and aim to rectify it as he climbs onto the mattress and crawls up between your legs like he knows what he's doing, pulling your thighs over his.

"This is so weird," you say. "Right? This is weird."

His hands burn where they're spread over your thighs. "It's not that weird. Do you not want to anymore? We can stop."

"No, I mean. I don't know. Maybe it's 'cos you're still dressed."

"If you want me to take my clothes off, babe, you can just ask," he drawls, smirking.

You hold your breath as he pulls his shirt over his back, exposing the smooth expanse of his chest broken up by a small crop of dark hair that leads down past his naval and disappears into his sweatpants.

His chain bobs between you as he moves to hover on top of you, a great deal of space between your chests.

"Are we kissing?" he asks.

"Do you want to kiss me?" you ask him. He doesn't answer so you shake your head. "Maybe we shouldn't. It's romantic."

He laughs in a way you don't fully understand, his hands suddenly on your waist and pushing up over your ribs to the edge of your bra, a thin silken thing that contrasts your skin nicely. Your nipples are hard, peaking through the fabric. You can't find it in yourself to be embarrassed as he brings his hand up.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, waiting, your body aflame in anticipation of his touch.

He brushes the pad of his thumb over your nipple and grins when you hiss in a breath, pulling back so he can see the entirety of your chest as he takes your breasts into his big palms and massages them gently.

"Pretty underwear," he says.

"Thank you," you say, feeling small under his gaze and his ministrations.

Eddie's eyes meet yours, burned honey brown. "Is the kissing rule extended to everywhere, or just lips?"

"Do what you want, Eds."

He does. He kisses the curve of your breast and you start to feel dizzy as his teeth appear, scratching over your skin lightly. He tugs the cup down and kisses a trail to your nipple, taking the bead of it into his mouth. You push the hair from his eyes and gasp at the sensation, a riveting strike of pleasure that warms you up from the inside out.

Eddie pulls away just as quickly and mouths kisses around the damp circle, plastering pecks over the small embeddings of his teeth.

His hands work under your back and fiddle with the clasp of your bra. You hold in a comment about his clumsy fingering though you giggle to yourself.

"What's funny?" he asks in a murmur, dropping your bra unceremoniously off the side of the bed.

"Nuthin'," you sing-song.

He doesn't believe you, hands pressing over the naked expanse of your chest with a firm pressure, messing with your boobs as he goes. He covers them with two hands and brings them together.

"Having fun?"

"Always with you," he says, saccharine sweet.

His teasing sarcasm is familiar and puts you at ease, wiggling down into his squishy bedsheets with a curious look on your face.

He gets bored pretty quickly, sitting up, hands fast as he slips his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and makes to pull them off. You throw your hand out and he stops.

"Maybe I can leave them on?" you ask.

He purses his lips, looking disappointed but accepting. "Sure, if you want to stop."

"No, I don't. Just. I don't know," you refuse to say you're shy about how you look. "Can't you just pull them to the side?"

"Sure. I don't care if you haven't shaved or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

More the general idea of your cunt on display. It feels nerve-racking. "Thanks."

He softens. "Baby, don't say thanks. We said for fun, right? Doesn't matter how we do it. I want you to enjoy yourself." He sees your knowing smile and amends, "I want for both of us to enjoy it. Keep the underwear. I can take mine off though, right?"

You grin at his cheeky tone. "Go for it, hotshot."

He turns the music up before he does, which is really the last straw. How loud does he think it's going to get? Your heart beats in your chest, fast as a mouse's as he pulls down his sweatpants and exposes his boxers.

You can see the shape of him already through the fabric.

He palms his cock and reaches for your chest, massaging one of your boobs as he does. You're sick of being touched without touching, struggling up into a sitting position. "Can I…?"

He nods, looking about as nervous as you'd felt when he pulled down your bra.

Your hand trembles imperceptibly as you take his cock into your hands, stroking its length through material. You're giggling as you do, the situation alien and tummy churning. He's both harder and softer than you expected, though you feel a certain rigidness begin to grow at your touch.

You shuffle backwards and bend at the waist, careful and gentle as you pull down his boxers. His cock springs free, crowned in a trim patch of dark, curled hair, going to kiss his shaft when Eddie pushes your shoulder.

"You don't have to," he says.

You frown quizzically. "I want to. This is half the fun, right?"

He looks a little dazed as you move in, his hand moving from your shoulder to your neck as you kiss the side of his length. He twitches in your hold.

You spit into your hand and it's embarrassing. You expect Eddie to laugh and he doesn't, something unreadable on his face when you look up. His lip between his teeth, his brows furrowed, he looks handsome and dark. You pump his cock, kissing at the shaft as you go, happy when his breathing hikes and his hands find your hair. Heat grows between your legs, the very beginning of wetness.

Eddie doesn't let you play for very long. "Fuck, maybe you shouldn't. Uh. I don't think I'll last," he adds.

You plant a last kiss to the side of his head and pull away. "Sorry."

"God, don't be," he says. You've never heard him like this. So rough.

"How do we do this? Do I just…?" you flop down on your back, smiling with teeth, nervous and embarrassed and excited, super excited.

"If that's how you like it."

Awkwardness disarmed by wanting, Eddie moves into the gap between your legs and spreads them, the flat of his palm against your cunt without any dithering. "Are you ready?"

"I don't know."

"Want me to play with you?" he asks.

You feel conflicted.

He holds his cock against the stretch of his midriff and shakes his head at you. "It's okay, princess."

Princess. "Maybe you can… can play with me as you go," you suggest hopefully, coquettish.

He rubs his thumb over the bump of your clit, peering down at your covered cunt almost assessingly. His thumb dips, fingers pulling cautiously at damp fabric until you're on show.

"Fuck," he says. "Fuck, can I touch you?" And he's already touching you but to be asked is nice, and when you nod he rubs the wet circle of your entrance with two fingertips, spreading that little bit of wetness around.

He begins to push in. Your eyes flick from his actions to his face, chest heaving as he mouths, "Fuck," and palms at his throbbing cock. "You're warm."

You flush from head to toe and squirm as he works you open, spreading and curling his digits inside you, working slickness out. You're tight with nerves but slowly, slowly relaxing.

"Can we fuck now?" you ask. You're rushing through the steps because you're nervous and Eddie can't seem to decide whether he should let you, conflict clear as day in the way he presses his lips together.

"I have lube," he says, too loud.

You choke on a laugh. "You do?"

"Yeah, just," he scrambles off of the bed and pulls a tube of gel from his bedside table. And of course he fucking does, Eddie's the same motherfucker who nails handcuffs to the wall. "You wanna try it?"

He's pulled out a condom at the same time.

"Yeah," you say, smiling enough to make your cheeks ache. Eddie's answering grin is brilliant.

He rips the condom open with his teeth and you watch as he rolls it on, enchanted, breathing shallow.

His hands rub at your thighs as he spreads your half-hidden cunt open.

"I'll go slow," he says.

You nod. He squeezes a very generous amount of lube over his cock and then thinks twice, spreading it with his fingers around the shaft and then over your entrance. It contracts with the cold. Eddie groans with his lips slammed shut and moves in closer, rubbing the head of his cock up your cunt. The first contact is overwhelming.

You reach for his forearm and grip hard.

"Okay?" he asks, pausing.

"It's a mess, right? Do you have a towel or something?"

He seems endeared by your worrying, grabbing your ankles in one hand and lifting your hips from the bed to shove his discarded shirt under your weeping slit. You feel your vision go rose coloured at his small display of strength, worse when he takes a hold of your ankles in sticky fingers and encourages them over his shoulders.

He bends over you, his chain dangling between you.

The head of his cock bumps into your entrance. He readjusts, pushing with minimal pressure. Your ass pressed to his hot thighs, your ankles to his hard shoulders, your hands searching for something to hold. Eddie twines your fingers and holds your joined hands to your hip.

"You're so fucking hot," he says, grinning saliciously. "I'm gonna fill you up, okay? Ready?"

His enthusiasm is catching, a grin turning up the corners of your lips as he presses in. He stretches you out slowly, fingers flexing around your hand and the other holding you in place as he takes shallow, quick thrusts.

Lube in play, your nerves are hardly a problem and soon the only feelings are pleasure, the dizzying, goosebump-prompting feeling of being split open around him and the warmth of being this close to him clouding you up. You're surprised at how much you want to make sounds, your fast inhales slowly turning to mewling moans. Eddie makes less noise but his enjoyment is obvious, an amorous screwing to his brows and lips.

"Fuck," he groans, the word dragging with his cock, head probing emphatically at your walls.

You gasp as he bottoms out, his pelvis flush with your cunt. "Fuck," he says again. "Baby, your pussy's s'fucking tight. How's that feel? Feel good?" Then, at your shy smile, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, Eds."

Your thighs burn as he pushes in. Attentive at your clit, Eddie works you into a steady tizzy, thrusting slow and deep and moulding, looking prettier than he has any right to look as he pushes tight circles into your swollen clit.

You can't help flashing between two minds. Oh my god, I'm fucking Eddie. And oh my god, I'm fucking Eddie. Lovely, handsome, ridiculous Eddie, best friend since middle school and fellow long-term loser, nicest boy you've ever met, and why do his eyes look so big? He's so close the tops of your thighs are brushing your abdomen. You can smell that green apple tang under sex, his skin. His chain tickles you as he closes in and you think he's going to kiss you, really truly kiss you, but his face ducks down, his nose and lips on your neck.

Anywhere but the lips, you'd agreed, and now he's kissing your neck. Scraping bites and loving, sloven mouthing. A spread of damp half moons over the column of your throat, working his way up to the sweet spot below your ear.

His hips snap into yours harder than they had been and you whimper.

"Again," you demand, arms wrapped around the cape of his back, his shoulder blades moving under your hands.

"Whatever you want, princess," he promises, the pet name bathed in ire.

Snapping again, hips rolling, pleasure made all the worse by his panting into your skin and his kisses, though they grow sparse as time stretches. You feel his hips begin to flag, his fucking sloppy. The circles on your clit become loose.

"Eddie," you whisper. His pelvis is grinding hard into yours, an aching painful pleasure as he works empathically into your spongey walls.

"How's that feel? Fucking full of me, aren't you?" he asks.

"Feels good, it-" you gasp as he pulls out and strikes in, the head of his cock going deep. You feel a rush of heat behind your eyes almost close to tears as he finds somewhere you didn't know he could find.

"What was that?" he asks, laughing, teasing. "Did you hear that sound you just made?"

One of your hands falls down his back, pulling, hoping to spur him into a crueler rhythm. "Eddie, it's so deep."

Something about your wet eyes, your pleading tone really gets him. A wave of shuddering moves over his skin and he pulls you by the shoulders into his chest, mouth at your neck muttering curses. You cry out as he hits your sweet spot again, merciless, hardly recovered from one thrust when you're suffering another. You're a wet mess of whimpering, his name and nothing else on your lips.

"I'm…" He takes a deep breath, sounding apologetic. "I'm close, babe, I'm," he cuts himself, slowing his movements.

"It's okay, it's okay." You want to say something sexy like a bombshell would but all you can do is squeeze your walls around his cock and pull his hair from his neck and whisper, "You can cum. Please."

"Shit," he moans, hands tight on your hips, rocking you against his rutting cock until he's cumming. You'd pay more than you should for the sound on tape.

His grip on your hips is bruising as he sits up. "Fuck," he says, voice coloured with good humour. You laugh at his laughing, the two of you giggling and breathing hard. He lets go of your hips, stroking his hand against the markings left behind.

"Babe, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" he asks, eyes shooting upto yours.

You're failing to hide an amorous smile, breathing hard. "No, you didn't hurt me," you say fondly.

"Shit."

He pulls your legs off of his shoulders and they ache as he folds them up, resting his chin on your knees and pulling the dampened hair away from his sweaty forehead.

"You have the mouth of a sailor, Eddie."

He rubs his cheek against your kneecap. "Can you blame me? Sweetest pussy I've ever fucking seen-"

"You've barely seen it!"

"Fucked, then," he amends.

His hands are like silk as he follows down your thighs and spreads them open. You cover the flesh of your tummy with your hands as he pulls out and tugs the condom off of his softening dick. He ties it off, aiming for the trash can in the corner and missing.

You cringe. "Eds."

"I'll get it later," he says distractedly, staring down at the wet mess of your panties. "Babe, you've seen the jewels. Can we please have these off and I'll take care of you?"

Your legs close as you slide your knee against your thigh coyly. "Care sounds like I'm sick."

"You are sick. Sick body, sick smile, sick little sounds," he teases. "Sick cunt."

You wrinkle your nose and glare at him, giggling as he pulls your legs back open and his fingers dig under your waistband again.

"Don't fucking swear," you scold.

"Please?" he asks, ignoring your admonishment.

His hands are paused and patient. Your chest rises as you inhale, falls as you let it out slowly.

"Okay. Yeah. It's only fair."

Your bravado pleases him endlessly. "Attagirl," he says, pulling your panties down until they hang off of one ankle. You wiggle your foot to make them slide past your sock, Eddie too distracted by your bare centre.

"You're a total jerk for hiding this from me," he says, the flat of his palm smoothing down the edge of your cunt, his thumb pulling your entrance open just slightly. "You think I wonder about your boobs? I fucking did, but your pussy?"

You flush white hot at his words. "Does it… meet your expectations?"

He bursts into boyish laughter between your legs until you're giggling too, the giggles quickly tapering into breathlessness as his lips touch your skin. Close-lipped kisses up the inside of your thigh until he's loving on your cunt. He rubs at your entrance before easing you open, middle and ring finger pushing in with his wrist turned up as he suckles your clit. You reach for his hair, scratching his scalp gently as you scrape messy curls from his face.

He makes up for any inaccuracy with ardency. You twitch beneath him, hips rolling in an attempt to draw him impossibly closer.

"I got you," he murmurs into your sticky skin. He nibbles lightly at your clit, pulls until it slips from between his lips. "Wanna feel you cum around my fingers."

You seize up, thighs tightening. "Eds-"

He shushes you, three quick sh sh sh's that make you wanna pinch him. His pinky and index finger slide against the wet skin between your cunt and thighs as he finger fucks you, curving into your sweet spot as his mouth works you over. You're pent up from the fuck and he knows what he's doing, and you can't help pulling his hair as you cum around his fingers, clamping down hard.

He plays a little longer but eases up when you cry out, the bottom of his face shining with dampness as he pulls away.

He wipes the mess away with the back of his hand. "You taste sweet. But that might've been the lube."

You splutter around a breathless laugh and tug him on top of you, bodies pressed together and sweaty. His weight is nice.

"That was fun, right?" he asks, hands at your neck, elbows digging into your naked chest as his face hovers above yours. If you didn't know him as well as you did you'd miss the tiny silver of worry.

"So fun. I have amazing ideas," you agree, panting.

"Amazing."

There's a gap of silence where you catch your breath and Eddie watches.

"How's the dynamic? Changed?" he asks lightly, fingers tapping over your collar like he's playing a song.

"Irrevocably."

You wrap one of his curls around your finger and indulge yourself, eye to eye, lips an inch apart.

"Do you wanna do it again?" he asks.

You pretend to think about it. "Yeah."

He gives you that perfect puppy dog smile and kisses your cheek, a wet, smacking thing as he climbs off of you and pulls you into his lap. You haven't quite decided, but you think you might let him kiss you on the mouth if he wanted to.

they get better at fucking I swear

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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calypsocolada · 1 month

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MR. CHAINSAW MAN | denji

synopsis: chainsaw man saves you and you feel very thankful... request: "hi! can i ask for a denji one? like, one where he and the reader (fem!) are classmates and friends, it's late at night and they're texting, then the reader says 'me after saying i would give chainsaw man a big fat kiss if he asked' and denji is all shocked and stuff because she said that to him (but she doesnt even know he's chainsaw man) and the next day at school he acts all weird and giddy?" authors note: hii!! thank you so much to whoever requested this... this one goes to you! this turned out a lot longer than I thought... also this is another attempt at smut... big emphasis on attempt... i hope you all enjoy! ps. this could be a two parter if you all enjoy... keep an eye out cw: aged up to 20's, p in v, smut, fem reader, loss of virginites (both reader and denji), dirty talk, some gore, utterly romantic!denji, idiots in love, slightly clueless reader, touch starved!denji, not proofread wc: 5.4k

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It started with a simple act of service. Well… a simple act of saving your life. When you were younger you idolized heroes. The ones in the tv to be exact. Heroes in cloaks and tights, the ones that swung from buildings and punched alien invaders into outer space. Those heroes were cool but those heroes weren’t real. The hero that you saw on the television a few months ago, the one that was practically a celebrity… that one was nothing like the fictional heroes you loved dearly. Chainsaw Man he called himself. He was exactly what his name was, a man with chainsaws on his body. Most of the time he fought devils the fight wasn’t shown on live tv because of how gruesome and bloody the scenes were after he was done. But you saw pictures online and to say it might’ve haunted your dreams was an understatement. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt about this Chainsaw Man.

That was until you met him.

You’d been walking home when it happened. Your classmate Denji was walking with you earlier but you two parted ways the closer you got to your house.

Denji was… unruly.

You were forced to partner up with him on a project. Denji was brash, loud and certainly had zero qualms with asking for your number the second you walked over to him to talk about the project. You gave him your number but asked that he only text about the project… which he didn’t do. He texted you pretty much every hour. He’d send memes that unfortunately were pretty funny. He’d text pictures of himself working out and then say it was an accident. He sent a picture of a hamburger once and said he was thinking of you. You weren’t really sure what that meant but the hamburger did look pretty delicious. He’d ask how your day was and ask to meet for lunch. You’re not entirely sure how it happened but suddenly you two were somewhat friends.

Which is why when you saw multiple reports of devil sightings in your area you texted him and asked if he would walk you home after class since you two were getting dinner after and it would be dark when you walked home. He readily agreed. And he took it very seriously. His head was on a swivel the entire walk home, you could barely get a conversation going because of how focused he was on keeping a look out for devils. It was… endearing.

“Okay… that’s far enough.” You said as your street came into view. Denji looked over at you.

“Isn’t your house just a bit farther?”

“Yes but… if my dad or mom see you walking me home they’ll kill me.” You say, a bit embarrassed. You were in college but you still really feared what your parents thought of you. They were currently trying to set you up with a boy from their church and if they saw you walking home with a trouble maker like Denji they might push you harder towards that other boy.

“You sure?” Denji asked, cocking his head slightly, his hair falling slightly from his forehead.

“Yeah… Don’t worry.” You smile. “Thanks for walking me home.” For a moment Denji doesn’t respond, his eyes glued to your lips, a blush spreading across the tops of his cheeks and nose. “Denji?”

“Huh? Oh…! Y-yeah that’s no problem. If you want I can walk you home everyday until I die.” He rambles and then blushes even brighter at his clearly not well thought out words. You let out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll… keep that in mind.” You say, walking towards your house, turning and waving when you turn down your street. You glance back a last time, blushing as you watch Denji turn to leave. You’d never much thought about Denji in the ways that were seeping into your brain now. You turned to walk towards your house and wondered if it would’ve been so bad letting Denji walk you the rest of the way. You felt safe with him on the walk home. Suddenly your phone dinged in your pocket. You grabbed it, clicking open the message.

Denji (from psych): text me when you get home, okay?

Your heart tumbled around in your chest at the message. Just as you went to text back it all sort of happened so fast. It was dark out and you heard the approach before you spotted the thing. Whatever it was it was fast and had snatched you off your feet before you could even blink. The scream that escaped you died in your throat as you were dragged off towards the forest near your house. Your hands flailed out, grasping for anything to hold onto as claws dug into your ankles as it tugged at you. You screamed as the thing paused and that's when you were able to turn and look at it. Just as something revved and the damned thing holding you was split completely in half. The nails that dug into it released and you scrambled back until your back hit hard against a tree. You watched the creature burst apart and something emerge from behind it. Chainsaw’s glinted in the moonlight. You screamed at the sight as the man who saved you ran to you, gently clamping a hand over your mouth.

“Shh. Shh… It’s okay.” The voice that left the monstrous thing’s mouth was surprisingly gentle. You knew instantly who you were looking at. The hero from the news broadcasts. The Chainsaw Man that killed devils.

“Fuck… what… uh,” You breathed out, your voice ragged from screaming, tears wet against your cheeks.

“Are you hurt?” Chainsaw Man asked. His hands on your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. You stared at him dumbfoundedly. Seeing him this close was… strange. Uncanny… you felt as though maybe that devil from earlier had killed you and you were dead. “Y/n-- eh… M-miss, are you okay?” He asked again, you swallowed, wide eyed.

“Uh-- I think… so.” You forced out as Chainsaw Man sighed with relief.

“Let’s get you home then, can you stand?” He asked, moving back slightly. The Chainsaws that once enveloped his hands were no longer there… just regular hands that reached out to pull you to your feet. You shook as you let him pull you to your feet.

“Ah-- fuck… my ankles.” You hissed in pain, forgetting that the devil from before had dug its claws in you. Chainsaw man reacted quickly as you wavered on your feet and swept you off them into his arms. You gasped in surprise.

“I’ll get you to a hospital.” He said. He carried you like you weighed nothing and as the adrenaline and fear calmed in your chest you couldn’t help but slightly blush at the moment. “Do you have your phone on you?” He asked, you nodded your head, unable to say anything. He clicked a few buttons and you heard the sound of a text sending.

“What? Did you text someone?”

“I texted a friend of yours to meet you at the hospital.” He explained.

You didn’t work up the courage to speak until the lights of the hospital came into view. He lowered you into the grass as you looked up at him.

“What’re you doing?” You asked as the hero backed up towards the forest.

“Your friend will meet you here and take you the rest of the way… I don’t want to startle anyone else.” He said.

“W-wait!” You called out, he paused, looking back at you. “Thank you… You saved my life.” You gushed, smiling thankfully up at him. The cool facade this man wore moments ago faded in an instant. He tripped over his feet the moment he saw you smile and fell back into the woods. You startled. “Mr. Chainsaw Man… are you okay?!” You called out, unable to go to him. He stood quickly.

“Of course! Damn branches jumped out at me.” He kicked at the ground, clearing his throat. “And… you’re welcome… don’t walk home alone anymore Miss… it would be better to walk with a friend. A male friend…” He specified as you slowly nodded your head.

“Uhm… okay.” You said as he backed into the woods.

“Yeah… a strong one… the friend of yours I texted looks strong so… yeah maybe him.” Chainsaw Man said as you nodded your head, an amused smile growing on your face.

“Thank you again.” You said. Again the devil killer tripped and this time disappeared in the brush.You stared for a moment. “Chainsaw man?” You called out. Squinting into the darkness. Suddenly someone stumbled out from the woods startling you.

“Ah! There you are! I-- I uh got a text that said you’d be here!” Denji said, running over to you. You gasped, relieved.

“Oh! Denji… thank god!” You said and when he got close you pulled him into your body, hugging him tightly. Denji froze, you felt him stiffen. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable but it was so nice seeing a friendly face… although Chainsaw Man wasn’t exactly someone you’d be opposed to see again. When you went to pull away Denji’s arms closed around you and you relaxed.

“What happened?” Denji asked, muffled against your hair. You pull back finally, his hands still holding you loosely.

“A devil attacked me and… and Chainsaw Man saved me.” Even saying it out loud made you feel silly and surely enough Denji would laugh at your words but he didn’t. He looked surprised.

“R-really?” He stuttered as you nodded your head.

“I know it sounds crazy-“

“No… no I believe you.” He says, then seems to remember why he’s here. “We need to get you inside.” He says as you nod your head, not being able to ignore the stinging pain.

“I can try to walk,” you say, trying to push to your feet because surely your classmate couldn’t carry you but… but you’d be wrong.

“No… I got you.” He says and just like Chainsaw Man from before you are lifted with ease into Denji’s arms as he carries you across the way to the lobby of the hospital. “Are you sure you’re okay? Only your ankles got hurt?” He asks as you nod your head. “I— should’ve walked the entire way with you.” He says guiltily. You instant shake your head.

“No… don’t say that. It was my fault I should’ve just let you walk me home.” You say, the exhaustion of the night and the calmness of Denji’s heart made you tired. “Thank you for coming to help me.” You whisper. At that you hear Denji’s heart race.

Your parents picked you up from the hospital. They scolded you the entire way home, saying that the boy who helped you should officially walk you home everyday. You knew Denji wouldn’t mind in fact when you got home around four a.m. and checked your phone you saw a couple texts from him already.

Denji (from psych): sorry I left, I saw your parents and didn’t want to get you in trouble.

Denji (from psych): please text me when you’re home so I can have peace of mind.

You: hey! sorry just got home hopefully you didn’t wait up for me this late.

Denji (from psych): oh thank god. everything went okay?

You: yeah I’m fine! The cuts weren’t too deep. I saw news reports of that same devil that attacked me. It had already killed a few people before me. I got super lucky. Looks like I owe Chainsaw Man a big fat thank you kiss.

You stared at your sent message for a moment, blushing. Why in the world would you say that? You moved your hand over your face. Admitting that you might now have a crush on Chainsaw Man to your classmate had your stomach in knots and you're not entirely sure why. You thought about your other friends and how all of them had crushes on Chainsaw Man but for some reason telling that to Denji made you nervous.

The next morning you checked your phone. Denji had read the text the moment you sent it but didn’t text back. You're not sure why it embarrassed you so much so you thought up a plan that if he asked you’d say you were on pain meds or something. But truthfully… you’d do a lot more for Chainsaw Man if he asked. He saved your life… his voice still swam in your mind. So calming. He was so strong and wasted no time rushing you to help. It was hot. You hadn’t had a crush on someone in a long time and you felt that little flutter in your stomach and knew all too well what it meant. That’s when you heard the doorbell ring. Both of your parents were already gone for the day and you were about to start walking to college.

You opened the front door and to your surprise a blushing Denji was standing there in the rain. You blinked a few times.

“Denji?” You asked, he was soaked through with the rain. For a moment you two just looked at each other. Denji unable to speak just at the sight of you. You smiled slightly, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Denji?” This seemed to snap him out of whatever stupor he was in as he blinked, sputtering out as he spoke.

“Y-Your mom called me and asked if I could walk you. Didn’t know it would be raining today.” He explained nervously. You stared at him. He was acting very strange.

“Come in.” You ushered him inside which made him act even more nervous. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah!! Yes yeah of course yeah I’m good.” He stuttered out. You laughed softly.

“Denji, you're absolutely soaked.” You laughed and he seemed to notice he was dripping wet all over your carpet.

“Oh- oh shit! Sorry!” He went to step back outside but you caught his arm.

“Wait- it’s fine, Denji, really come on in.”

“Your carpet?”

“I don’t care about the carpet.” You smiled with a soft laugh. When you looked at him his eyes were glued to that smile. It made your stomach flip. “I think my mom thought you had a car.” You said after a moment as Denji’s eyes snap up to yours.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” You laughed. “I think… we should skip. What do you think?” You asked as his eyes grew large and he visibly swallowed.

“Really?” He asked as you nodded your head.

“I mean… My legs still hurt a bit and if we walk we’ll probably catch colds… which reminds me you need to get out of those wet clothes.” You said, unknowingly wreaking havoc on Denji’s nervous system. “Come with me,” You said softly. He dropped his bag and kicked off his shoes, jogging to catch up with you as you led him to your dad’s room. You grabbed some sweatpants and a t-shirt and handed it to Denji. “Here, change into this and give me your wet clothes so I can toss them in the dryer.” You said. Denji nodded obediently and started to pull off his shirt. You blushed instantly. “Wait.. wait… let me get out of the room.” You laughed as Denji laughed nervously. You closed the door behind you and paused. Your heart in your throat. You blew out a breath, walking towards the kitchen. Denji joined you a few minutes later and you smiled at him as you took his wet clothes and tossed them in the dryer.

“How’re you feeling?” Denji asked.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll probably have a cool scar down there.” You joke but Denji’s face was slightly serious. You wondered if he still felt bad about letting you walk alone and just at the thought you blushed.

“I’m… really sorry you got hurt.”

“It’s just some scratches, Denji.” You reassure him. “I’m really okay.” He looks at you and a moment builds between you two before he swallows and nods his head.

“Thank god I- ah uh… Chainsaw Man got to you fast.” Denji professed as you nodded your head with a wistful sigh.

“Yeah… he’s my savior.” You laugh, walking to sit across from Denji at the counter.

“Savior…” He said softly. “You still gonna give him a big fat thank you kiss?” He asked and suddenly went entirely red, the look on his face told you he hadn’t meant to say that outloud. You let out a surprised laugh.

“I… am not ashamed. I would. He saved my life.” You say earnestly and watch as a lot of stages pass Denji’s face. His dark brown eyes wide. You laughed, shaking your head. “What? I’m hardly the first person to say that. All the girls at school have crushes on Chainsaw Man.” You wave off. Denji suddenly looks overwhelmed and perplexed.

“They… they do?” He asks as you nod your head. He hums in response as though he’s taking this information in. “All the girls?”

“Probably.” You giggle. He clears his throat, looking sort of serious.

“Do… Do you?” He asks.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask teasingly. But it seemed you were right on the money because Denji choked on air, coughing. “I-- I was just joking, Denji.”

“Yeah! Yeah of course…” He said, slightly hiding his face.

“Denji?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you… do you like me?”

“Of course I do!” Denji answers and for a moment you two stare at each other.

“Oh,” You breath out, a violent blush spreading across your face.

“Oh! Oh.. you-- you meant..” Denji hides his face even more and you dissolve into laughter, slightly relieved he misunderstood. You could deal with a crushing on Chainsaw Man because he was unattainable… but Denji… he was here, real. Really seemed to care for you. It made your heart race in ways Chainsaw Man never could.

“Let's… just forget I said anything. Are you hungry?”

“I… yeah I could eat.” Denji forces out. You grab some stuff for you and Denji to snack on and lead him to your room. The entire time Denji is nervously fidgeting and you're not sure his face has stopped being red. You wondered if he was getting sick from walking here in the rain. When you opened the door to your room and walked inside Denji paused in the doorway. You turned back, his eyes were drinking in his surroundings. “Wow… this is cool.” He walked deeper in and immediately went to your manga shelf. “Holy shit!” He said as a warm smile fits to your lips as he looks at all the titles on your shelf. “You like this series?” He asks, pulling out one of your favorite mangas. You smile excitedly, nodding your head. You two gush about the series for a bit as he finally settles a bit. You put on a movie for you two to watch and scoot over, making room for him. He sits sort of uncomfortably as you laugh gently.

“Come on, Denji, I don’t bite.” You say. Denji laughs slightly.

“Of c-course… I’m just not… used to being… alone with a very very pretty girl who said she wants to kiss me.” He struggled with his words. You laughed.

“I never said I wanted to kiss-” The laugh dies on your lips as Denji and your eyes meet. Everything clicks into place there and then and you feel like a fool. “Holy shit.” “Oh fuck.” You and Denji speak in tandem. You continue to stare at each other in shock. Denji realized his mistake with his words.

“Denji…”

“I… I misspoke.”

“No… no you didn’t.” You say, sitting up slightly. Denji jumps to his feet.

“I-- I did!”

“Your… holy shit… Denji are you Chainsaw M-”

“No! No, of course not!” Denji tried to laugh it off but everything started to click into place. After All that calming voice… you’d been hearing it almost everyday. You felt like a complete idiot for not realizing. Then your entire face burned red because you had just professed your want to kiss Chainsaw Man in front of Chainsaw Man himself.

“Holy shit… you,” You started to laugh softly, it grew slowly. “You’re really him. Your Chainsaw Man.”

“You… You can’t tell anyone!” He said quickly. He gave in pretty quickly. “Please… promise me you’ll keep this to yourself.”

“I won’t tell a soul.” You said, a gentle smile on your lips. Denji stared at that smile. You should’ve known it was him, he always trips up when you smile. “You saved my life, Denji.” Denji’s eyes grew, for the hundredth time today he blushed. So he wasn’t sick after all, you were just causing him to malfunction it seemed. “And you pretended to text yourself.” You laughed as Denji sunk down on the bed, covering his face with his hands.

“I’m so embarrassed.” He mumbled into his palms. You reached, gently grabbing his wrists away from his face. He stared at you dumbfoundedly. You moved a bit closer.

“Don’t be. I… I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything! Seriously, I would save you anytime you need.” He expressed.

“I don’t doubt that.” You grinned, letting go of one wrist and sliding your hand into his with the other. You could see the nerves building in him. Nothing to be done about that, you were only going to make it worse. “But I do owe you. If… if Chainsaw Man wants it.”

“Wants… what?” Denji breaths out.

“A kiss.” You say and watch Denji’s world turn on its axis. He mouths the word ‘kiss’ and immediately his eyes go to your lips. You can tell how badly he wants it. You move a bit closer. “Do you want-” Denji shoots forwards, his lips slamming against your own. You gasp, surprised. The unexpectedness of the kiss jolted your system. The shock of the moment leaves both of you breathless. Denji’s quick and needy kiss, his hands sliding around your back as he pushed you back against the headboard of your bed. You made a sound against his lips that only spurred him on even more. Your bodies melted together, lips slotting together in perfect harmony, intertwined in a slow, sensual rhythm. A sort of primal desire comes over Denji as he presses even closer to you, his kiss trailing greedily from your mouth down your cheek to your jawline then your neck. You shiver, sucking in a breath, your eyes fluttering closed, hand sliding into his hair to gently grip his hair. Denji whimpers against your neck and your stomach bottoms out at the sound. “If you… leave marks on me… I’ll be in trouble.” You murmur, biting your lip. Denji trails his kisses back up to your lips and you grab both of his cheeks and hold him there.

“Mark me up then,” He says against your lips. You blush at his words.

“Denji…” you breath out, this all was happening so fast.

“Ah..I.. want to be yours.” Denji implores. “I… I really fucking want you to… own me.” He confesses. You let out a shaky breath and gently swap places with Denji, pushing him back against the pillows of your bed. He burns beneath you, hot to the touch. If he wanted to be yours it was more than fine with you. You duck down and press a kiss to his lips before gently ducking lower, pressing chaste kisses to his neck.

“I really fucking like you too, Denji…” You whisper against his neck. Denji sharply gasps at your words, a strangled whine escaping from his parted lips. His body sort of twitches beneath you as you slowly slide your legs over him, straddling against his clothed waist. He’s hard, so achingly hard that when you press against him he can’t help but let out a stifled moan. This was escalating very quickly… and you weren’t at all dissatisfied with this moment.

“Y/n…” Denji groaned out when you gently bit his neck.

“Hmm?”

“You… don’t have to-- d-do this…” Denji forced out between noises of pleasure. You lifted your head.

“What?” You asked softly. He swallowed, forcing himself to pay attention at this moment.

“I… want you to want me. Not feel like you owe me because I saved you.” He explains the best he can with you on top of him completely muddling his mind. You could tell how badly he wanted this and wanted you and the fact he was second guessing for your sake made your heart swell.

“Denji…” You breathed out.

“Let me take you out sometime… you deserve a date, s-something romantic.” He elaborates and you bite the smile on your lips, slightly tilting your head.

“You want to take me out?” You ask as Denji nods his head quickly.

“I know you like Chainsaw Man… but I want you to like me as well.”

“Oh… Denji.” You croon, sitting up. “We can go out. Anytime you want. And… yes I do like Chainsaw Man, he’s very cool… but he… he wasn’t the first person I wanted to kiss, ya know.” You say and watch the realization dawn on Denji’s face.

“Wait… you-- wait… when?” Denji asks, halting hope and half in utter disbelief.

“When you walked me home. You were so serious about keeping me safe.”

“I am very serious about that.” He doubles down. You smile at that and watch his eyes drift to it. Like a moth to a flame. “It wasn’t the shirtless pics of my muscles?” He asks as you scoff out a laugh, reaching and gripping his bicep gently.

“Wow… just like in the picture.” You tease.

“My friend said that would work.” Denji tries to hide his face in shame but you catch his wrists again, shaking your head in amusement.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like them.” You purred, gaining just the reaction you were wanting. Denji’s face got all red like you liked and when you let go of his wrists his hands fell and rest just on your hips.

“I-- I think I should leave.”He says suddenly. You softly furrow your brow, wondering if you’d made him uncomfortable in any way but know the thing pressing against your core meant he was enjoying this little chat.

“Okay… I’m sure your clothes are dry.” You say and when you move to get off of him his hands tighten slightly on your hips. You look back at him, his face was scrunched up slightly. “Denji..?”

“I-- don’t want…” He thought about his words carefully. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to let you go.” His fingers flex on your hips. You smile down at him.

“Then don’t.” You say and he looks up at you.

“I really should, ah--- y/n,” Mid sentence you gently ground your hips against his and watched as his sentence fell apart. His grip tightened even more as his head fell back on the pillow. “Please… oh ah-- please don’t, Y/n… I really want to- ah ah fuck… please.” He can’t even form a coherent sentence.

“What is it, Denji?” You ask innocently as you slowly pick up speed. The moans and groans that escape his parted lips are heavenly. You could listen to them all day.

“Ah-- fuck… Y/n. I can’t-- don’t make me… in my pants…I’ve never… done this…before.” He says, cheeks flushed from embarrassment. You didn’t let up, just reached and gently grabbed him by the chin and angled his lips up to yours so you could kiss him, a fire of your own building below your stomach. You desperately wanted to rid you both of the layers of clothes between you and just at that thought you felt the tips of Denji’s fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants, sliding back towards your ass. You shivered and kissed him harder as a reward. “Ah… am-- am I yours?” He whimpers helplessly against your lips. “F-fuck me like I’m yours, p-please.” Your stomach bottomed out at that. Jesus… You raised up slightly and pulled your pants off as fluidly as possible, tossing them aside. You helped Denji out of his own pants and paused because you’d never done this before. It was clear he hadn’t either. Despite it all you blew out a nervous breath and pressed on, lining up your entrance with his cock, letting it slide inside you. The noises you both made made the entire room heat up and spin around you. You moved your hips at a decent speed and wrapped your arms around the back of Denji’s neck, tucking your face in his neck as well. Your heart was in your throat thumping loudly as you fumbled your way through the motions, unsure of what you were doing. “Y/n…” Denji’s voice spoke softly, you pulled back and when your eyes met his all the fear an anxiety of the moment drained away. He kissed you hard and rocked up into you, muffling the moan on your lips. The want that built inside you tightened like a ball in your stomach, slowly being wound free. Denji kissed you, he kissed your cheeks and your forehead and when you came it was together. It was more romantic than you could’ve ever, ever imagined. All those horror stories of first times that all your friends had told you back in high school. You were damn glad you waited. Denji kissed your lips a last time as you two unlatched from each other. That’s when you heard the sound of the front door downstairs opening.

“Oh fuck.” You said suddenly, jumping up, grabbing your pants. You tossed Denji his and ran to your door, poking out your head. Sure enough your mom was home early. Your face flushed as you pressed your door shut quietly. Sure it was embarrassing to some that you still lived with your parents but you were a broke college student and nowhere else. But right now you would rather perish than your mom catching you with a boy in your room.

“Your parents?” Denji asked wide eyed as you nodded your head, running to your window, pushing it open.

“I am… so sorry but you have got to go. Run around to the side of the house and I’ll meet you with your stuff okay.” You say as Denji nods his head, vaulting out of the bed, running to the window. He put one leg out, turned and kissed you quickly before sliding out of it, jumping to the grass below. You gasped, sticking your head out to check if he was okay just as your door opened. “Jesus, mom!” You gasped out.

“Y/n, I thought I heard you,” Your mom said as you pulled the window closed. “Are you feeling okay?” She asked as you nodded your head.

You snuck out the front door about fifteen minutes later and ran to the side of the house. Denji was waiting there and startled when you finally came around.

“Sorry,” You apologized, handing him his stuff. He wasted zero time dropping the stuff you handed him, hands sliding on your cheeks to bring your lips to his. You smiled against his lip.

“We didn’t get to talk after,” He said after a moment. “Was that… are you okay?” He asks, your heart exploding in your chest. “I’ve never done that before… Was I good enough for you?”

“Denji…” You swooned. “You were perfect. And for the record neither have I.” You said and Denji’s lips parted in surprise.

“Really?” He asked as you nodded your head. He swallowed, letting out a breath. “You were heavenly…” He said, making you blush.

“Alright Mr. Chainsaw Man… you really need to go.” You laugh as Denji pouts.

“When can I see you again?”

“I’ll leave my window unlocked.” You say and watch Denji’s face erupt in another glorious blush.

“No… I have to take you out properly before I sneak into your room again.” He says as you laugh, biting your lip.

“Alright… plan something, I’ll be waiting for your text.” You say and Denji nods his head, kissing you one last time before leaving. You shake your head laughing, as you head back inside. You grab your phone from your room and scroll through you and Denji’s messages until you find one of his shirtless pics, you send it back to him with the caption, new lockscreen <3.

#chainsaw man #denji #csm denji #chainsaw man denji #denji x reader #denji x you #fem reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man smut #denji smut #chainsaw devil

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imaginidol · 9 months

Text

Wooyoung: The Boxing Match

!!mentions of nsfw!! 18+ !! do NOT interact if you’re not comfortable with smut!! thank you for the fun request!! pls feel free to send more, as this was really creative and interesting to figure out!! if you’re interested, i have a hongjoong ver. smut, san ver. smut, mingi ver. smut, yunho ver. smut, jongho ver. smut and i will have more up soon and updated here as i finish the requests!!

“Fuck,” Wooyoung irritatingly threw his training towel over his forehead as he took a swig of his water bottle, avoiding the large screen in front of him as it repeatedly flashed the final results of tonight’s boxing match.

Kim Yugyeom v. Jung Wooyoung

12 Rounds @ Olympic Gymnast Arena

Scorecard: 112-110 | 110-110 | 120-107

Wooyoung crushed his water bottle and tossed it into a trash can, making his way to the backstage locker room as his team trailed behind him, patting him down with more towels and offering him more water.

It goes without saying that the boy was beyond pissed at his performance tonight. He sat alone at a bench and asked for space with a few minutes to cool down, to which his team deliberately agreed.

“Wooyoung,” Yugyeom walks up to the boy and pats his opponent’s back, “you did well tonight. You’re getting so much better, don’t beat yourself over the results.”

I won’t beat myself up over it ‘cause you already did me that favor, Wooyoung curses quietly to himself, nodding at his winning opponent.

“Thanks. You did well,” he says, wanting to add more, though he knew nothing appropriate would come out of his mouth if he kept talking. He was too angry, felt too dispirited, and most definitely wanted to wipe the nasty smirk off Yugyeom’s face.

As soon as Yugyeom walked out of the locker room, Wooyoung lunged himself forward and punched a wall pad in resentment.

“FUCK,” he shouted, ripping his handwraps off with immense aggravation and wanting nothing more than to go home and take a long, quiet shower.

—

Scorching drops of hot water splashed against Wooyoung’s bare back as he attempted to relax under the steaming shower. His efforts were to no avail, as every time he closed his eyes he was met with the burning image of Yugyeom’s villainous simper in the boxing ring.

Of course, Yugyeom had been training far longer than Wooyoung, and even though Wooyoung’s growth and training with 1-on-1 opponents had made him a promising candidate against Yugyeom in a match, his stamina wasn’t nearly enduring at the level he’d hoped for during the last few rounds of their fight. It seemed as though Yugyeom’s stamina had strengthened towards the end, a skill or tactic that Wooyoung couldn’t yet wrap his head around.

Fuck this, Wooyoung turns his body towards the shower head, wanting to clear his mind off tonight’s events instead.

He outstretches one hand to lean against the white tile wall in front of him, hunching over to wrap the other around his meat.

—

You turn the key to Wooyoung’s apartment, hoping he’d be home by now. The last thing you wanted to do was remind him of tonight’s result, as you knew how much the sport meant to him. So, you intended to approach him cautiously so as to not trigger his disappointment.

“Wooyoung?” You walk through the apartment, but most of the lights are out.

Maybe he’s asleep, you think, placing a pint of his favorite ice cream inside the freezer. You start making your way to his room, but the lights in there are also out.

The only light effusing faintly through the room was coming from the restroom, and you could hear the sounds of the running shower echoing from behind the slightly-opened door.

Oh, he’s home, then, you think, almost smiling before realizing that there were more sounds coming from inside the restroom than just the running shower head.

Soft moans and grunts emitted from deep within Wooyoung’s throat, and you placed an ear closer to the door to make sure there wasn’t anyone else in there with him.

What am I doing? He wouldn’t cheat on me—

OOF!!

Wooyoung lets out a startled shriek as you stumble into the restroom floor, falling flat on your face after having tripped over some folded jeans and a belt in the dark.

“I’M SO SORRY,” you scramble back to your feet, lunging for the door and slamming it shut behind you.

“Babe? When’d you get here?” Wooyoung yells from inside as he turns off the shower head, wrapping a loose towel around his waist.

“I only just got here,” you say, hugging your knees as you crouched on the floor against the restroom door.

Behind you, Wooyoung opens the door and a hot cloud of steam emerges from behind him.

“What are you doing here so late!?” he smiles for the first time all night, pulling you up and hugging you from behind. “Shouldn’t you be home and asleep right now?”

Damp drops of his wet hair soak your cheek and shirt collar as he buries his head into your shoulder, planting soft and wet kisses against your neck.

“I couldn’t not see you tonight,” you say quietly.

“Right,” Wooyoung pauses, lifting his head back in a scoff as the unpleasant reminder of tonight’s match crosses his mind. “That fucker’s good, I can’t deny it.”

You felt Wooyoung shiver slightly as the steamed warmth of the restroom had begun to slowly fade away.

"Uhm, why don't you go ahead and finish your shower? Get your mind off things."

"Okay," he huffs, "but you're coming with me."

—

Wooyoung, ever so gently, cranks up the heated water temperature and throws a water-safe lubing tube aside before turning his body around to face you. His wet hair falls over his forehead, his eyes darkening in desperation at the sight of your naked body leaning against the wall.

He wraps his hands slowly around your waist, leaning his face in closer as he begins caressing his lips gently against yours. He trails his teeth slowly to your bottom lip, nibbling ever so slightly as the water progressively got warmer and warmer behind him.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean your head back as he trails kisses all over you. Soft gasps begin escaping your lips as you feel him lean his body weight against you, pinning your back further against the wall as his hardened cock poked itself between your thighs. You clutched onto the horizontal shower handle as Wooyoung carefully lifted you over it, groping your ass with both hands as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

For a few moments, you both remained comfortably in this position whilst making out longer, letting the hot water pour against your bodies as more and more steam fogged the air around you. You'd closed your eyes and let yourself be immersed by the feeling of his hot lips fighting to dominate yours, his tongue tracing and circling inside and around your mouth. He traced one hand against the outline of your ass to your waist, massaging his fingers gently around your nipple. You gasped at the sudden feel of his soft fingertips against your breasts, and your continuous soft moans only further hardened his already-erect cock.

He smiled into your mouth as he began gliding his hand back down to your abdomen, nudging gently against your clit as your moans progressively became more and more desperate for him.

"I might've not been able to win my boxing match," he whispers, "but I'll sure as hell make sure I dominate the fuck out of this one."

He pulls his fingers away from your clit and begins aligning his dick carefully with your entrance. You let out soft moans as the boy begins thrusting himself into you, experimenting with different speeds as your despairing cries begged for more. You clawed your fingernails deep into his back as the boy recklessly fucked you over and over, your insides heating up as the sounds of his desperate moans greeted your ears. The size of his cock was enough to make you want to scream at him to stop, but he just felt too fucking good pounding away like this when he was angry that you wouldn't dare yourself to give in.

"Fuck," he groans, lifting one of your legs up and over his shoulder as you safely clutched most of your weight against the shower handles. The boy tried desperately to hold in his grunts and groans, but with each deepening thrust, he kept flashing the stupid grin of Yugyeom's face in his mind, irking his anger more and more as he took it out on you. This resulted in a heated, rough fucking-session, and each impending whimper and scream from your mouth only made him want to push further.

In a sudden instant, he pulled out, making you whimper in slight frustration thinking he'd finished. But fuck no, he wasn't anywhere near done.

You switch positions, and now your body is turned at one end of the shower facing away from him, his hands wrapped around your stomach and your lower back as he breathes heavily into your ear.

"Bend for me," is all he says as you obediently hunch yourself forward, placing both your arms against the tub's edges as you feel his body weight leaning into your ass.

Once he's realigned to your entrance again, he assumes his reckless fucking as he starts hitting it from the back. With both hands groped tightly against your hips, the boy holds nothing back as he fucks into you at full throttle.

He's really fucking pissed. Also, you feel really fucking good as your velvety walls lurch around his throbbing cock.

"Fuck, babe," you whimper, holding back from letting your knees give in completely the moment he finds your G-spot. "Stay right there, fuck me right there."

The tempered boy starts panting harder with each deepening thrust, closing his eyes as his dampened bangs rocked back and forth against his forehead. He could feel the heated rush of pumping blood overwhelming every cell of his throbbing member. He leaned one arm forward against the wall, the other still wrapped tightly against your ass.

You let out a final, pleasurable cry as your boyfriend triggers a hot, gratifying orgasm, your knees buckling in place as you bent and rested your face over your folded arms against the tub's edge. His groans were not far from yours as he concentrated on reaching his climax next. Finally, his knees weaken at the feel of his cum shooting through and out of your walls, a final victory that he could satisfyingly consider bringing home for the night.

"Fuck," he says, pulling you up as you rested your head against his shoulder, hot water splashing delightfully against your bodies.

"You're good at fucking people up," you smile as he bends over to leave hot, gentle kisses over your gaped mouth.

"Nah," he smiles, "I'm just good at fucking you."

—

One gentler shower later, you both cuddled under Wooyoung's covers feeling fresher and more satisfied after the night's better outcomes.

"Wooyoung?" you look up under your hair towel as he leaves gentle kisses against your forehead. "Would you ever have a re-match with Yugyeom?"

"Hmm," he smiles, toying with a finger gently against your stomach, "I don't know yet."

"I think you should," you declare.

"I don't always have to win. I have to learn to accept defeat, too," he smiles.

"Oh," you say, intertwining your fingers around his. "I hope you lose a lot more, then."

"Why would you say that?" he furrows his brows in annoyance.

"Because I like the way you fuck me when you're mad," you smirk.

"Believe me," he giggles, sinking his face into your neck, "I'll try not to lose too many matches to keep you safe, then."

You both soon fell asleep, Wooyoung satisfied with the thought that at the very least, there was one thing that even a great boxer like Yugyeom couldn't ever take away from him.

You.

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yanderefictinallove · 2 months

Text

PT. 2 Yandere Hazbin Hotel Headcanons

A/n: rosie is pretty asf

Rosie🍖🌹

She is very passive on anything negative, you have to say, like if u were in one of your fits. She would say something like, "Aww sweetie, you're just hungry, here have a finger." Ingnoring the please to go home.

She likes to dress up in the bedroom. Surprisingly, she wears lacey pretty lingere. She bites you just to satisfy her cannibal hunger, tho. Her favorite thing is aftercare. She likes the chaos, but the peace is also nice at times.

~The Darling Overloard~

🌹🍖🌹🍖🌹🍖🌹🍖🌹🍖🌹🍖🌹🍖🌹🍖🌹🍖

Vox🖥💵

He is a chatter box. He never FUCKING shuts up. He has cameras watching your every move, from sleeping to a shower.

He rants and tells you about how much he hates the radio demon. All you wanna do is go home.

He is an insecure asshole, so he always has to prove that he is better than everyone and show he is the better "lover" bc that love is one-sided.

Something I noticed is that Vox talks very fast and seems to be very snarky, and I think that he makes you agree or do things you don't wanna do. He uses his hellish talking.

Feed his ego and you will be fine....I think

~Demon Of Tv~

💵🖥💵🖥💵🖥💵🖥💵🖥💵🖥💵🖥💵🖥💵🖥

Valentino💋💵

He's a pimp, but when it comes to you, you are only for him. He spoils you, and honestly, he kinda seems out of character.

Till you want privacy or space. He trows shit and punches walls. This can also happen if he wants to record you and you refuse to undress on camera, shit, it was hard for you to get undressed willingly because, well, you were taken by force.

He can be ruthless and unbearable at times, he fucks any negative emotions out of you, weather u wanna or not.

You also get a lot of forced affection.

~The Moth Pimp~

💋💵💋💵💋💵💋💵💋💵💋💵💋💵💋💵💋💵

Velvet📱💵

Very demanding yandere, when she tells you to come you come, if she says speak, speak, and if she says put this dress on, you say with pleasure.

She loves to dress you up, especially if there is an important event. She makes sure you are matching.

You are always posted on her social media, and she makes sure that you are used in advertisements.

She definitely has a tracker on her phone so she can find you easily.

~The Backbone Of The V's~

📱💵📱💵📱💵📱💵📱💵📱💵📱💵📱💵📱💵

Cherri Bomb🍒💣

She is actually very laid back and cool. Sure, she can be forceful at times, but she still tries to understand were your coming from

She makes you drink a lot with her when you two are alone. She let's you walk around town, but not into certain parts.

She can be very gentle and cuddly, she loves to hold you though abd lay back and talk about life or afterlife or both.

She's not bad to be around.

~Cherri Bomb~

💣🍒💣🍒💣🍒💣🍒💣🍒💣🍒💣🍒💣🍒💣🍒

All done next is probably love letters, most likely...definitely

Stay tuned

Request: Open

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #yandere #yandere hazbin hotel

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leeknow-thoughts · 4 months

Text

WINTER FALLS

tw : Jack Frost!Hyunjin, mortal!reader, sub!hyunjin, dom!reader, p in v, pillow humping, praise, slight edging

Your head hurt, when you touched it you saw the blood on your hands. Your ribs hurt. Everything hurt.Your body decided to close its eyes. You felt someone carrying you for a moment before everything went black and fuzzy.

When you did come to, you were in a warm bed. You scanned your surroundings. A cozy room made of wood. "You're finally awake," a man's voice exclaims.

You look around, finding the man, "what-"

"You were in a skiing accident, you fell down the side of a mountain," he explains.

He was blonde with tan skin. Possibly the prettiest man you've ever seen. He looked familiar somehow. Like you had seen him many times in the past. "Do I know you?" you ponder out loud.

"My name is Hyunjin," he smiles, his teeth pearly white.

You'd never heard that name before. Not even in your dreams. "You look familiar," you state.

He smiles, "where you're from they call me Jack Frost," he chuckles.

Oh you definitely had a concussion. "Prove it," you chuckle.

He takes the glass beside your bed you watch as his touch turns the lukewarm water into ice. "That proof enough?," he asks.

You simply close your eyes and pray that this is a dream. "You can't wish me away my love," he sighs, "I've had my eye on you for the longest time."

"That's creepy," you blurt.

He laughs, "not like that, for the past three years you've just always caught my eye whenever I've brought snow."

"Me?" you sit up to face him.

He nods, "you."

"Why?"

"Because you're perfect, and beautiful. At least you are during the winter," he cracks a warm smile.

You recall the memory fondly as you wait for midnight. That was the third year you had waited for him to show up. You waited until midnight on the first night of winter. He would show up. He promised you he would every year.

For the past three years he would stay with you during the winter. "You changed your hair," his familiar voice rang in your ears.

You turned around and there he was, standing in your living room. "Just cut it a bit," you reply.

He smiles warmly, "it looks lovely, you look lovely."

You cross the space between the both of you, wrapping him in a hug. He was cold like usual, at first it used to bother you, now you felt comfort in his coolness. He ran his fingers through your hair. "Missed you Hyune," you murmur into his chest.

You hated to admit it, but you had fallen in love with Hyunjin. He knew it, you told him last year before he had to leave. "Been thinking about what you told me last year," he says.

You pull apart from him, looking him in the eyes. "Wish you could stay forever," you mumble.

"There is a way, but it's just," he pauses, "I don't think you'd want to do that," he smiles.

"Well what is it?" you question him.

"We would uhm," he chokes it out, "have to fuck."

Your face went blank, you'd have to fuck the Jack Frost. "I'd do it," you say immediately.

He sighs, "I know you would but I don't want to force this on you, let's just be together, we have all winter," he smiles.

You nod, "c'mon let's go to bed, I'm tired."

First day of winter. You woke up to Hyunjin cooking you breakfast, "let's go ice skating," he suggests as he watches you eat the pancakes he had made.

You agreed, you both walked to the ice rink. And of course he had to show off when he was there.

Fourteenth day of winter, you and Hyunjin had a Christmas movie marathon. Christmas with the Kranks, The Grinch, and Christmas Vacation.

Every night he would hold you close to him, running his hands through your hair.

Twenty eighth day of winter, Hyunjin took you skiing for the weekend.

Sixtieth day of winter you both went walking in the park while it was snowing.

He would kiss you every night, holding you tenderly.

Eighty eighth day of winter, the last day. You went out to the store to grab groceries to make dinner while Hyunjin stayed back in your apartment. When you put the key into the door and swung it open, the first thing you heard was whines coming from your bedroom. You placed your bags on the ground, making a b-line to the bedroom.

The sight inside was enough to make you feral. Hyunjin was hovering over one of your stuffed animals, grinding on it, completely naked. Your mouth was watering at the sight. "You couldn't even wait hmm?" you ask.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he whimpers and tries to cover himself.

You cross the space between the two of you, "no baby, keep going, would you feel better if you saw my tits?" you hum.

He nods feverishly. You quickly remove your top, undoing your bra. Your eyes trail down to his pulsing cock. Long and veiny with a flushed tip. "Mistress, please, ngh touch me please" he whines.

"Why should I little love?" you pause, taking your nipple in your hands, twisting it gently, "you couldn't even wait for me hmm?"

"Please," he whimpers.

"If you want to cum at all Hyunjin, you'll keep humping that fucking toy," you grab his jaw making him look at you.

His hips resume their movements against the toy. He bites his lip. His eyes roll back into his head. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter. You brush your hands through his hair.

"Mama, please, ngh I need to fucking cum-" he announces.

"Stop," you command.

You see the tears spill out of his eyes as he forces himself to stop his movements. "Want you to cum in my pussy little one," you grin.

You remove your pants and panties, kicking them somewhere in your room. You lean back on the bed, opening your legs for Hyunjin.

Hyunjin leaps at the opportunity to fuck you. Moving from on top of your toy, and lining his dick up at your entrance. "Such a good boy, go ahead and put it in," you coo.

He whines as he puts it in, his face contorting. Stopping once he had filled you completely. "Mama- ngh so wet," he whimpers.

"Such a good boy, c'mon fuck mommy good," you grin.

He whimpers with each stroke of his hips. His cock filled you so deliciously. The veins of his dick rubbing against your walls. You threw your head back whenever he hit your g-spot. "Atta boy, just like that, roll your hips just like that for me," you praise.

Your head fell back when he did it again. By this point he developed a steady rhythm. "Shit you're such a good boy for mommy," you praise him again.

You closed your eyes for a moment, but reopened them when you felt Hyunjin's hand rubbing on your clit. "Fuck, that's it little love, such a good boy," you smile.

"Can I cum- ngh please-" Hyunjin begs with hooded eyes.

You nod, "cum inside me Hyune, c'mon be a good boy."

He grips onto your hips as he cums inside you. You feel it filling you up, causing you to cum with him. He threw his head back, panting hardly.

"Thank you, mama-" he thanks you, "thank you for helping me stay."

#bun.writes #bunwritesskz #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x you #skz #skz x reader #skz hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #skz fanfic #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #stray kids x reader #bunskinkmas.2023

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shadowdaddies · 5 months

Note

Hope everything is good

Could I request smut with flynn

I NEVER see any fics of him

Thanks so much

Hi, hope you're doing well! Agreed there should be more Flynn content. I'm hoping we get more of him in HOFAS because he's a good character

Tristan Flynn x f!Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, drinking, reference to drugs, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, minors dni

You clutched Bryce’s hand as she jostled her way through the crowd, the air thick with mirthroot and beer. You waded your way past the swarms of people until you reached the upstairs game room. Finally finding enough space to breathe, you spotted the bar and headed over with Bryce.

Leaning against the counter, you squeezed the lime into your drink, stirring while you scanned the space. Your heart stopped, mouth going dry as your gaze locked with the most striking pair of green eyes you had ever seen. Unable to stop the blush that crept over your cheeks every time you saw Tristan Flynn, you opted for taking a sip of your cool drink.

Bryce gave you a knowing smirk, taking your hand in hers once more as she draped it over her shoulder, swaying her curvy hips as she pulled you over to where Flynn sat along with Ruhn and Declan. Ruhn’s eyes widened, the prince shooting up from his seat as he greeted you and Bryce, wrapping each of you in a hug. You moved to take the open seat next to Declan, but Bryce slid in before you could, a knowing smile painting her lips as she winked at you.

The blush on your cheeks deepened as you realized the only place to sit among your friends was a tiny spot on the couch next to Flynn. “Come on sweetheart, I don’t bite,” the gorgeous male purred with a wink.

You swallowed thickly as you took your spot next to him on the couch, warmth emanating from his toned arm that brushed yours. Green eyes pierced the side of your face, tracking the movement of your throat as you took another sip of your drink. “I’m glad you came tonight,” Flynn murmured in your ear, his fingertips brushing your thigh.

Your eyes flicked to his, locking on his gaze as a lock of wavy brown hair fell in his face, and you subconsciously brushed it away. His breath caught, and you nervously cleared your throat, muscles stiffening under the pressure of his gaze. “I’m surprised some pretty female hasn’t pulled you away by now,” you retorted, hoping to deflect his attention from noticing how nervous you were.

Instead, Flynn brushed a bit of hair back from your shoulder, leaning in so that his warm breath brushed the skin of your neck. “I’ve been waiting for you to show. Pull me away at any time, sweetheart.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you turned to Flynn, his full lips parted slightly as his tongue flicked out, emerald eyes searing into you. You leaned into him without thought, savoring the warmth as his hand tentatively moved along your thigh, pulling you closer. Your noses were touching when Bryce shouted, “get a room!” causing you to jump back and glare at her.

Everyone was watching with amusement, and you turned back to see that Flynn’s eyes had never left you. In a moment of bravery, you leaned in, savoring his scent as you whispered, “how about we get a room?”

You’d barely pulled away to gauge his reaction when the male swept you into his arms, carrying you bridal style up the stairs to his room as your friends wolf-whistled behind you. Blushing furiously, you held onto Flynn as he kicked the door shut behind you, locking the door for privacy.

Suddenly flying through the air, you landed on the plush mattress as Flynn ripped his shirt off. Your eyes glazed over as you practically drooled at the sight of his tanned, toned chest. Gods, he was unfairly beautiful, and he knew it. With a wicked grin, Flynn leaned down over your body, hands gripping your hips with a force as he dragged you to the edge of the bed.

Gasping, your legs instinctively tightened around his waist. He pried them apart with ease, settling down on his knees in front of you, your legs spread under his grip as your dress rode up, your black lace underwear the only barrier between him and your heat.

Flynn blew out a breath, the cold air hitting your pussy and making you arch into him. You babbled incoherent pleas, desperate for more as he licked and sucked his way up your thighs. Teeth grazing over the fabric covering your clit, Flynn sucked softly before tugging your panties down with his teeth.

Breathless, you managed to lift your head to see him smirking at you, tongue flicking out as he licked a stripe up the soiled fabric of your underwear before stuffing them in his back pocket. Hands held your knees apart in a vice grip, rendering your attempts at moving useless as Flynn inhaled the scent of your arousal, a pleased look on his face before he dove in.

He licked your clit at an impossible speed, eliciting sounds you didn’t know you could make as you writhed under him. Moving to pin both of your legs with one arm, Flynn brought a finger to swipe the slick of your pussy, his tongue sucking on your clit harshly. You let out a scream as his finger dipped inside you, curling against your wall at a rapid pace. The coil inside of you was tightening quickly, vision fading in and out as he added a second finger, the pressure too much to handle as your eyes rolled back. Shaky breaths left your lips before you screamed Flynn’s name, feeling his smirk against your clit as he continued to pump his fingers into you.

Trashing against the sheets as he worked you into overstimulation, you begged Flynn, “please fuck me, I need you inside of me now.” As if he didn’t hear you, Flynn continued his assault on your pussy, your hands finding his chestnut curls as you held on to him, your only tether to this world as you shook against the bed.

You reached your second high, feeling a rush of new arousal flooding Flynn’s face as you came down, muscles going lax as he climbed over you. A cocky smirk graced his lips as you brought a hand to his cheek, drawing him closer. His lips melded with yours, the soft warmth and taste of you on his tongue as he ground against you.

“Please,” you begged for a countless time tonight, bringing your hand to palm his hard cock through his jeans. Flynn threw his head back, instinctively thrusting into your hand as you worked him, unbuttoning his pants as he shucked the restrictive fabric off, leaving the both of you completely bare.

Licking your palm, you brought it down to lightly grip his cock, stroking his length as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He gasped into your mouth, a smirk now on your lips as you threaded your free hand through his hair, pulling him as close as you were able. “Please, fuck me,” you begged, thumb brushing over his tip as you lined his cock at your entrance.

Flynn’s head dropped into your neck, breathing heavy as he turned putty in your hands. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, holding you as he bit down on your neck and thrust deeply inside of you. Low moans escaped both of you as he settled, and you turned to press a kiss to his earlobe, tugging in silent request for more.

Flynn began thrusting at a relentless pace, hitting impossibly deep inside of you each time as you moaned and screamed under him. You were panting, vision blacking out when his cock finally twitched inside of you, and you rolled your hips against his as he neared his own orgasm.

Licking his thumb, he brought the finger down to your clit, your back arching as you released a lewd moan at the feeling. Your third orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, rolling through you repeatedly as you were vaguely aware of Flynn cumming as well, his wet seed splattering on your stomach.

You moved to get up and leave, but Flynn stopped you, grabbing a damp cloth, cleaning you up before he laid next to you. Pulling the covers over the both of you, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, mumbling sleepily into your ear. “Thank you for tonight, beautiful.”

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leezlelatch · 8 months

Text

Two Star Crossed Lovers

Copia x F!Reader - Forget about this? I hope not! Welcome back. I finally managed to pull up my britches and finish this. This was my first foray into Ghost fanfiction, and not only did it introduce me to a lovely community of writers, but helped me connect with and inspire many of you. I hope this is a worthy finish. And I hope you stick around to see what I do in the future. Thank you. Enjoy.

The wood of your bedroom desk is hard as you rest your chin against it. A sigh escapes your lips known only to aching hearts. You almost kissed Copia. Cardinal Copia. There, so brazenly upon his desk, his biretta on your head. And you think, perhaps, he was going to kiss you too. His utterance to be gentle with his heart echoes through your mind, and you want nothing more than to race back to his office and tell him yes! Yes, you will cradle his heart in the space next to your own because he deserves to be so sweetly and tenderly loved; your silly, beautiful Cardinal.

“What am I supposed to do, Portobello?” You ask your rat companion.

Portobello looks up from his very special pillow resting on the desktop and squeaks in your direction as if the answer is right in front of you. You roll your eyes and rest your cheek on a fist, grabbing a delicate morsel for your favorite boy to nibble on. Portobello rubs his little head against your fingers before snatching the small nut as if it were his first meal in hours, devouring it quickly before huffing in your direction for another.

“You’re right after all,” you say, handing him another. “I can’t just…stay away, and I can’t pretend like nothing happened either.”

Portobello rolls off his pillow to perch before you, standing back on his little legs in a T-Rex pose that makes you giggle. His little hands work to clean off his face, needing to look presentable for the grand speech cooking within his small mind about love, and loss, and birth, and death, and joy, and sorrow. An incredible feat of rodent thinking to get his beloved mother to confess her undying devotion to his father. Here it comes, Portobello Mephistopheles Cosimo Copia is ready.

“Squeak!”

You smile at your baby and scratch his little head. You wonder what it would sound like if rat noises were detectable to the human ear. Either way, there is a level of communication between you that you think is special.

“I know, I know. I already told him that I would come see him today.”

You pick up your phone and click on your most recent text with Copia, smiling softly in amusement:

You glance out the window at the dreary winter day, the tree which stands so proudly outside devoid of life as its branches flutter in the chill. Copia is going on tour soon, you think with a despondent sigh. You need to talk about what happened, you promised him you would, and yet a part of you fears that the heated moment in his office was just that...a moment. Nothing in his text betrays that he is nervous to see you, or is thinking about your almost kiss. You get up and begin to pace, Portobello's little head swiveling left and right as he watches you move.

You know your Copia better than anyone. It's the mantra in your head. You imagine him in his office, picking up his phone and then sitting it back down, the wood of his chair creaking as he fidgets, a hand coming up to run trembling fingers through his hair before falling into his customary nervous tick, forefinger and thumb rubbing anxiously together, the leather of his glove worn and discolored at the tips as he awaits your reply. And then the sigh of relief, the tension leaving his shoulders as he drops his head to the desk surface once you have agreed to lunch.

You stop your pacing to giggle softly, hand to your mouth as you grin around your knuckles. What would it be like? To be Copia's. You do not crave the light, you yearn for the cool, and gentle darkness found in the depths of his eyes. You ache for his embrace, all encompassing, like a blanket of stars across the night sky. His kiss that can snuff out any candle and drive out the hypocrisy of a false God. Darkness is not frightening, or bad...it is a companion. The Dark says you are not lost. You are found. Copia found you.

Resolved, you throw on a sweater and some warm socks, sufficient for walking across the courtyard from the residency to the offices. Portobello is tucked into the neck of your sweater, his head peeking out as you close and lock your door behind you. You live on the third floor in the northwest corner of the building which not only holds the dormitories, but also a recreational facility remodeled on the whim that Papa Emeritus III needed to maintain his "strong physique." But the add-on turned out to be beneficial for everyone not wanting to be caught outside in the Swedish cold.

The kitchens and mess hall are also found within the residency hall, convenient for anyone - Copia and yourself - to sneak out of bed for a midnight snack. But your personal favorite is the library, more specifically, the plush chair in front of the sprawling granite fireplace. The mantle is often decorated with a garland of herbs picked from the gardens to promote a cleansed space for study, thought, and escape into the fantasy realm of books.

The building which houses the clergy offices and classrooms is but a short distance away from the residency hall, their rooves nearly touching. Overall, the grounds form an unfinished rectangle with the church completing the furthest side. The abbey looks like it's falling apart on a good day although it maintains a quaint and reverential charm. Gardens full of vegetables, herbs, and the sweetest flowers pepper the landscape, affording a beautiful and tranquil walk between buildings. The church looms over it all with grotesques of Lucifer and his princes gazing out on the horizon, not the congregation; a reminder of their infernal presence, and deference to free will.

"Off we go, baby boy," you whisper to your rat as you make your way down the mustard runner which stretches down the expanse of the corridor.

The walls haven't been painted in years, and you're almost sure they were white once. A potted plant that is probably fake sits on a chipped console table splattered with pop culture magazines. A couple feet down, a green rotary phone lays off the hook on a wooden desk next to a phone book and a chair that has seen its fair share of booty calls. Slowly, things around the Ministry are improving the more money is made by the Ghost Project, like the recreational facility. Right now, there are just...more important things to attend to first before tackling the quite outdated Sibling dormitories. You find a warmth to the off-70s look, like a home that has been well-lived in, and well-loved.

The trip downstairs is quick, polite hellos not usually required once people see the very large rat poking out of your striped sweater, and you quickly make it to the bottom floor, pushing open the creaking doors to the crisp air outside. It's a little chillier than you anticipate, goosebumps erupting across your skin, the wind whipping through your hair. You hold Portobello a little closer. Your eyes are on the prize, the door to the offices opening and closing as Siblings and Clergy alike walk in and out bundled in coats and scarves. You weave around sleeping hedges and soil thirsty for spring, the fountain which captivated your attention the previous day looking just as chilled as you feel.

"Hej!" A voice calls to you as you pass one of the moving puffy coats.

Spinning around, you shiver, squinting a little as you are slow to recognize the Brother that greets you by name. Sandy hair hidden under a toboggan, grey eyes looking you over behind black framed glasses. Oh, he's from my Latin class, you think down at Portobello, sure your child can read your thoughts. It is your bond.

"Hi. What's up?" It sounds as awkward as you feel saying it. Lucifer, it's cold. Did you make a face? He's looking at you funny.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, his eyes narrowing in on the lump that is Portobello, now hiding his face into the warmth of your skin.

"I'm good." I'm suffering.

"Okay...well, I was just wondering..."

****

Copia takes a sip of his coffee, a startled “Ai!” jumping from his throat as the scalding liquid coats his lips and mustache. He blots his mouth with a napkin, grumbling about shaving the damnable thing off before staring distastefully down at the brown liquid in his mug, Portobello’s little face printed onto the side of the white porcelain.

“Still hot…” he mutters, pushing back from his chair to move over to the little coffee station he keeps on a small table in the corner.

He has a pot, a couple mugs (although he hasn’t used any except this one you bought for him since), and his favorite dark roast placed next to little packets of hot chocolate he keeps especially for you. Kneeling with a groan, Copia opens the mini fridge under the table to pull out a container of milk, generously pouring it into his coffee. He tests the now pale liquid with a tentative sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction before rising.

Copia slowly steps through his office, patting his belly in a soothing gesture as he walks past the front of his desk, his eyes glancing over the many ledgers which require his attention this morning. He moves close to the window which overlooks the courtyard of the abbey. Frost lingers on the old panes, poor insulation allowing freezing cold air to hit his skin. He shivers a little and takes a sip of his coffee, sighing softly while watching the movement of the unholy congregation as they chat and scurry between buildings.

He holds the cup of coffee with both hands in an attempt to warm them with what little heat the drink has left. Copia hasn't stopped thinking about you, and to be perfectly honest, you are the only thing his mind is able to conjure these days. Every night he lays his weary body into bed, wondering what it would be like to draw you close to him, whispering sweet nothings as you fall asleep in each other's embrace. Perhaps sometimes he wakes from a blissful dream, his arms wrapped around a pillow, to face the painful realization that you are not there with him.

Last night was particularly difficult.

Your almost-kiss. Copia could strangle Terzo for interrupting the very moment he has yearned for since your midnight meeting in the kitchens some months ago. You felt so right in his arms, so entirely his as a blush crossed your cheeks and you smiled at him, that special smile which told him that you were willing to carry the burden of his old heart. Copia touches his fingertips to his lips, closing his eyes as if he can still feel your breath against them. He smiles sweetly, humming with the thought of you.

His eyes snap over to find the clock, and they inadvertently follow a trail from the wall to his desk to his cellphone sitting atop it, the black brick of a thing silent, but carrying your messages from this morning. How Copia agonized over texting you for lunch today, unsure of your response after the previous night. Should he have mentioned it? No, that's a conversation best held face-to-face. Copia wants you to feel safe and comfortable in his presence, and whether or not you choose to pursue a conversation about last night's activities is entirely up to you. He can wait. He will wait. And if you never return his affections, he will be glad to hold even a modicum of your attention.

As his gaze returns to the window, Copia makes a small harumph while taking in the frost on the ground. It’s supposed to be a cold winter, more so than usual, and the annual fight to keep the fireplaces going in these drafty corridors will begin anew. Copia leans a little closer to the window, his breath fogging the glass as he tries to make out a figure below near the fountain. He swipes at the glass with his sleeve, grumbling in annoyance, his eyebrow arching.

“Who in Lucifer’s name isn’t wearing a coat in this weather?” He murmurs to himself, trying to squint. It’s with a sickening drop of his heart into his gut as he realizes it’s you. You turn just enough that he can make out your features as you speak to…who is that? Copia leans so far into the window, his nose smashes into it, the cold shocking him back. Your image is blurred by the outline of his nose, and entirely fed up, Copia opens the window, practically hanging out of it as he peers down at you and the boy with narrowed eyes, his pupil nearly nonexistent in the expanse of white.

The boy stands close to you, too close, head tilted down to speak to you as you gaze up at him with that perfect innocence, that - well, actually you look fairly annoyed. The Cardinal huffs out a laugh as he watches your brow furrow, your feet shifting as you scoot a little farther away. Ah, my precious, The Cardinal thinks. What he does not like, at all, is how you’re shivering. He can practically see how red your sweet nose is from here.

Copia is gone from the window and out of his office door in the span of a few moments once he has gathered his thoughts, has reigned in the raging jealousy burning in his heart and lungs. There were more important things to attend to. That being, dragging his piccolina inside and getting her warm. Oh, you’ll hear it. The last thing he was going to do was let your health be disregarded so. Also, the Cardinal scowls, the boy should know better than to keep you out in the cold for an insipid conversation.

Siblings quickly move out of the way as the Cardinal, red cassock like a slash of blood against a winter’s day, glides through the doors to the courtyard. His eyes are on you like a hawk, his step firm as he approaches you from behind. His lips twist in satisfaction as the boy’s expression drops when his eyes find the advancing Cardinal, even going so far as to take a very big step away from you.

****

You watch with burgeoning fascination as fear flickers across your classmate’s face, and he moves swiftly away from you, throwing out a quick goodbye as he heads toward the residency. You tilt your head to the side, momentarily thrown off, watching his retreating back with barely contained relief.

“Sibling.”

Copia’s voice has you whipping around so fast, you feel Portobello slip down your sweater. Your hands come up to instinctually cup the lump underneath, and you watch Copia’s eyes flicker down to it with amusement before sharpening as they return to your face. You’re wracked with shivers from head to toe, eyes widening at the Cardinal’s rapidly hardening features.

“I believe we had an appointment,” the Cardinal continues, motioning with his head to follow him before he turns and heads back inside, not even looking to see if you’re following. You know better than not to, and make your way after his rapidly retreating figure. The warmth of the office building is a relief to your chilled skin, however your hands begin to burn, red and dry from the cold. You adjust Portobello, returning him to the neck of your sweater, his little feet resting under the lip of your bra. Copia doesn’t stop until he reaches his office, opening the door and gesturing inside with cool politeness as clergy members alike walk back and forth down the corridor.

You enter with trepidation, unsure of what to expect, your eyes falling on his half-filled cup of coffee sitting on the desk next to your Cardinal’s mountains of paperwork. You feel bad that he had to run all the way outside to fetch you, but your brow furrows with mirth when you notice the nose shaped smudge on the window. Was Copia watching you? Your cheeks heat. Was he jealous you were speaking to the guy from your class? Your heart gives a little pitter patter at the thought, and you have to school your features as you turn on your heel to face Copia. He closes his office door behind him, and then his hard expression drops in an instant.

The man is on you in a second, his gloved hands gripping your shoulders as he practically lifts you from the floor to deposit you by the fireplace. “Mio tesoro prezioso, dov'è la tua giacca!?” He frets. Copia falters for a moment, his hands out and fingers wiggling as he looks about the room for something, anything to wrap around your shoulders. With a determined frown, Copia hastily begins to remove his cassock, ripping the fascia off his waist to tangle on the floor in order to reach the buttons.

“Copia, this isn’t necessary,” you try to say, looking slightly alarmed with the ferocity in which he pulls the blood red material from his back to wrap around you.

“What isn’t necessary, amore mio, is your insistence to walk around outside without any coverings! You could freeze. Oh, your povere mani,” he groans, voice cracking as he reaches out to cradle your hands in his own, thumbs trying to work at your red skin to create friction. “What if you get frostbite, eh? What will your Cardinal do then?”

“...I’d imagine you wouldn’t be happy,” you murmur, eyes fixated on your hands.

“Certo.”

Copia pulls off his gloves, the leather looking stretched and wrinkled when not tight against his large, beautiful hands. You admire the dark hair on the backs of them, a small smile flitting over your features that broadens as he slides the gloves onto your own. The leather is so warm, wrapped around your hands like a hug, albeit a loose one that makes the both of you smile. Your eyes meet Copia’s and his expression is soft, freckled cheeks tinted pink as he gazes down at your hands, a slow smile creeping across his lips. He appears almost entranced by the sight of his gloves on you, his own fingers squeezing the material and trying to ensure they are on as tight as possible.

Copia catches your eye and blushes harder, clearing his throat, although he doesn’t let go of your hands. “Why were you outside, huh?” He murmurs, angling you a little closer to the fire. His eyes take in your entire form as if looking for any injuries brought on by the frigid weather. You can’t help but admire him in his black slacks and clergy collar, a sight you’re not very used to seeing. Copia is very rarely not pristinely dressed in his vestments when working, and when he isn’t, he prefers soft lounge clothes. Out of the hundred things you imagined was under his cassock, the black business casual outfit was farthest down the list. Although the hint of suspenders underneath is doing more for you than the fire.

“I was coming to see you, like we planned, but then that guy from my Latin class-,”

“Ah, he is a classmate? What eh…what did he want?” Copia interrupts you, his eyes falling to the crackling flames as his lips twist in displeasure. It makes you smirk, an eyebrow raising as you take in the tense set of his shoulders.

“He was asking me out,” you say as casually as possible.

“Che cosa!?” Copia’s head snaps back to attention so fast you’re worried it’ll fall off his neck, and you even put your hands up in surprise. His eyes are wide, the white nearly narrowing into a slit. This all happens in a matter of a moment before his expression melts, the circles under his eyes deepening as all color drains from his face and his gaze drops to the floor. “Forgive me. I…shouldn’t question what you do in your personal life. That is…eh, not cool.”

“Copia, I’m joking. He asked for class notes. That’s all,” you soothe, fingers coming up to gently touch his cheek. His lips part in a small gasp and his eyes flick to your fingers and then to your face.

“Hmm, not a nice joke,” he says softly, although there’s a small smile playing on his lips.

“No, it isn’t,” you agree.

There’s a beat of a moment between the two of you, your gloved fingers gently sliding across his cheek, rough with age and very warm. You notice a few flyaway hairs and brush them back behind his ear. Copia closes his eyes, blowing out a long breath through his nose. His hands cup yours and bring them to his chest, his fingers squeezing the leather wrapped so lovingly around them.

“We need to talk,” he whispers, his eyes opening, reflecting a heady desperation within the green and white depths. “But I am afraid, topolino.”

“What are you afraid of?” Your voice is equally quiet, your body gravitating closer to his. You reflect on the past several months. From meeting Copia in the Ministry kitchens to saving the rat who chooses this moment to climb from your shirt and settle on your shoulder. Copia chuckles softly, scratching Portobello fondly behind the ears.

“I’m afraid of losing this. I’m afraid of being alone again. I’m afraid of another decade roaming these halls at night like a wraith because I can’t be alone with my thoughts. I’m afraid of being cold again,” Copia sucks in a breath, blinking away the tears that are rapidly filling his eyes. “I’m afraid of losing my love.”

“Hmm,” you let out a small laugh, feeling the burn of tears behind your own eyes. “So all those ‘amores’ were real.” You give him a wobbly smile as he laughs a little, tears finally dropping and sliding down his cheeks.

“Sì, sì. I am not too subtle, eh?”

You take a steadying breath, your fingers gently wiping away his tears which sit on his gloves like rain droplets. “Copia, you could never lose me.” Your voice breaks slightly. “Knowing you has been the most beautiful experience of my life. And I want more of it. I want…,” you trail off, and turn to look at the rat on your shoulder, a smile brightening your features. “What do you say, ‘Bello? Should I kiss your daddy?” You hear Copia make a noise between a gasp and a squeak as Portobello’s little paws come up to clean his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You turn and wrap your arms around Copia’s neck, drawing very close to him. His hands flail at your sides for a moment before settling at your waist, his eyes as wide as dinner plates as he blinks down at you. “What do you say?” You whisper to him, your lips inches apart, breaths intermingling. “Amore?”

Copia smiles. Wide and crooked and radiant. He’s practically shaking in your grasp, and laughs a little incredulously before his eyes flutter closed, long lashes kissing his cheeks. “I say,” he murmurs, accent heavy and deep. “Ti amo cosi tanto.” And then his lips descend on yours.

His hands slide around your back and he crushes you to him, chests flush as he thoroughly kisses you with deep, long strokes of his tongue. He explores your mouth as if he is trying to imprint your taste onto his tongue. Months of pent up frustration breaking in a moment of unbridled passion on a cold winter’s day. Copia whimpers softly into your mouth, and at this point you can’t tell if the tears on your cheeks are his or yours.

You break away with a gasp, but Copia needs you close, unable to truly pull away just yet and cradles you against his body, his hand along your jaw as he presses little kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your neck. Anywhere his wandering lips can reach. He whispers sweet things to you, words you can’t understand but know all the same. Copia smooths your hair from your face and just gazes down at you with complete adoration, his head tilting to kiss your lips softly again - once, twice, a third time.

You giggle softly in a dreamy state that makes him smile that smile again, the one that reaches his paints. “Have something to say, piccolina?” He says softly.

“I’m pretty speechless…”

“That would be a first, hmm?”

He kisses you again as you begin to roll your eyes, and you sigh into the bliss of it all. His thumbs rub circles into your cheeks, his kiss unhurried and lingering. You press a hand to his chest and push lightly, and you pull away with a smacking noise as a confused frown crosses his features.

“I nearly forgot!” You say, smiling up at him. You take a deep breath, the next words from your mouth feeling so easy and so right, and something you should have done a long time ago. “Copia, I love you too.”

Copia’s arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you with him as he brings the both of you to the floor, his arms and legs locking you into a hug. His nose nuzzles at your cheek as he holds you so incredibly close, a boyishness to the older man as he radiates joy and warmth. “Ti amo, ti amo, I love you,” he whispers over and over again into your ear, his mustache tickling you. “You have given me everything. Oh, my world is so bright. Ah, my heart.”

Your fingers slide up his back, and you lean into his embrace, closing your eyes and enjoying the glory of your newfound love. Everything, finally, is going to be okay. Your life is going to be okay…no, it’s going to be more than that. It is going to be glorious. Happy. Full of love. Full of Copia.

There’s a sliding sound and Copia’s paperwork goes crashing to the floor in a small explosion of paper. You both look up, Portobello having at some point during the last few minutes left your shoulder and made his way to Copia’s desk. He sits in the center of the desk, looking innocent as can be.

“We should have another one,” you say, smirking as you look at your outraged Cardinal. He gives you a withering glare. “I’m just saying, he might-...” Copia cuts you off with a kiss.

And you definitely recommend co-parenting a rat.

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #Cardinal Copia #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv fanfic #ghost #ghost bc #copia #papa iv #poorly translated italian #portobello the rat #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader

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witchersmistress · 10 months

Text

Punishment Time

Hello my darlings!! Here is something special for ya!

Trigger warnings: BDSM, bondage, restraints, p in the v, oral sex both m and receving and giving, riding, bodily threats, bodily fluids, voyerisum and dedrigation

Word count: 3.9k

As you walk down the long corridor, your heels clicking on the back tile floor, you find the 2 men in question.. Walter Marshall and August Walker. Walter leaned against the wall with a cold indifference, August was sitting on his cot. Syverson was the only one who wasnt down here but that mother fucker was on thin ice himself.

August went to speak, but you brought your finger to your ruby red lips and shushed him “You are not allowed to speak” turning on your heels, making your way over to Walter’s cage. Eyeing him through the bars, casually wrap one hand around them “ My my” you purr “ you look good on the other side of these bars” crossing his arms and releasing a sigh,” Words whispered through prison bars lose their charm” his chilling british accent gliding over your skin, like a chill on a cool autumn day. Relishing as the goosebumps work up your arm, to the side of your neck and down your spine with a sharp zing. Cracking your neck to relieve some tension, he may be the quieter one of the three but he was just as dangerous and deadly as they were. August let out an amused snort as he walked towards the bars and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Moving to the side, opening the black hutch that sits nicely against the wall, that housed a number of assorted goods with their own spaces nestled in the red velvet lining.

From crops to whips, floggers, chains, various kinds of body clamps and butt plugs. Everything that made your inner dominatrix purr with delight. “I think the fuck not” August piped up from his cell “Nope no, no thank you ma’am” clucking your tongue at your silly pet “oh sweet boy” pulling a ballgag from its spot in the hutch and walked towards him, casually running you fingers across his cage as you approached him “What makes you think you have a choice?”

Grabbing his restrains just outside his prison, you motion for his hands, with a rough sigh he agrees and put his hands in the slots, he is going to try and over power me, that's his typical style, but i've learned in these last several years, attaching another chain to the restraints before locking them in place around his wrist. He pulled his hands back and fiddled with the secondary chain as I opened the door. “What is that for?” Walter asked, I cocked a brow at him as I turned and responded, leaving you back exposed to August, just like he taught me to never do. “Well it will control and restrain his movements, he may have been sealthy but he wasn't quick enough, with the touch of a button on the side of his cage, that chain tightened and halted him in his tracks. “What in the actual hell” August hissed as he pulled on the restraints, causing the chain to tighten and be pulled into the floor, the more he pulled the short his leash got, turning to see him on the floor, absolutely seething with rage.

Taking the ball gag in your hand, I waited “Look at you such a good boy, on your knees for me” he was pissed, his eyes were hard, Walter laughed “Wally, don't you start, your punishment will be far worse.” he stopped and went back to observing. Kneeling so you were face to face with Walker. Tilting his head up with your index finger, smiling at him as he, his eyes, the anger and lust flaring in his irises, he was pissed but he was turned on. “Good boy” you murmur, he opens his mouth to argue with you and you pop the ball gag in and secure it behind his head. Now he was beyond angry, looking him up and down slowly, with his hands bound in front of him and his mouth bound in silence, he was delectable. His breath short and heavy as he tried to calm himself, the bulging biceps begging to rip free from his button down shirt, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and his thick cock was hard in his black slacks. Sitting back on your heels, you enjoyed the sight before you. It wasn't often a powerful man like himself could be brought to his knees and caged like a wild animal, but he broke the rules.

Carefully navigating from sitting on your heels to sitting on your ass, thighs and knees pressed tightly together as you tip off your heels gently tossing them aside “What's the matter? Can’t handle it?” his eyes narrowed and he let out what sounded like a grumble low in his chest. The hairs stand on your arms and the back of your neck. It's a love-hate relationship with these men. Grabbing the ends on the tight black skirt, dragging it up your thighs till it bunches at your waist leaving you in your red bottomed thigh highs and black lace garter belt and matching black thong. Fiddling with the thin strap of the thong. Grabbing it and letting it go. Walter was groaning in the background but you chose to ignore him, his punishment later.

Dragging them slowly down your legs, till they were dangling around one ankle and directly in August's face. His pupils dilating and contracting with lust and anger, like he was torn unsure of what he wanted, did he not want to get free or did he want to break free and fuck you so hard that you forgot your own damn name. Both ideas had their appeals but for his punishment, he would remain restrained, spreading your legs open so he could get a good look at what he cant have, watching him struggling to free himself was an absolute power trip. Keeping one hand on the floor to support yourself, while the other one creeped down the front of your torso, over the bunched skirt and down to your soaking wet core.

With 2 fingers you separate your lips for August to get a better look, dragging your middle finger through your center, inside your aching cunt. Letting out a few soft whimpers as you circle around your clit. His breathing became faster as he watched you play with yourself. Reluctantly pulling your fingers away, cleaning them off and shifting so you were back on your knees, moving to a standing position and walking past August hitting the release button on the chain. He went to move “ Tsk tsk tsk” pushing him back down to the ground with your foot. Undoing the restraints so he could move his hands but he was still attached to the chain on the floor.

Moving away from him you cast a glance at Walter who is sitting on the bed with his hard cock in his hand “Don't you dare play with yourself” he grumbled as you walked away. Sitting on the chest at the end of the bed, you cross your legs and beckon August forward with one finger, he began to rise to his feet, shaking your head and clicking your tongue, “ On the ground, crawl” He grabbed his tie and throwing it over his shoulder as he began to crawl on his hands and knee towards you. Drunk on the power this gives you, you take advantage. Leaning forward as he approaches, you grab him by his tie and tug him up to a kneeling position. Reattaching the cuffs and removing the chain, and grabbing his tie, “Come pet” pulling him along behind you towards the back wall where the floor had slopped, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders and down to his wrist, as you moved to lock in each wrist, pulling off the shirt and discard it to the floor. Making sure he was secure before stepping back.

Pulling the lever and raising his arms above his head, looking up at his broad chest, his pale skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Reaching down, you pull at his belt, undoing it and sliding it from his pants before dropping it to the floor. Walking back to the hutch, you grab the 29 inch, black leather flogger and walk back over to him. His eyes widen in surprise, dragging the flogger up his chest and back down again before pulling it back and flogging him, he jumps back at the sensation, his abdominal muscles spasming at the sensation. Giggling with delight, you do it again, his look becoming less amused by the minute.

The tent in his pants is telling another story, licking your lips, you unbutton his trouser, pulling out his large bulge and gripping it firmly. What sounded like a hiss came from his caged mouth, releasing his thick erection from the confines of his boxer briefs, the rosie head of his cock pointed straight at your face, the head glistening with pre-cum. No matter how many times you've seen it, it still takes your breath away. Licking your lips looking up at his eyes, his pupils so large you could barely see any signs of that beautiful blue color. Opening your mouth and just hovering over the tip of his cock. you take him into your mouth, and he releases a deep groan as you flick your tongue around.

A small amount of salty precum slides into your mouth, mingling with your saliva. using it to further wet his shaft. Exploring the long, steely muscles with your tongue, I flick around the silken skin at the head to the piercings just below. lapping a line up the tight cord beneath before traveling further, tonguing the slit. He bucks slightly when you do that, so you do it again. And again. I feel his thighs tighten. He struggles against his restraints and fails miserably, his breath is heaving and strained against the ballgag. Watching him struggle was an intoxicating and powerful feeling.

Taking him in your mouth slowly, taking you time, teasing and slow as the head of his cock breaches your lips. The veins below his skin pulse under your attention. Halfway down the solid muscle, you hit the first piercings , gagging slightly. Sliding back up his erection, even after all this time you still get caught up on his piercings, I swear that motherfucker is laughing at me, I uncover you teeth and gently drag them across the top of his cock, he tries to jerk back, gripping one of his thighs, I dig you nails into his firm flesh as he stills. Scolding him with your eyes, he glares at you.

you immediately dive again, this time getting a tiny bit deeper. He hisses. A moan leaves you. A rumble of your enjoyment reverberates around his cock, provoking his pelvis to thrust upward. After a few bobs of your head, you get a rhythm, sliding down with pressure and dragging your tongue along the lower knot of skin on the withdrawal, while he jerks against the chains that bind his hands high above his head. Bracing yourself on his thighs and taking his cock, all the way down your throat, gagging slightly and tears forming as he piston his hips, his groans become grunts. His muscles tighten, contort. Then he explodes in a violent rush, flooding your mouth with his cum, shaking and pulsing through the moment. You swallow, but it's thick and powerful shots of hot fluid. You love the indecency of it, the virility. The rawness. You love bringing him that kind of pleasure.

Giving him one last suck, he hissed around the gag as you popped his semi hard cock out of your mouth. Sticking out your tongue to show him that you did indeed swallow everything like a good girl. He groaned and pulled against his restraints, slowly rising to your feet, you bite and kiss your way up his chiseled torso, standing on your tiptoes to reach his scruffy face, kissing along his jawline before nipping at his bottom lip. He was trying his utmost best to stay still but that wild beast that was beating beneath his cold and calculated edges was thrashing to break free, trailing your hands up his chest, then his neck and slowly to the back of his head, within a few moments, the gag was undone, stepping back, watching him pant you grab a bottle of water and bring it to him. Drinking it greedily, causing it to spill down his chin and chest.

you pull the bottle away and watching him catch his breath he says “You've had your fun now let me out” throwing you head back, laughing wickedly, “Oh no darling, I'm not done with you yet.” sliding his black slacks all the way off, just leaving him in his black boxer briefs with his cock hanging out was a sight you'd never forget. Stepping back till your knees touch the back of the cool leather sofa, pulling your bunched up skirt from around your waist till it was a puddle at your feet, undoing the buttons on your shirt, letting it join your skirt on the floor. Unclipping your bra and sliding the straps down your shoulders before letting it fall free. “Fuuuck” you heard Walter say from behind you, while August just stared on. Grabbing a handful of your breast you bring them up, giving them a squeeze and massaging them before letting them drop back down. His cock was now standing at full attention as you meander back to the hutch.

Bending at the waist, you shake your ass at them while you retrieve a different set of restraints, a toy and some lube from the drawer. Standing up and turning back round with said items, August was the first one to speak up “Absolutely not, don't even think about it” he shifted trying to get away from you. Walter howled with laughter. “ Mr. Big bad CIA man is afraid that she is going to shove that up your ass” August sneered at Walter “Do you even hear yourself, you sound so stupid” more laughter erupted from Walter as they continued to go back and forth with one another. Putting the toy and lube down, I moved to stand it from August and unclasped the handcuffs and placed them under each wrist restraint. Release the lever and lower his arms and take off the wrist restraints leaving the handcuffs in place, as you move back to the leather sofa and spread your legs wide when you sit. August stretched his limbs before walking towards you and dropping back to his knees in front of you. Taking one stocking covered foot and dragging it up his arm before resting your ankle on his shoulder. He turned his head and began kissing a trail up your leg, beginning to hum, you just watching him. “What are you feeling right now?” he asked softly, looking around the spacious room, flicking your eyes to Walter than back to August

My breathing escalates. “Confined.”

“Trapped?” he volleys back. My mouth tightens because while a part of me wants to say yes, the truth is that I don’t.

I feel… safe.

Protected.

Treasured.

“One day, you will realize that you are not trapped in a cage,” he murmurs roughly. “You are in your church where I am your God, and you are your equal. I’m not a cage, little one, I am your sanctuary.” your mouth dries. The tip of your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip and swiping across his lips. Just a brush, but enough to light a spark. An answering growl arises as you ask, “Does that make me a goddess?” He pulls you impossibly closer, his lips now pressed against yours lightly. “Little one, you rule the fucking kingdom, and I will gladly bow to you.” letting him ensnare your lips between his in a vicious kiss before pulling away, your breath left behind. He goes to recapture them and growls when you evade him once more. Keeping your mouth dangerously close, whispering against his tongue, “Prove it.” “Mmm,” he hums, the sound of a beast growling from the depths of darkness. “I do enjoy being on your knees for you,” he murmurs, nipping at your lips playfully. This time, he’s the one to evade you, instead biting and licking until your bristling with need. He only teases for a few moments before his mouth is crashing on to yours. The inferno in your body escapes from your throat and ignites our connected lips. Without thought, you arch into him, desperate to feel more of him against you..

your eyes roll as his tongue laps up your cunt, circling your clit and spearing into you opening. It’s too much—too good. I force myself to find something to focus on, to draw out the pleasure. My gaze locks on Walter, it rivals the husky moans falling from you lips. But I lose focus, and it all fades to black as his teeth join in, sucking and biting before easing the sting with his tongue. “Fucking nirvana,” he murmurs before suctioning you clit into his mouth. I cry out, pleasure consuming me whole. And he’s right. The way August eats pussy is nirvana. It doesn’t take long before his tongue lashes at you clit in just the right way that an orgasm explodes out of me before I can process it. Your screams echo in the open space as he swallows everything you have to give him. Clamping your thighs around his head as you ride out the waves of your orgasm, his mouth is still on you but moving slowly, his tongue lazily answering each pulse ofmyour flesh with one of its own. Running your fingers into his hair and grabbing pulling him off when it becomes to much, he looks up at you, his face glistening with your arousal.

Leaning back to catch your breath, he stands from his kneeling position, hands still bound in front of him, he sits on the sofa next to you. Looking at his thick hard shaft, you cant help but want to give him on last punishment. Signaling for him to raise his arms, you slide under them so they are behind your back as you straddle his massive thighs and fist the base of his shaft before rolling your hips, gliding your pussy up to the tip, then down to the base again, pulling a deep grumble from the monster just lurking beneath the glassy surface of his blue eyes.

Closing your eyes as you rubs your clit against his shaft, “Just stay like this,” you whispers, repeating the motion again and again until your certain he was going lose the battle against the monster and snap my neck like a goddamn toothpick. Positioning the head of his cock at your weeping entrance. You slow lower yourself until just the head of his cock is seated inside you.

Refusing to sink all the way down on his shaft, he growls at you “Patience, tell me what I want to hear and then maybe i'll sink a bit lower” bringing yourself down, slightly lower than you was previously sitting on him. He rolled his head back with a groan “ alright, im sorry for not listening to you and being a stubborn jackass, now if you dont not sit down in the next three seconds i will break free of these cuffs and fuck you like i hate you” your spin snapped straight as you sunk the rest of the way on his hard thick length. Taking a moment to adjust to his size.

“I swear to fucking God, baby if you don’t move right fucking now—” slapping a hand over his mouth, and gyrating your hips as you speak “Shh, baby,” you whispers, a slight grin curling her lips. The look in his eyes tells me that you have won. But I already knew that from the minute he followed me down here.

“I’m in control, Walker. Not you. Me.”

That's when I heard the tell tale sign of metal snapping his hands come from behind my back. One hand went to your throat and the other one when to your hip, grabbing your jaw he made me look at him while he held your gaze

“Ride me, baby. I want to feel your pussy grip every inch of your cock.” “Fuck, I can’t,” groaning, your body still working to adjust to the sheer size of him

. “You have five seconds before I rearrange your organs,” he threatens. It does the job, kicking your ass into high gear and immediately rising up and sliding back down slowly. After a few different readjustments, you finally found an angle that allows me to completely seat yourself on August without feeling him come up your throat. With this new angle, he hits that perfect spot he was abusing moments before., your nails digging deeper as you movements quicken. August draws me in, bringing you body flush with his. One arm curls around you waist while the other hand tears through you wet hair, yanking you head to the side and giving him access to devour you neck. I cry out, you hips moving frantically and erratically as his teeth bite the sensitive skin below you ear. you nipples scrape against his chest, sending delicious shivers straight to you pussy.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons into you ear. “Your sweet little pussy is gripping you cock so fucking tight.” The arm that was curled around you waist is now wedging between our bodies until his thumb reaches you clit. you head kicks back as I let out a feral cry of you own. you eyes are rolling, and I can hardly breathe past the orgasm curling in you stomach. It’s too much. Too powerful. your movements grow choppy and uneven as your core tightens unbearably. “August,” I grind out through clenched teeth, sweat forming on your forehead. I don’t know what I’m asking for, but I think I know what I need. The salvation he so steadily promised me.

The hand in your hair grips tighter until strands are ripping from your scalp. His fiery eyes catch mine. “Let me feel you fall in love again,” he whispers. you can no longer hold on. your vision goes dark, the pleasure binding and dynamic as the orgasm rips through you, tearing everything in your body to shreds. you fight, your willpower, and your goddamn heart. screaming so loudly, your throat grows hoarse. “Fuck!” August shouts, and your vision clears enough to watch his own head kick back, the veins in his arms bulging and traveling all the way up to his neck.

He bares his teeth, a roar that can only come from the depths of Hell vibrating throughout the room. His cock becomes impossibly thicker before he grabs ahold of me with both arms, forcing me to still as he spills inside of me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grinds out through clenched teeth, each word punctuated by a thrust of his hips. your pussy milks him dry, wringing out every last drop until you're impossibly full of him. His seed nearly bursts from you when he pulls out, the thick semen streaming down your legs like the raindrops on a window. Our heavy breathing and the pounding of your heart is the only thing left to listen to. Slowly climbing off him feeling his cum leaking down your thighs, you look over at Walter, " Now Wally, it's your turn"

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #august walker imagines #august walker #henry cavill x you #henrycavill smut #henry cavill characters #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill thirst #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall

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ultra-raging-ghost · 4 months

Note

Just saw your post about demon trio GAAAHH they are my Roman Empire. The moment when Mouse approached Bad when he was brain resetting in a little patch of flowers he placed down, how close they shifted to each other, it felt so ALIEN and and and cool and I’m so NORMALLL. And when Tina splashed herself with perfume and when she had that role play moment when (idk if it was canon or a character) she was SO OBSESSED with going to heaven, I think she was born a demon, and SOMEHOW acquired religious trauma along the line probably as a child. Born a demon left at an orphanage door idk and they made all the kids go to church or something and Tina was OBSESSED because it gave order and meaning to her life but she was a demon and-

Ok right questions. Sorry, gah I love demon trio. I need an arc where Mouse and Bad get together and try to help Tina. Love how Bad hides the fact he’s a demon not because he hates himself for it (maybe a little) but because he’s a recognizable wanted fucking criminal. Where was I going with this again?

Do you have any thoughts on them? ;v; (sorry for rambling in the ask D: )

AAAA I LOVE LONG ASKS LIKE THIS

okay i TOTALLY agree with you have so many thoughts, i was literally just thinking the same thing last night!!! The absolute difference in upbringing as far as the demons really shows in how they act and i have sooooo so many thoughts about it!!!

So first off, i dont really know how old mouse is in terms of her lore but as far as BBH is concerned hes fucking weird and is constantly alluding to his existence extended FAR before the universe even existed, hell even time and space, we dont actually know what the fuck his deal in full is actually!!! What we do know is he was summoned to Earth roughly eleven to fourteen thousand years ago!

Mouse gives us not as much age-wise from what ive heard but she has expressed that she considers two thousand year olds to be "baby" not quite baby but like VERY young! (I have a personal HC that bad's summoning let loose a new age of demons, maybe not all at once but very quickly so mouse would probably be over ten thousand years old)

Tina gives us absolutely NOTHING she doesnt like talking about her demon ancestry aside from hiding it (when bagi said mouse taught her how to smell demons tina quickly panicked and doused herself in perfume, etc etc. nothing super explicit from what ive seen but im relatively new to her lore). But i personally have a hc that shes roughly three thousand years old, coming into existence around the Middle Ages in 1000 CE. That might seem extremely young but honestly thats what im going for for her!!! super extremely young!!! and born around the time when Catholicism was popular!

In my mind, they all have very much different reasons for acting the way they do and im soooooo ill about it

As a BBH main i have the most information on him so ill be talking about the lore i know from him first before getting into the other two lovely ladies!! So what we've heard from BBH is that he prefers to "hide" his demonic features and "blend in" with humans as much as possible if he can, obviously he doesnt do very good at this but hes old as shit and very powerful so like who's gonna tell him??? From what we've heard of his lore, Bad is the cause of a LOT of minor and major disasters in history; Mt Vesuvius (who he named after a dead lover) exploding, the plague taking out most of europe (which he was a plague doctor for), and alongside other major things theres some minor events as well! Small wars he's been present in such as the HG war he was in with cellbit very recently, various other wars he eluded to that he recalled "blended together" because there were so many, that time he went to medical school for 15 minutes just to do brain surgery on that president on a boat.... he also knows a lot of major historical figures and hes been EVERYWHERE, we actually have a rough timeline of where he's been and when just based on who he knows. He knew not only the fucking guy who created the study of viruses, HIS ASS KNOWS ISAAC NEWTON..... and i think once he alluded to knowing goddamn adam and eve, maybe even being the snake in the goddamn garden. Considering its cannon to his lore that he was the angel locked beneath the euphrates river i wouldnt be surprised at that point.

All this to say: Bad has been present for and had an active hand in a LOT of major and minor disastrous historical events, and hes repeatedly talked about how people would chase him with torches and pitchforks - even referring to that activity as "therapy" and said thats the reason he doesnt believe in therapy, because it hurts and doesnt do anything for him except get him running.

Bad does not personally feel shame about his demonic features, he's used to hiding them (or at least intending to.... hes doing a bad job at it) for his own personal safety, because his role as >>>>A) a demon and B) the fucking ferryman of death<<<< brings him a LOT of negative attention. Negative attention that he's had to deal with ALONE for a majority of his existence, up until about fourteen thousand years ago.** (**A major event i feel caused a new era of Demons, we will talk about it more through the post)

Moving on to Mouse; i mention bad's role as a demon having an affect on negative things around him because i honestly think that applies to all or most demons. I don't know much about mouse's lore, but i do know shes proud of her heritage to some degree, is unashamed to tell people shes a demon, and will even actively teach people things about her species (Bringing back Bagi again - We know in cannon Demons smell like Sulfur, its been stated pomme and dapper and bad and mouse and tina all smell like it, and we can assume empanada also does or is starting to).

I, to some degree, think the beginning of her existence was much more accepting and inviting, while bad dealt with his negative experiences alone, and tina had her own upbringing we'll get into, Mouse came into existence during a "Dark" age, when bad was summoned to earth there was a wave of the newest generation of demons being spawned into this world(not in a "father of all demons" way but more in a "large expressions of magic often lead to a ripple affect of more magic" way). A lot of shit probably happened, im not insane like badboyhalo im not gonna research what happened but theres probably some kinda major event that happened. Demons born around that era probably had some kind of support system or way of existing that was underground enough for them to not be wiped out, but they had enough freedoms that mouse and others probably felt comfortable enough to express demonic traits.

I like to think this was the era of her life that had the most influence over her existence, that she was created with pride and will ALWAYS have that pride in her species, it may be dampened but it will never go away fully!*

*I like to think shes experienced maybe some shame over her species when it comes to minor historical events that shes contributed to by just being present, but it very rarely lasts longer than the event itself.

Tina, as far as im concerned, is the youngest of the demon trio aside from their kids. I kinda write her akin to Amethyst from SU, her existence was very recent and she was alone with very little or no initial support system, she was brought up thinking she was "wrong" in some way, her teeth and nails were too sharp, and she has horns and sometimes her skin has a purpleish hue to it that make other people think theres something wrong with her. She has a VERY obviously christian/catholic upbringing which was brought to light recently in one of her conversations with foolish. She's always felt shame about her species and she probably would have continued if it wasnt for mouse and bad, but ESPECIALLY if it wasnt for Empanada.

I have my own thoughts on the demon babies that we'll get into later, but after gaining her daughter who is very much going to be a demon (two demon parents, obvious demon child lol) i cant help but wonder how tina's planning on pushing aside her feelings of shame to make Empanada feel welcomed and loved regardless of her species?

Tina's very young, of course shes seen some major events in history but shes never been raised in community, she probably didnt even know thats just something that comes with the horns until very recently! I can imagine bad and mouse joking and giggling about that town that they stayed the night in that caught fire the next day that they got chased out of a couple hundred years ago, and i can imagine tina being confused as to why they found that amusing, is that normal? Tina's always had minor disasters follow her, her home town very likely burned down or got sick following or preceding a major milestone in her life, and thats probably continued to happen over the thousands of years shes been alive! Being a demon brought up in a very anti-demon environment, whos to say she even knew there were other demons out there really? She was a curse from god, she brought nothing but poor luck and sickness to her household (which i agree with you she was probably residing in an orphanage), she brought it everywhere she went. I cant help but ask myself "did she feel relief that it wasnt just her, or even more shame finding out this is a common occurrence for demons?"

Now thats most of what i have regarding the parents but i have a few notes on the demon kids. I think all the eggs have some sort of demonic features, obviously bads a huge influence on all of them and they care about him as their tia so i draw most of the babies with horns and tails of some kind, but i am particularly focusing on Dapper, Pomme and Empanada, the three demon babies whos actual official parents are the demons.

I dont have anything too specific for them, but i do believe they will grow up to have an attitude towards their species akin to how Mouse acts.

Unlike other demons or even their parents growing up, they have a support system and parents to explain to them things that will happen to them as they get older! They'll have someone to come back to, who will explain "Yes, that village got the plague because you walked through it and the sulfur you spread supernaturally brought illness and bad luck. No, its not your fault in particular. No, you shouldn't stop going into towns and villages, its the 21st century and if they cant stop the plague by now then they were gonna die anyway"

When they inevitably get shunned by humans for their species, they have someone to come back to to let them know that that wasnt right, but its a part of what happens to people like us. Maybe some day we wont have to experience that anymore, but right now the most important thing is to not get caught, and come home to your Mama so we can give you bandaids for your knees and treat your wounds.

I'm so very invested in how the demon babies will be brought up by their parents, i hope we get more demon lore in the future </3

This turned into an essay, hope thats alright njkbhjvgchfg i have so many thoughts on them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#qsmp #asks #q!badboyhalo #q!mouse #q!ironmouse #q!tina #qsmp pomme #pomme the egg #qsmp dapper #dapper the egg #qsmp empanada #empanada the egg #demon trio

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peterman-spideyparker · 2 years

Text

Mr. Russo (Bonus Bit!) (Billy Russo x Reader)

Author’s Note: Heyo! So the first part of this fic got mad love!!! Thank you to everyone who has read! Since you guys enjoyed it so much, I've decided to post the thousand-ish words I cut from the original to serve as a little bonus. Enjoy! :)

Summary: Having given into your feelings for Billy, you two have fallen into a very comfortable relationship that you have decided to keep on the down-low.

Warnings: Fluff, soft!Billy having heart eyes, smut (P in V, crazy office sex, dirty talk, Billy being a dom?--am I using that right?), cursing

Other Characters: Frank Castle

Word Count: 1,022

“Paul Meadows sent over the contract all signed,” you say as you open the file folder, getting the paper to where he needs to sign.

“Took him long enough,” Billy sighs, scribbling his signature on the line.

“Well, it might have helped that I sent an email gently reminding him that Anvil reserves the right to end a business relationship with a party if we do not here back within a timely fashion—even if they’ve put down a significant deposit. Oh, and they we can charge extra for their negligence of a proposed agreement due to the sensitive nature of the cases and other organizations that seek us out.”

Billy looks up at you astonished.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to send an email like that, and you know it,” you chuckle.

“I know, but I love how ruthless you can be sometimes.”

“Just the life of a kick-ass secretary,” you sigh with a smile as you collect the folder to put with the active files.

“Want to grab some dinner tonight?” he asks as you finger through the file cabinet. “Italian, maybe? We could do Fratello’s.”

“Mm, that sounds delicious.” You close the file cabinet and lean against the cool metal. “But you see, I have plans.”

“Plans?” he repeats.

“Not fancy plans, but plans that are gonna keep me here for a while.”

“Tell me what they are so I can talk some sense into your boss. I know he can be a hard-ass, but a proper one-on-one will let me tell him that your man needs you tonight.” There’s humor and teasing in his voice, but a sensual darkness grows in his onyx eyes, making you blush.

“It’s Boss’s Day today,” you elaborate, knowing that any sort of lying and deflection won’t be any use to you this time. “I was gonna stay late tonight to get even more done so you don’t have to worry about them during the day.”

“Is that why my coffee was waiting on my desk this morning with my favorite kind of bagel, and like, half the work there should be?”

“There’s a chance,” you hum with a soft smile and slight tilt of your head.

“Tell you what,” he says as he gets up, leaving little space between your bodies. “You give me some files back, I’ll make us a reservation for around 8, and I stay late to help you. What kind of boss would I be if I let the best secretary do more work that she should? You should know I’m a giver.”

“Just trying to give a little back, that’s all.”

“You already do plenty of that,” he says, taking your hand in his and gently rubbing the back with his thumb. “Can we call it a date?”

“Yeah,” you say with a small smile. “It’s a date.”

Billy moves in to kiss you, but you duck your head to the side just as he stops himself.

“Later,” you whisper.

“Later,” he agrees.

You moan a deep, primal sound as Billy kisses your neck, deeply rocking into you in the empty office. You don’t have much you can grasp onto, but Billy makes sure that you are secure between him and the wall. This is the third location in his office that you’ve worked on—from his chair, then his desk, and now finally the wall, the bricks lightly scratching your bare back.

“I like stayin’ late,” he grunts, placing a hungry kiss on your lips, one hand carefully moving up your side to your breast while the other holds onto your waist with a bruising grip.

You laugh as you run your fingers through your hair. “This is more fun than what I usually do,” you sigh, nipping at his earlobe.

“I’m gonna make it better,” he breathes, putting a finger between your bodies and quickly rubbing you, making you see stars as your brain and any coherent train of though begins to quickly melt into nothingness.

“Billy . . .”

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans as you squeeze him for everything he’s worth. “You feel so good around me like that. Your pussy’s so sensitive, huh? So sensitive from havin’ me fuck you all over my office and makin’ you cum so hard, huh? Isn’t that right, baby? You cum so good for me. Fuck.”

You have no idea how Billy is forming coherent sentences right now. Billy’s thrusts become more erratic and you scrunch his crisp white shirt that hangs wide open as he finally gets closer to his end after holding back for so long. As he works to fuck the hot ropes of his cum deep inside of you, someone kicks his door open.

“Freeze! Hands where I can see them!” a gruff voice calls, shining a light in your faces. You both halt your movements to look over, and the man puts the flashlight and gun down, looking away from your compromising position.

“Bill?” the voice asks. It’s Frank.

“Hey, man,” he responds, clearing his throat. Billy doesn’t embarrass easily, but you can tell in the dimly lit office that a little flush of embarrassment graces his cheeks.

“Hi, Frank,” you add.

“(Y/N),” he acknowledges.

“What are you doing here?” Billy asks.

“You must have accidentally called me,” he says, still not looking at you as the two of you adjust yourselves into a more presentable manner. “I picked up my phone and it sounded like you were in trouble. Now it’s clear that it very much wasn’t the case.”

“Sorry to make you rush down here like that,” Billy says.

“Don’t worry about it, brother,” he says, holstering his weapon. “So, uh, how long has this been a thing?”

“A while,” Billy says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Well, mazel tov,” Frank says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll see you both later.”

Billy and you laugh after Frank leaves the office, and Billy holds your head in his hands, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I guess that’s our cue to go to dinner,” he smiles.

“I guess so,” you say, pecking his lips.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore

Fic Taglist (if you commented on part one, I’ve tagged you!): @spontaneousleo @leasriver @famishedsights @skybridgerton @cherryhardy @sinfulpieces @vmaorange @random-writings16

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fluff #billy russo smut #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader fluff #billy russo x reader smut #billy russo x you fluff #billy russo x you smut #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fanfiction #ben barnes #billy russo punisher #the punisher #frank castle #the punisher netflix #the punisher disney+

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safety-writes-noms · 2 months

Note

Ok, so firstly, I absolutely LOVE the dynamic between Callisto and Oliver. Just, Oliver trusting his big bro so much, and Callisto caring and protecting his little bro is just *mwa*.

Second (the actual question, lol), does Callisto ever figure out that he wasn't gonna hurt Oliver when he nomed him? And if he does, does it come up again? Like - does Oliver get in more trouble, and Callistos just like - "agh gotta save my baby bro!!" Nom.

Just overall, any info about them you're willing to give me I would absolutely die for. I love them and their dynamic so fricking much, and the fact that its platonic, tbh just makes it better. So many people focus on the romance part of vore, that I just get so excited when I see something like this!! So so lovely!!!

YES!! While i do think that the romance part of vore is pretty cool i find that there’s not a whole bunch of platonic stuff out there either.

While cal is dealing with the existential dread of knowing the full extent of his inhumanness, he’s also trying to figure out why there’s an increased number of reported attacks. theyre dismissed as bear attacks, crazy accidents, etc, and he’s getting suspicious as to why they’re all getting written off so quickly.

Also, despite promising oliver that he’ll stay, cal still keeps his distance because his instincts start acting up around oli and he has no idea what to make of them. He’s terrified of himself and what he could possibly do to his family.

Ethel comes up with family counseling, which is basically just one on one Cal and Oliver. It’s horribly awkward and it feels weird for both of them because they used to be super close and now neither know what to say.

it takes a while and they try to mend their relationship although there's setbacks and some misunderstandings that need to be cleared up. Callisto also is reluctantly convinced to delve deeper into his not so human parts of himself if only to find out if he's genuinely a threat to his loved ones.

surprise surprise, he manages to find out that 1. he doesn't really want to murder his little brother or his family (yay!) and 2. now that his brain has finally caught up with the rest of his biological instincts, he's slightly more open to exploring the rest of what he can do. slightly. he's not overly enthusiastic but its a start, at least.

meanwhile Oliver is struggling with nightmares and though he knows that Cal really wasn't trying to kill him (he was informed immediately after Cal figured it out) its kinds hard to get rid of the fear. it's weird for him since he desperately wants his brother to stay and he wants to spend time with him like he used to, he just can't get over it and it's so frustrating. he's struggling and while he is getting better slowly, it's still impacting him. his trust has been shaken though. on bad days he can't take being in enclosed, dark spaces and he hates the warmth of his blankets twisted around him at night.

(I got sidetracked sorry :v)

in the future, Cal will become secure enough with his identity to accept the fact that he gets weird urges every now and then and they're not the murderous sort. Oliver gets frustrated with his slow improvement and just decides to confront his fears head on, hoping that it'll just solve the problem all together and just asks Cal to nom him.

Cal is incredibly hesistant, but agrees nonetheless since Oliver says it'll help him. plus his instincts are going nuts in his head and while he has the will to ignore them, he can't deny how content he'd be with finally satisfying them. it goes okay, but a definite improvement from last time and Oliver manages to overcome some of his more irrational fears. still some setbacks but overall, not the worst. they're still improving :)

#extreme cuddling #sfw vore #sw answers asks #Callisto and Oliver #nonsexual vore

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boliv-jenta · 5 months

Text

Empty Nester Husband x wife reader.

Not a RPF, just a character inspired by this look.

Warnings: self doubt. Dry spell. Unprotected P in V sex.

Summary: Your husband tries to breathe some life back into your sex life.

That Fur Coat

“Are you sure about this?” He tucked the tight white vest back into his jeans from where it had popped out during his last pose.

“Yes! You look great! Your wife will love it.” Mandy the very upbeat, and very young, photographer reassured him.

With a slight grumble under his breath, he tugged the heavy fur coat back on to his broad shoulders, ignoring the nagging ache in the base of his spine. The rest of the photo shoot went smoothly. Not that he agreed with any of Mandy's outfit choices. She assured him he looked handsome, sexy even. All he saw was an ageing guy trying to look cool.

A week later when the photo book arrived, he was glad his wife was out. Taking the parcel from the delivery guy, thanking him and closing the door, he ran upstairs and into their bedroom. He sat staring at the innocently wrapped parcel like he had the school backpack that held the first nudie mag that his friend snuck out of his father's stash. His teeth troubled his plump bottom lip. He wondered what madness had overtaken him to think this was a good idea. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he did hear his wife enter the room.

If you were honest and kind to yourself, the years hadn't been too bad on your figure. You could see all the parts your husband loved or he did love. That was a grey area at the moment. There was no doubt in your heart that he loved you. He was such an honest and affectionate man. His face held so much expression, and there was no way for him to hide his feelings for you. In turn, you still love him as much as you did when you married young and had your children. Both of whom had now left for college. Leaving you and your husband in a big empty house with all the alone time you could want. Maybe that's how this dry spell started. Sneaking around to have sex when the kids were around was fun. Now that you have ample opportunity, it feels like an expectation. Now that you had time and space, things should be hotting up, right? Rolling your eyes at your reflection, you held up the silk Teddy to your body. You felt like a walking cliche. The middle-aged housewife trying to spice things up. No, that wasn't a cliche. Marriage takes work. All aspects of it. If dropping fifty bucks on some naughty lingerie to prance around in did the job, so be it. Your husband's car was still in the drive when you got home. The house was quiet when you opened the door. Assuming he was busy in his new home office, you crept upstairs to put away your purchases.

“I wasn't expecting you home.” He gripped the package on his lap as he stood quickly.

“I only wanted a couple of things.” You shrug trying to casually place your bags on your dresser.

“I see.” The nerves in his voice worried you.

“Are you alright? You sound upset.” You step toward him as he sunk onto the bed.

Twenty something years together and he still haven't learned to hide things from you.

The lines around his eyes deepened as he laughed. “Yeah. I just…I got you a present. It's stupid. I just should have talked to you.”

“About what?” Your hand thread into his without you even realising.

“Our little dry spell.” He gave your hand a squeeze.

It was your turn to laugh. “You mean the thing I spent over two hundred dollars on buying scraps of material that barely constitute underwear?”

“Two hundred? Why? You know seeing you in my old t-shirts does it for me just fine.”

“It hasn't lately.”

“I know. That's on me. I've been in my own head. Our sex life has always been great even when we had to put cartoons on for the kids and fuck in the utility room. It's just been so long since we could just be us. I guess I put too much pressure on it.”

“That pretty much sums it up. You always know the right thing to say.”

“I wished I'd known that before I did this.” Tearing open the package he handed you a black book with ‘For My Darling Wife’ etched in gold on the front cover.

“What's this?” You smiled.

With an exaggerated huff he dropped his face into his hands. “Just…look.”

The pages were filled with glossy photographs of your husband in all sorts of sexy outfits. You'd always thought he was sexy but the persona he took on in the photographs took your breath away. He reminded you of the hot tempered teen your husband once was. The dark look on his face made it look like he was ready to devour you.

“Wow. These are…”

“Stupid. I know.”

“...hot.”

“What? You like them?”

“Why wouldn't I? You look sexy, Baby.”

A bashful smirk played on his lips. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Maybe you could throw on a white vest and jeans while I slip into my overpriced scraps?”

In the end it did matter what you wore. You both ended up naked. The two of you curled up together as he gently thrust into you from behind. Barely half his cock could press inside you in that position. It was still enough. He took his time stretching you around his girth, his finger giving your clit long drawn out strokes. There was no rush, no worry of interruptions. Just the two of you stoking each other's bliss. When he felt you getting closer, his pace quickened.

Pulling his hair you teased in his ear. “Are you going to fuck me like a fur coat wearing rockstar?”

“It depends. Are you going to take it like a skimpy lingerie wearing slut?” Any self conscious concerns he had about his body melt away as he rolled you on your front and watched his cock disappear inside you. He might be older, not old, but it didn't mean he couldn't get the job done. The screams of his name as he drove his cock home proved that. A thought occurred to him that hadn't in years, he pulled out and jerked his load all over your ass. “Fuck. Now that is worthy of a picture.”

A playful swot to your ass made you giggle until the cum on the swell of your ass dripped down between your cheeks caused you to hiss.

“Cold?” He flopped down next to you absently drawing shapes on your bare back.

“Hmmm. Worth it.” You bite your lip at him.

Cupping your face, he teases your lip out with his thumb only to suck it in between his own teeth. A gentle bite is soon soothed by a swipe of his tongue.

“Let's never go too long without doing this again. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. At least I have something to keep me company if we do have another dry spell.” You look past him to the book on the side table. “I can't believe you did that for me.”

“You know I'd do anything for you.” Rolling on his back he pulled you onto his chest. The light sheen on sweat making you stick to him didn't bother you. It was nice to revel in him again. The touch of his smooth skin. His scent.

“Anything?” He hums as you kiss his chest. “Do you think you can get a hold of that fur coat?”

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #more esquire photo shoot horniness

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albertdabuttler · 1 year

Text

Be My Lover | K.H.

MASTERLIST

fandom: 80s

pairings: Kirk Hammett x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut… Drinking but not getting drunk, jealousy, nothing happens with the other guy, possessiveness, dirty talk?? public sex kinda, fingering, p in v unprotected, looooots of kissing, giggly after sex Kirk.

summary: You thought going to a club to fill a void would help, until you’re ditched and caught dancing with another man.

WC: 3.6k

gif by me!!

A/N: who else loves be my lover by la bouche?

———————

11:13PM, June 6th, 1996.

Clubs weren't ever really your thing.

Like who the fuck wants to go out, wait in a line for an hour and when you get in, everyone forgets about personal space and it reeks of sweat, alcohol and weed.

A friend you met recently had invited you to a club to have 'fun,' and you didn't want to let her down.

"Hey!" She called, running up to you with open arms, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"How are you?! Were you waiting outside for long?" She asked.

"I'm good, thanks for asking. And no, I was on the list apparently." You shrugged.

"Ugh, you're so lucky you're dating a cool rockstar who can get into whatever club he wants... I wish I had a boyfriend like that."

You laughed, "I don't even know that I'm on these lists until I actually go to the club. Sometimes it's fucking weird as hell 'cause I've never even heard of most of them." You stated.

"But what about you, Sara? How are you?"

"I'm good! Someone offered estacy but I wanted to wait for you to take it." She winked.

You chuckled, "Oh, you didn't have to do that. I wasn't really planning on doing anything crazier than getting wasted."

"That's fine." She laughed.

"Also, I am so sorry to do this... But I met a cute guy...so I'm gonna go talk to him." She whispered, "I'll catch you later though!"

"That's fine, bye!" You smiled.

There was no fucking way she just invited you to a club only to ditch you. God, what was your problem with making all these terrible friends? Maybe it was the close contact to Kirk and the rest of the band. But you felt selfish for thinking that way...

You spotted a bar near the middle of the club so you made your way to it.

"What can I get for ya?" The barista asked.

"Could I get an extra dirty martini with Tito's?" You requested as you sat on one of the stools.

"Sure thing!" He smiled, turning around to make your drink.

What an upbeat guy, you thought.

A minute passed and he handed you your drink, moving to serve any other people at the bar.

Spinning in your chair towards the dance floor, you spotted a guy staring at you.

He raised his eyebrows at you and smiled, before walking towards you. You quickly turned back around.

Please god save me.

"Hey, beautiful."

You grimaced at the corny line.

"Can I help you?" You said politely.

"What are you doing all alone in a club like this?" He looked you up and down.

"Uh, my friend invited me but she ditched me for a guy." You answered truthfully.

"That's not very nice. How about you finish your drink and come dance with me?" He smirked, sitting on the stool next to you.

You were bored out of your mind and didn't want to sit at the bar and look like a depressed, lonely loser, so you agreed.

"Sure." You forced a smile.

A couple minutes later, you had finished your drink and were on your way to the dance floor, the guy following close behind.

You liked the song that was playing, and instinctively began subtly nodding your head to the beat of the song.

Dancing wasn't really a skill you had, so you just swayed your hips in hopes that no one would notice your horrible attempt.

You looked around the room for the guy you were with when suddenly you felt hands on your waist.

Pulling away and turning around, you were looking up at him.

"I have a boyfriend. Just an FYI." You took his hands off you, awkwardly chuckling.

"So? I have a girlfriend. It's okay to have a little fun." He moved closer.

"We're not doing anything. So don't try it." You responded.

He smirked, resting his hands on your waist.

It felt odd, you really missed Kirk. You hadn't spent time with him in almost a month because of all the technical work business shit he had to deal with to release the Load album.

So you pretended it was Kirk's hands on you.

The two of you swayed to the music, his hands running up and down your sides and as pathetic as it was, you actually pictured Kirk behind you. Running his hands along your waist and hips, whispering stupid shit he thought of to make you laugh like he always did.

You opened your eyes, literally catching on fire and burning your eyes at the hottest sight in human history.

A man in an all black outfit, chain necklaces, short black, curly hair, and a lip and nose piercing greeting random people in the club.

Your movements halted at the sight of him, causing your partner to stop too.

Grinning enough to make your cheeks hurt, he finally turned his head and spotted you, his face lighting up like a kid in a candy store.

In that moment you realized how he was seeing you, his grin slowly faltered and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Oh, fuck," you mumbled to yourself as Kirk made his way to you.

"Hi," Kirk smiled as he approached the two of you.

"Can we help you?" The guy asked.

"Yes sir," He smiled, showing that adorable dimple. "What's your name?"

"My names Diego." He answered.

"And who's this lovely lady beside you...?" Kirk smiled to himself at the sight of you.

You were about to answer before Diego replied.

"She's my date." He said possessively

"She's your what?" Kirk kept smiling, cocking his head to the side with his eyebrows furrowed. You felt yourself getting nervous.

"We were just dancing." You replied for him.

"Yeah." Diego agreed.

"I'm sorry," Diego interrupted, "but who are you?"

Kirk turned to you with a look that said 'You could have done so much better.'

"I'm Kirk. Kirk Hammett." He smiled politely. You could tell he was holding back from strangling this asshole to death.

"Oh, you're that Metallica guy, right?"

Kirk pursed his lips, nodding his head in slight annoyance.

"I like your music. But if you'll excuse me, I'm going to dance with this one." Diego tried to walk away.

"She's my girlfriend, dumbass. Why do you think I came over here?" Kirk got impatient.

Diego was about to respond before Kirk grabbed your wrist, "Now if you'll excuse us though," he said, leaving Diego there astounded.

"Where are we going...?" You questioned.

He turned and gave you a dirty look, "You, shut up."

"What the fuck did I do?" You scoffed.

Kirk didn't reply and you took that as a sign to actually shut up. This wasn't like him at all, you had no idea what came over him or why he seemed so pissed off.

Finally you found yourself being led into a hallway, and you saw the bathrooms at the end.

He pulled you through the door, leaning against it and crossing his arms. The bathroom was big and fancy, just like the club. Black walls, the stalls were fully enclosed, the sinks had golden faucets and there was even a little counter where one could touch up their makeup. You leaned on it.

Thankfully you were the only two in there.

"What were you doing with that guy?"

"Dancing." You replied, annoyed.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because, you've got a boyfriend," he gestured to himself, scoffing.

"Oh my god, Kirk. What's going on with you? We danced for like five seconds before I saw you. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that you didn't turn him down. And he's a piece of shit." He replied.

"Okay? I was bored. My friend ditched me." You said.

"Bullshit."

You clenched your teeth, "You can't really tell me who I can or can't dance with, because you fuck groupies.” You poked him in the chest, “Highly doubt you'd turn down a chance to have sex." You seethed, thinking you hit him where it hurt.

He chuckled, "I do turn down groupies. For you. Because I actually love you and care about you."

You stood there frozen in place before coming up with a response.

"Listen to me. I missed you Kirk, I really did. And you haven't called at all, so I was...starting to get lonely. I came to hang out with my friend to feel better but she just took off, and then this guy came up to me, so I couldn't just turn him down." You explained.

"I haven't seen you in two weeks, and haven't been with you in over a month. But look, and I know it sounds pathetic... When I was dancing with him," you lowered your voice, "I was pretending like it was you." You said, looking to the floor embarrassed.

You saw his feet step directly in front of you. Looking up, he hid a smile. "You were pretending it was me?" He said with a kiddish giggle.

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up..." He said, his smile fading as he looked at your lips.

Feeling hot, you couldn't help but blush as he was moving closer. Every time he was about to kiss you felt like the first time. Like he'd never done it before. Like each time he kissed you, you would forget what it felt like.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he warned, just then giving you a soft peck on the lips.

Once he pulled away, he took a step back and looked you up and down.

"You look really pretty, " he said, his eyes lingering over your breasts for a little too long.

You just wore a short simple dress. Nothing special, it just showed some cleavage.

"Sorry I didn't call... I was really fuckin' busy with the album. You know how it is... But I really missed you." He whispered, his face inches from yours as he had you trapped, his hands resting on the counter by your sides.

Something poked your tummy, both of you looking down.

"And so did he," he chuckled, looking back up to you as he pressed his lips onto yours for the second time.

This kiss got hotter a little quicker, his hands moved to the back of your thighs to pick you up and set you on the counter.

One of his hands rode up your thigh, under your dress and you felt him tug on your panties. He stopped the kiss for a second in order to focus on taking them off.

"Kirk, wait,"

He stopped and stepped back, "Are you sure we're not gonna get caught?" you said, pulling your panties all the way off because he left them in an uncomfortable position.

Kirk took that as a queue that he could continue. "Who cares? I want us to get caught. I want that guy to know who fucks you the way you like it." He kissed you once more, pushing his tongue into your mouth and drowning out any other words you tried to speak.

His hand moved back up your thigh, quickly finding your cunt and he used his thumb to rub circles over your clit.

You let out a gasp and rested your forehead on his shoulder, your hands gripping the fabric on either one.

As he massaged your sensitive bud, his other hand came up to start unbuttoning his own shirt.

"I made you this wet didn't I? Was it me or the other guy?" He huffed.

All you could do was whimper in response. He was right, only he could make you feel so good you lose a grip from reality.

"Hey, answer." He pulled his hand away, the other softly grabbing your jaw to look at him.

"Me, right? Only I can do this to you." He smirked, pressing a kiss onto your cheek like he didn't just say the most disgusting thing ever.

"Yes, Kirk," you sighed, "you made me like this."

Kirk smiled softly, just then slowly pushing two of his fingers into you at once. You closed your eyes, feeling Kirk watching your expressions.

"Feel good?" He asked, picking up his pace and resting his other hand on your lower back.

"Fuck yeah," you replied, tightening your grip on his shoulders. His fingers curled up into just the right spot, causing you to reach up and place kisses all over his neck. You stained his skin with prints of your lipstick, occasionally leaving bite marks here and there.

You heard him chuckle to himself. He knew your body so well, he knew exactly what reactions you'd have to certain things. Hell, if he was being honest, he was only using his hands just for you to kiss all over his neck, later letting everyone in the club know that he was yours.

"God, Kirk... Feels so good," you whined, resting your forehead on his bare chest. He smelled good too, he was probably wearing an expensive cologne and it just made you wetter.

"Fuck, I wanna eat you out so bad..." He whispered above your head, making you shiver.

"When we get home." He finished, pumping his fingers in you at a quick pace, enough to get you there.

"Kirk, I'm almost—"

You couldn't even finish your sentence before he pulled his fingers out.

Groaning in disappointment, you looked up at him to question why.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" You looked at him with attitude.

His face moved closer to yours, "'Cause you danced with another guy." He smiled, slowly sucking your juices off his fingers, one at a time.

"Not a reason to be a dick." You crossed your arms, looking away to avoid getting flustered.

"Yeah but definitely a reason to give you dick," he joked, beginning to unbuckle his belt.

You immediately looked down, almost reaching to help him but stopping yourself to avoid looking desperate.

"Tell me I'm the only one you want, the only one who can make you cum so good you forget about anyone else." He spoke desperately, pulling his pants and boxers down just low enough to free himself.

You didn't reply, only taking in his erection. His cock was gorgeous, it had a slight curve upwards that helped him hit your sweet spot.

"Did you hear what I said?" He said a little louder.

"Yes. Yeah Kirk," you quickly met his eyes.

They were dark with lust. "...only you can make me feel good... You're the best I ever had." You reassured him with a smile.

He sighed contently, spitting on his hand and then jerking himself before pulling you off the counter. The movement was sudden, so you held onto his chest to bring yourself back to balance. You stared at his body, the black shirt still on him although it was unbuttoned so you got that sliver of skin in the middle, revealing a light definition of his pectoral and abdominal muscles.

"Turn around," he whispered, not even giving you any time, he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around, bending you over the counter.

Kirk rarely gave it to you from behind because he said it wasn't intimate enough, but when he did, it was always an amazing orgasm for the both of you.

He took a second to tease you, dragging his tip up and down your slit while smirking at you through the mirror, you looked at him unamused.

Noticing this had no effect, slowly he started pushing into you, closing his eyes and shivering at the feeling. There were faint cheers audible outside the bathroom, making you both laugh at the timing.

The DJ seemed to have turned the volume up and you listened as the club mix of Be my lover by La Bouche was playing.

"Fuck, I love this song." You let out a breath as Kirk finally bottomed out.

"Not as much as you love me though, right?" He stayed still for a moment, leaning over you and pressing his torso against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"We look so good like this," he smiled, "I love you."

"I love you too...Now can you actually fuck me please?" you begged, "I haven't had anything inside me since last time we had sex and I just need it right now."

"That's an interesting way to tell me you missed me." He chuckled leaning back up.

"Not even a toy or something...?"

"Shut up." You said, getting agitated before he pulled almost all the way out and harshly pushed himself back in.

He repeated this motion, gradually getting faster as he stared at you through the mirror.

Your breathing quickened, letting out low groans. Kirk kind of lifted one of your legs in a way, giving himself space to draw circles on your clit with his other hand.

A significantly loud moan erupted from your throat, most likely audible for anyone outside the bathroom door.

You clenched around him, making him let out a grunt, "Fuck, I missed you so much," he whined, closing his eyes as his jaw fell open, his eyebrows knitting together.

His thrusts got harder, repeatedly hitting that good spot in you.

Watching him through the mirror, you saw his eyes roll back as his face contorted into different expressions of pleasure, his shirt slipping off one of his shoulders, revealing his bicep.

You whimpered, "Kirk, I'm gonna cum," you breathed heavily.

"Please hold it for a bit, baby," He replied smiling softly at you through the mirror. But you couldn't. With a few more thrusts, your vision got almost blurry as you closed your eyes, letting go of the knot in your stomach.

"I'm sorry," you apologized.

"It's okay, now I know you really missed me if I made you cum that fast." He smirked cheekily.

Kirk stopped his movements on your clit to avoid overstimulating you, his thrusts continuing at the same hard and fast pace.

"I'm almost there," He sighed, biting his lip and letting out soft moans.

He tried going faster, making you clench around him at the sensitive feeling. The liquids from your orgasm helped lubricate his movements a lot better, but his thrusts started slowing down, getting sloppier.

"Fuck..." He whispered, "I'm gonna cum," he said, just then his hips stuttered, his eyes shutting tightly as he tensed up, his seed painting all over your insides. He kept thrusting a little more just to ride out his high. The both of you let out hard breaths as he pulled out, smiling contently at you through the mirror, caressing your hips.

You got up and he giggled, helping you clean up and handing you your panties as he pulled up his boxers and then his trousers.

You started making your way to the door before he grabbed your hand, spinning you around and pressing a soft kiss onto your lips.

"I love you." He smiled.

Smiling back, "I love you too," you responded.

"I'm sorry this was all I could give you, I just really missed the feeling of you, and I couldn't wait... But I promise when we get home, I'll treat you better." He winked.

"Kirk, it's okay." You chuckled, buttoning up his shirt, making his collar look neat. "It's not like you just treated me badly."

"Sorry," He said, watching your face as you focused on his shirt.

"What'd I ever do to deserve you..." He looked at you sadly.

"Shut up, cheeseball." You looked away as you grabbed his hand and lead him to the door, making a joke to avoid having this conversation now.

Right as you opened the door, someone walked in, looking between the both of you awkwardly, staring at the mess of lipstick all over Kirk's mouth and neck.

The woman gulped, blinking and quickly walking past you into the bathroom, Kirk just chuckled.

"You sure you don't wanna clean that up?"

"It's okay, babe, I don't care if they know what happened. At least this way they know I'm all yours," he looked down at you with those adorable eyes.

"Ugh, I hate it when you do that." You joked, looking away to hide the blood rush in your face.

You made it to the main room, walking past people to the exit.

You came across Sara, "Hey guys!" She smiled at the sight of you, "I didn't know you were back, Kirk." She greeted him with a handshake.

"Wait..." She squinted, seeing the mess of lipstick all over him, it was kind of hard to notice in the low light of the room.

"Were you the ones having a quickie in the bathroom?"

You both blushed, looking at each other awkwardly.

"Me and some other girls needed to use it but we heard some... Noises...so we didn't go in."

"Oh god." You pinched the bridge of your nose, embarrassed.

Kirk laughed at your reaction, "Yeah, sorry about that." He chuckled.

"Okay, we're going home now." You said, hugging Sara. Kirk waved and took your hand, following you to the door.

Of course though, the night wouldn't be over without you running by Diego.

You simply ignored him, but Kirk gave him a stare without your knowledge, trying to make the kiss marks on his neck as noticeable as possible for Diego to know only Kirk knew how to fuck you good.

Finally you exited, taking a breath of the fresh air as Kirk pressed a kiss onto your cheek.

"Ready to go home?" He smiled.

———————

thank you for reading!!!

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