pairing.Ā eddie munson x female! readerĀ
do not copy my work, i will find out.Ā
an. lets not talk about it !!!! at all!! ever !! letās move on and live in denial !! pls comment and reblog if you like love u mwah!
synopsis. youāve been seeing eddie for a couple of months now. still, youāre not always able to voice your desires ā donāt worry though, eddieās able to read you like a book.Ā
warnings.Ā 18+. minors do not interact with this fic or follow me.Ā swearing, anxiety ā slight panic attack but not a panic attack ā kissing, almost being caught, drugs (edibles), slight sub space (youāre just really high), female receiving fondling and penetration, dominant eddie kinda, hand on throat (no choking), spit as lube (then real lube)Ā ā dealers choice universe but can be read separately.Ā
hi hi !!! idk idk this has been done before, but imagine the day Vik augments his leg with the hex core and does his sprint, he comes back home to the reader with a rush of adrenaline and has really rough sex with her since heās finally able without his weak legā¦. ;) love ur work! <3
whatever it takesāviktor x fem!reader
note; hi hello! thanks for sending in such a lovely prompt! As per my norm, I got carried away. it's rough, it's emotional, it's maybe a little self indulgent...but I hope you like it nonetheless, anon!
warnings/tags; nsfw, 18+, cunnilingus, biting, hair pulling, little bit of choking, rough sex, smut and angst, porn with feelings
wc; 5.3k
Check out this amazing VA accompaniment by the lovely, talented, @kikorenart! Buy the full version, treat yo self.
Running.
He's running.
I am runningā
āand although the throbbing ache that had ailed his leg his entire life has finally, finally been abated, there lingers a phantom pain in every single nerve of his remaining flesh-and-bone body; as though the evolution of a piece of him has in turn magnified the faults he carries elsewhere.
His back is throbbing, the metal embedded into his spine grinding against the bone as though whittling it away; he has never put so much strain on it before, he dismisses it. His head is pounding, exhaustion and dehydration hitting him in stacked waves; he knows he hasn't been taking care of himselfāwhy care for a sanctum that has fallen to ruin?
But, there is something that transcends the physical, manifesting behind the cage of his sternum like an amorphous mass of everything he's ever regretted; everything he's held back, bottled up, kept buried. It swells within him, pushes him to push himself, like he could simply outrun the weight of it now that he has that option, but he can't.
It's infuriating, because he cannot diagnose the root of this problem. He cannot apply medicine, or science, or even his meager knowledge of the Arcaneāand it rises up his throat, unbidden and out of his control, exorcised from his being with a shout; a long, agonized cry that is a coalesced purge of triumph, despair, and every single possible micro-emotion between.
It slices through the rain, shatters the preternatural silence of the docks, and Viktor finds there in the heady taste of catharsis on his tongue: dreams, goals, and desires. Things he has simply never been capable of accomplishing, now shining under the pulsating, purple light of possibility.
He thinks of you.
His heart thrums quick, like a chord struck and reverberating through him with the tonality of anticipation. He's riding a tidal-wave of a high, pushing him out of the realm of logic and into the depths of something baserāwants that have always come second to his work.
Friend, companion, lover, bystander to tragedy, future mourner; has he been selfish, in taking you, in keeping you? Viktor knows the answer to that alreadyāknows that you deserve more than what he offers, that he has pushed you into the shadows to watch from afar as he tries, and fails, and tries again to save himself.
He was preoccupied with chasing down the end of his rope, grasping blindly to stop it from going abruptly taut, but now...now, he can root himself in the soil, keep himself grounded on this plane...and now, he can run to you.
Viktor is almost tempted to leave his crutch on the docks, abandoned and shunned as a part of him cast aside, much like the blood and sinew and bone of his leg, but he takes it nonetheless. If there is a sense of disdain in doing so, he pushes it downāa method he's also beginning to abhor, but he is not entirely without reason.
Should the infamously crippled half of the Hextech partners be seen suddenly galivanting around as though magically cured of his ailment, he may never have the opportunity to fix the rest of his crumbling body. In that, he may never be able to grasp all those buried, now bursting through the seams, dreams and goals and wantsānever be able to show you just how desperately he wishes to give you everything he never could.
No, they wouldn't understand.
Viktor believesāknows, that you will.
It's well past midnight, and the worry that had started prickling under your skin earlierāwhen you'd gone to find him in his lab, and he was not there; and you'd asked Jayce, and he said he didn't knowāis reaching a crescendo in your chest.
You're sitting in your shared apartment, center of the sofa in your living room that, admittedly, appears more like a workshop than a place of living. You both prefer it that way. Warm tones, ornate wood often graced with well-used parchment; bookshelves teeming with journals and the gold-embossed spines of thick academic books from years ago. Diagrams and schematics are tacked onto the wall, flickering with yellow light at the lanterns you'd strung from the ceiling six months prior in an effort to 'liven the place up'.
It feels distinctly desolate without him, however.
Normally, his prolonged absence wouldn't be a problem. Viktor is well known for stretching hours until they roll into days, and you never fault him for itāhis drive and passion are integral to him, and the very reason you fell in love with him, in the first place.
This is not a normal time; the diagnosis he received days prior made sure of that, tainting everything with a looming shadow of dread.
Having bitten your nails down to the quick, you're nearly vibrating with the urge to jump from inertia and go seek him out. The only thing keeping you here, waiting and restless, is the very viable concept that he simply wants to be alone.
You would never consider Viktor to be a selfish man, but disappearing without a trace, leaving you to turn over worry and anxiety until it nearly achesāyou can't help but be frustrated.
You sigh deeply, tugging your lower lip between your teeth to chew it with contemplation and uncertainty. His well-being, fragile and tenuous as it is, is far more important than his ego, you decide.
With that, you push yourself off the sofa, and into action.
Serendipitously, the door to your apartment swings open just as you venture into the bedroom, seeking out a jacket to shield you from the gentle down-pour that pelts against the gilded windows. You startle and pivot, and your heart feels as though it's been released from a vise-grasp of dismay, fluttering in relief at the sight of him.
"Viktor." You sigh, and then a knot forms between your brows, "you had me worried sick. You can't just disappear right now, not when you'reā"
"I want to show you something." He cuts you off, and it's with an urgency and eagerness that immediately stuns you into silence. "I want to show you a great many things, and I hope you'll forgive me for the worry I've causedāfor everything...but this...this is insurmountable."
Your prior worry melts away, and in it's stead, a tense curiosity.
"You've reached a breakthrough, haven't you?" Baited and waiting, you can discern the glimmer of thrilled excitement in Viktor's amber eyes, far away as he is. "Viktor, did you...did you find the answer?"
"I've found...an avenue. It is a dangerous one to venture, but my choices are limited." He steps into the apartment, the door closing behind him, and he swallows thickly and squares his gaze firmly with yours. "Whatever it takes. Do you remember?"
Of course you remember.
You'd whispered those words against his mouth naught days ago, bodies intertwined and trembling, grasping onto one another as though he may simply vanish in the span of an instant. It was after he'd received his diagnosis, both of you functioning with a desire that far surpassed anything physical. You told him you couldn't lose him. You begged him to save himself...whatever it takes.
There's a palpable tension in the air now, brought in with Viktor's presence, solidified with the recollection of those wordsāspoken with despair-charged passion and desperation then, but as this moment unravels, a sense of harrowing anticipation wraps itself around that invocation; around you.
"I remember." You whisper.
Suddenly, there is an urge to drag your attention over his body, scrutinize, seek out discrepancies; find the change. Something that would answer the question that rings in the back of your head, without having to voice it: what did you do?
Viktor appears no different than last you saw him. Frail, pallid, all hard angles stacked upon one another with a steadily shifting, off-kilter foundationātragically beautiful.
"I've done nothing to afford such a request...but, I ask that you never forget what you said. No matter what the future has in store. Can you do that for me?" A tremor rattles his usual refined cadence; your heart quickens in the cage of your ribs.
Fraughtāhe sounds nearly fraught, and pleading, and you come to the conclusion, devastatingly quick because there is no other choice in your mind, that you never will.
You feel as though you're standing before an abyss, blind to what's before you, but for Viktor...you will gladly step into the unknown.
"I won't." You state with conviction. "I won't forget."
Viktor's gaze softens marginally, as though relieved, and just as quick, it hardensālike amber solidified to stone. Without another word, he lets his crutch fall free. The hard, metal clang as it hits the floor startles you, and before you can instinctively go to his side to aid him, he straightens out, and he goes to you.
Your breath catches, stunned and rendered inert as Viktor closes the distance between you two with a purposeful, undeterred, steady stride. His brows are knit, a sharp determination in his eyes, and coupled with the barely there curve of his lips, you cannot help but feel suddenly weak.
"Viktorā" is all you manage, the myriad of questions on your lips snuffed out as he presses his mouth against yours with a harshness that knocks your teeth together; cupping your face in a way that spans his touch to your neck, as though trying to hold as much of you as possible.
Your mind is reeling, questions rapid-firing and sizzling out just as quick with the way he kisses you; frenzied, packed with so much passion it makes your legs weak. Viktor holds nothing back, licking eagerly against the seam of your lips, delving in when you gasp at the way his hands venture up, combing through your hair to give a neat little tug, angling your head back.
"Let me have you." Viktor exhales hotly, coaxing your lashes to flutter, resurfacing from the daze his touch induces to connect with the molten gold of his eyes. "Please."
"Have I not answered that question already, Viktor?" Reaching up, you cradle his sharp jaw in your palms, stroke your thumbs from the corners of his mouth, outward. "You hardly have to ask, but I...I have questions, as well."
His lips curl into the faintest, wry smile. "Of course you do, and they will be answered...but, I still live on borrowed time, my love." He's searching your face, now; earnest, full of tenacity that simmers beneath the surface of his cool countenance. "I would be remiss not to take advantage of this, to not please you in ways that I have only imagined of doing."
"Advantage of what?" You push, curious, contrary to the lance of arousal that shoots through you via his words.
In response, Viktor closes the distance once more, kissing you hard, nipping at your lower lip to draw out a surprised, pleased whine from your throat. He's derailing you, and you hardly have the will to be frustrated about it. You can't remember the last time Viktor's been this emboldened, and you find yourself sinking into the embrace once more, your arms resting on the angled shelf of his shoulders; fingers dragging through the small hairs on the back of his head.
"I will show you." He supplies, close enough that his lips graze yours, and suddenly, he's pushing you back; herding you into the bedroom.
His kisses trail from the corner of your lips, to the cusp of your jaw and over, searing hot and open-mouthed down the column of your throat. Gasping quietly, you cling to him, follow his guidance, and internally questionātheorize, hypothesizeājust how he's managed to become the anchor, the stability, in a familiar dance where you always led.
This change, wherever it may root from, is enough to push you into a state of astounded compliancy, like nothing else matters except for himāletting him purge himself of this intense need with an eagerness that casts all your doubts and questions aside.
With the backs of your legs brushing against the bed, routine and familiarity has you shifting, tugging Viktor in a silent beckon for him to lay down, do as you've always done and slink your way atop him; take the lead. But Viktor remains rooted where he is, and instead, he lets his hands fall from where they are buried in your hair, to firmly push against your shoulders.
"Noānot this time," he breathes, "on the bed, please." His tone is an intoxicating composition of steely demand, and searing desperation, and who are you to deny him?
So, you do as he bids; you let yourself drop down, sitting at the edge with anticipation, and the way Viktor lowers himself to kneel between your thighsāeasy, fluid, not an iota of pain on his faceāmakes your heart leap with both joy and inquisition.
"I have always been plagued with the guilt of depriving you of what you deserve." Viktor states, his hands smoothing up your thighs, further still to your waist, where he deftly works the button of your pants through the eyelet, "there is not enough time left in the world for me to pay you what is due, milĆ”Äek."
Swallowing thickly, Viktor's admission steeps into you, fills you with adoration, sentimentality, and the overwhelming urge to dissent.
Reaching for him, you brush the wayward hairs that've fallen in his eyes back, feel the skip of your heart when he leans into the touch. He gazes up at you beneath the lust-addled weight of his lashes, you say with sincerity: "You've always been enough for me, Viktor."
He huffs out a laugh through his nose, "a sentiment I truly cherish, but...I may have to disagree with you." He tugs on your pants, you raise your hips on instinct, a static warmth blooming on your skin as he catches your underwear as well; shucking them down your legs to leave you bare.
Viktor's attention drops down, a shuddering exhale leaving him at the salacious vision before him; the arousal that wets the inside of your thighs, which tremble just enough beneath his fingers as you part your knees that you're positive he can feel it.
Bashful and coquettish, you whisper, "I suppose we'll just have to agree, to disagree, then."
"I suppose, so." He whispersāit's distant, listless nearly, and it directly contradicts the sudden and zealous way Viktor glides his hands to the backs of your knees; long, spindly fingers digging into the sensitive skin as he hikes your legs high enough to rest on his shoulders. His breath billows onto your heat, "or perhaps, I'll change your mind."
A shiver weaves it's way down the track of your spine, bursting inside you like an electric jolt when Viktor closes the sparse distance, parting your slick with a broad, heavy swipe of his tongue. You curl your fingers in his hair, moan, and steady yourself with a shaking arm behind you.
Viktor hums against your cunt, caresses his hands from your knees, all the way up your flanks, before grasping your waist tight enough it aches; giving a firm tug that nearly has your ass hanging off the edge of the bed. You fall onto your back with a punched-out gasp, he doubles-down on the deadly precision of flicking his tongue against your clit, effectively thwarting whatever sense you have left.
It doesn't take long before you're riding the cusp of your orgasmāit never does, with him.
He moans against you, shedding any modicum of his signature decorum in favor of fucking you relentlessly with his mouth; lewd, wet, heavy breaths that roll over you in waves of heat. He sounds just as blissed out as you feel, follows eagerly when you pull his hair, willing him impossibly closeāand you're so, so closeā
"Viktor," you whine loudly, begging for something you're not entirely positive of; you just know that you need more, trust in that he will fill in the blank spaces of your lust-drunk plea, "please, ohā"
And he does, he knows precisely what you needāa perfect synchronization where you haven't the faintest means of knowing yourself. Viktor vocalizes a response that registers as nothing more than a bone-shuddering vibration; circling your clit in perfect little spirals with his tongue in tandem to two deft, long fingers pushing into the clutch of your heat.
The stretch is divine, the prominence of his knuckles felt acutely when he spreads his fingers, works you open, honing in against that hypersensitive bundle of nerves with an expertise that he's since mastered.
Viktor anticipates the responding buck of your hips, pushing down against you with the hand that brackets your waistāiron clad, unmoving, and you distantly picture the bruising he will leave; the intensity of him, imprinted on your skin like a brandābefore he immediately picks up a steadfast, perfect piston of his fingers.
You're reduced to stuttering out his name, voice pitching higher and higher as though Viktor is tuning your body to his own preferenceāthat being: coarse; piteous; debauched. Tightening around his fingers, blindly tugging his hair, you writhe and squirm against the tension threatening to snap within you, the pleasure reaching a fever-pitch.
"Come for me," he murmurs directly against you, sounding wicked and depraved.
Every muscle in your body spasms, going taut and rigid as you fall over the edge with a shattered cry; a frisson of euphoria throwing you into a stupor of utter bliss. You're helpless to the way your toes curl, legs drawing inward, back curving with an arch that pushes your head into the bedācontorted, thoughtless, neither here, nor there.
"You don't know how beautiful you are." Viktor muses breathily, his voice sounding far away, through the depths of ecstasy and the hum of your afterglow.
He eases his fingers out of you with an audible slickness that makes you shiver, immediately mourning the loss of him inside you, before he begins kissing against your hipbone, continuing upward from there. Pushing your blouse higher and higher, he presses his lips in a hot line up your heaving chest, and it's with a haste and need that fans the ember of desire inside you.
You move as though hypnotized, raising your arms, letting him strip you of your remaining clothes before he brings himself down and kisses you again. You taste the distinct bitterness of yourself when he licks a line along your tongue, firmly bracketing the underside of your jaw in the curve between his thumb, and forefinger.
It's a distinctly possessive hold; you find yourself thrilled by itāenough so to take his lower lip between your teeth in a borderline vicious bite, drawing back and tugging hard enough to earn a strangled, throaty groan in response.
You let go; he quickly chases you down, "yesādo not hold back, I want you to be rough."
"Only if you promise to return the favor." You rush out, aiming for cheeky, but landing somewhere in the realm of indigent.
"I intend to." He all but growls, kissing you again. It's harsh, all teeth and tongue with an underlying rumble of a moan in his chest.
You've almost forgotten Viktor's cryptic words from before, the mystery that lingers in the background of this embrace; the keystone that is fueling this entire moment. You're reminded when he brings himself closer, shifting you higher on the bed, kneeling so effortlessly between your still-trembling legs.
His right thigh is unyieldingly hard beneath yours; thrumming with a strange, pulsating type of warmth that you can physically feel.
Viktor, ever astute, breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, panting against your mouth. "Whatever it takes." An aide-memoire, lilted in such a way that it nearly sounds solemn.
Your heart kicks into higher gear, compelled to impatience as anxiety and uncertainty fester behind your sternum. You cup Viktor's face for a brevity of acknowledgement, craning to kiss him quick before your hands start working haste on his tie, tugging it free; the buttons of his vest then; his dress shirt thereafter.
"Show me."
Viktor doesn't hesitate in shrugging off the layers of his clothes. You don't meander any longer on his chest say for a hastily reverent drag of your fingers over the front of his brace, down to the hem of his pants. It's a fumbling series of maneuvers; Viktor settling back, you leaning forward, tugging open the fastensāa shift, a trade in movement, and he's leaning over you, pushing his pants and briefs down, and he makes it no less challenging with the way he consistently chases down your lips with his own.
Stripped down, bare and exposed, you break from his kiss and glance down between the chasm of your bodies.
Your breath catches.
Viktor's attention quickly flits to your face; searching, anticipating, and perhaps disquieted.
The bedroom is shrouded in dark now, but the tracery of winking light embedded in Viktor's now-adamantine leg is enough to cast a violet glow across the room; highlighting and shadowing the dips and curves of your bodies. You reach out, and you touch him. Tentative at first, just the curious drag of your fingertips over the synthetic, wiry musculature. You feel the warmth he emanates, the eerie hum of something inhuman and yet, so very strangely alive.
"The Hexcore." Finally breaking the silence with an awed kind of wonder, you slant your gaze to Viktor. "You did it."
His brows arch, as though he is relieved, as though he ever doubted you to begin with; and he is quick to caress your face, an ardor of fondness and adoration softening his amber eyes before he bows himself over you, and kisses you firmly.
"For now...but I do not want to focus on such a grim topic." Viktor breathes against your mouth, "I have much more pressing matters to attend to."
Your legs are pushed higher beneath his thighs with the movement, the steel-hard plane of his augmented limb echoing heat into you, and coupled with the tantalizing way his cock presses against you, you're inclined to agree.
"I'd never stop you from achieving your goals." You whisper, equal parts playful and genuine as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close.
You have questions, but now...now you've got time. However fleeting it remains, it's more than what you had before. Enough time to indulge in thisāto indulge in him.
Viktor huffs a laugh against you, "I know," and with a hand deftly disappearing between you two, he presses his cock flush against your throbbing heat. You hiccup a surprised moan that he eagerly swallows, kissing you breathless before pulling back just enough that your lips graze, "my goal is to pleasure you beyond anything I've ever been capable of. I want to hear every moan, every cry of my name that I have yet to earn."
You shudder, barely manage to lob out, and with a warbled tone that undermines whatever teasing you're going for: "quite the ambition, Viktor."
"Intention, my love." He parries easily, and proceeds to push against you, inexorable, stretching you out and filling you in one smooth, seamless thrust that chokes out whatever response you have.
Viktor barely stifles a groan, exhaling sharply as his hips press flush against you. You're trembling, clinging to him as you adjust to the size of himāalways a feat, always a processābut it seems he doesn't intend to give you that reprieve.
But, he isn't entirely without clemency. "Should you reach the point of beggingāI will stop." And it's with such a distinctly Viktor brand of self-satisfaction, that you can't find it in you to be anything other than aroused.
It's become such a rarity, this brazen confidence he's exhibiting, and you want nothing more than to kindle it; to give him this, take what he's so eagerly offering; feel what he's promised. You push your fingers up and through his hair, grabbing a fistful of wild, chestnut waves in either hand, and you pull him down with a force that makes him grunt in his throat.
"Perhaps you should let actions speak louder than words." You say, locking your gaze with his; and you watch as his eyes sharpen, seizing your explicit permission with a harsh kiss and a throaty moan.
Viktor wastes no more time. He brings himself low, braces his weight with an arm above your head, his other hand snaking around your throat in a grasp that is both gentle and grounding, pushing his tongue in your mouth as his hips roll smoothly against yours.
The friction is there, the heat and pressure of him inside you, the stretch and the drag and the depth of his thrusts making you moan and rock back, but you want so much moreāyou want to see him baser, driven to carnal want.
"Harder." You urge, feeding into his flame, "fuck me like you've always wanted to, Viktor."
Viktor groans, unabashedly effected by your words, tightening his grasp on your throat just enough to deliver a pleasant, hazy daze. "I want to fuck you until you cannot think straight." He admits in a rush, and you clench around him in response, bring a hand down to wrap around the taut, wiry muscle of his forearmāa silent consent.
"Want toāahāto see you ruined by pleasure...I want to be the one to do that to you." His pace has picked up; hard, unrelenting thrusts that spear you deep enough it nearly aches, desperation lacing not just his tone, but his movements.
"F-Fuck, Viktor!" Digging your nails into his ivory skin, curling your legs around his waist, the metal and fastens of his brace chafe against your inner thighs, but you couldn't care lessāyou've never been able to do this; to put that weight on him with him above you, to drag him close and remain blissfully carefree on whether or not you're hurting him.
"Oh gods, yesāfuck...you feel so good." Moaning the words out best you can, you grind your hips against him with each forward stroke, will him deeper with the lure of your body; chasing down the intoxicating catch-drag of your clit against his pelvis.
Viktor visibly shudders at the praise, releasing his hold on your throat. You inhale raggedly, immediately reverting to whining; sweet, pleading little noises that spur him on.
"Louder." He hisses it in demand, finding purchase with his hands behind your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest. "I want to hear you."
The position has his cock slide impossibly deep, your breath snagging in your throat, hands scrambling to hold onto him by way of tugging his hair. Sound returns to you in the form of a reedy, trembling moan. The way he's fucking you is seismically different than anything you've ever done with himāraw, harsh, bruising. He hasn't faltered once, the steadfast, borderline brutal way he thrusts against you frying any coherence you might've had.
Nothing matters but himāthe sounds he's making, the familiar and comforting scent of him, the way his body is pressed so tightly against yours that you feel every hard angle; every shift of bone; ripple of muscle, and the newfangled, bruising press of his steel leg colliding with the back of your thigh. He is all-encompassing, pounding pleasure into you that sings in your veins like magma, permeating you down to the marrow.
You're not going to last much longer.
Through stilted moans, Viktor leans in close enough to latch onto the soft palette beneath your ear; hot, heavy breath dampening your skin. A shiver racks your frame when he bites you sweetly, coalescing with your pleasure like a personalized dose of euphoria.
You wrap your arms around his head with a half-garbled cry of his name, and Viktor huffs out an amused breath, "have I truly been enough for you? Have I everāmmphāf-fucked you to the point of speechlessness?"
How you can't even form a response is all the answer Viktor needs.
"I wanted to," he grits out, his grip on your legs fierce enough that you know you'll be bruisedāyou'll have a collection by the time he's done, and the concept makes you clench tighter around his cock, eliciting a sharp groan from him that vibrates against you, "alwaysāevery time I have been inside you, I have craved this."
As though charged with that declaration, he slows his pace, backs his movements with a force that rockets knife-sharp pleasure right up your spine, carving it into a radial bow off the bed, pushing your chest into his. The hard protrusions of his brace press into you. You don't care, you pull him closer, voice your pleasure with a keening moan every time his hips collide with your thighs.
"You...you are going to come againāhm?" He envelopes you in his arms, holds you with one hand buried in your hair, the other winding around the nape of your neck. You whine, delirious and broken and vaguely affirmative, and Viktor kisses your throat once more, "do it, so I can push you over the edge again, and again. Until I am satisfied with the mess I will make of you."
He's speaking rushed, quick and hot, and he punctuates his urgent statement by way of sinking his teeth into the sensitive apex between your neck, and shoulder.
Silk walls clench so tight around him that his hips stutter, that he groans against your skin and it ricochets a wild flourish of tingles throughout your entire body, that he has to grip you harder, hold you in place as you writhe and arch and shriek through the hard-press of your teeth.
Your orgasm hits you with cataclysmic force, and all you can do is hold on, ride it out, shiver and tremble in his arms as he chases down his own release. He bucks against you, his seamless movements pulling apart, short and choppy and desperate, Viktor groans and bites you harder.
You pull his hair hard enough to tune that throaty noise of his into a whine. Shivering with the heavy pulse of his cock, nestled deep inside you, you can feel the blooming warmth of him filling you to the brim, washing you over with a wave of pleasant goosebumps.
He relents from digging his teeth into your skin, gasping out foreign swears embellished with the reverent invocation of your name. Everythingāhis movements, his voice, his vise-grip, winds down in tandem, until it feels like time itself has reached a standstill.
With your lashes wetted with involuntary tears, leaden with post-orgasmic bliss, opening your eyes feels like resurfacing from the depths of rapture; catching your breath feels just the same.
Viktor rests his head against your collarbone, his body loosening, unraveling from the tense pressure he's put upon himself, allowing your legs to drop down on either side of his waist.
You can both feel and hear the rattle in his lungs as he chases down a steady inhale-exhale, spurring you to gently comb your fingers through his hair, soothing him; coaxing him silently to recuperate. As though he senses just that, finding the challenge as he's always had the proclivity to, he breathes in deep, and pushes himself up on trembling arms.
"Viktor." You croak, voice hoarse and lilted with concern. "You should rest." Cupping his face, you stroke beneath his eyes, which have sharpened once more with that zeal of determination.
He shakes his headāyour heart swoops with both admiration and concern. It's so painfully obvious, so cuttingly worrying: he genuinely believes he has something to prove, burdened with the guilt of not being enough for you; driven to right what he believes is wrong. He's healed a fraction of himself, and in doing so, finds the mistakes he's left unchecked, and Viktor, always so headstrong, is convinced he can solve it with the fleeting strength he's been given.
But an augmented leg does not cure the sickness within him.
"No." He says, with a sense of finality. "I told you...time is precarious for me. If I cannot have this nowāgive this to you nowāI may never have another opportunity."
Your brows knit, and you steady your hold on him; force him to look at you. There, in the depths of his gaze, glints something like despair. You pluck it easily from his obstinate front; you've spent enough time looking into those amber eyes to discern the cracks beneath the surface.
"You promised me, Viktor." You remind him, firmly. "We will find another chance...find more time." Gently pulling him closer, your tone slips into an imploring lilt. "Do you remember?"
Viktor's breath shudders, his expression softening with a telling gloss. He reaches up, overlays his hand over yours and leans into your palm. The smile on his lips is faint; sad, loving, grateful.
He echoes those words again. This time, they are weaved with a thread of forlorn optimism; saccharine and bitter; a multitude within five syllables.
when an experiment involving a mysterious drug known as Calor goes awry, you and Viktor struggle to navigate the resulting effectsāboth physical, and emotional.
note; so, this is my very first attempt at writing for viktor (or arcane, for that matter!), so please bear with me on characterization and all that jazz. science jargon is pulled out of my ass, and in great abundance. apologies, but also not really because this was fun to write!
content warning/tags; 18+, sex pollen, multiple orgasms, porn with feelings, scientists being dumbasses, viktor is self-conscious, reader is emotionally stunted, love confessions, slow-build, angst and a dash of fluff.
word count; 7.6k, heavy dialogue
It could be a quiet thing, humming to life lazily, blossoming in the space between as you worked side by side on your projects; a wrench passed from your hand to his, a touch that would ignite it just a little more, like fanning a glowing ember aflame.
Although neither of you would say anything, you'll both categorize it within yourselves as somethingāsomething inexplicable to two brilliant minds, and it would be ironic in that sense; and lovely; and gradual.
Gradual enough that you won't realize your affinity has evolved to glowing, aching infatuation. Until you're pondering not the relative equations to your current conundrum, but rather the sharp angles of his face, or the pinch of his thick brows; the zeal of determination in his golden eyes as he dissolves into his work.
Indeed, in an alternate reality, the two of you might have been in love.
As it stands now, you're entirely convinced that your confrĆØre believes love to quite possibly be the worst condition of the human mindā'an affliction of productivity, it's symptoms hiding under the guise of yearning hearts and anxious minds'ā a rather peculiar ideology for a man ailed such as himself.
You sympathize with Sky, the poor girl's gone and fallen for a man who deems himself monogamousāboth mind and bodyāto the pursuit of science. Married to his work, as it were. Sky could never hold a flame to the burning ambition Viktor harbors. Perhaps, and although the concept is saddening, no one can.
A small, melancholy smile graces your lips as you think back to your time spent at the Academy, where you watched from the perspective of what you can only surmise as that of friendly rival. Witnessing Viktorā already so enamored with the pursuit of knowledgeāfall in love with it completely. He would scoff at the notion of mixing pleasure and work, even by way of colloquialism, and the thought makes you huff a laugh.
He's always been set in his ways; driven with a powerful sense of ambition, of curiosity and hunger. Fated to spend endless nights diligently drowning in his work, only to be restricted by the physical limitations of his own body.
It was those quiet nights that you'd gotten to know the Zaunite: sequestered together in the Academy's labs long after all other students had left. The busied scratch of fountain-pen on parchment, tools placed upon tables, comfortable silence thatāgiven time and ingrained curiosity on both endsābroke in the form of questions, and good-natured competitiveness.
Reminiscing silently, you peer down through the double magnifying glasses and into the innards of the mechanism before you, pinching a battery between a pair of tweezers. It's a touch like surgery; wires and gears like sinew and viscera, collaborating in a symphony of machinations to create lifeāor, in the case of your little friend, a humble emulation.
"You intend to use a lithium power source, then?"
You startle at the voiceāone so distinct and lilted there's no questioning it's ownerāand let slip the small, albeit very expensive battery. It clinks it's descent into the depths of the open paneling, making quite a ruckus for such a little thing; as though teasing you.
You sigh, a little defeated, a little irked. "Aside from dabbling in potentially nuclear territory, lithium endures power the longest, and is relatively stable." Righting the tweezers in your fingers, you shift and peer determinedly into the bot.
"Yes, but conducting experiments with these batteries have yielded other, potentially failing results to your goal, have they not?" Viktor's cane clacks rhythmically against the porcelain floor as he approaches. "While lithium provides a stable source of energy, it is a gradual winding up of power."
"I feel as though waking up slowly would be preferable to a heart-attack, Vik." You murmur.
Viktor huffs a laugh, "I agree...but sometimes, it is precisely that which the body needs. A potent, powerful jolt of energy."
Focusing on fishing out the battery, you absently acknowledge Viktor's presence at your side: a slight shift of air, a gentle hint of something sugaryāsweetmilk, a regular indulgence of hisāand warm cedar coalesce to bring his familiar scent. You can hear the way he rolls his fingers against the metal of his cane. He's lingering.
Setting the tweezers down and leaning back from the magnifying glasses, you roll your eyes up and look at Viktor through the fan of your lashes, expression pinched with faux annoyance.
"Please, indulge me more on the semantics of batteries, and their applicable use on a machine you did not create."
Viktor raises his brows, momentarily stunned by your heavy sarcasm, but then something sharpens in his golden eyes. It's a miniscule thing, a flash of guile that's taken years of practice to decipher.
"Ah, you're rightāmy many successful endeavors in automation certainly wouldn't be of use to you," he waves his hand dismissively, you roll your eyes with a touch of genuine annoyance, now, "I'll leave you to your work, then."
You wish, with no real malice, that he isn't inarguably better at automation than you. His cane signals his departure, slower than his usual cadenceāhe's giving you time to change your mind, your brain suppliesāand with an exasperated sigh and a knowing smile, you turn in your chair.
"What would you recommend, then?"
Viktor stops not halfway to the door, pivoting on unsteady legs to look at you with an insufferable, endearing smirk. It's a look you'd come to know quite well. Years of working side by side has provided plenty of time to memorize it.
"Oh, don't look so smug, Vik. There'll be no working with you."
Viktor laughs softly, lured back to your side with a newly invigored gleam in his eyes. "Apologies, although let us not pretend you aren't exactly who you are. I thought that stubbornness of yours was left at the Academyā"
"Right alongside your manners, it seems." You quip smoothly, "you aren't making this very easy, Viktor."
He gives an inquisitive quirk of his brows, his voice light and feigning, "making what easy? Accepting graciously offered advice from a former classmate? Ahāof course, a scientist such as yourself must take great pride in self-sufficiency."
"You know, Sky often speaks of your humble nature. I've yet to see it for myself." You lob out, teasingly. The smile that'd taken over Viktor's sharp features wanes just barely, but enough for you to notice. Interesting. "Enough banter, Viktorāwould you help me with this?"
He blinks twice, and pans his attention from you, to the vaguely humanoid bot splayed on the workshop table before you.
"Rightāyes, of course." He steps closer, and with his free hand gently grazes the copper housing equivalent of it's chest. "You wish for the function to be that of assisting the handicapped, no?"
You nod, fleetingly glance to the cane perching Viktor on his feet, and say, "yes; simple command functions such as carrying items, text-to-speech for the hearing impaired, and potentially an alarm system. I'm brainstorming more, but it seems it will remain a concept unless I find a suitable source of energy."
"I see." Viktor hums. "Perhaps a differing power source may be the key to creating a constant, steady stream of energy. Batteries, they areā" he shakes his head a little, "eh, well they are susceptible to erosion. Not ideal for a machine that mimics life."
You huff humorlessly, "that depends on who you ask. Humans erode just as well. Some fear a sentient machine that may well outlive them, even if it's sole function is to fold your underthings. But, I understand."
"Have you considered hydraulics?" Viktor queries.
You knit your brows, echoing incredulously, "hydraulics?"
"Yes. It seems simpleāelementary. However, I have heard of amplified iterations. Charged fuel, of sorts." He says, vague.
Leaning forward, you peer once more into the cavity of your machine. A thick lattice of wire twined together, reminiscent of an artery, protrudes from the housing case of the battery; the heart, it you will.
"Explain." You simply say.
Viktor shuffles a little on his feet, gripping the handle of his cane tight enough to elicit a small creak. "It is an iteration of a substance well known to the undercityā"
Quickly, you sit straight. "Viktorā"
"It is not immediately dangerous, as it has been stripped of it's more extreme reactive properties. The rate of deterioration is far less than that of oil, or water, or any other viable liquid. And it is charged, as I said."
You're scoring your lower lip with your teeth, ruminating. "Meaning a continuous cycle: powering itself...no need for batteries, but rather a cooldown system..." Tearing yourself from the magnifying glasses once more, you look to Viktor. "What is it called?"
"They call it Calor."
"I take it you already acquired some?"
Viktor's mouth twitches with the threat of a smile, "of course. Why else would I have suggested it?"
Fluidly, he slips a hand into the pocket of his trousers, procuring a glass vial of liquid; it's red, glimmering in waves as he displays it between his thumb, and forefinger. You stand, approaching to gently pluck the vial from him. Viktor's gaze flits between your faceāostensibly gauging your reactionāand the Calor.
"What are your findings?" You ask, turning the vial over in your palm, watching the light from your workstation refract through the substance; it shimmers, in a way.
Viktor replies, giving a long-winded explanation on the properties of the liquid, and you don't fail to notice the ostentatious, scientific jargon he uses as he does itāas though trying to bury something else beneath the complexity of it all. Still, you listen to him patiently, take in the information he gives, and thereāat the tail end of it all: "Is commonly ingested to trigger synapses in the cerebral hemisphere to the amygdalaā"
"This is a drug." You state plainly, looking at Viktor deadpan.
Viktor stutters marginally over his words, stopping to look at you with what you believe is the most poorly constructed act of innocence you've ever seen.
"You want me to power my handicap-assisting robot...with drugs."
"It is only a drug if ingested." Viktor says, matter-a-fact, "just as it is a fuel, if applied as such. So, I suggest we do not ingest it."
You look at Viktor for a beat longer, as though anticipating a sense of exasperation that does not come. Sometimes, you really wish it did. If only to dampen the self-satisfaction that manifests on his ivory features when he realizesāand he really is so smug about itāthat you're relenting.
You heave a sigh and curl your fingers around the vial. Viktor's anticipatory expression melts into a smile, and for the life of you, you can't find it in you to be annoyedāgenuine, or not.
"We will tell no one until we have either perfected it's uses, or managed to replicate it's properties in a safer, less...illegal fashion." Viktor says, his mind leaping right into it as his body settles a touch warily into the seat you'd occupied moments prior.
You catch his amber eyes with your own. "I'm not going to ask how you even procured this."
"Yes, it would probably be best not to."
"Fantastic! Your integration of conduits are reminiscent of veins. Entirely synthetic, inspired by the organic." Viktor muses, his focus poured through the magnifying glasses and into the newly retconned innards of your bot. "Have you already calibrated the coolant system?"
You hum in affirmation, standing beside Viktor as you slip on a pair of protective gloves. "All that remains is the Calor."
"Basic functions?"
"In place. If all goes well, our little friend here will, at the very least, be capable of movement." You reply, excitement curling your lips as you begin transferring the Calor.
"To run, one must walk." Viktor murmurs, watching your hands as you unscrew the vial.
A light hiss of air punctuates the action, followed by the unmistakable aroma of...cinnamon. Scrunching your nose, you toss a glance at Viktor.
"Manufactured aroma, to make the drug more appealing." He supplies, "we should not be affected unless properly ingested."
"Should not?" You jab lightly, "I'm surprised you didn't run any experiments with the effects of the drug itself."
"I don't think I'm well suited to execute a proper experiment," Viktor replies, lifting his cane up slightly with emphasis, "and for obvious reasons, I could not employ a subject."
You hum softly in response, engrossed as you transfer the Calor to the renovated housing core of your bot. It's a tense thing; a slight tremble could have you spilling the fuel all over the workshop station. Viktor remains as equally silent, watching you work.
Upon completion, you exhale a steady, long breath.
"Let us create life, then." Viktor announces, and you can't help the little snort you give in response.
"If it's life you want to create, there are much easier methods." You tease him, and the very subtle color that blooms on Viktor's sharp cheekbones makes you feel proudāit isn't easy to make him flustered.
He coughs a little, "of course, but what scientists would we be if we did not overcomplicate everything?"
"The boring kind." You smile, setting aside the empty Calor vial before clapping your hands together, excitedly. "Now, for the moment of truth."
Gently, as though your little bot's sentient and sleeping already, you close the paneling on it's chest, and secure it in place. To start the initial pump lies a switch on the counter-side of the botāthe equivalence of it's spineāand with no ounce of hesitation, you flip it.
Taking a small step back, you tug your protective goggles over your eyes and cast a fleeting glance at Viktor. He's already wearing his, leaning forward, perhaps a touch too much, with anticipation.
A gentle whirring purrs to life after a brevity of silence. Creation in sound; you can hear the bot's artificial veins being pumped with the Calor. A triumphant grin begins splitting your face as you watch, breath held in your throat as though waiting for the automation to breathe, first.
The sharp piquancy of cinnamon fills your senses, and it isn't until Viktor places a hand on your shoulder that you realize he's been saying your nameāand with an underlying urgency that pre-emptively makes your stomach drop.
"āis overheating," you catch, the whirring purr since escalated into a grating, mechanical din. "The coolant system is not engaging, we must stop the process, or the Calor may vaporize."
You tear your attention from Viktor, to the bot. There's steamāalthough not uncommon with mech these days, it most certainly is not meant to happen hereāerupting from the fissures of it's outer-shell.
Unthinking, you touch the bot to move it. Heat bleeds through your gloves, making you flinch and hesitate, giving the automaton just enough time to implode in on itself. The steam takes on a pink hue, curling upwards sinuously; Calor invading the air as the remnants of the liquid seeps from the bot like blood.
"Step backāopen that window, now," Viktor struggles to hastily move from his position, his tone sharp and pointed. "We must ventilate the room beforeā" he coughs, clamping a hand over his mouth as he shuffles further from the table.
The spice of cinnamon burns your nostrils, tickles your throat, seeps into your lungs enough to have you stifling a series of coughs as you quickly run to the window and throw it open. The air outside is brisk, and you inhale greedily before realizing Viktor hasn't joined you.
"Retrospectivelyā" Viktor says, coughing intermittently, "we should have worked with ventilated masks. We failed toā" more coughing, spurring you to move from the window towards him as he leans haphazardly against the table, "failed to consider the simplicity of heat and liquid."
"Yes, a simple mistake, but you need to get fresh air and not contemplate what we should have doneāsave that for later, Vik." You close the space between you two, reaching out to coax him with a hand around his forearm.
Viktor makes a noise when you touch him, a strained sound akin to a whine, and for a fleeting moment you're concerned you might've hurt him. Quickly ceasing your touch, you search his tense expression, noting the color in his gaunt cheeks.
He averts his eyes, looking downwards, and the underlying chagrin there is enough to distract you from the heat that simmers beneath your skin. A slow, gradual thing that doesn't register as anything more than raised temperature from the steam.
"I...may have withheld a particular aspect of the drug." Viktor says, sounding uncharacteristically meek. The way he reaches up and tugs at the tie around his throatāa simple movement, nothing of importanceācatches your attention. "I'm sorry."
The heat is rising, now. What you thought was just the steam proves to be something more: a reaction of the drug, most definitely. You swallow thickly and try to ignore the gooseflesh on your skin, the shiver that threatens to trickle down your spine.
"We ingested it, you need to tell me everything you know about it's effects, Viktor. We can go to the infirmaryā"
"We cannot go to the infirmary." He cuts you off, his usual soft tone sharpened. "It is an illegal substance, you could lose your work."
Your brows knit, "this drug could seriously hurt you, Viktor. We don't know what effects it could have onā"
"A cripple?" He finishes, unfairly harsh as locks his gaze with yours. His pupils flood his eyes, blown wide to whittle the amber down to a sliver. "You need not worry about me." He tacks on, marginally softer.
It's the drug, it has to be, because you can feel the frustration he displays. It coils within you, deep down in your belly like a hunger. It makes your blood pulse painfully loud in your ears, has your fingers tingle like static. You push through the sensation, absently tugging on the collar of your blouse. You don't notice the way Viktor follows the movement from beneath his brows, his head cast downward.
"If we can't go the infirmary, I need to know what we're dealing with, here." You exhale shakily, growing uncomfortable with the way your shirt chaffs against your skin. Without thinking, you begin popping open the buttons on your vest, working it off your shoulders.
"Elevates body temperature, obviously. You should rid yourself of your vest, it helps."
He shakes his head a little, looking anywhere but your face, "the vendor may have mentioned it's uses as...an aphrodisiac."
You freeze in your movements, fingers fisted in the fabric of your vest as you place it on the table. Glancing at Viktorāperhaps timidly, with this newfound knowledgeāyou catch the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly. There's a scarcely noticeable sheen of sweat beading along his brow.
You can see the way his slender torso rises and falls with his uneven breathing, the grip he holds on the notch of his cane turning his knuckles white; and then, just beyond that, the very obvious strain of his slacksā
Whipping around to spare you both of embarrassment, you're assaulted with a powerful jolt between your thighs. It throws you entirely off kilter, weakening your knees enough that you have to slap a hand against the table to balance yourself.
"We should wait it out, then." You grit out, but the prospect of enduring this quickly growing ache makes you irrationally irritated. "All drugs...filter through the body eventually."
The clang of Viktor's cane hitting the floor has you quickly pivoting; what you see makes that heavy pulse between your thighs thrum, arousal so poignant it makes your limbs feel weakened: he's holding himself up with one hand on the table, lanky body bowed inwards as he presses a shaking palm against the hardness in his pants.
His teeth are clenched, lips curled into a grimace as he screws his eyes shut. He looks as though he's in agony, but the pinch of his thick brows and the clear flush that colors his face renders you incapable of thinking anything other than how absolutely beautiful he is.
Has he always been so breathtaking?
Your throat is dry, clicking when you swallow, and he's moving his hand now, a trembling undulation that forces a desperate whine from his mouth. The answering throb of your cunt feels like a Pavlovian response; and you can't stop the small, yearning moan that escapes your lips.
"Manual stimulation," he stutters, "itānnnhāit alleviates the symptoms." His slender hips buck forward, and you can't take it anymore.
"Vikā" you croak, and find that your tongue now feels a heavy, useless thing in your mouth. The heat is consuming you, sweating from your body, pooling liquid lust in a manner so intense you swear you can feel it slither down the insides of your thighs.
Pointedly, Viktor turns his darkened gaze upon you, breathing ragged, skin blushed and hot. There's such intensity in his eyes;
"Touch yourself."
It comes out sounding like a demand, and perhaps it isāregardless, you concede, because the desire that's coursing through your veins, the way he looks at you, demands it just as well. You turn from him, leaning against the opposite end of the table before hesitantly slipping a hand beneath your skirt.
Whatever reservations you might've had in this moment melt away the instant your fingers graze the soaked fabric of your panties, the faintest touch against your over-sensitized clit making you whine loudly.
Viktor groans in response.
You shiver at the sound of him, and he's so close, close enough that you can hear not just his small noises, his labored breathing, but the rustling of clothes; the implications of that making you burn hotter, making your fingers work quicker, clumsily slipping beneath the gusset of your panties to glide along your wet slit.
It's searing pleasure, entirely not enough, and without a second thought, you push two fingers inside yourself, spread them to feel the stretch, and thenā"Viktor..."
You moan his name. Lustful and weighted and so incredibly needy, and somewhere far away yet so frustratingly close, you hear his breath hitch in his throat. There's a slick, repetitious clicking noise emitting from beside youāfrom him, and in your stupor it takes a second to register what it is.
You're suddenly struck with the overwhelming urge to see himāgods, you want to see him so bad it feels like a necessity.
"Let...oh, fuckālet me see you, Vik." You plead without an ounce of thought, functioning on the innate whims of lust.
There's a brief moment of hesitation. You would worry of overstepping boundaries, but that seems a bit of a moot point now.
"I d-don'tāmmmhāyou want to...?" he stumbles over his words, sounding incredulous and piqued in equal balance.
You can't stop the movement, like your body has torn from cognizance, acting through sheer impulse as you turn your head to peer at him.
The vision before you makes you clench down on your own fingers and moan: he's gone and unbuttoned his vest entirely, undone his tie and the first few fastens of his dress shirt beneath that. There's sweat beading on his exposed chest; sharp clavicles and alabaster skin shuddering as he groans with the movement of his hand.
Your attention drops from his beautifully tormented face, downwards. He's fisting his cock, thick and long, flushed a lovely pink at the tip where it pearls with precum. It's a frantic pace he's set for himself, the tendons in his hand prominent as he strokes himself off, barely keeping his balance against the table in the process.
"Vikā" you whine, pumping your fingers within yourself, trying to reach a spot within you that seems to move further and further away as the seconds pass, "fuck, you're so beautiful."
He gives a trembling groan in response, his eyes opening to a lust heavy, haft-mast to meet yours. "You're letting the drug speak for you."
You bite your lip, "no, Vik, I'm not."
His brows pull upwards, a look akin to despair, like he doesn't fully believe your words to be trueābut wishes them to be. And then his gaze drops to where your hand has disappeared beneath your skirt, and his own hand stutters, the smooth stroke he's employing slipping from his grasp. The frustrated growl of a noise Viktor releases ignites something baser within you.
"Let me help you, I...I can help you."
Viktor shakes his head, "I am fully capable ofā"
"I know you are, Viktor." You cut him off, snappier than you intended, but you're so damn tense you feel as though you'll burst any moment. "I'm not offering through pity, I'm offering because I want to."
A heavy silence balloons in the space between for a moment, Viktor's amber gaze searing into yours, before he closes his eyes and gives a small, relenting nod of his head.
"Yes," it's nearly a whisper, "yes, please."
Your heart stutters in your chest, seizing up with anticipationāto touch him, to feel him in a way that's never occurred to you before this moment, and yet, rings as completely inevitable all at once.
Quiet nights spent in the Academy labs, admiring his work, admiring him; a touch of fingers, a spark categorized as something, somethingā
Your fingers slip from within yourself, the lost felt acutely, but you think the ache is worth it when you step into Viktor's space, and he looks down at you through heavy lids; desperation was made for him.
Keeping your eyes locked, you reach down. Viktor's hand slows, stops, he whines softly at the loss of friction, and when you wrap your fingers around the space his does not fit, he chokes on his breath and moans. He is weighted and thick in your palm, slick with precum that allows you to stroke with ease.
He looks as though he wishes to close his eyes, but can't find the will to completely look away from you; attention darting from your face, to your hand, to the floor when you wring another deliciously debauched moan from him, as though he's ashamed of it.
Your skin feels scorching, arousal pulsing through your veins like magma, spurring you to move quicker. You can feel the way his cock twitches in your hand, stiff like steel silk as you analyze the way his pretty features twist.
"It feelsāI'm g-goingā" his breath catches in his throat, his hips bucking into your touch as his other hand snaps up to grip your shoulder, balancing himself. "ācĆtĆÅ” se tak dobÅe," he whispers harshly, and although you have absolutely no idea what he's saying, the very intensity of the words is enough to make a shiver lance down your spine, settling hotly in your gut.
You're enamored, craving his release almost as much as your own, losing your self in the way Viktor falls apart in your hands. You've always preferred the process of creation, but no amount of destruction has ever looked as magnificent as him in this moment.
"C'mon, Vik." You breathe, moving in closer, close enough that his breath is on your lips, and his focus has nowhere to turn except into the depths of your eyes, "come for me."
His hand hastily moves from your shoulder, to the nape of your neck, fingers burrowing into the notches of your spine. His teeth grit, the workshop table creaking in protest with the way he grips the edge, trying to find some semblance of balance as he bucks haphazardly into your soft palm.
He swears in his mother tongue, you can tell by the way he hisses the word, and then he grits out your name; yanking you forward to smash his mouth against yours in the messiest, most desperate iteration of a kiss you've ever experienced.
He tastes sweet, his moans vibrating against your teeth, and it feels more like you're simply sharing the air. Viktor's attempt at a kiss dissolves in concert to the stiffening of his frame; the tightening of his fingers on your skin; the finality of the broken groan he gives.
You feel his cock pulse, hot wetness spilling against your hand. You moan softly into his mouth, gazing up at his blissed out expression through your lashesāsofter now, shattered, but by way of euphoria. His mouth is open and his eyes are glossed, heavy.
Giving him a moment to chase down his breath, you pull back and give an involuntary whine at the shift of movement. Pressing your thighs together, flexing the muscles, hurting with how much you need him.
Then, with a suddenness that takes you completely off guard, Viktor pulls you back into him, kissing you properlyāsurprisingly sensual for a man who has denounced love. He licks a line along your tongue hotly, open-mouthed and fluid, guiding your head to the perfect angle to completely devour you.
"Need you." You gasp against him, uncaring of the residual spend on your hand as you start to finish his earlier process of removing his clothes. "Vik, please," whining, splitting his dress shirt open to paw at the hardness of his chest.
Viktor draws back, his hand coming around to cup your chin, grazing his thumb against your tumescent lower lip. His countenance is more lucid, the orgasm you'd torn from his body dulling the sharpness of the Calor, but there is still a fire burning in his eyes; you wish nothing more than to be scorched.
"You know, I'll never tire of hearing you beg me for help." Whatever slyness he's aiming for falling short with the unsteadiness of his breathing.
A soft puff of a laugh escapes you as you reach up and take hold of his wrist, fingers shaking against the drug, still burning you up, "there's no one else capable, even now."
"Truly?"
"I've stroked enough of your ego, Viktor...among other things." You exhale, impatiently. "Would you help me, please?"
Viktor answers you with a quick kiss, his lips touching yours as he whispers hotly, "of course. On the table, if you would."
You don't need to be told, twice.
The metal is frigid against your thighs as you slide up, barely mindful of your failed automaton and the remaining Calor spilled from it's artificial veins. You're trembling with anticipation as Viktor pulls the chair up close, taking a seat before you as though preparing to delve into his work.
Mixing pleasure and work.
The thought is fleeting but still makes your stomach swoop, and then Viktor's hands are behind your knees, the contact burning your skin with desire. Notching your legs higher until your shoes are against the table, you follow the motion of him splaying them wide. The blush that overtakes you is sweltering, your head reeling with suspense at the thought of those long, dexterous fingers working between your thighs, sinking into your heat, twisting and stretching you outā
"Do you know how long I have thought about this?"
Your heart lodges in your throat, blocking the moan that bubbles there when he closes the distance, stroking his fingers against the thin, soaked layer between you, and him.
Having someone elseāhimātouch you right now feels as though your nerves have been exposed, raw and dangerously sensitive. You buck up, and Viktor reacts accordingly: gripping the crescent of your hip with his free hand, pinning you back down with a surprising, and absolutely frustrating display of strength.
You want him to just get on with it already, but whatever sense remains within you demands to explore what he just said.
"Tell me," you hiccup a moan, his touch evolving into a more firm caress, "h-how long."
Viktor maneuvers his hand deftly, pushing aside that barrier to touch you, skin against skin, sliding two fingers against your slit to press inside your tight heat with no ounce of resistance. The moan you give is lewd, splintering the stillness of the room as it coalesces with Viktor's appreciative groan.
"Ever since the Academy." He breathes, and the tension's back in his voice, Calor swirling together with the natural arousal of having you in such a position, "when you criticized me, and complimented meāchallenged me."
He starts pumping his fingers, pushing them to his knuckles, curling them just the slightest, drawing back. You're so wet, and it's obscene, and lewd, and everything you ever wanted. You struggle to keep your focus on him, propped up on wobbly hands, but you try, because the imagery of Viktor fucking you with his fingers is too intoxicating to miss.
"You were the first person to truly push me. Who looked at me, and decided I was not frail. I will not break." His movements quicken with the conviction in his tone, dragging his fingertips against that bundle of nerves nestled deep inside you.
It's electricācharged, and so, so sensitive.
Your head falls back, losing yourself completely, moaning unabashed as your hips attempt to roll in time to the relentless piston of his fingers. When Viktor's thumb ventures upwards between your slick lower lips, honing in on your swollen clit to rub sharp little circles around it, you feel as though you may truly ascend.
It's too much, not enough, searing pleasure that has you squirming on the table, pushing against him and pulling away all at once.
"Vikā!" You gasp, eyes screwed shut tight enough you see phosphenes, "Vikāoh gods, I can'tā"
"You can." He exhales sharply, "you have to."
You whine, that high keen of a noise bursting in the air when Viktor removes his thumb, dips down and closes his lips around your clit.
Instinctively, you try to close your thighs around his head, but he pushes one away, ignores the other, and sucks, giving a deep, throaty hum that vibrates throughout your entire being.
Scrambling, you find an anchor in his hair, gripping the tousled strands tight enough you're sure that you're hurting him. Viktor's responding groan feels like raw electricity, rippling through you, catching every single nerve in a miasma of pleasure.
You feel like you're glowing from the inside, out; bursting with pleasure so intense it renders you incapable of vocalizing other than his name. He does not seem to mind, if the eagerness of his tongue flicking against your pulsating clit is evidence, enough.
Gradually, Viktor winds down alongside the calming of your moans, licking gingerly against you, soothing you as he slips his fingers from your still aching cunt. You whine deliriously at the loss, the scraping of the chair heard distantly, and then he's above you, kissing you.
You can taste yourself on him, spurring you to kiss him back with vigor. Pulling on his hair tighter than you intend, as though willing him to never leave, Viktor grunts against you.
"S-Sorry," you shudder, "I justā"
"I know." He sounds winded, feverish, "I need you, too. I have always needed you."
Your heart sings at the confession, at the revelation.
Viktor's lips leave yours, gliding to the cusp of your jaw, kissing down the column of your throat as he moves his hands beneath you. You lift your hips without thinking, not needing to, knowing that this is what you wantāwhat you have always wanted.
You just needed the necessary energy to realize it; a potent, powerful jolt.
Reemerging from sucking what you're sure is a lovely mottle of purple on your neck, Viktor locks his golden eyes with yours. Between your bodies, you feel the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your slick; teasing, prodding, but never quiet delving into where you desperately need him.
"Viktor," you reach out, "please," pulling him close once again, grazing your lips against his in an almost kiss, "fuck me."
His entire frame shudders in response, hips canting forward as though he can't control it. With the way you're feeling, you're positive it's exactly that; and you whine, thrilled and eager against him when he sinks deeper.
The stretch feels divine, the sensation of him slowly sheathing his cock within your throbbing cunt overwhelming. Viktor vocalizes his appreciation of you with a moan that cracks right down the middle, sounding nothing shy of wrecked.
Dropping his head to your shoulder, his hold on your waist bruising, he pushes far enough that the sharpness of his hipbones dig into the plush flesh of your inner thighs.
He's murmuring something against your shoulder, strings of dialect that remain foreign to your ears, but praising in it's lilt, and then, as though struck with the realization that you cannot understand him, Viktor turns his head and begins kissing your neck.
"Amazing...you are amazing." He pants, sounding as overcome with you, as you are, him. "Fantasy does you no justice."
You buck against him in response, mewling deliriously as your hands roam anywhere they can reach; through his hair, down his back, following the ridges of his spine. You can feel the shift of bone, the tense of muscle as he finallyāfinally starts to move.
It's a slow drag, his length spearing you so deep there's a slight twinge of pain before he draws back, leaving you feeling achingly empty. The process is maddening, and you're squirming, rolling your hips, pawing at him, pleading with your glassy eyes for him to justā
"Viktorāharder, please!"
He grunts, digs his fingers into your flank tight enough you're sure you'll bruise, pulling you against him in unison to a forceful thrust. The table jars, the metal clinking of tools rolling off and onto the floor echoing through the room. Viktor garners your attention with the reverent touch of his trembling fingers against your damp cheek.
You don't realize you're crying; desperate tears that line your flushed skin, until Viktor gathers them with a swipe of his thumb. He knowsāof course he does, and with all problems he's come to face, he resolves it through action, determination.
His gaze darkens, molten gold and liquid jet, thick brows pinching with focus. It's a look you've seen countless times before: when he immerses himself in his work, vigilant in his pursuit.
His unsteady rhythm evolves, each forward stroke purposeful, driving his cock to the hilt each time, and you would praise him for it, if your voice wasn't rendered to a staccato of high, keening moans.
It feels goodāit feels seismically better than good: searing, white-hot pleasure that blooms in your belly, coiling and tightening each time Viktor's sharp hips collide with your quivering thighs, the slick crash of skin against skin resonating through your whole body.
And the look on his face; you've always appreciated his undeterred focus, but never considered you'd be the subject. Viktor's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters; hyper-focused as he fucks you hard enough the table actually shifts.
With a grit of his teeth, he pushes himself upright, takes proper hold of your waist, and yanks you against him. Your back arches as you cry out, writhing on the workshop table as he digs deep; bottoming out each time, his thick cock grazing every single electric spot within you.
"Oh f-fuckāoh gods," you groan, quickly spiraling towards an orgasm you're not entirely sure you'll be able to handle; physically or mentally.
You don't want this to end. To lose the euphoria that courses through your veins, the imagery of Viktor above you, pouring his entire being into you as though making you cum is the answer to all his problems; the missing variable to all his equations.
He looks beautiful like this: sweat beading on his skin, shirt split open to frame his angled body; sinewy muscle flexing and rolling with the relentless thrust of his narrow waist. Freckles dot his alabaster skin like perfectly placed constellations. Wayward strands of hair hang over his eyes in an elegant dishevelment.
Gods, why did it take a failed experiment and a dose of liquid lust for you to realizeā
"I love you," you gasp out, and it feels as though those words were carried within you all along; trapped behind your teeth, sitting on the tip of your tongue, "I love you, Viktorā"
You can see the exact moment those words hit him. His tense expression softens; brows lifting, eyes clearing, like seeing for the first time. You're on the precipice, and the way Viktor jerks against you, like your confession is his undoing, sends you over completely.
Viktor loses his strength, crumbles against you as he moans open mouthed against your shoulder. You can feel the heavy pulse of his cock, nestled deep inside you as you clench involuntarily tight, succumbing to an orgasm that you can feel in the very marrow of your bones; all encompassing, a maelstrom of pleasure.
There's a blooming warmth, and you let slip a blissful, hazed whine from you realize that it's himāfinding his release. His weight trembles above you, his voice a series of strangled swears and gravel-pitched moans as he rocks against you, chasing down the ecstasy to the last drop.
The tension that's been progressively winding up in your bodies releases in an almighty, euphoric rush, and in the aftermath, there is only you, and him.
No Calor to blind your senses, to manifest confessions where there may otherwise be none, and you realizeāwith Viktor's head cradled in your arms, resting on your chestāthat everything you've said and done has been true. Regret does not fester within you, all you can think about is him. How often you had thought about him, still think about him, years and years past a time you resolved not to.
"How...do you feel?"
Viktor's voice, exhausted and perhaps disquieted, snaps you from your stupor. Your attention flicks from the vacant spot on the ceiling you'd been staring at, downwards.
"I feel..." you begin, and there's a hollowness behind your sternum now, an uncertainty. Does he feel the same as you? Was his heated confession as genuine as yours? "I feel...better."
You swallow thickly.
Viktor shifts, pushing himself up right. You silently mourn the loss of his heat and weight atop you; flinch at the feeling of him slipping out of you, and the grimace that twists his mouth in the process. His gaze, now lucid, aware and painfully reluctant to meet yours, darts around the immediate area in search of something.
"I am sorry. I should not have...erm, I should not have finished insideā" he cringes at his words, glances down and hastily begins tucking his length away, blushing furiously. "Where are the towels? You keep towels in your workspace, no?"
"Viktor."
Moving to sit straight, you can't ignore the ache between your legs. You didn't realize how much the drug dulled your other senses, like pain, until now. It feels as though you've been whittled down to your very core, incredibly sore and yet, entirely sated. Knowing it is Viktor's doing makes your stomach flutter; residual arousal thrumming weakly.
"We need to dispose of the remaining Calor, or otherwise risk a repeatā" You put a stop to his words with your hands on his face, coaxing him to look at you as he stands inert between your legs.
"Viktor, look at me." You breathe, inhale, steel yourself, "did you mean it?"
His attention flits between your eyes, like he's searching for something; perhaps the very same thing you are. A modicum of uncertainty, a wisp of regret, something to tell him what you suspect he's believed all this time: that he isn't what you want, that he can't be what you want.
"...that I need you? That I have thought of youāyour brilliance and your beautyāevery night since first meeting you?" His voice is quiet, but intense. "Absolutely."
Your heart is fluttering around in the cage of your ribs, uncontrollable.
"Why didn't you tell me?" You whisper, sweeping your thumb across the beauty mark below his eye.
Viktor sighs, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist as he closes his eyes. His brows twitch, as though he is contrite, and then his lids flutter open. There is a sureness there that has you feeling anxious; worried.
"I could not burden you with something as...trivial as my desire. I am not what you need. I am..." his gaze flits to your automation, bleeding and broken on the table, "not right, for you."
There's an air of sadness in his tone. It doesn't sit right with you; Viktor, always so determined. Viktor, never backing down from a challenge. Viktor, refusing to let his physical limitations stop him from achieving what he wants.
"I meant it." You say, not daring to look anywhere but the depths of his eyes, "I love you, Viktor. Nothing is going to change that."
You hope that your truth is conveyed through every facet of your being; that he feels your sincerity in a synapse more powerful than any drug could ever create.
"Everything about you. Your mind, your bodyāeverything. I...I think I always have. I just...showed it the only way I knew how." Your gaze softens, committing Viktor's rapt expression to memory. "But, one of the things I love most about you, Viktor, is your unshakeable determination. I have never met anyone as ambitious as you...and I have never known you to give up."
His grasp tightens marginally around your wrist; you dare to lean in, sharing the charged air between you, watching the way his eyes flit to your mouth.
"So...are you going to give up?"
"Youāalways pushing me, challenging me," he quickly breathes, closing the distance in a blink to kiss you hard enough your teeth knock together; perfectly imperfect.
You smile against him when he echoes your words from earlier.
Note:Ā Iām not a chemist. Please donāt fact check this, itās all an excuse for the reader to get railed. Also, this was not proofread, but I may come back to it some other time that isnāt 1:30am.
Synopsis: An unfortunate lab incident results in a more than pleasant night.
Warnings: NSFW. Aphrodisiac. Smut with Feelings. Dirty Talk. Friends-to-Lovers. Lab Sex. Slight Public Sex. Brief Oral. Riding. Unprotected Sex.
It took Viktor a long time to be comfortable enough being intimate with you.
The scientist being self conscious about his braces, cane and limp, how he isn't as strong as other lovers you could have.
He couldn't ever be the "sweep you off your feet" type of man and that made him feel tentative to go all the way.
He didnt want to disappoint you since he's never viewed himself as particularly dashing.
Viktor views his one asset as his brain, since his ailing body has failed him in so many ways.
He was already seen as a cripple and so he didn't want to undress in front of you, bare his body and soul and for you to only see him as a lanky, debilitated underdog as well.
It took a long time of you reassuring him that you did find him incredibly handsome and it took even longer for him to actually believe you.
But, once this science boy with the sexy accent did finally trust in your genuine attraction towards him...
Then, oh boy, good luck getting his hands off you.
This man is severely touch starved and has longed for a partner to be intimate with for so many years.
And, now that Viktor finally has you then you're going to quickly become the best scientific experiment ever to him.
He will devote so much time to figuring out all the ways he can please you, what types of moans he can elicit from your pretty mouth and how often he can make you scream his name...
Not a fan of quickies. Though Viktor is often busy, he would rather sit in agonizing frustration and wait for the time where he can savor your body properly.
Same reason why he doesn't jerk off. He wasn't a very sexual person before he met you, so why would he wish to take care of his own problem when later he could have the luxury of you doing it for him?
Though Viktor does get hard because of you, a lot. To the point where it becomes problematic.
He could be knee deep in his work, consumed with taking notes but just the arrant thought of you is enough to stop him dead in his tracks.
Be it fantasizing about your lips or how your voice sounded the night prior or when his fingers absently touch the hickey you previously left upon his neck...
He will need a moment to calm down and compose himself.
The most meticulous lover you could ask for. Intent on slow, passionate ministrations that send you into pleasured ecstasy every single time.
He's either a soft dom who praises you, how wet you are for him, how your body makes him feel, how turned on you make him...
Or, a complete sub who loves when you take control. Who whimpers and moans and is so, so needy for you. Who'd let you do anything to him.
Viktor is all about body worship. Your form, your curves, everything about you is like his religion.
If you ever call him "Professor" or "Sir" get ready for a long night. It's definitely one of the easiest ways to turn him on instantly.
Viktor is very big on you pulling at his wispy fawn brown hair when in the moment, the action always elicits shaky whines from him.
He gets so desperate whenever you tease him. You don't even have to do much to make him go absolutely crazy.
Compliment him on his work, run your fingers through his brunette tresses, kiss the beauty marks upon his sculpted face...
Anytime you show him your love, appreciation or how your body reacts to his and he is a goner.
Just imagine that sexy accent of his when he is begging you to touch him, to help him relieve himself, to give him his much needed release...
Will appreciate it more than you know whenever you are happy to go down on him.
He'll never ask you to do it but when you initiate it, he is overcome with love and lust.
"You take me so well, my printsessa. Thank you..."
Often it hurts to have sex in the usual positions, especially when he is on top of you.
So, Viktor is elated whenever you go down on him, he can eat you out or you ride him.
He loves to eat you out. Your taste on his tongue is like an intoxicating delicacy to him.
Viktor rather enjoys the fact that many times he doesn't even need to use what's in his pants to make you come absolutely undone.
Often he'll be more than happy to spend the whole night between your legs, tasting and teasing you; a pillow beneath his bad knee is all he needs.
Despite Viktor's sickly physique, he can go multiple rounds, simply because of how much you excite him.
You know how determined Viktor gets in the lab right? How obsessive he can almost be when figuring out a problem? Well, he is exactly like that when it comes to doing everything he can to bring you pleasure.
He gets tunnel vision in the heat of the moment, with a fervant desire to make you shake, near hyperventilate and see stars.
Very big on aftercare.
Chances are if you're sore, then he is too but doubly so because of his disabilities.
Viktor is so soft and gentle after sex and most times you will take a relaxing, warm bath together before finally going to sleep.
Though while you're quick to doze off, he'll stay awake for a bit.
Sometimes he'll read a book or look over his journal with you snuggly wrapped in his arms.
But, most times, he'll just admire you.
Viktor appreciates you more than you could ever know and the intimacy shared between you two.
He's never had someone to do this with, who he can pleasure and in return who pleasures him back.
It takes a while for sleep to finally take him simply because he is still riding the high of your physical love.
summary: How does applying pencil liner to Eddie while straddling him eventually end up with him crying most of it off?Ā
Includes: sub eddie,Ā mommy kink (not overused), choking, begging, crying, established relationship, unprotected p in v sex, spit as lube, cowgirlĀ position
Word count: 5.4k
āHun, you have to hold still.ā You say sternly with your cheap black pencil liner in one hand and Eddies chin in the other as he sits up against your headboard. Youāve been straddling him in just your underwear and his extra large band tee, trying to apply eyeliner to him for the past 20 minutes. It should only have taken maybe a little over 5 but this man cannot sit still for shit. Heās been fluttering his eyelids open, even when you told him to keep them closed, trying to tickle your waist after complaining about how youāre āpressing too hardā, and even open his mouth dramatically to try and bite your hand near his face.Ā
His pretty and big brown eyes open to look up at you. āI am still, what are you talking about?ā he jokes, knowing damn well heās been flinching and doing his worst at keeping his head still. He canāt help but be a tease. He loves seeing you in his clothes, thighs exposed, straddling him, face so focused on applying the eyeliner that your tongue pokes out.Ā Ā
You sarcastically roll your eyes at him.Ā āStop trying to tickle me! Here-ā you grab his palms off your waist and move them to your thighs ā- keep your hands here, and just stay still for me, ok?ā
āAs you wish, milady.ā he says through a dorky grin. He closes his eyes again, letting you go back to gently dragging the pencil along his eyelid, his smile now relaxing and fading. You smudge it a little bit at the center of the lid to smooth your lines together since they look a little spotty due to his flinching. You finally get to smudge out your last upper line, moving onto his lower lids. His blunt finger tips begin to drum out some random beat on your thighs. Your hand that was once on his chin moves to his exposed shoulder, now that his head is more stable.
The skin of his shoulder is warm and smooth, exposed due to his panty droppingly tight black tank top paired with black ripped jeans and belt chains. As youāre smudging out the liner on his lower lid, your eyes are caught on his exposed collar bones and chest tattoos peaking out from the low neckline of his tank. His typical guitar pick necklace is resting over his calmly rising and falling chest, adding to his overall look. His smell of smoke, weed, and strong masculine deodorant fills your nose. You gulp, suddenly realizing how close his ringed hands are traveling up your thighs and reaching behind to grip your-
āHey, Eddie!ā you jolt. His eyes are still closed, but a boyish giddy smile is now on his face, revealing those cute dimples of his.Ā
Cheeky bastard.
āYou can keep your hands on me if you stay still..ā you say as you bring your hand back up to his closed eyes. You finish up smudging your final spots and then twist to the side to grab the hand mirror you placed on your bed.Ā
āTake a look.ā you say as you hand Eddie the mirror. You feel the warmth of one of his ringed hands move off of your rear to grab the mirror. He looks at himself and his eyes widen.
āWoahā¦ā his voice trails off, going quiet as he tilts his head to both sides to see his eyes. He then gets excited and opens his mouth, tongue falling out confidently with a weird little noise following. You giggle at his reaction.Ā
āSo you like it?ā you ask.
āOf course!ā he turns away from his reflection to look at you.Ā āThanks, babe.ā He pecks a kiss of gratitude to your lips.
You take your mirror from him and get off his lap to put it up. His large shirt youāre wearing rides up just above the lower curves of your ass, just barely exposing it, but still enough for him to catch a glimpse. He smiles a grin you cant see while poking his tongue out, running it across his smiling upper lip.
Heās reminded of how it slaps back at his hips, waves of your flesh moving with every thrust when they slam into you, over and over, in and out.Ā
You turn around now that the mirror is set aside safely, and your eyes meet his face.
āWhatās so funny?ā
āNothingā you just look cute as hell in my clothes, sweetheart.ā
Heās still leaning back on your head board, chin angled down now as he eyes you. His eyes look so much darker and deeper with the eyeliner surrounding them. He pats his thighs, gesturing you to come back to straddling him. You walk over to your bed and climb up to swing your thighs over his lap as his arms open up widely to accept you.
Your hands rest on his neck and his head falls forward to your shoulders. His head shifts down to look at your body, left hand rising to pinch the fabric of the shirt youāre wearing between his fingers. Your hands now go up to his hair. You stroke his head as his left arm comes down to your right side, circling around your waist, pulling you into him.
āSomething wrong, Ed?ā
āI just, really wanna kiss you..ā he mumbles, ever so shyly into your shoulder.Ā āYou just look so cute.ā
Your face warms up at his confession, as well as his sudden shyness.Ā
āIs that really all you want to do?ā you lower your tone as you question him, knowing heās probably not being fully honest with you.
He lets out one singular exhale of a laugh and lifts his face to look at you.Ā āAbsolutely not.ā He smiles up at you and grabs the elastic part of your underwear, pulling it back and letting it go so it snaps on your skin. You yelp and grab his face pulling his lips to your own.Ā
Youāre smiling against his mouth as your lips mold together in a wet open mouth kiss. His hands lift off your rear to match up to your clothed waist. You can feel the heat of his large palms through your shirt. You can hear his nose exhale as well as your own as you both make out. Your tongues come out to slip into each others mouths, and you start to feel wetness coat your underwear.
His rough hands move up your back, brushing over your shoulder blades and back down the curves of your back as he leans off the headboard to aline his chest to yours. The action of his chest now pressing up on your own as you kiss him makes your hips slide forward. He gets butterflies at the action of your hips sliding closer to him so he brings his palm to the bottom of your shirt and moves his hands underneath it. The surprise of his blunt finger tips, heated palms, cold rings on your bare skin makes you exhale on his lips.Ā
His hands slide back down your skin to the front of your abdomen. He lowers them so his fingers can grip front of your shirt as he breaks the kiss. You look down at him confused, but he just moves his wet pink lips to ask a question.Ā
āCan I?ā he says, and you think heās referring to taking your shirt off so he can kiss your chest. You nod, but instead he lifts your shirt just enough to tuck his head fully underneath it and pull it over his full head of hair. His hands travel to your waist then up to your tits.
āWell, hello again pretty girls..ā He says from under your shirt with a smile you can practically hear.
Why does he have to be such an idiot when heās hornyā¦ You ask yourself while laughing with your mouth closed and lips pressed together in and effort to keep your laugh tame.Ā
āEddie, you idiot-ā but your lighthearted insult is cut off buy his hot mouth surrounding your nipple. His hands grab and squeeze on both your breasts as if heās begging for them to never leave his grip. Your hands move to his shoulders, much too big to fit under the shirt with you, as you dig your fingers into them. His eyes shut at your grip, shamefully enjoying your harsh touch.Ā
You start to exhale faster at the attention his mouth is giving your nipples. He bites them lightly, then sucks harshly, and finally circles is tongue around them to sooth the pain. You flinch and arch at his actions going on under your shirt, the coat of wetness on your underwear getting wetter.Ā
His efforts continue, but you want to be the one to make him shudder now. You lift your shirt over his frizzy hair, unintentionally pulling some of it forward to fall over his face. Your shirt slides back down over your torso, his hands still on your skin. You yank his hair back harshly, making him wince in pleasure. The grip he has on you becomes tighter, then relaxes. With his neck exposed, you tilt your head to give wet hasty kisses on his heated skin. You lick a stripe up his neck to his earlobe, giving it a tug between your teeth, making him exhale in your ear. He whimpers out a curse, now squeezing you tighter, without loosening.Ā
Your fingertips trace over his collar bone to the strap of his tank top to slide it down over his shoulder to expose more skin. You begin to bite and suck on the flesh above his collarbone, close to the curve of his shoulder. His hands under your shirt begin to slide down, ringed fingers slip beneath your underwear, gripping your bare ass and rolling your hips forward.
āCome on sweetheart, you know I like it rougher than that.ā He rasps lowly, wanting you to bite him harder and suck darker bruises onto his skin. Heās such a sucker for harsh, mean looking, hickeys.
You pull back, mouth detaches off his skin. Your eyes meet his as you smile down at his lips while licking your own.Ā āAnd you know I like you better with your shirt off.ā you say with a cheeky tone, eyes lifting up back to his own, looking even hotter with eyeliner.Ā
Fuck, heās gotta wear eyeliner more often.
Now heās quickly pulling his shirt off over his head at a desperate speed. He throws the tank top to the floor, shaking the hair out of his face. Your eyes look to admire his bareness. One side of his neck, shoulder, and collar bone littered with a line of weak hickeys and teeth marks. You can see a slight glimmer form your saliva left over on his skin, too. You let your jaw go slack, preparing to make those hickeys much darker. You tell him to slide back so he can lay on the bed horizontally while crawling off of him so he can adjust himself.
You climb back on top, your panty covered crotch sitting on top of his own jean covered one. You place a hand on the back of his head and one on his shoulder, turning his neck to the side. leaning down, your breasts push into his chest making his head spin with perverted thoughts, even though theyāre completely covered by a band tee. His band tee.Ā
You begin biting so hard on his previous bruisesĀ that he winces in pain and grabs ahold of you out of pure reflex. His large hands grip at your shirt, veins bulging and knuckles whitening, eyes squeezing shut.Ā His body shifts under your own, squirming in pain, yet heās making groans and whimpers of pleasure. Wetness at his eyelids begins to form, slightly dampening his liner, but no tears fall.Ā
āFuck yes, thats more like it.ā he groans and sighs out, making you practically feel your heart beat in your pussy. You lick over his bites and then suck harshly, deepening the colors on his skin. The slick drenching your underwear is becoming unbearable. You need some sort of friction, some sort of contact, a release even.Ā
You rise up off of him, looking down at his marked up neck, shoulders, and tattooed chest. Heās breathing just as heavy as you are, dark eyes circled with now damp liner, mouth open letting shakey breaths come out, dark brown curly hair surrounding your pillow under him. His hands fall from your shirt to the bed as you slide down his body, placing kisses down his abdomen.
His head lifts off the pillows to follow your every move on him. Your kisses come down to a stop once you reach the button on his jeans. You raise your head to look at his eyes, staring you down lustfully.Ā āDo you want to take these off for me?ā you say to him with a smile. His hands are already rushing down to his pants to remove them the moment your question leaves your lips. You also move off him to quickly remove your underwear, feeling a line of clear wetness connecting your underwear to your center.Ā
Eddie lays back in his same position with his dick now fully hard as you climb on top of him. His ringed hands travel to your thighs on either sides of his hips, squeezing them. You let your core hover over his firm length thats laying flat against his stomach. You lift your shirt up, but still keeping it on, as you grind your wetness on the skin of his shaft, not letting it enter you yet.Ā
Your hips slowly roll over his veins from his base up to his tip, leaving a trail of your wetness from bottom to top, only slicking up the parts your folds are touching. Eddie can hear how wet you are, and he cant take his eyes off of your pussy grinding on his shaft. He thinks itās so erotic to rub your core all over him and throw your head back at the contact, letting him know that any part of his dick feels good as long as its touching you in some way. He can hear your breathing increase as your hips roll forward faster, practically putting on a whole show for him.Ā
He tucks his lower lip in his mouth at the sight, eyebrows slanting downward, exhaling hard through his nose.Ā āFuck-ā he curses under his breath.
Your head comes down to look at his dark eyes, but they arenāt looking at yours. They are fixated on your pussy, the way your folds drape over his shaft leaving wet proof of your arousal. You lift your hips to tease him, but you donāt expect his eyes to fixate harder on something else.Ā
āWait wait- do that again.ā he begs, tapping on your thigh. You put your pussy back on him and then lift it again much slower, and he practically melts at the sight of your slick connecting clear strands between your pussy and the hard shaft of his dick.Ā
āHoly fuck, thats really hotā¦ā he says breathlessly. You lightly chuckle down at him. You lower your shirt back down and bring your head to hover over his face, coming down to kiss his pretty pink and plump lips. The teasing helped you alleviate the ache of needing your wetness touched, but now you just want more. His hands move to grip your angled up ass tightly, bringing a moan out of you as your lips are still on him.
Your kiss with him comes to an end as quickly as it started so you could lift up straight and take tug your shirt off over your head. His eyesā looking extra sensual with all that eyeliner still surrounding themā stare at your now naked body on top of his own. He licks his lips as he takes your body in, lowering back to sit on the curve of his shaft again.Ā
āYou look so pretty on top of me, doll face.ā His hands travel up from your ass to your thighs, then hips, then to your waist. He gulps.Ā āCan you, um- maybe move faster?ā his voice is shaking with arousal.Ā
The smile that you have on your face is patronizing.Ā āAw. like this?ā your hips grind on him at a steady pace, which you know isnāt the fast pace he wanted.Ā
ādamn it, y/nā he whines at you,Ā ācmon, pleaseā¦ā
āPlease what?ā
Your folds still drag on him lazily, not moving any faster. He bucks up onto them, hoping that it will give him more of that wet sticky friction he craves.
āplease stop teasing-ā he sighsĀ āfuck, please..ā
At this point, heās practically asking for you to ride him, wanting him inside of you this time.Ā
āDo you want me to fuck you, then? Yes or no, Eddie.āĀ
āYes- yes, pleaseā his voice rushes out.Ā āGod damn it, fuck yeah I do.ā
You lift your leaking folds off his shaft and raise your hips in the air so your mouth,Ā rather than your core, is directly above his glistening dick as you sit up.Ā
You let spit fall from your mouth and slowly drip on his dick, mixing with your slick. You lift your hand to grab it, giving it a few pumps. His hips push up into your fist, trying to fuck it by himself.Ā āStay still, Eddie.ā you mutter to him, making his shoulders and chest shrink down in needy disappointment, wanting to continue fucking himself in your hand.Ā
You bring your hand that was wrapped around his shaft a few inches from the side of his face.Ā āSpit.ā you say, and he turns his shoulders to lift his head over your palm and spit into it.Ā
āGood boy.ā
Blood rushes to his dick at your praise.
Your palm, now covered in his spit, comes to lather up his dick. Your hand effortlessly slips from bottom to top, squeezing harder when your palm meets around his tip. He exhales heavier at your technique, fighting back the urge to just fuck his dick up into your hand until heās cumming all over it.
You grab his hand with your unoccupied one, guiding his fingers to your wetness.Ā
āFeel that?ā you ask him, his fingers sliding over your slit as he nods, tucking his lips into a needy flat line.Ā
āHear that?ā you say, referring to the sounds of how wet you are. He gulps and lets his middle finger slide into you. You spit into your hand and rub it into his dick again as you shudder at his finger slipping in and out of you.Ā
Noises of your wetness with his own as you rub him faster fill your bedroom, along with your sighing and a groan escaping Eddieās lips. You grab his hand that was fingering you and guide his fingers into his mouth, making him taste you. He obliges, licking up your wetness while watching you on top of him.
Your hand stops rubbing him and you hover your hips over his shaft, guiding his tip to your entrance. His finger leaves his mouth and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
You sink your hips onto him while your hands lay flat on his chest, bracing yourself at the stretch. His veins that your folds were just gliding over are now kissing your walls inside you. His head bends back into the pillow behind him as he grips your hips, giving them a squeeze.Ā
āha.. shit, so warm- youāre so warm.ā he whimpers, large brown eyes with eyeliner shut and reopen to look at your pussy after it completely swallows him. You slowly lift up and sink back down again. You gasp at the feeling of his thick shaft filling you, then your hips raising so just his firm tip is inside and slamming back down.Ā
You keep a steady pace of just slowly lifting and harshly coming back down, making his mouth go slack as he only breathes though those perfect lips of his.Ā
āOh god, please babe, Iām begging you.. go fasterā he moans.
āOh really? Thats not convincing.ā you tease him, hand coming up to wrap around his throat lightly, which only makes him even more needy, since he likes it so much better when you choke him harder than this.Ā
He whines.Ā āy/n, pleaseā
āTry again.ā
āJesus, fuck- y/n, please, please.Ā Iāll be a good boy, Iāll do anything, just go faster.ā
You get butterflies and clench your walls around him tightly at his whines. āMuch better, Eddie.ā You smile down at him, slamming your hips down faster, causing the bed to shake and his body to twitch with every movement. His eyes squint in pleasure, stomach tightening, legs shaking. His grip on your hips gets firmer.
You moan and let your head fall back, taking your hand off his throat to push your hair away. You notice how he looks underneath you, hair messily laying around his pleasured face, dark hickeys and bite marks all along his neck and shoulders, wet lips parting from each other to let all his noises out, chest tightening- its so obvious heās feeling so good.
Your hand comes back down to wrap around his throat lightly again.Ā
āYou like this, donāt you baby boy?ā
āMhmmā he whispers, eyes rolling back as you choke harder, hot tears starting to form around his eyes.
āYeah, you like when I use you like this? hm?āĀ
He nods at your words, a singular weak tear comes out only about an inch far from its source. The tear picks up some of his eyeliner so it has black specs in it, depositing it onto his face.
āSay it, use your wordsā you start to pant, continuing to roll your hips on him at that fast pace.Ā
āShit- yes mommy-ā You abruptly stop rolling your hips, your now wide eyes meeting his widened ones as both his hands slap over his mouth to cover it entirely. Heās shocked by what came out of him. Your hand lifts off his throat.
āOh fuck- Iām sorryā his muffled embarrassed rambles rush out quickly. Heās been wanting to call you that for so long, it just slipped out āI was- it was supposed to beĀ āyes maāamā but, Iām sor-āĀ
āI really dont give a shit, just say it again.ā you command, grabbing his wrists with both your hands, taking his hands off his mouth. You lean forward a bit to pin them down firmly on either side of his head. Youāre completely turned on by his secret mommy kink, and all you want to do now is make him cry as much of that eyeliner off as he can.Ā
You start fucking him again, hips raised now at a different angle since youāre leaning forward. You glide up and down on him, nice and easy, purposely squeezing your walls around him every time you rise up along his shaft. He bites his lips, trying to keep his mouth shut.
āSay it, Eddie.ā you spit out, and he shudders at your harshness. He ashamed of how aroused it makes him. He feels so pervertedā¦ but so goodā¦
āFuck mommy,ā he cries out with a whimper that drives you crazy,Ā āharder. Fuck me harder.ā
You start to pick up the pace slam your hips down, faster and rougher, just how he likes it. Your hands on his wrists grip around harder, nails digging into them because of how good youāre feeling. Curses and moans leave your mouth.
āIām gonna use both hands on you now ok?ā you say through a moan, referring to placing both hands on his throat, and he gets visibly excited.
He shows all his teeth in the smile he gives you, dimples appearing again.Ā āOh shit, you donāt know how much I want that.ā
You exhale a short small laugh at him as you stop bouncing on his dick temporarily. āJust tap my arm several times if itās too much, then.ā
You slide both your hands off his wrists to move them over to his neck. Layering your fingers over him, you start squeezing, firmly but not roughly, experimenting how much pressure you really need to use on him.
You then continue riding him at your pace from a few seconds ago. Rolling your hips, bouncing on him roughly making your tits shift up and down along with your body.Ā
Now you have both your hands wrapping around his throat, choking him as he drools. His big hands move from off the mattress they were pinned to, and up to grab your forearms as tears fall from the pain and pleasure heās receiving. The tears pick up the eyeliner from his eyes and drag them down the sides of his face as he smiles a fucked out open mouthed grin, beginning to go only slightly lightheaded from the choking.Ā
āYou look so pretty like this, Eddie baby - ohĀ fuck -Ā crying all that eyeliner off for me.ā you canāt help but moan at the sight.
He lets a choked whimper come out from your praise. His hips buck up, a reaction to feeling so stirred up by your dominance, by you using his dick like its all your own, like it belongs to you.
The thoughts make his stomach flutter and tighten, he cries even more. He wants you to choke him harder and ride him rougher.
āMore.ā he rasps out.
You lift your fingers off his neck.
āSpeak up, pretty boy.ā
āWant you to choke me harderā he says in one rushed breath.
Your hips slowly and sensually roll on him, catching your breath.Ā āYouāre the cutest,ā you say to him, out of breath,Ā ābut I know you can ask me better than that.ā
He gulps, knowing what you mean. He blinks lazily, chest rising quickly, licking his lips in anticipation.Ā
āshit, please mommyā he whines,Ā ābe rough with me, I want itā
Your hips roll a little faster.
āAgain.ā you command
āJesus christ, IĀ need it. Use me, fuck me, ah shit- shit! Hurt me, I donāt careā¦āĀ
āAgainā you full on moan
āplease, please-ā he lets all these āpleasesā fall from his lips, voice getting higher after each one. Heās impatiently bucking up into you, making his dick meet your thrusts at a thigh clenching pace.
āThats it baby, there it is.ā both your hands now return to his neck, choking so hard that his tongue begins to come out a little bit, his eyes flutter and roll back, ringed hands gripping at your forearms.Ā Heās shuddering so much, you think he must be close to reaching his climax with the way his voice is trembling and his rough hands grip you. You keep moaning at the sight.
The cut off of his circulation that your hands are providing him makes his head dizzy. His vision blurs, he can feel his heart beat in his temples. He taps out, patting your arm signaling for you to release his neck. You quickly do, placing your hands on his chest, watching his face closely.Ā
āYou ok?ā you breath out to him and he nods quickly. He lets rushed and raspy breaths leave his plump lips, corners of his mouth wet with drool. Pink swollen lips quivers as he nears his orgasm and new hot tears fall.Ā
āMy good boy, you took it so well.ā You smile down at his dizzy, unfocused eyes. Streaks of tears with eyeliner paint his beautiful face.
āOh fuck, Iām so close- so close sweetheart-ā he cries out loudly, voice dry and cracked, head whipping back onto the pillow. He curses and whines outĀ āfuckā over and over again. His words slur together as he loses his composure.Ā
āNot yet,ā you whine,Ā āhold it.ā
Hands on his chest begin to squeeze him, and you start to near your own climax. You want to see how far he can hold it for you, how long you can keep him on edge. How much can he plea before he just cant speak normally anymore.
His trembling sweaty hands are now squeezing so hard on your thighs that the skin molds tightly around his grip, creating little hills of flesh between his thick fingers. Blunt nails start to press into your skin. His bottom lip is being bitten so hard by his upper row of teeth that is turns from pink to red, nearly drawing blood. Holding back an orgasm is so much harder for him than you thought.
Your hand comes down to your mound, middle finger finding your clit to rub quick circles on it. This causes heat to rush from your face to your arms, stomach, and legs, making your whole body stimulated. Your pussy involuntarily clenches around him.
Eddies heart skips a beat and his breath is caught in his throat.
āNo, no-Ā ām gonna cum if you keep doing that.ā his voice comes out sounding like heās about to cry again.
Youāre moaning louder now.Ā
āHold it, hold it-ā youāre so close.
āI cant mommy, please!ā he repeats over and overĀ ālet me cum, let me cumā each whine more pitchier than the last. Heās shaking harder than ever, his grip on you becomes painful.Ā
The stimulation you give your clit makes your head fall back and shoulders shake violently as you begin to feel the beginning of your orgasm grow in your stomach.Ā
āCum, Eddie.ā
You ride out your own climax while heās still cumming inside you. He whimpers outĀ āthank youā twice in one breath so they come out very airy and light. Your face is hot as you feel tingles in your cheeks. Sweat appears on your back, face, and neck as shivers and trembles run through your body. Cum from both of you, as you still fuck yourself on him, creates a runny cream colored ring at the end oh his base, spilling onto his pubic area, trickling down his balls.Ā
He trembles at the warm liquid spilling around on him, hands still on your hips but his grip is loose. All you can hear is his vocal groans through his gritted teeth mixed with your whines as you come down from your high.Ā
You stop bouncing once youāre both finished, and just stay sitting on his dick. Your thighs burn from how over worked they are and your chest heaves. Eddie stares at your tired face and moving breasts as your chest rises from breathing.
āHeh,ā he chuckles,Ā āhot.ā
Your breathing is deep and slow as you look down, getting an eye-full of his flushed and red fucked out face with dried streaks of dark eyeliner. He has small strands of curls clinging to his forehead and neck. You half smile at him, too tired to fully move muscles in your face.Ā
āYeah, your secret mommy kink is very hotā you tease.Ā
He had nearly forgotten that he called you that since he was so focused on the way his orgasm shaked him up. His fingers, glittering with his rings, come up to shyly rub one of his eyes, accidentally smearing the eyeliner more.
āOh god, y/n, please donāt.ā he tiredly chuckles, voice coming out dryly. He begins to barely soften in you.
A sigh leaves your lips.Ā āToo late. There are 2 things you need to do more often now.ā you say as you begin to raise off of him.
āAnd whatās that?ā his eyebrow lifts as he watches you.
You swing a leg off of him and collapse next to his head. Then, bringing yourself up on your forearms, you turn your face to meet his smeared eyes.
āWell for one, you need to wear eyeliner more often.ā
āAnd two?ā
You bring your voice to a whisper with another half smile.Ā āI think you know exactly what two is.ā
He shyly turns his head away from you, but you catch a smile on his face before its fully out of your vision. He whispers under his breath aĀ āgod damn itā and you find his bashfulness extremely cute.Ā
His head turns back to you.Ā āOk, ok. Fine for both. But-ā
You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion.Ā
āYou gotta choke me like that with both hands again.ā you both giggle stupidly.Ā āBecause that shit-ā he whistles out a noteĀ ā-thatās hot. Like, hot as hell.ā
i like how i didnt make the mommy kink excessive to the point where it gets over used and loses its effect. lmk if theres anything you really liked about my writing in this fic so i know what to continue doing :)
Tag list : @cringerat @cyberfaii @dickfacemcshitboner @cringerat @eddiemvnsongf @julietsecretdiary @iveseenstrangerthings50 Ā @sansthelonelypunster @leslieelainetrask @rafecameronswhore @foggyloverpeanuthairdo-blog @justadeanandeddieslut Ā @wojciechovsk @blossoming-ceeĀ
kai anderson x fem reader Stockholm syndrome type of thing with smvt <3
I decided to combine these three asks since they're all pretty similar, so I hope that's okay. For the plot I went along the route of "ditzy person gets kidnapped but isn't bothered by it and eventually falls in love with their captor", because that would totally be me lol. Enjoy <3
I had way to much fun writing this
Kidnapping Confessions (Kai Anderson x reader)
Warnings: SMUT, mentions of kidnapping/Stockholm syndrome, self depreciating thoughts, riding, praising, degradation, soft Kai
When you first got kidnapped by Kai, you didn't expect to fall in love with him, but that's exactly what happened.
You remember when he kidnapped you as if it were yesterday. It was already dark when you went to the supermarket to pick up some groceries, and you were walking back to your car when he nabbed you.
Rather than try to fight it however, you let him take you suprisingly easy. Once he got you in the car, you started asking him a bunch of questions.
"Where are we going? Are we going to your place? If so, can we stop and get some food first? I'm starving," you rambled as you sat tied up in the backseat.
Kai wasn't expecting you to be this calm. He had originally planned on knocking you out and taking you by force if necessary, but if anything you seemed happy to be there.
He remained silent. I mean it's not like he could talk anyway, with the clown costume on and all.
"I like your costume, it's really neat," you said. "Also this blindfold is see through by the way. Like, I'm not telling you how to be a kidnapper, but next time it should probably be a tad bit thicker, so people can't see where you're going. Just a thought."
Oh my God, he thought. Do they ever shut up?
Once he got to his house, he took you out of the car and downstairs to the basement.
"Oh, wow! Neat place you've got down here, it's like your own little man cave," you complimented. "Not saying that you're strictly a man, of course. You could always be a woman. Or nonbinary."
He rolled his eyes through his mask as he began to untie you. "Wait here," he commanded, his mask muffling his voice.
"Okay!" You agreed happily as you sat down on the couch. "Ooh, can I watch TV?"
He didn't answer you, choosing to go back upstairs instead.
"I'll take that as a yes," you said as you turned it on and flipped through the channels.
A couple of hours later he came back downstairs, out of his clown costume and wearing his regular clothes. You had fallen asleep on the couch while watching Food Network.
You jolted awake when you heard him walk beside the couch and flip off the TV.
"Oh, hi!" You said, stretching. "That was a pretty good nap, if I do say so myself." You looked him up and down. "Damn, you're hot," you muttered.
He smirked as he stared down at you. You watched him walk over and sit at a circular table in another part of the basement. He gestured to the seat across from him, inviting you to sit down.
You complied, getting up from your spot on the couch and taking a seat at the table. "Hi," you said as you gave him a small wave, overcome by sudden shyness.
Something about the bright lights in the lamp above you made you uncomfortable. It felt as though you were put on display for the whole world to see.
He brought his right hand up to the table, holding out his pinky. You copied him, not wanting to seem rude.
"We're about to do something called the pinky power," he stated. "The rules are simple. Once contact is initiated, you have consented to answer all of my questions, no matter how personal they are. If you lie in any way, I will know, and there will be consequences. Understood?"
You nodded your head yes.
He exhaled deeply before latching his pinky onto yours. "So, tell me...what scares you the most?"
You were about to make a joke, but you could tell by the look on his face that he was serious about you telling the truth.
"Honestly? I'm worried that people don't care about me the same way that I do for them, or at all," you confessed. "That's why I let you take me so easily, because I wanted to know how long it would take for people to realize I was gone."
You sighed. "That sounds pretty stupid, doesn't it?"
"No, it doesn't," he disagreed. "You desperately yearn for validation, so much so that you were willing to let a complete stranger kidnap you just so you could have a taste of what it feels like to be cared about. I know what that's like."
"You do?" You asked as tears began to form in the corners of your eyes.
"I do." His gaze softened, no longer the stony glare you had received earlier. "You deserve to be cared for, and I'm going to make sure that happens."
"Really?" You sniffed. "How?"
He let go of your pinky and patted his thigh. You got up from your seat and walked over to him before hesitantly sitting on his lap.
"I promise I'm going to take good care of you," he said as he began to unbuckle his belt. "Take off your pants."
You did as he told you, taking them off and placing them on the ground before slipping off your underwear as well.
By this point he had removed his length from his pants and was pumping it up and down, prepping it for you.
"Come, little lamb. Sit."
Walking over to him, you gently lowered yourself onto his length, hissing slightly as he stretched you out. He threw his head back and groaned.
Once you adjusted to his size, you began slowly bouncing up and down on his cock. He held your hips in place as he watched you, occasionally whispering praises laced with degradation.
"You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you? Taking me so well."
You whimpered at his words as you quickened your pace, desperate to please.
"You're doing so well for me, little lamb."
He began thrusting up into you, taking you by surprise. You let out a loud moan which you quickly tried to silence.
"Ah ah, I won't have any of that. I want to hear all of the beautiful noises my little lamb has to offer," he chastised.
You blushed as he began sucking a hickey onto your collarbone. Moaning loudly, you leaned into his touch as he moved from one spot to another, leaving a trail of love bites wherever his lips met.
He suddenly grabbed onto your hair and yanked your head back, giving him complete access to your neck where he started gently nipping at your skin.
Overcome by the multiple sensations you were feeling all at once, you felt yourself getting close. "I- I think I'm gonna cum," you panted.
"Really?" He questioned as he watched you try to hold back your orgasm.
Unable to respond, you simply nodded, to which he replied, "Then cum for me, little lamb."
Whimpering, you came, clinging onto him as though your life depended on it. He came shortly after, his sticky seed spilling into you as you sat on his lap.
"You did so good for me, little lamb," he whispered as he ran his fingers through your hair, holding you close. "I think I might keep you."
You nuzzled your face into his neck and let out a content sigh. You were glad to have finally found someone who cared.
asdfghjkl i need a cold shower with daddy evan around about nowĀ š„µ
Tateās immediate reaction to that word slipping from your lips is a coy curl tapering the corner of his, a soft blush rising to his cheeks. Not that youād know, youāre bent over on all fours in front of him. āYou mean that?ā Tate double checks you didnāt say it by mistake, stalling the staccato rhythm of his hips slamming into you, plowing you into the pillows beneath. āIām your daddy?ā You nod frantically as he drives his length into you again, more fierce and determined this time. Tate leans down to press against your back, whispering into your ear: āSay that again, baby girl, and Iāll fuck your brains out like this every night for the rest of our afterlives.ā
As much as he tries to play it cool, Kit knows exactly how long heās waited to hear you call him ādaddy.ā Every night youāve spent together, wrapped in each otherās arms and tousling the sheets beneath you, heās waited patiently to hear those two syllables roll off your tongue. It finally leaves you when he has you pressed against the wall of the shower, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. āThatās my girl,ā he coos softly beneath the water rushing over your shoulders, dipping into your neck to sink a kiss into your collarbone. Just as a moan escapes you, Kit responds in kind. āDaddyās got you baby, daddyās got you.ā
Bless his pure, innocent heart, Jimmy thinks youāve made an innocent mistake calling him anything other than darling. But that crucial address came in the form of a very simple request ā ācome back to bed, daddy.ā Just as heād snapped on his braces to head out for tonightās show, brushing off your slip-up as a sleepy mistake, he turned on his heels to find you enticing him back between the sheets, repeating that request again only slower. āCome, back, to bed, daddy.ā Jimmyās eyes widen, practically bursting out of their sockets. In a flash, his braces are cast to the floor as he pounces on you, peeling every inch of clothing from your skin. āThe show can wait if my girl needs me this badly.ā
You probably shouldāve expected the furrowed brows that quirk over Jamesā piercing eyes when he hears that word hover on your lips in the middle of a particularly steamy session between the sheets of his master bed. āI beg your pardon?ā he questions with concern, pulling back from towering over you and his legs supporting him between yours softening their tense pose, his length remaining buried between your folds. āIām sorry my dear, but I have no paternal instincts over you. My desires are purely carnal ā of course marital too, after all, you are my betrothed. I apologise but I simply cannot possibly be your daddy.ā The word alone sends your back arching into him, your hips bucking beneath James, who looks on with wild curiosity. āOh I see, is this another of those peculiar modern desires? Like that āeating assā of which you so kindly informed me?ā Your not-so-innocent shrug gives him all the answers he needs. āThe parental attraction is purely semantic?ā With a nod from you, James closes the gap between you and hovers his lips over yours. āIn that case, come to daddy.ā
Kaiās lips brush yours as he tells you to āgo and put on something nice for the meeting tonight,ā but you donāt seem too enthusiastic about sharing your man this evening. Your eyes roll and in that moment, fingers curl around your throat, Kaiās palm pressing into your windpipe. āExcuse the fuck out of me, little girl?ā You hurriedly deploy your secret weapon as you oblige this time, a hushed āyes daddyā pours through your lips and a low growl immediately rumbles in Kaiās chest. āAbout damn time, princess,ā he moans into your mouth while loosening his grip on your neck, instead dipping his fingertips into the sides of your throat just to assert a little authority. āCall me daddy in the meetings from now on, you hear me? Itās about time those cucks knew exactly who you belong to.ā
Been thinking a lot about Tate bending me over a table and fucking me rough and hard....
Ooft this is a moodā¦ thank you for my first Tate request! I wish I had more time to dedicate to this because Tate is š¤š¤š¤ but I hope this is okay!
āHow long did you think youād last, baby girl?ā
Tateās words hissed through his gritted teeth with a sadistic air of accomplishment, knowing heād conquered you, revelling in his success over you.
It was romantic and slow, and you liked it. It was everything you had wanted, and more, when your boyfriend had taken your virginity. Now though? Now something was missing. You didn't know what that something was, but something was missing.
You couldn't remember who had initially mentioned the idea, but you had a suspicion it was Peter because, on that Saturday evening rather than going over the mutual Chemistry assignment you had, he wound up kissing you the moment you walked into his dorm:
You instantly swing your arms around his shoulders, stumbling into him clumsily as you ask into his lips: "Wait ā what about Harry? Isn't he home?"
"Shh, don't say his name when I'm kissing you," Peter mumbles into your mouth as he suddenly shoves you onto his mattress and quickly climbs over you to kiss your exposed shoulder. You can't hide your grin as you wrap your legs around his hips, hands tugging at his brown locks.
Harry had always made Peter jealous. It was an unwarranted jealousy since you had never shown any interest in Harry. Ever. But you wouldn't lie, Peter's jealousy made your lower stomach tighten marvelously.
"I missed you," He moans and leans in to kiss you again, pulling on your lip this time, dropping it and kissing you once more, hungrier this time.
"You saw me this morning!"
"Your point, Miss (y/l/n)?" Peter asks seriously, disconnecting your lips and staring at you like you had just said the most scandalous thing, "I missed you, okay? I missed your nose, your hair, these beautiful lips."
He quickly kisses you again, "I missed seeing you like this; hair mused over my pillow and skin exposed. Can't I miss my girlfriend?"
You beam up at him, taunting him, "Kiss me again then, Mr. Parker."
And he does. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. While you love his kisses, you had also missed him very very much, and you didn't understand why he wasn't making any moves to, well, have sex with you.
"Please, do something Pete, I want you." You whisper, giggling as his hair skims your cheek and goosebumps scatter across your skin when he kisses your neck passionately, intensionally leaving his mark.
"Have some patience (y/n), I wanna fuck you but," He begins and as he does, his lips suddenly disappear from your skin. You look at him curiously as he sits up. When he hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you lower onto the mattress so he can really tower over you, you squeal happily.
"I wanna fuck you as Spiderman." He finishes, looking at you with dark, lustful eyes. You choke on air at this confession and quickly lean up onto your elbows, hair spilling across your shoulders.
"What?"
"You heard me." Peter says, stroking your exposed thigh with his thumb. He then begins to bunch up your skirt and you close your eyes, moaning quietly, "Kinda like role playing? Imagine you don't know I'm me? If that makes sense? It would be so fucking hot, don't you think?" He whines, leaning down to kiss your lips again as he rubs his palm over your panties.
You can't deny that that sounds super hot as heat pools in your core and you bite your lip, "W-would that mean I would be cheating onāyou?"
He laughs, his hand moving quicker as you buck your hips, seeking the pleasure he's creating, "Yeah, I guess so." He admits but then he's gripping your thigh with his other hand and whispering hotly against your ear, "But Spiderman could make it up to you."
You groan.
He looks down at the dampness of your panties with amusement, "You're dripping, princess. You want my fingers, don't you?"
You whimper in response, cheeks warm as you look at your boyfriend. He looks beautiful from this angle; with his hair toppling over his features and wearing that lopsided smirk you love so much, "Words love, use your words." Peter chastises, pulling at your panties and letting them snap back onto your clit.
"Yes! I want your fingers." You moan.
"What about Spiderman, do you want his fingers too?" Peter taunts as he pushes your panties aside and slowly dips his index into your pussy.
You arch your back, moaning and automatically nodding your head with enthusiasm. You shut your eyes and groan when Peter adds another finger, and another as he pumps them in and out. You can't see him but you're sure his hazelnut eyes are burning into your skin as he watches you squirm underneath him.
"Good girl." He praises as he presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing a little and causing you to whine out as your legs shake. "You want to come all over my hand, huh? Is that what you want?"
You nod, "Please." You say and suddenly, his fingers curl up. In surprise, you jerk and attempt to close your legs as your back arches.
"Oh!" Your scream is smothered by his kiss. One of his hands push on your thigh, preventing your legs from closing as you come.
When Peter removes his hand from your middle, your smiling up at him with glazed eyes. He smiles back and brings his fingers to your lips. You let them slide into your mouth as you begin to suck on them, tasting your juices.
"You should leave your window open tonight, Spiderman might visit you." Peter teases, winking.
Your smile widens around his hand, "I'll wait up." You mumble and you know by the stupid grin he's wearing that he understood every word you so said, no matter how incoherent around his hand.
* * *
It's almost midnight now as you lay in your twin-sized bed, listening intensely to the sounds of the wind and any movements that could be happening outside your window. Because your roommate was out visiting family, it was only you, the darkness, and your pounding heart.
You turn onto your side, playing nervously with the silk pajama shirt you had on as you chew on your lower lip. It was exhilarating, knowing that when Spiderman came in through your window, you would pretend to have no clue he's Peter Parker. Your Peter Parker.
Your mind begins to wander, imagining Spiderman's ā Peter's ā lips on yours and how his spandex covered hands would tighten on your hips as he drove his dick into you, again and again. You subconsciously rub your thighs against each other.
Suddenly, you're pulled from your thoughts as the window opens wider and you instantly shoot up in bed, cheeks burning and core throbbing as you stare at Peter ā no, Spiderman.
He tilts his head, simply continuing to stare in silence as you pull your legs closer to your chest, the blanket still draped across them, "Hi." You manage to croak out, not sure how Peter wanted this to happen. When he didn't answer, you lean more into the fantasy, "Spiderman? What do you want?"
He walks closer, "You." He rasps out and you're instantly reassured by hearing Peter behind the mask. You blink at him when he raises his arm and in a blur, your gently thrown against the headboard, your hands are restrained at either side of you head.
Webs, he's holding you in place with his webs.
You can't seem to talk when Spiderman approaches you. You want too, and you want him to kiss you so badly but because he's wearing his mask, you don't think that's an option.
You're quickly proven wrong because as Spiderman crawls over you, basically straddling your hips now, he pulls up his mask a little over his nose and captures your lips in his. His cold hands cup your cheeks and you instinctively lean into his touch.
"Mmm, you're an obedient little thing aren't you?" Spiderman whispers roughly, smiling into your mouth. You can't suppress your own smile because deep down, this is all just a little bit funny. All this pretending as if you didn't know that under the mask it's Peter. Your Peter.
"I have a boyfriend."
Still, it certainly is fun to pretend.
"And you've made no attempts to push me away." Spiderman chuckles, sliding his finger down your cheek until he slips his thumb into your mouth. In the dim moonlight, he looks even more alluring than he would have in the daytime and in some way, he looks almost ominous. It makes you wetter.
"Some boyfriend you must have."
When he removes his thumb, you almost laugh but he kisses you instead. You want to tell him that you have the most amazing boyfriend but you can't because when he disconnects your lips, he's talking again.
"Did you wear this for him?" He pulls on the collar of the shirt you're wearing and quickly you look down and then up at him again, nodding innocently. "I think he would have loved it. I know I do." You smile as he leans down and begins to kiss and suck across your neck and collarbone.
"PeāSpiderman!" You moan when he slowly unbuttons the shirt and slips one hand inside to knead your breast. You arch up into him, pulling the webs holding you in place as he pulls down your shirt to take one nipple into his mouth.
You moved around under him as his other hand travels lower and lower, pushing the blankets aside as you hold your breath. When you feel his hand halt over your middle and see him look up at you, mouth ajar, you smile.
"Oh, so you're also a slut?" Spiderman taunts, palm now resting nonchalantly on your bare pussy. You squirm and shake your head. Spiderman only nods, "Oh but I think you are. Such a dirty slut. Mmm, I wonder if you're as wet as I think."
You groan and clench your hands as he runs one finger over your slit and your cheeks burn in embarrassment when he laughs. "Wow, you're wetter." He exclaims and lightly slaps your pussy, "Slut." He grins, squeezing your boob with his other hand.
"Kiss me." You whisper.
Hearing those words, he slips his finger into you and you buck your hips, "What was that?" Spiderman taunts again.
"Kiss me!"
"What about your boyfriend, little dove?" It's a game and Peter's enjoying it way too much. He smirks as you suppress your moan and he begins to fully finger you under the blanket.
"I don't care, just kiss me! Please!" You cry. He smirks and moves quicker and harder. You can feel your stomach tighten and you know you're not going to last much longer.
"I'm going to ā " You whimper but he interrupts you with a kiss again, also pulling his hand away. He doesn't give you time to complain when the minute he disconnects your lips, his hand covers your mouth.
"You come when I say you come. Now listen closely, I'm going to unweb your hands and turn you around. Then, you're going to show me that pretty ass of yours and let me do whatever I want to you, okay?"
You quickly nod, eyes blown wide with lust as his roughness turns you on. You want him to manhandle you this time, "And do you know why?"
You shake your head.
"Because that's how you treat cheating whores."
You grin behind his hand, that word sending pleasurable shockwaves into your pussy and you nod even quicker than the previous time. You feel dirty but, somehow, you like it. It's the good kind of dirty, the safe kind. You know you're always safe when he's around.
When Spiderman removes his hand, you stare up at him with that purposefully innocent look in your eyes and you whisper, "Fuck me."
"God," He mutters quietly, "So impatient." He cautiously pulls on the webbing from around your wrist as to not hurt you, but the minute your hands are free he lifts you up and turns you around.
You squeal when your head hits the pillow, your hair toppling over your eyes. Spiderman is pulling your hands behind your back and binding them with webs again so you can't prop yourself up or move. You hear him laugh, "Good girl."
"Honey, here, let me." He says condescendingly as his arm slides under your waist and roughly pulls you up so you're resting on your knees, ass in the air. You moan when he slaps your ass, his hands kneading the skin.
"You're such a beautiful girl." Spiderman says and you have to bury your head in the pillow to suppress the needy sounds you make when you feel his hot breath on your pussy.
You squirm when he licks up your core, hands gently pushing open your thighs. He begins to suck gently on your clit.
He has never done this to you, no one has, and it feels like you're about to bursts. You moan and squirm around as he only works quicker, smiling into your pussy and kissing it.
"You like it when I do this?"
"Uhh huh." You groan out when he licks you again, and again until you're seeing stars and begging to come.
"You're wetting my mask with your juices, dirty girl." Spiderman taunts, leaning up onto his knees and you hear him start to shift around and take the suit off.
"I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry. Oh!! I need you so badly."
"Who do you need, slut?" He whispers roughly as he lines up his dick with your slit. He's whispering dirty things in your ear as he teases you and you're crying now, tears wetting the pillow under you. When his hand bunches up your hair to pull your head back, you can't hold it in and you come on his dick with a loud moan.
"Did you just come?" Spiderman asks, a little surprised. However his hold doesn't loosen on your hair, it hardens and he pulls your head back harder, "I said, did you come, slut?"
You nod, biting you lip as you steady your breaths, "What you going to do about it, tiger?" You pant, challenging as much cockiness as you can.
You swallow your words when you feel him press into you in one quick thrust, "Shut up." He demands when you whimper. "Damn, I'm going to enjoy this." He growls, pushing your head down as he thrusts into you harder and harder.
"Who do you need, (y/n)?" He hisses, punctuating your name with a hard thrust.
"You!" You moan without thinking, stomach tightening again.
"Say my name! Who's slut are you?"
"Your slut! Spiderman's slut," You pant.
"Damn right, you're mine now. Mine. I might have to take you all night and every night from now on you feel so amazing. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He rambles, fucking you rougher than he has ever done and it's like you're floating.
You can only nod meekly as you make needy sounds to match his thrusts.
"I knew you would."
His hand tightens around your hair again, fucking you with passion as he whispers dirty things in the shell of your ear again. It's animalistic and rough and you've never experienced pleasure like this. You're kind of ashamed of how much you're liking it.
"It's always the innocent ones that are so cock hungry."
You moan.
"Spiderman, I'm going to come again!" You exclaim and his thrusts slow a little, making you groan in frustration, "Please, p-please." You whimper.
"You come once I come!" He explains and begins to kiss across your neck and jaw, "Now, be a good girl and put some work into this. Don't be a useless whore."
You moan and move your hips to his thrusts, opening your mouth wider as you continue making those desperate sounds he loves so much.
"Good girl." Spiderman praises and kisses your neck again, his hand slowly going to rub your clit. When he begins to play with the sensitive nub and you moan loudly.
"S-stop, you're going to make me come again."
"Good because I'm coming too." And sure enough, he's spilling into you as his grip tightens on your hair. Feeling him come makes you come, and you mumbled his name. His real name; Peter.
Suddenly it all become a little too much in your post orgasm haze and you begin to shake, "I'm sorry. I-I," You're not sure you want to end the scene because this kind of fucking was exactly what you had been missing, but this is the first time you've come so hard and you can't seem to breath normally as you feel weaker than ever.
"Peter. I need Peter. Please." You croak out, continuing to bury your face in the pillow as you cry from the pleasure and an unknown feeling in your chest.
Spiderman drops his hold on your hair gently, quickly shifting and pulling out. He breaks the webbing around your wrists and turns you around. When you look up, it's not exactly Spiderman anymore but a naked Peter, his mask already discarded on the ground.
"What's wrong (y/n)? What happened? It's me, it's so only me, did I hurt you?"
He cups your cheeks and uses his thumb to wipe your tears as he examines your expression with concern. You sit up to hug him, "Peter." You mumble his name like a chant and bury your hands in his hair.
"You're okay, I promise." He coos.
You nod, "I know, I know. I just, it's dark and I've never come like this and I couldn't see you and it all suddenly scared me. I'm sorry I ruined the moment, I just wanted you!"
You hug him tighter, skin on skin as your breathing calms. Peter wraps his arms around you too, pulling your disheveled shirt up your shoulder again as he kisses it.
"I'm here." He promises.
Once you've regained your bearings, you pull away and smile at your boyfriend. You're both naked and covered in sweat, and you have Peter's come inside you and smeared on your inner thighs.
"H-how was it?" He asks nervously.
"It was amazing. Simply amazing. I've never come so hard in my life." You say, kissing him. Only when you pull away a little, your hand is still in his hair, "But you know you're enough for me, right, Pete? Because you being Spiderman is amazing and all, but I love Peter Parker. No one can fuck me like Peter can and this," You point between you and him, "Only proved that."
He lights up at you comment, pulling you in to kiss you again, "Good," He mumbles in between kisses, "because no one but me can fuck you."
"Only you and Spiderman?" You giggle, teasing him.
He looks up at you, cheeks a little pink, "Yeah, only me and Spiderman."
Warnings: smut obv, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it in latex, it'll steal your paychecks), oral (m receiving), p in v penetration, dumbification, degradation, name calling (slut, whore), choking, one spank.
"What the hell are you wearing?" You jump out of your skin at the sound of Peter's voice behind you as you were attempting to come into the Tower without him noticing. You two were left alone for the week, the rest of the Avengers had to go on a mission that Tony said neither of you weren't ready for. Because of that, you went out to a club with your friends in order to get away from Peter. You had hoped that he'd be fast asleep by the time you got back; you should've known by now that he'd do anything to get on your nerves, including lose sleep.
"Jesus, Parker, warn a person! Why do you care? I'm going to my room."
"Where did you go?" The tone in his voice was one that you couldn't figure out. Angry? Annoyed? Worried? No. Couldn't be that one.
"I went to the land of 'none of Peter Parker's business'. Can I go to sleep, now?" You were getting tired of his questions and you'd had too many drinks to filter yourself.
"Damn, you're really dialling up the bitchiness, huh?" He scoffs, walking towards the large refridgerator. You could've (and probably should've) taken that as your cue to leave, but again you'd had too much to drink and didn't think about that.
"Easy way to avoid that: leave me the fuck alone? Shocking, I know, but actually very easy." You sauntered back down the stairs and into the room where he stood, leaning against the bar to look at him with a smirk.
He slowly closed the door to the fridge and turned to look at you, his jaw clenched and arms crossed. The telltale signs that you were pushing him even further. "Question, do you ever shut the hell up? Like, genuinely, because it seems like you ever close your mouth. Or maybe that's just with me."
The alcohol strikes again with your next response. "Oh, please, Parker. You wish my mouth was open for you."
Before you could process what was happening, Peter had you pinned against the counter with his arms on either side of you. He was towering over you and staring you down, a look in his eyes that you couldn't translate in your drunken haze. "I actually wish I could give it something else to do so I wouldn't have to hear it."
Your breathing was heavy and so was his as he looked back up at your eyes. He could see you still weren't all there, so he gathered what was left of his resolve and pushed himself off of you. He didn't say another word as he walked upstairs to his room and slammed the door, making you jump slightly.
What the hell was that?
--------
The next morning, you woke up with a massive headache and you weren't sure whether it was from the alcohol or all the thinking about what Peter did last night. Was he really implying what you thought he was? If so, how long had he been looking at you like that. Also, how long had be been Looking Like That. When he was pissed at you, tensing his jaw and flexing his arms, you couldn't help but think about how it would feel to be wrapped up in those arms. What it would be like to squeeze them as he held your hips and-
Nope, absolutely not. You had two more days in this Tower with him alone and you could not afford to be thinking about him that way the whole time. Calm yourself, you thought. As you walked down the stairs to get some breakfast, you heard some noise coming from the gym. Of course Peter's working out. "Gym rat." You muttered to yourself as you poured some cereal in a bowl, perfectly content to take it back up to your room and keep avoiding Peter.
"Next time you wanna insult someone behind their back, make sure it's not the guy with super hearing." Peter startled you, for the second time, almost making you drop the bowl.
"Maybe I meant for you to hear. Or, the more likely option, I just don't care." You spat back at him, not in the mood to carry on with the conversation before your pain meds had kicked in. You went up to your room before he could say anything else and locked yourself in for most of the day. You only came down again when it was time for dinner, you had slept through lunch and needed to start looking for something to order. You would think "the earth's mighest heroes" would remember to leave you with more to eat than cereal and ice cream, but no. As you were scrolling through menus on your phone, none other than Spidey himself came strolling down the stairs and planted himself in front of you.
"What are we eating?" He has a shit-eating grin on his face as if you're supposed to be amused.
"I dunno what YOU'RE eating, but I'm ordering from McDonalds." You say without looking up from your phone.
"Oh, come on, y/n. Don't be a bitch for once and just order something for both of us. If you're lucky, I'll pay you back." He was clearly joking about the last part, he'd definitely pay you back, but his brazen attitude was starting to get on your nerves.
"Order your own food and leave me alone, bug boy." You speak through gritted teeth, willing him to walk away with your mind. You find yourself momentarily wishing you had Wanda's powers in this situation.
"How many times do I need to tell you not to call me that?" Peter raises his voice just slightly. Someone else might not have noticed, but it was enough to have you full on yell. You lost your cool with him far too easily for him to start an argument over food.
"Or what, Spider boy? Huh?? What are you going to do? Come at me, bug boy! I'm pretty sure I can take you, I do train with Steve ya know."
He looked at you, unamused, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he watched you scream at him. When you finish, he just scoffs at you and takes a few seconds to collect himself. You thought you'd won this one until he finally speaks up from his place across the room.
"Can you take me? 'Cause I don't think Steve trains you for what I'm gonna have to do if you don't stop running your mouth." He slowly walks towards you as he speaks. Your mouth feels dry as you remember what he said last night, and you're not really able to form a coherent response to what he's saying to you now. "What's wrong? Not so tough now?" He's within an arms reach of you now and you look down at the floor, not wanting to look at him any longer. He takes the last step to be flush against you put his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly. "Can't speak now? Where's the come back, sweetheart?"
He lets go of the grip on your neck and you stay in your place, looking up at him with doe eyes and breathing heavily. "Get on your knees, y/n." You don't know why, but you do what he says, perching on your knees and waiting for his next request. "Look at you, being nice to me for once. It's quite the sight." He starts untieing the strings of his sweatpants while he looks down at you. "You look so pretty down there. I always forget how beautiful you are when you're screaming at me."
He pushes his sweats down and his dick bounces out and slaps against his lower stomach. He wraps one hand around the base and points it towards you. "Let's go, baby. Occupy that mouth of yours."
You surprise yourself with how fast you grab is his cock with one hand and put the top half in your mouth. Immediately getting to work at making Peter feel good. "Shit, y/n. I knew you were good for something, just hadn't been able to shut you up. So good." He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pushes your head lower onto his cock. "Don't get shy on me, now. Open wide like you all the time."
You start to squeeze your thighs together, liking the way he's talking to you. He sees it and uses one foot to kick your legs apart. "Don't be a greedy little slut. Keep your legs apart. I don't care if you're dripping on the floor like a whore, you keep them open." You definitely would be dripping at this rate. His harsh words make you moan around his dick as you keeping sucking him, trying your best ignore the ache between your legs. You felt him twitch in your mouth, a sign that he was getting close, so you paid special attention to his tip to help him get there quicker. "Oh, shit, y/n." He moaned and pulled you off his cock. "Nuh uh, princess. I'm only cumming in one place tonight, and it won't be your mouth. No matter how fucking good it feels."
He pulls you up to stand in front of him by your hair and gives you a hot, lustful kiss. He almost leads with his tongue, immediately pushing it into your mouth and exploring you as if he's trying to memorize every bit of you. He moves his hand from your hair down to slide over your hips and across your lower back, finding their resting place on your ass giving it a tight squeeze and a hard smack. You squeal into his mouth at the spank you just received and he pulled away.
"There'd be more where that came from if I didn't need to fuck you right now. I have plenty of time to dish out your punishment later." He pushed down your shorts and soaked panties and picked you up by the back of thighs without warning and set you on the counter, the display of strength making you almost let out another moan. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him in for another kiss, this one even more heated than the last as you can feel his hard length resting on your inner thigh.
"Peter, please." You whine as he teases you by groping at your tits and intentionally slowing down the kiss.
"Do you really think you deserve it? After the attitude you gave me last night and this morning?" He said inbetween open mouthed kisses to your jaw and neck as he was lining himself up with your core.
You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him up to look you in the eyes, your faces less than an inch apart. "Fuck it out of me then, Parker."
He closed the gap between your lips and slid his cock into your pussy in one quick push. The feeling of him stretching your walls so quickly made you break the kiss with a gasp. "Fuck, Peter!"
"So nice to hear you say my name in a good way. Instead of you giving me attitude for being worried about you." You're pretty sure he's referring to when you came home drunk last night. So he was worried, you thought. He starts thrusting into you before you can question it any more. "Thought you were out being a little slut for someone other than me. That pretty little dress almost had me on top of you. Would have if I hadn't smelled the alcohol on you."
The feeling of him moving in and out of you was making you lose your ability to form sentences. All you could think about was how perfectly he was hitting your spot with every thrust. How his pelvis was brushing slightly against your clit every time he pushed into you. "Pete- Peter, god."
"Losing your brain on me? No comeback this time?" He kept speeding up as he mocked you, only making you want even more. "Go dumb for me, baby. It's okay, I've got you. That's the point anyway, can't have an attitude if you're too cock drunk."
His words were giving you the permission that you wish you could say you didn't need, but were so happy to have gotten. You gripped him even harder and started uncontrollably scratching down his back. You would've felt bad about the marks you were leaving if you had any knowledge of anything other than Peter's cock in you and his lips on your neck. You could barely hear the words he was saying anymore.
"Damn, sweetheart, you're gonna make me bleed digging those nails into me." He looked at you, expecting a response, but when he saw your face and the fucked out expression you were wearing, he used one hand to stroke your cheek. "Aww, you really did go dumb for my cock. It's okay, baby, you can scratch me up. I'll be okay."
In the back of your mind, it surprised you how he could say such filthy things in such a sweet way. It was incredibly hot.
"Peter. Close." You whined out and Peter shushed you, still rubbing your cheek with his thumb.
"Shh, I know. I know, baby, I can feel you. Let it go for me."
"Want you to." Tears threatened to come down your face as you tried to tell Peter that you wanted him to cum with you, you just couldn't make those words come out.
"I'm right behind you, babe, I promise. Just let go." He moves his hand down to rub your clit, not giving you a choice of whether to obey him. You came crashing down before you could even try to stop it, screaming his name at the top of your lungs. You're shaking and clenching around him and you can't control your limbs as you cum all over him.
"Peter! Fuck! Oh my god, shit!" You keep shouting incoherent strings of words as he keeps fucking you, chasing his orgasm and riding out yours.
"Fuck, baby, keep milking me like that. You're doing so good for me, sweetheart. I'm right there." You would lay there and take everything he has to give you until you were halfway to passing out if he kept calling you sweetheart. His hips start to stutter and lose their rhythm and you feel him twitch inside of you, like he had in your mouth earlier. You could tell he needed a little bit more to get there so you make your brain put enough words together in the right order to whisper in his ear "Give it to me, Peter."
"Fuck, y/n." He groans as he paints his walls with your cum, digging his fingertips into the skin of your hips and holding you in place so he can rut into you. Even after he rides out the rest of his high, he stays buried inside of you. You're still slowly coming out of your daze of being a babbling mess, the only thing grounding you being Peter's hands on your face.
"Come back to me, baby. Where's my y/n, huh?" He's gently coaxing you out of the haze with his soft words and his thumbs drawing circles on your cheeks, making sure to leave gentle kisses on your forehead too. "Come on, sweetheart. It's me, it's Peter. Let me see those eyes."
You manage to pull yourself back to reality and look up at him, seeing slightly worried expression turn to one of happiness. "There's my girl. You did so good for me, baby." He pulls you in for a sweet kiss and slids his length out of you, causing you to pull away and hiss. "I know. I'm sorry, baby, I had to do it. It was sensitive for me too, I'm sorry."
"Why are you being nice?" The first thing you say since getting your voice back startles him, but he's had the answer prepared since he saw your face last night when he pinned you against this same counter.
"Because I like you, y/n. I know you think I'm annoying and you think I hate you, but I don't. I didn't know how to deal with having feelings for a girl that didn't feel the same way, so I started getting on your nerves on purpose and it just spiraled. I'm so sor-" You cut him off with a kiss. A kiss that said all the things you couldn't put into words. That you felt the same way. That you could never fully make it up to him as much as you wanted to. That you wanted him to shut up for 5 seconds so you could get a word in.
When you pulled away, he looked at you like you were the only thing he could see. "I like you too, Pete. It's okay, we're here now, we can put it all behind us and start over. At least, I can if you can."
Peter pulled you in even closer to lean his forehead against yours and smiled from ear to ear and you're sure you've never seen anything more adorable. "I can. I can do that, hell yes, I can do that." He kisses you again, soft but so passionate.
"Peter." You say inbetween his kisses that won't let up. "Pete."
"What's up, baby?"
"We have got to get off this counter, we eat here." You felt him moving his kisses even farther down your body, and you didn't have the willpower to physically stop him.
"Yeah, yeah. I got something to eat here, for sure."
Therapist: Considering what you told me and how much you wanna beat him to death, heās not. You pretty much hate him despite knowing him for years.
Me:
Me: Why did I need to come here to realize that.
Therapist: Because thatās my job to help you to understand some stuff. Also because youāre way too kind and you would let someone punch you in the guts and still consider them as your friend while they stab you.
As an update, Jerome gave my appointment to someoneās else today so we were both in the waiting room, confused and he walked in, patted my head and said sorry but honestly it was hilarious.
The secretary came to tell me that Jerome actually forgot to write me down on the appointment list.
This is a 100% normal situation with Jerome as my Therapist.
Therapist: Why donāt you send a mail to your psychiatrist when you have a bad mood swing?
Me: Like what? āHey JoĆ«l wassup, Iāve been very suicidal lately last night I wanted to die. Hope you have rad vacations and the weed is good save some good kush for me, kissy kissy.ā ?
Therapist: Exactly.
Me: Youāre as bad as me with human interactions Jerome, yāknow.
For a bit of context here: Around two months ago I went to a friendās who happened the live on the same street as Jerome, which I didnāt know. He was really surprised to see me and came to check on me, asking me why I was here with a bit of concern on his voice. And this take place earlier this month:
Therapist: So your friend lives in the same street than I?
Me: Yes. Townās short I guess.
Therapist: Were you really going to your friend...?
Me: Yes?? Why else would I be here?
Therapist: A lot of drug deals happen in this street and I see often teenagers and young adults coming and buy stuffs. I was a bit worried for you.
discoholicmusic
amandla
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
tangentwithtanner
germansingergirl
