i am so starved for ethan landry fics rn please what about ethan being readers pervy roommate and trying to sneak in her room to steal her panties and reader catches him but plottwist shes an even bigger perv for him
Hey, hey, hey! So the next Casually Devoted chapter is still a ways off, so have a little treat in the meantime! It’s been way, way too long since I’ve written for Ethan Landry, so thanks for the inspo Anon! I hope you dig this! I loved writing this one and it is a very fun fic for the first one of the year!
He never eats your food unless you explicitly offer it, he does his share of the chores, and he isn't obnoxiously loud late at night. Further still, he communicates with you well. If Ethan is about to do something that might cause you some trouble, he usually checks in with a, “Do you need to use the bathroom before I go for a shower?” or, “I was going to the store, need me to grab you anything?” Seriously, he is very considerate. There have been a few times he hits up the bakery on the way home and brings a favoured treat of yours with him, all while saying, “Just because.”
He is a total dream to live with.
Part of it was good manners and common courtesy, of course. If only you knew that a much, much bigger part of it was because he had an embarrassingly huge, pants busting crush on you. He was totally smitten and would bend over backwards for you, he'd do anything to make your life a little easier or more pleasant. And hey, if it improved your opinion of him and endeared you to him further, that is just an added bonus, another win in his book. He loved the time spent together, adored when you thought of him, the times when you showed a similar level of care got to him badly.
He’d been out earlier that day, had to attend a morning class, study group over lunch, the usual things that keep a college student busy in the middle of the week. Ethan was relieved to come back to the apartment, he is caught up on assignments, no more classes for the day, meaning that the afternoon is his to do whatever he wants. He unlocks the door, comes inside and is immediately hit with a delicious sweet smell and the faint sound of music. Shoes shucked, coat hung up, and he follows where his senses lead him, off towards the kitchen. He finds you in a tank top and criminally short shorts, a playlist running on your phone, and in the middle of baking.
Your head raises, spatula in one hand, tray of chocolate chip cookies on the table to the right of your hip and the cooling rack to the left. Your greeting is as enthusiastic as ever, “Hey Ethan, you’re home!”
You are excited he’s home, and he is unreasonably happy for that fact. Before he can return your greeting, your hand raised, and you try to tempt him over with a wave of your fingers, “Come and have one, they’re still warm.” The smile across your face is inviting as you say further, “You can tell me how class was.”
God, you are going to kill him, this is all so painfully domestic, it serves to remind him of all the things he wants from you. Ethan wishes that you were more than just his roommate and friend. He wants to come over, wrap you up in his arms and kiss you, he longs to be physically close to you, but he can’t. Still, he can’t stop himself from coming closer and reaching out to take the cookie you are offering up on the spatula. He plucks up the warm treat and takes a bite, he can’t stop the soft moan that spills out, fuck it tastes incredible. It’s gooey and obscenely fresh, the flavour is amazing, decedent and rich. His eyes want to roll back, you look at him expectantly, clearly wanting to hear his thoughts.
Ethan’s hand covers his mouth to still maintain some semblance of politeness, he tells you, “S’ so, so good.”
“Right? New recipe, I browned the butter first, gives it more of a caramelized kinda taste.” You explain, and he finishes the cookie, nodding along as he listens. He has to be careful, or he will demolish these cookies. He makes a mental note to only have a few tonight to ensure that you get your share. Ethan would feel terrible if he ate them all before you had the chance to have your fill.
Going back to your earlier thought, you ask, “How was class? That quiz give you any trouble?”
He licks a smudge of chocolate off his thumb and shakes his head before he informs you, “No, it went totally fine, thanks for the help.” Two nights ago you both had take-out and posted up on the couch while you assisted each other in some studying, he was very grateful you gave him a hand. For a night spent working, he had a crazy amount of fun being near you, chatting and listening to music as you poured over notes and books.
“No problem, anytime you wanna study together, just let me know.” You respond, and he will of course take you up on that. He hums in acknowledgment before asking, “So, what are you gonna get up to?”
“Oh, since I finished these, I was about to go clean the bathroom.” It flows off your tongue easily, and Ethan feels a thrum of excitement immediately. This new piece of information decides what he is going to do with his afternoon. You ask simply, “Do you need to use it before I get in there?”
His clipped response comes swiftly, “Nope, I’m fine! I’ll just be in my room, got something to do-” He hurries off down the hall and heads to his room. Ethan slips inside and closes the door, he drops his backpack to the floor and presses his ear to the wood and listens. He waits, and soon he hears the usual sounds leading up to this task. The cupboard doors under the sink open then close, your footsteps head towards the bathroom, he hears the snap of you putting on cleaning gloves. The music sounds louder, bouncing off the tiles in the bathroom, then muffles as he hears the door close.
He waits a full minute before he twists the knob as quietly as he can and creeps out and ventures across the hall to your bedroom. Your bedroom door is cracked, he nudges it open and steps inside. God, he loves your room, the carpet is plush, the entire place showcases your personality and it oozes comfortability. The smell can go to his head if he lets it, the distinct aroma of you mixed with the perfume you favour.
You take at least a half hour whenever you clean the bathroom, but he doesn’t want to linger in here too long and get caught. He makes a move towards your laundry basket, flipping open the lid, so the pile of your dirty clothing comes into view.
See, a few months back, Ethan went to go take a shower after you had, but you’d left something behind. He was pulling his shirt off, shifting his weight, and he feels something very silky and foreign against the side of his foot. He finishes removing his shirt and looks down to see a pair of panties left forgotten on the floor. Ethan can’t help himself, he reaches out and picks them up. The material is soft, a gorgeous purple that when he pictures the shade against your skin, it makes his breath catch. He turns them over in his hand, his thumb traces the cute little bow that sits up near the waist band. Then with a hard swallow, he holds them open and finds it still wet on the gusset, exactly where the underwear was pressed to you all day. He turns on the shower to cover up the sound, and he ends up getting himself off right there, pants around his thighs. He holds the material to his face, inhales the scent of you for the first time with his other hand wrapped around himself. Ethan ends up cumming absurdly hard, onto the tiled floor, all while thinking of you.
After cleaning up his mess, he showers, scrubs himself down while still on cloud nine. He slips your used underwear back into your basket when you are out of the house the next day, and this becomes a new trend, a naughty and filthy secret. Ethan finds himself digging through your basket at least once a week, but more often if he can reasonably get away with it. Sometimes, can’t stop himself from tasting you, the stained part that lingers with the flavour of you pressed flat against his tongue as he jerks himself off. Or he wraps the fabric around his shaft and cums right into them, revelling in the mental rush of even the smallest traces of you mixed with him. It feels primal and possessive on a deep level, drowning the remnants of you in him. Ethan loves the idea of you wearing the underwear he’s cum in without you suspecting a thing, sure he jams them into your basket while they are messy, and you wash them before wearing them again but still! It’s become an addicting compulsion for him, he should feel bad about it, and he does feel a tad guilty, but ultimately he thinks it’s harmless. What you don’t know, won’t hurt you, right?
Back in the present, the hamper before him is nearly full, laundry day is tomorrow, so this worked out pretty perfectly. Ethan has a veritable buffet to choose from, he’s going to dig out a pair and take it back to his room to use to get off with. Hopefully be able to return them to your basket so you’ve never noticed them missing, and the evidence will get washed away tomorrow, leaving you still none the wiser. He reaches in and starts to rifle through, he’s become very familiar with your underwear collection, when his fingers brush against one he knows right away. His fingers catch on the first pair, pulling them up to see they are the baby blue cottony boy shorts. He bites his bottom lip, unsure if these are what he is particularly craving. Ethan has plenty of time, he doesn’t need to just take the first ones he finds. He passes them to his other hand, and goes back in to keep rooting around.
Soon his left hand is overflowing a few different pairs tangled in his fingers, from the fiery red thong made entirely out of lace, to the cheeky floral printed bikini cut. He has a pair he is hoping for, he digs deeper still as he hunts. The set he wants are so sinful, jet black and buttery smooth, skimpy with lace edges, the way they feel against his shaft is heavenly. He is silently praying to find them, he is bent over and is up to his elbow in your basket. Ethan is so focused on his task, he has become totally oblivious, to the point that you are able to completely sneak up on him.
You cannot believe what you are seeing. Your roommate searching through your basket with a fistful of your unmentionables. Loudly, you exclaim, “Oh my fucking God!”
Ethan shoots up immediately as his heart drops into his stomach. He turns with his eyes wide, a complete deer in the headlights look, to see you standing in your bedroom doorway. Your eyebrows are raised, your hands are on your hips and lips parted in surprise.
This is his worst nightmare, you’ve caught him doing something so sick and perverse. He has no less than four pairs of your underwear clutched in his left hand, and it is so obvious what he is doing. You are holding his gaze, it feels like the longest half minute of his life, neither of you saying a single thing.
Ethan’s mind is scrambling at a break neck pace, what can he say to defend himself? What can he do to try and fix this? To salvage your friendship? To convince you not to tell everyone what a nasty freak he is and kick him out of the apartment?! Panic, panic, his heart is pounding, and he is nearly on the verge of an anxiety attack. Fuck, this is so bad, so terrible! He is spiralling hard, but wait…You’re smiling?
What you do next is completely unexpected and mind meltingly hot. You maintain eye contact and your fingers dip into your shorts at either side of your hips and begin to remove your bottoms. He watches as you slide them down your legs, you bend at your waist. You step out of them and pick up your now discarded underwear, standing up right again, the black panties he was searching for earlier now hooked on one finger.
You give him a challenging look, saying at last with a wave of the garment, “You know, if you wanted a fresh pair, you could have just asked.”
He is focusing on your face, holding eye contact to the best of his ability. Ethan knows that if he lowers his gaze even a hair, he won’t be able to tear himself away from the curves of your hips and the paradise between your thighs. He has spent far too many nights imagining-wait. His brain finally catches up and what you said, what you just did, and now his mouth falls open in pure disbelief.
What?! Shit, wait, say it out loud! He breathlessly utters, “What?”
You laugh, a fond roll of your eyes as you step closer, until you have him backed up so far he is nearly pressed to the laundry hamper.
You speak again, slower and clearer but still playful, “I said, if you wanted a fresh pair-” Your hand slips into his, taking the handful of your underwear still gripped loosely in his left fist, he lets you. Then you reach around his hip and tossing them back into the basket. You place your freshly removed panties into his now empty open palm, finishing your thought, “-you could have just asked.”
You are staring up into his wide brown eyes, trying to gage his reaction, it looks like he is still processing. The poor guy. Your hand slips up, gently tracing over his wrist and gripping his forearm as you prod, “C’mon Ethan, say something. I’m really putting myself out here.”
That spurs him into action, he forces himself to talk, “Are uh, are you being serious? You aren’t like….” He forces out a very weak laugh before finishing his thought, “-Uhm mad?”
A giggle bubbles out, “Mad? God no! I am extremely happy, fucking relieved, honestly.”
“Relieved?!” He questions, and you hum, “Yeah Eth, I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been practically throwing myself at you for months! I mean shitsake, it’s the dead of winter, and I am still dressed around the apartment like we are in the middle of a summer heatwave.”
A highlight reel of the outfits you’ve worn around him for the past few months plays through his mind unbidden. Every single thing you’ve worn is tight or displaying cleavage, high or low cut and tantalizing, it’s been a source of intense masturbation fuel for Ethan as of late. He just thought you were doing it for comfort, but to know you were doing it in hopes of catching his attention? It has him clenching your underwear in his fist, and when he does that? Ethan can feel how fucking soaked they are. He wants to moan, has to fight to keep his eyes on you, he wants to do a million more things. That same craving from earlier in the kitchen comes rushing back, he wants to close the gap between you and wants to press himself close to you and crush your mouths together-
Your voice cuts through the rushing river of his thoughts, accompanied by your sure and steady hands turning him towards your bed. Your palms pressing insistently onto his chest urging him backwards and deeper into your bedroom, “You know, I think that you should get on my bed and show me just what you intended to do with those.”
His steps stumble, he lets you push him until the backs of his knees hit the edge of your bed, and he lets himself fall onto the plush surface. His feet are still on the floor, he is propped up on his elbows and he stays focused on you as you take off your tank top so you are now standing completely naked in front of him. You give him a challenging raise of your eyebrows, asking an important question with one simple word, “Well?”
He knows not to question a great thing when it falls into his lap, so he stops hesitating at last and rushes to get his pants down. Button popped, zipper down and denim pushed down to his ankles along with his own underwear. He is on his back, pulling up his shirt, his painfully hard dick resting against his exposed stomach, the tip flushed and wet with precum. His hand, the one that isn’t gripping the fabric you gifted, wraps around his shaft, the jolt of sensation makes him inhale harshly. His lips are left parted, he slowly begins to touch himself, he cannot believe he is doing this while you watch.
He cannot stop looking at you, at your curves on display, and every inch of your gorgeous body with all of your exposed skin. The look on your face telegraphs just how into this you are. You encourage him when you say, “Yeah, go on.”
He brings his fist up to his nose, he inhales the heady scent of you and lets out that first quiet moan. The smell makes his grip tighten, his pace quicken, and you are drinking in every small move he makes, listening intently to each sound and hurried breath.
You’ve had it bad for Ethan since about a month into living together. He is sweet, earnest, hardworking and God he is so pretty it is almost painful. You’ve been slowly trying to entice him, ramping it up over time, revelling in any and all time spent together. You had nearly resigned yourself to his consistent lack of interest, thought perhaps you were just meant to be friends and roommates and that is all, nothing more. So, stumbling into him stealing your panties? A fucking dream, something you thought that was entirely impossible coming true and thrust onto you completely unexpectedly, turning your entire day on it’s head. You know that you are not going to be able to remain standing here and just watching him, but for now you simply have to indulge at least a while longer. The goal is to have this sight burned into your brain so indelibly that you will see it whenever you close your eyes, as if it has been tattoo’d onto the back of your lids.
He looks so fucking gorgeous, it is unreal. A camera is not good enough, a picture would not be able to do him justice, perhaps a talented artist rendering him in oils put to canvas might be able to get it right. You soak him up, from the pinch of his brows, to his unfocused gaze and the steadily increasing flush to his face. His shirt is pulled partway up his stomach, and you want it gone, you want him to be as naked as you are.
You watch as he strokes himself from base to tip, his grip on himself firm, he inhales the scent of you once more and the moan he lets out is louder than the previous. That sound was criminal, and the next is even better. You watch Ethan as he opens his mouth and shoves the panties in so the wet crotch is right on his tongue, that muffled groan around your underwear is outright pornographic. The move is practiced, sure and steady. He does it so easily, it tells you that he has done this before, tasted you before, so desperate to know the most intimate flavour of you that he’s had your dirty panties in his mouth. The knowledge of this is too much, you can’t keep standing on the sidelines.
You cross the space to your bed, one knee comes down onto the bedspread, so close it touches his and his hand slows. His eyes are locked on you as your hand reaches out, two of your fingers push into his mouth and press the fabric down tighter onto his tongue. Ethan moans again, you can feel the vibrations from it, see his eyes are going hazier. He still has a hand on his straining dick but isn’t stroking it any longer, just holding himself firmly at the base. Your digits dig deeper, push harder, pass over your soaked and bunched up underwear in his mouth and go towards the opening of his throat. He gags on your fingers, eyes pleading for more, and you need him right now.
Breathlessly, you ask, “Want to taste the real thing or keep sucking on my old leftovers?”
He gives a shaky nod, the look he gives you clearly shows how unbelievably arousing he finds the very suggestion, it’s painted all over his face. You pull your hand back and take the ruined material with it, tossing them aside as you start to climb up the bed higher.
“Lay down.” The command is followed automatically, no longer half sitting up, he drops low as possible, and you don’t stop moving until you have your knees on either side of his head. Ethan is still reeling, flat on his back and staring up at your clearly soaked cunt mere inches from his face. He only gets moments to take in the view because then you are lowering yourself down the rest of the way until his lips can kiss yours.
His mouth opens, and his tongue slips up through your folds for the first time, his senses assaulted with the addictive smell and taste of you again; but this time as you said it, the real thing. He starts to eat you out slowly, licking from hole up to and over your clit again and again, rhythm steady. You squirm your hips, grinding down on his mouth, as your breathing hitches around a moan. Ethan groans against you, eyes falling closed as he tries to focus on giving you what you need. He finds a good pace, working with the moves of your hips, focusing on circling your clit in nice neat little circles. You sigh out encouragingly, “Yeah, just like that.”
As his tongue winds around and around, his own need kicks up again, the hand that was locked around the base of his absurdly hard shaft begins to move once more. He strokes himself slowly, unevenly. He is much more concerned with the heady flavour in his mouth and the sounds of pleasure you are gasping out, all thanks to him. His lips close around your clit, and he sucks, messy, nosily, and his tongue flicks over the nerve dense tissue caught in between his lips.
“Oh God, Ethan-” You utter, sounding nearly awed, and that exclamation goes right to his head. His grip tightens and his pace quickens, losing himself in the moment completely.
The poor guy is so caught up in eating you out that his own pleasure sneaks up on him. He’s been eating you out for about five minutes, in total has been touching himself again for less than two, and it happens suddenly. He realizes too late, and he can’t stop it. His mouth breaks contact, head back against the sheets and with a shudder paired with a very pathetic sounding, “Ahhh fu-fuck-” he cums.
You look over your shoulder just in time to catch it, the way he rocks up into his tight fist, his flushed dick fucking his hand. He spills in thick ropes that catch on the bottom of his shirt and over his flat stomach, the mess drips down over his hip bones invitingly. He looks and sounds even prettier when he cums. Ethan can’t stop trembling, and he is moaning brokenly, he is too hot for his own good. When his orgasm finds it’s natural end, he lets himself go, and trying to catch his breath. You lean back to look down at his face, eyes half lidded and the lower half of his face wet. You reach down and pat his cheek as you condescend, “Do you always cum that quick?”
He only looks mildly humiliated as he huffs out, “No-not…Not always.”
You hum unconvinced, your hand slips into those curls and twists, lowering yourself back onto his mouth, “Well you’ve had a long enough break, get back to it.” You pull none too gently on his hair as you grind down, encouraging him to begin again. He winces but complies, his hands come up to rest on your outer thighs, his tongue starting to slip over your clit once more, this time it’s messier, needier. You rock your hips with a moan of praise, “Therrre you gooo-”
You are so very into this, had been craving it for so long, you couldn’t help yourself from starting to fill him in on it. “You know something, Eth?” You panted out, “When I caught you elbow deep in my hamper, ahhn, it fffelt like I struck fucking go-ld.”
He lets out a questioning hum from between your thighs, refusing to break his stride as he continues to lap attentively at your clit. You take a steadying breath and inform him, “I’ve been rifling thr-ooh-ugh yours for months already. M’ shhhocked you didn’t catch me first-” A breathless laugh spills out before you confess further, “-I sometimes wear no-nothing but one of your shirts and get myself off in your bed.”
Ethan’s mouth falters for a moment at this new information, he groans against you as he pictures it. Before he can even fully process this confession, you are giving him another, “You know, ah-once, I uhm-” You gasp as he sucks on your clit before rushing out, “-I ca-ught you nappinggg on the couch and ha-ad to stop myself from sssitting on your face then.”
The idea of you waking him up by smothering him with your cunt is incredible, he doesn’t think there would be a better way to wake up. Ethan continues to eat you out, and you grind yourself on his pretty pink mouth as you babble out your sins. You tell him about the times you’ve masturbated by grinding yourself on the arm of the couch, and that you hoped he would come home and see you in the act.
You talk about this one morning that he was shirtless and just in his sweatpants, making coffee in the morning, and you wanted to yank his sweatpants down and blow him right there in the kitchen.
As Ethan works, he is becoming very aware of the fact that you are even more sex obsessed than him, and so much more perverted. The things you want and do, it’s all so hot and extremely dirty. Finally, you stop your self expose’ on your debaucherous thoughts and habits to tell him, “I can’t wait ah-any longer.”
He has been so caught up in everything you have been saying and his continued effort to get you off that his mind is slow to catch up. You get off his face and soon enough he is on the same page, because you are climbing on top of him and have your hand around his shaft. Ethan came not that long ago but getting hard again while he is tongue deep in you and you dirty talking to him like that is as easy as breathing. His tip drags through your folds, and you have him lined up just right, wasting no time you sink down taking him inside with a moan that he matches. He gasps out, “I-I’m uh still pretty sensitiv-”
“I don’t care.” Your response cuts him off. You follow it up with a pointed look and a firm, “You can take it.”
He can, absolutely he can. His dick is still wet with his own cum when you bury it in your slick cunt. You want to use him, his own slight discomfort be damned, and he wants you to.
You start to move, rolling your hips as you whisper, “Oh my God-” a breathless laugh leaves you as you start to ride him, “-I want to fuck you on every surface in this apartment.”
Ethan has no idea how he got this lucky, all he can choke out is a weak, “Ye-yeah?”
You bite your bottom lip, a nod, and you reach down, your hands catch his wrists and grip them tight before forcing them up and over his head, pinning them down. Your chest is nearly pressed to his, the new angle hits that internal spot perfectly, lets you grind your clit on him just so. Your response tumbles out on an exhalation, a very playful, “Yeahhh.”
You feel phenomenal, even better than he ever dreamt, the previous orgasm he had be damned, he isn’t sure how he is going to be able to hold out at this rate. As if sensing this predicament, you tell him in a surprisingly steady voice, “I don’t care if you cum again, I’m not stopping. Not till I get mine.”
He has a feeling you aren’t going to let up until he is cumming dry, and that thought makes his eyes roll back. He begs, vocalizing his earlier thought, “Use me.”
You laugh, it makes you clench around him, and he hisses through his teeth. You muse as your hips slam down harder, “Like I need your permission.”
It’s true, he can’t even try to pretend that he isn’t loving this as much as you are.
You loved the game. You loved him, more than you’d like to admit. But you also fucking hated him. He was the bane of your fucking existence. And more than anything else, you fucking wished he could have a taste of his own bitter medicine.
Rating: Explicit, NSFW 🔞
Fandom(s): A Nightmare on Elm Street
Pairing: Freddy Krueger x Fem!AFAB Reader
Word count: 10.5K
Content warnings: Rough sex, pegging, vibe usage, edging, denial, ruined orgasms, multiple orgasms, squirting, cum-eating, degradation, dirty talk, fingering, bondage, choking, grinding, overstimulation, begging, crying, Reader is a bitch, Freddy is a brat
AO3 Link: Here
Author’s Note: Here it is! The long-awaited Bex and Ace collab! @bisexual-horror-fan and I have talked working on a fic together for over a month now, and we’ve finally done it! A big sexy smutfic of our favorite burnt bastard getting absolutely wrecked. This was a blast to work on. We had so much fun and fed off of each other so well. Bex is fucking incredible, and I loved every second of throwing ideas back and forth. Go give her all the love in the world!
But let’s not delay anymore - let’s fucking get into it. Hope you all enjoy the ride!
Teasing was one thing – you could handle teasing. Hell, you had to, or your strange little arrangement with the dead pervert of a dream demon wouldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes. If anything, you probably would’ve been dead within the first two.
And with how much of a fucking ass he was being, you might’ve preferred that.
Freddy had long since passed the threshold of “teasing”. “Teasing” was the light mocking words and fond insults, the dangerous mixture of degradation and praise he purred against your skin. “Teasing” was his free hand skimming along your body and the scant, barely-there touches never quite where you wanted him most. “Teasing” was the blades of that glove leaving curved indents but never splitting the skin open and spilling warm blood.
This, though? What he’d been doing relentlessly for… what, nearly a month now, almost every single night? This wasn’t “teasing”. This was the cruelest, most torturous edging you’d ever endured.
Every single time, he’d absolutely fucking ruin you. Bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you at a punishing pace, shove your face into the mattress with your ass up and your legs spread and everything on display, pull you on top of him and dig his fingers and blades into your thighs until you bled as he thrust up into you. Overwhelm you with pain and pleasure till you were bleeding and sobbing and begging for release, begging for him to let you cum.
Because he got to cum – as many times as he liked. In you, on you, down your throat. But you?
Freddy was having far too much fun denying what you desperately begged him for. Right as you were on the edge, right as you were about to tip over, he’d snatch his hand away or still his hips and clamp you down so you couldn’t move. Or even worse, he would let you cum, and he’d instantly ruin it with a painful slap to your clit that made you shriek in surprise and pain. He’d laugh and not bother to act contrite as tears of frustration and desperation slid down your cheeks. If anything, he’d even act innocent, all wide eyes and smiles. “Awww, princess, you said you wanted to cum. And ya did! I think that was real nice of me, don’t you?” Anytime you tried to complain, tried to say he’d ruined it, it didn’t count, it wasn’t fair, he’d tsk and waggle a talon at you and say, “Don’t get greedy on me.”
It was all part of the game for him.
And you loved the game. You loved him, more than you’d like to admit.
But you also fucking hated him.
He was the bane of your fucking existence. And more than anything else, you fucking wished he could have a taste of his own bitter medicine.
The longer you ruminate on that idea the better and better it sounded. After another far too long and brutal night spent with him, one that left you shaking and slick with sweat, sheets plastered to your skin when you woke? You decided that thinking and wishing was no longer enough. It was time for action.
How could you possibly accomplish that though? You'd become all too aware of the power he wielded and knew that taking it from him would not be an easy task. He sure as shit wasn't going to give it over willingly.
You pull the sheets away from your body and force yourself into a half sitting position, it’s barely light out as you are reaching over to your nightstand and picking up your phone. You bring it up and turn it on, the bright light makes you wince and your fingers are still a little shaky as you fumble to hit the icon to get onto your preferred web browser. Your other hand comes up, you decide two hands might make this task easier, you type in the only thing you could think of that might help you achieve what you want. Two words: Lucid. Dreaming.
It was going to take time, work, commitment, but you wanted to do this so much that any hurdle was not going to stop you. It just took effort, specific intent. You had an old notebook lying around that had a ton of blank pages, you kept it in the drawer of your nightstand. Every time you wake up, eyes still bleary with sleep, pen in your hand, you'd recall and write out what you dreamt of last night. Meditation was said to help, you’d carve out time whenever you could, mindfulness was important as well as instilling little reality checks.
The biggest thing to help to aid in lucid dreaming was being aware when you were dreaming and thankfully, when your murderous fuck buddy only comes by in your dreams it becomes painfully clear whenever you are. You still figure some out for the few times you dream without him but he has been refusing to leave you alone so those were rare, few and far between but important all the same.
He wasn’t letting up and you were desperate to get back at him. Each night you awoke still frustrated, still leaking down your thighs and trembling only served to strengthen your resolve and push you harder to achieve what you wanted.
You tested the limits gently, carefully, seeing what you could get away with while in a dream with him. Small things, subtle things, things that thankfully he wound up being too preoccupied to notice. Your hard work was starting to pay off.
After another truly awful night, one where he edged you for around two hours and then promised to make you cum only to ruin you, three times in a row. The last ruin was so intense it made you cry, clenching on nothing so hard it was painful and even gushing as the pleasure dissipated into nothing.
A ruined orgasm accompanied by squirting was something new, something awful, and something you frankly didn’t want to experience again. He thought it was so fucking funny, laughing as he slung an arm around your shoulders, non-gloved hand sliding between your legs, fingers swiping roughly through your folds, over your oversensitive clit and making you sob even harder. He leans in, taunting low right in your ear, “Awe, that looked like a BIG one, musta felt so good.”
He brought his fingers up and sucked them clean, humming in satisfaction from the taste of your pure unfiltered frustration, listening to the music of your sobs, feeling quite pleased with himself. His hand slid down again, scooping up more and bringing them up to your face, fingers prodded at your lips, “It’s delicious. Here, taste.”
You shake your head weakly, keeping your lips closed, your eyes pleading as they meet his gaze. You feel that glove on your throat, sharp blades pressing into sensitive skin as he says, “I wasn’t asking.”
Your lips part and he shoves them in roughly, almost making you gag, choking you on the taste of your own cunt as more tears spill forth and that is the moment you know that tomorrow is the night.
Tomorrow he is going to get it and you are going to make him regret how he has treated you lately.
You wake that night, sheets sticky and messy, tears dried on your face and feeling ready to make him pay.
Your eagerness made the following day crawl by. Every minute felt like an hour. Every hour felt like an eternity. Your eagerness didn’t fade, though. If anything, the anticipation just energised you more as you had time to plan out what you would do and play it on repeat, rolling the thoughts around your head until they were perfect. Sculpting them, adding to them, adjusting them.
By the time the sun sank past the horizon and the sky faded to pitch-black, you were practically vibrating with energy. God you were so close. So fucking close to the moment you’d waited for.
As you went about your evening routine, you couldn’t help the pang of uncertainty.
What if, even after all your research and practice… what if it didn’t work? What if you got overconfident and slipped up? What if the power of lucid dreaming turned out to be nothing compared to what Freddy could do? He was a demon, after all. And in the end, you were just human.
He probably wouldn’t be happy if he realised what you were trying to do. You weren’t afraid of him hurting you, but you knew that he would use it as an opportunity to be extra cruel. Any chance of cumming you might’ve had would burn away in an instant. Who knew how long the edging and ruined orgasms would go on.
Freddy could be petty like that.
You shoved the thoughts down, smothering them until they were silent.
You wouldn’t slip up. You were smart. You could do this.
Through sheer force of will if nothing else.
When you finally lay down, curling the bedsheets around yourself, an odd sense of calm swept through you. A sense of finality, perhaps.
This was it.
You’d made your bed - now there was nothing to do but lie in it.
Considering how you’d been practically trembling with eagerness and anticipation, sleep came quickly. And rather suddenly, actually.
The heat of the boiler room hit you instantly, as if you’d opened an oven door. Your bedroom melted, shifted into familiar concrete and rusted pipes and scrap metal.
You took a steadying breath. “Fre-”
A hand snapped around your mouth. An instinctive yelp left you, albeit muffled, as you were spun around and immediately backed against a wall. Freddy’s hands were on you, touching and groping and pulling on your night clothes with a tangible sense of urgency. Your body reacted to him on instinct, and you let yourself melt in his grasp. You let your eyes flutter shut as he brushed his nose against your throat. As a single blade of his glove slipped under the waistband of your pants. As he pressed a thigh between your legs. As he purred, “Heya sweets.”
Admittedly, you weren’t faking the stuttering breath that left you. You were so fucking weak for him.
He knew it.
And you were counting on him knowing it.
“Freddyyyyyy.” You slipped your arms around him, curling your fingers into the matted fuzz of his sweater. You tipped your head back to grant him more access to your neck. A soft little noise left you when he flicked his tongue out and licked up your throat. Fuck.
“Eager tonight, are we?” His voice skittered along your bones.
You have no idea. You nodded slightly, tugging him closer. Not that he could get much closer. He had you trapped between the wall and his body, and if he got any closer he’d be inside you. In more ways than one.
“You miss ole Freddy that much?” he teased.
“Soooo much.” You hoped you sounded appropriately needy. You were pretty certain you did. But you could ham it up a bit more. “I was thinking about you all day.” It wasn’t a lie.
“Oh?” He nipped at your pulse, and his free hand slid under your shirt. His touch was scalding hot and rough with scars against your skin.
While he was busy feeling you up, you slid your gaze away from him. There were always loose chains dangling from the ceiling of this place… for some reason. You could hear them rattling and clicking in the distance.
The idea washes over you as easily and quickly as arousal usually does when his hands are on you. This was too good, perfect honestly. He’d never see it coming.
You need to make this convincing, not like it is that difficult, he has such a profound effect on you but still this is crucial. You close your eyes and make yourself take a deep shuddering breath, your hands tugging on his sweater before bringing your face back down, you breathe his name in a way that has him looking up at you.
You need to really sell this, you answer him, your eyes catching his again, “Yeah. I-I was at work and my mind was practically screaming at me-” You choose then to kiss him, as if you need it more than air, like you HAD to in that moment.
It certainly does its part to help sell how needy you are. He groans into it, returning your affection in that classic way of his, rough and all consuming, you never tire of the unique taste of him. Your mouth breaks away from his as you rush out on a single breath, “-just thinking about you, and this and fuck, I was so worked up, so fucking wet.”
You made sure to put emphasis on that last word, a hushed moan, another tug on his clothes and that time he kissed you as if he needed it just as you had.
His tongue is in your mouth and you arch up into him, your tongue brushing his, moaning into his mouth, your eyes fluttering closed. You had to keep composure, you needed to do this without getting so caught up, this was about distracting him after all. One of your arms loops around his neck, making sure to keep him close, your other hand slides down his body, you palm him through his pants, unsurprisingly he is already hard for you. His hips press forward, grinding his clothed shaft into your palm. You pull back, hand closing tighter around him, a firm squeeze as you say, “M’ so needy lately and s’ all your fault Freddy.”
He chuckled, “Mmm, yeah? Is it all my fault?” His own voice was clearly showing how hot and bothered he was getting, rough with arousal as he mocked you.
You gave him your best pleading look. Tried to look as pathetic and needy as possible - there was little that got him harder than your desperation for him. And he was already plenty hard.
As you ground your palm against his bulge and earned a throaty groan from him, you gave the dream itself an experimental tug. While he was distracted, he was lost in arousal and his own building pleasure and wouldn’t notice. You pulled on the dream. Pulled it towards you, around you.
The chains clinked in the distance.
Freddy paused.
Fuck.
You made sure your words were just as needy and saccharine as before. “I thought about touching myself while at work.”
Now that definitely got his attention. His gaze snapped up to meet yours, sharp and burning and utterly ravenous. The blades of his glove were ice-cold as they bit into your hip, his grasp just shy of bruising as the metal pressed against your skin. You shivered. His other hand came up to grab your jaw as he said, “Wouldn’t surprise me, considering what a desperate little whore you are.” Despite the words, he rolled his hips, thrusting his still-clothed cock into your grasp.
God, you needed to move soon, or else you were going to just fucking give in and let him do whatever the hell he wanted.
“Whatever the hell he wanted” probably included not letting you cum.
You tugged on the dream again, pulling the chains down and towards you. When you cast another quick glance away from Freddy, the chains were slithering across the floor as if alive, slowly and silently creeping towards the both of you.
“But I am surprised you lasted this long,” Freddy said. Ripping filled the air as he flicked his claws up your body and shredded your shirt in a single motion. He took in the lacy lingerie you wore underneath. “For me? You shouldn’t have.”
The chains were just inches from his boots now. Your heart thundered in your chest.
The dream shifted. The wall fell away from behind you, and your back hit a mattress, Freddy already on top of you, pressing you down, eyes blazing with lust and self-satisfaction.
You met his gaze. “I didn’t.”
And you yanked on the dream, as hard and as quickly as you could. The chains jangled as they shot forward. You grabbed Freddy by the shoulders, and you only glimpsed the look of complete shock on his face as you forced him off and rolled on top of him. You clamped your hands around his arms, shoving him down with your entire weight. He thrashed on instinct.
FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK -
The chains coiled around his arms and waist. They forced his arms up, wrapping around his wrists and pinning them to the wrought metal headboard while another chain slithered around his waist and latched onto the bed frame. Then you were shoving down on him again, straddling him and pinning him to the bed with your hands on his chest. He writhed still, but it’s not like he could go anywhere. The most he could do was thrash his head, arch his back, and helplessly kick his legs behind you. Anything else had him straining against rattling metal chains with virtually no give.
When he realised this, it seemed to hit him with the force of a punch. He stopped suddenly and stared up at you, chest heaving, eyes comically wide, a beautiful mix of utter shock and fury blended across his face.
He was completely vulnerable and at your mercy.
You’d done it.
You’d fucking done it.
An uncontrollable grin split across your face. “HA! I fucking got you, BITCH!”
You took a deep breath as you looked down at him, taking in this victory, you did it. You actually managed to pin down and chain up the murderous dream demon himself and have him underneath you, spread out and ripe for the taking. You wished you had a camera to capture this but you know it is ultimately unnecessary, that this image is going to be burned into your mind forever.
His expression shifted, less taken back and more anger and annoyance. “Yeah, you sure as shit did. You proved whatever little point you were tryna make, now let me up.”
It was your turn to laugh, a shake of your head before saying, “Hmm no. I don’t think I will.”
You stared down at him, hands on his chest still, drumming your fingers and letting silence overtake for a moment just the pair of you staring at each other.
You could see the gears turning in his head, wondering how long you were going to keep this up. It hasn’t hit him yet just how fucked he is, your cheeks almost hurt from smiling, this is so great. He waits. You don’t relent or give him an inch, you say nothing.
He rolls his eyes and says, “Real fuckin’ funny now cut the shit-”
You half snorted and reached out, you snatched his hat off of his head and brought it up, inspecting it for a moment, turning it over in your hands before looking down at him, “Yeah I agree it IS real fuckin’ funny but I don’t think I will.”
You put his hat on, adjusting it by the brim as you said, “I’d be a total idiot to pass up this golden opportunity, especially when I’ve been working so hard for it.”
He did not look amused at all as he asked, “Working so hard for what?”
“Oooh so glad you asked Freddy.” You sighed, you moved your hips, sliding back to find him still hard as you ground on him. You noticed the flicker of lust in his gaze and were sure he was fighting the urge to try and grind back up into you. “See I got just so fucking tired of how you were treating me. Just constant teasing with no relief in sight so I thought maybe you should get a taste of your own medicine.”
This was the part you were most excited for, to see if it would work, you could conjure it in dreams without him after all. You hoped with him chained down and helpless and you calling the shots you could and so you moved down. “Maybe I should be in charge for a change-”
Sliding back until you weren’t straddling him but were between his legs, your hand pushed his sweater up and your mouth and tongue tracing down. You were teasing him for once, chest passing over his clothed erection on your way making his breath catch audibly when you pressed closer into him. The egotistical fucker thought you were about to give him head, if only he knew what was in store.
“-and just maybe I could-”
It works. You feel it then, the straps secured over your hips, the weight of it heavy between your legs, just what you were looking for. Your eyes were trained on his face, he was watching you, so close to pressing your mouth to him through the layer of his pants. Instead you sit up on your knees between his thighs suddenly, showing off your little surprise and finishing your sentence at the same time.
“-take you down a peg.” You say the last part loudly and proudly with another grin. Your fingers hooked in the straps of tonight’s main implement of torture, tugging it up just a little, making the weighty silicone dildo jutting out from between your legs bob from the movement.
And there was that shocked look on his face again. Priceless.
Again, you could see him struggling to believe what he was seeing. As if the possibility was too ludicrous to consider, so outside of anything he would’ve expected from you. It just had you grinning even wider.
He flicked his gaze from your face, down to the strap, to your face again, then the chains holding him in place. Then back to the strap and then your face. You fought the urge to laugh. “You’ve gotta be fuckin with me,” he muttered.
“That’s the plan.” You wiggled your hips, making the green-and-red striped dildo bob again for emphasis.
He yanked on the chains, rattling them and the headboard, but they offered no give. He bared his teeth at you. “Think you’re so fuckin clever, huh?”
“I do, actually.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
The look on his face became furious again. Not furious at what you were doing, not at the prospect of what you were going to do - but furious at the prospect of his pride being so severely wounded. How could you, a powerless human, possibly have him, a literal demon and the thing of nightmares, at your mercy? It was ridiculous. It was almost insulting.
That was the whole idea.
“Let’s get to it then, huh?” You gave the dildo a gentle pat. Freddy scoffed - until your hands went to his waist and started unbuckling his pants. He started thrashing again. Or as much as he could with the chain around his waist. He was squirming at best. A string of muttered curses and insults left his mouth, along with a few colourful little threats that had you rolling your eyes. Yes, yes, you’re very scary and intimidating, especially all tied up like this, soooo scary.
You hooked your fingers into his waistband and tugged down, pulling the pants down his thighs. “Stop fucking kicking, you’re just drawing this out.”
As if you didn’t intend to draw this out as long as possible…
Somehow, eventually, you managed to get his pants off entirely. You took in the sight - Freddy chained by the wrists and waist to the bed, sweater shoved up his stomach, scarred skin and achingly hard cock on display, his expression twisted in fury and pride.
Oh yeah, you were definitely going to enjoy this.
You purse your lips in thought. “I don’t suppose I can get you to suck this bad boy, can I?”
“Try it, and I’ll fuckin bite it off.”
“Grumpy.” You waggled a finger at him. He practically hissed at you. God, you were relishing this. No wonder he took so much joy in mocking you and teasing you and denying you. It was delicious.
“Alright then. How about you summon up some lube for us?”
“Awww, so you really do care? I’m touched.” His voice practically dripped with sarcasm. Of course, the sarcasm was nowhere to be found when you leaned over him, caging him in and letting the head of the dildo brush up his abdomen. He went rigid, eyes widening as he stared up at you. As if he hadn’t quite been expecting that.
“Of course I care,” you said sweetly. “I want this to last for a goooood long while. Not to mention I don’t actually want to hurt you with this. Quite the opposite.” You paused. “And I don’t have a death wish trying to get this thing in your ass dry. So. The lube?”
He grinned up at you. “Can’t summon it yourself, toots?”
“Hey, this is a collaborative effort. You should get to contribute, too.” You grinned at him just as he had. Tit for tat, and all that.
A long moment passed. He stared up at you. You stared down at him. A silent little battle of wills to see who would give in first.
Freddy’s mouth twisted.
And then a bottle of lube popped into existence, perfectly balanced on the edge of the headboard. You beamed at him. “See? I knew you could do it!”
“Rub it in, bitch. See where it gets you.”
He was making this so fucking easy… “Don’t worry, baby, that’s not the only thing I’ll be rubbing in tonight.” You waved the lube at him as you said it. The look on his face suggested that he was finally starting to realise what it was like to be around him.
You dramatically popped the lid on the tube open, and the little noise echoed around the space. Your hand holding the bottle tipped it forward, your other hand a few inches below it, catching the stream of lube that began to pour out. Once satisfied with the amount you put the bottle upright, clicking it closed one handed as your thumb rubbed over the pads of your fingers, spreading the cool lube around.
You set the bottle aside but still in reach, one hand hooking under his knee and bringing up one of his legs as you put it over your thigh. Lube slicked fingers moved down between your bodies and that had him jerking under you, he barked out, “What the fuck are you doing?!”
You laughed lightly before saying, “Prepping you? Or should I just slam it in as is?”
Him still wiggling, as little as he could, was not a deterrent and didn’t stop you as two fingers found just what you were looking for and circled his hole. That had all movement from him stop, he was tense as you rubbed, you kept your eyes trained on his face, taking in every reaction.
You were so excited it was a little hard not to rush but you made yourself take some time for this part. Soon enough though your first finger slowly pushed forward, breached him with relative ease, he felt hot, so damn hot. It was shocking because he normally ran really hot, skin felt almost blazing but now that part of you was inside of him, and damn was that an exciting thought, it made his skin seem almost cold in comparison. You were used to him feeling so rough wherever you touched him, scarred skin seemingly went on for miles and stretched everywhere but inside, he felt so smooth.
You also couldn’t help commenting, “Holy shit you’re tight.”
His expression was previously tense but you saying that had his face changing to a mix of mild confusion and indignation, “You sound so shocked.”
“I am a little bit to be honest.” You admitted with a half shrug and a smile as you slide your finger in deeper, he pushed, “Why’s that exactly?”
“I dunno, just didn’t think-wait.” You paused. Eyebrows raised excitement clear in your eyes, “Are you saying that I shouldn’t be shocked?”
You were staring at each other for a moment until he caught onto where you were going and he started to protest, “No, no don’t you-”
“Oh my God, the dream demon supreme Freddy fucking Krueger has bottomed before! Of fucking course! How did I never realise?” You were grinning now, curling your finger inside of him in such a way that had his head falling back onto the pillow, eyes up to the ceiling as he groaned out, clearly annoyed, “Fuuuuuuck yooooou.”
“Patience, patience.” You sing-songed out. “We’ll get there, I promise.”
You choose that as your moment to add the second finger, slipping it in along with the first and you get rewarded for your sense of timing and boldness with a curse from him. You really settle in then. Working your lubed fingers in and out over and over, curling them on occasion, scissoring them to make sure you were actually stretching him in a way that would make the false cock affixed to you easier for him to take.
You could not stop looking at him. The way his eyes weren’t as focused, the change in his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest and how you’d occasionally feel him tense. A lot of the bite was taken out of him at the moment, he was oddly quiet, so unlike him but not necessarily unwelcome. You’d have him screaming for you soon enough.
“You alright there Fred?” You asked in a rather teasing tone that had him scowling. As if you speaking broke the spell and reminded him of what was really happening and the events leading up to it, reminding him that YOU were the one doing it to him.
“I’m fucking fine.” He snapped and you bit back a laugh. “Yeah you seem great. What do you think, time for a third finger?”
You didn’t wait for a response as you did just as you said, working in a third digit, making him inhale sharply, “Fuck!”
“Mmm too much?” You asked and he bit back, “No way, s’ nothing.”
Nothing. Sure sounded like nothing when his tone was so sharp and he responded so quickly. Your eyes broke away from his, looking down at his achingly hard cock currently dribbling a mess of pre-cum onto his stomach before your eyes flicked back up to his, smile still playing at your lips. He opened his mouth to respond verbally but you moved your finger in and out harder and that made any words stop short. He chose the way to get across his feelings by throwing up both middle fingers on his hands still chained to the headboard and that got the biggest laugh of the night so far from you.
He was still being so defiant. This was so fun. You could hardly wait to really wreck him.
It seemed like he was ready and it was time for you to move on. You slipped your fingers out which had him letting out what might be mistaken for a small gasp if he didn’t smother it as quickly as he did. Your other hand picked up the bottle, snapping it open the same way you had before, pouring a generous amount into your open palm. Your hand wrapped around the shaft of your fake cock and jerked it slowly, spreading the mess as your eyes peek to steal a glance at his face. He seemed to be fully aware this was really happening now and the look on his face was fucking fantastic.
You were satisfied with the amount of lube on the strap but you brought your hand back down, fingers between his cheeks. Your fingers were still very coated and you spread as much as you could over him, wanting to make this as smooth a ride as possible.
“You ready for the ride of your life?” You asked confidently and he scoffed, “Yeah I’m real sure it’s going to be life changing.”
He didn’t sound convinced and you asked, “Don’t you mean AFTERlife changing?”
“I fucking hate you.” He deadpanned.
“Awe, no. You love me. Especially after what I am about to do to you.” Your hand brought his other leg over your other thigh, one hand on his hip to help hold him steady as you gripped the base of the toy.
You needed a second. Really take in the fact that well, you were about to take him.
He was spread out like a fucking meal below you and you were about to fuck him. After countless nights of him touching and fucking you stupid you were about to give him a taste of what it was like to be on the receiving end.
You needed to savour this because there was a good chance that once he got out of these chains he would make it so you could never do anything even close to this again, if he let you live.
No more wasting time, you gripped his hip a little harder and moved your hips forward and he spoke up.
“This is your last chance.” Your eyes met his. “If you give this up now I might go easy on you.”
You considered it for maybe half a second but you knew he was bullshitting and if you let him out now who knows what he would do to you. A soft smile on your face as you shake your head and say simply, “Nah, I’m good.”
You push forward hard and slip the head of the dildo inside him in one fluid motion that has his fists clenching. “Shit-”
“Thanks though.’ You said sincerely as you slowly sank more of yourself, of the strapon inside of him. You needed to commit all of this to memory. Him attempting to arch, lips parted, eyes wide and his thighs tensing over yours, God, this was getting to him already.
You got about halfway when your hand let go of the base of the shaft, coming to your hip you adjusted the pull tab and tightened hot it was sitting on you and then it was time for your breath to catch.
You’d thought so carefully about choosing just the right kind of strap on. This one had something on the inside just for you, something to help increase your enjoyment of this act even more as well as ensure your own satisfaction. A small vibrator that lined up just right to stimulate your clitoris beautifully. Even better still was the fact that it was pressure and touch sensitive. It doesn’t go off unless it is touching skin and the more pressure applied, the harder the vibration, it was just like one of your most beloved vibrators in real life tucked away in your nightstand. It’s the kind of toy that makes you feel thankful to live in the times we do, the kind that makes you wanna bow down and thank fuck that technology has gotten to this point.
Bless mechanically enhanced orgasms.
When you tightened that tab before, it pulled the strap close enough to finally set off that wonderful piece of silicone pressed to you and it felt good. You were already so excited from the earlier make out and groping but mostly from the rest. From the shift in power, seeing him laid out like this, feeling inside of him, you were more than ready.
You bit your bottom lip, hand on his outer thigh as you pushed in deeper, doing so making the toy press more flush as you took it deeper, the vibration increased and you moaned softly. “Mmmf yesss-”
Your eyes were still glued to his face, watching the expression shift as you made him take more still. You got in about halfway before pulling back out, leaving just the head in, it made the vibration calm down on the pull out, more of a tease before your hips bucked forward increasing it again. Fuck was it a good feeling. You fucked him slowly, easy pace, with just the first half of the dildo, enjoying the easy ebb and flow of the vibration, working on finding your rhythm.
“Is this all you got?” He asked and your eyes hardened as you responded. “Not by a long shot but I was being nice, easing you into it.”
“Please, I’m not gonna fuckin’ break.” You took that as a challenge.
“Oh is that so?” You asked and he affirmed with a nod far too confident for someone in his position to have, he said “Yup.”
He popped the ‘p’ as he did so before he continued on, “I don’t think you got it in you to be able to hurt me.”
God, he was asking for it.
“The night is young. I can make you eat those words.” The hardest snap of your hips so far that made his body jerk under you, his cock slapping lightly against his stomach and something akin to a groan slipped out from between his lips.
This was too much fun.
You ramped it up then. That hard thrust felt really fucking good. You gripped him, one hand on his hip, the other still on his thigh, nails biting into scarred flesh as you rocked into him, sliding in and out harder, making him take almost the whole length of your false cock.
His breathing was laboured, his body moving on the sheets below as much as it could, which definitely was not much at all, a thought that made you clench around nothing and buck your hips harder. Every forward thrust increased your pleasure, the vibration increased and you were starting to allow the pleasure to show, moaning out, head tipping back as you focused on the feelings washing through you.
“You’re getting off on this pretty fuckin’ hard.” His rough voice cut through the relative silence other than the sound of skin on skin, the bedsprings and breathing as well as the wet squelch of lube and you working in and out of him.
“Yeah, s’ good.” You pant lightly, really good.
“Too good. No way you just, fuck-” A hard thrust making his sentence break off before he took a deep breath and pressed forward, “-just like the view this much.”
You huffed out a laugh, “Dunno, pretty good view from where I am.”
A particularly good thrust has you moaning louder, a spike in pleasure shooting up your spine, your thighs felt sticky already from how much you were leaking. “But there is somethin’ else.”
You admitted, he hummed questioning, his eyes were half lidded, you fucked with the angle and pulled a groan he clearly hadn’t wanted to escape from him, it makes you smile. “Maybe there’s something on the other side just for me.”
He catches on quickly.
The vibrator is powerful but it’s also whisper quiet, you aren’t surprised he couldn’t hear it.
“Well didn’t you think of everything.”
You moaned again, “I did.” You were only a few minutes into this but you could feel the pleasure building, rising. It has been God knows how long since your last proper, full orgasm, one that wasn’t denied or ruined cruelly by the monster below you.
Your body was begging for it, alight with pleasure and feeling, hungry for release. You were so turned on, you were getting off on all of it. How he looked, the shift in power, the entire situation as well as the actual sensation between your thighs as well.
He knew your tells all too well by this point. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare bitch.” He sounded harsh, serious, but not as much as usual, how hard he was breathing and the strain to his voice cutting through his tone.
You bite your bottom lip again, “Don-don’t what?” you asked playing dumb.
“Don’t you fucking cum.” He said more firmly, trying to inject more venom into his tone and for once, failing.
It makes you throb, pushes you further. “Why not?” You question. You snap your hips harder again, you hold all the way inside of him and grind, it feels heavenly. “And what, ohhh, what are you gonna do to stop me?”
The real answer was nothing. There was nothing he could do to stop you at this moment. He still was going to try though. He started with the threats. “If you cum tonight it’ll be the last time you ever do.”
You almost wanted to roll your eyes at that, “Mmm I’m so sure.” You were getting dangerously close now, almost totally out of breath, nearly there.
“I mean it, don’t you do it slut! Listen to me-” He was fighting back again, attempting to thrash below you but you weren’t going to let him throw your rhythm off now, not when that ultimate pleasure was in your reach. Your hands grip his sides, they slide up and push hard on his chest, holding him down, putting all your energy into keeping your hips moving, keeping this feeling coming.
The pace and pressure were toe curling perfect, each full slam inside allowed a big burst of strong vibration and each pull out easing up enough to create a wave, up down, up down and on it goes as you go in out, in out.
“M’ real scared.” You breathed out, eyes half lidded, lips parted and you weren’t listening anymore.
You register him saying something else but you don’t know what and you don’t care. You cut him off, eyes falling closed as you grit out, “Fuck you Krueger.”
And finally, dear lord, finally, blissfully, you cum.
It had been well over a month, closer to two in the making and it is so strong, so delicious it is honestly nearly worth the wait. It starts low, begins in your clit and makes you clench around nothing, warmth and pleasure radiating out, making your thighs tremble and your nails dig into his chest. It steals your breath and makes your brows furrow, a sharp gasp as the first big wave of it crests and you hold still, as deep as you can in him. It’s practically too much but also just right, just enough, intense but not overly so and you need more. Your hips move, short, shallow thrusts, barely moving, more grinding against him as you ride it out. Lips still parted an open mouthed smile breaks out, a half-laugh and half-moan ringing out as if you were in disbelief over how fucking good it felt to have this, to let go, cum uninterrupted.
Freddy watched you in complete, utter silence, his gaze burning against your skin as you let yourself simmer in the pleasure. Once it had faded, died down to a few remaining sparks and embers, you shifted your attention back to him. And gave him the biggest, cheeriest grin you could summon.
“Having fun yet?” You gave one of his thighs a gentle pat. He jerked under you, jangling the chains and straining. You snapped your hips, slamming back into him with no warning. His body arced so hard you thought his spine might snap, and his cock twitched and spilled more precum onto his stomach. The hem of his sweater was getting messy. And God, what a fucking sight that was.
You pressed down on his hips to leverage yourself over him, aligning yourself just so as you set a new, freshly punishing pace. The vibe reactivated, low but persistent, perfect after the first mind-breaking orgasm in such a long time. You moaned. Freddy, on the other hand, seemed desperate not to make a single damn sound. Teeth clenched, staring up at the ceiling, hands curled into fists and chest heaving.
Well, you could change that.
You kept one hand on his hips. With the other, you grabbed him by the cock and stroked, hard and forceful and painful. Something between a choke and a moan burst out from him. His head fell back, and you pumped him harshly a few times as you thrust into him before snatching your hand away completely.
As if on instinct, his hips thrust up into empty air. Or, at least, they tried to. With you shoving down on his hips and the chain around his waist, all he managed was a slight wiggle.
His head snapped back up, eyes blazing.
“Having trouble?” you mocked.
You thrust hard, and the vibration spiked, almost making you falter because fuck it was so fucking good.
“What the fuck are you-?”
“Come on, Freddy, it’s not that hard to figure out. I’m denying you. You know? Denying? Not letting you have what you want? You do it to me alllll the time.” You grabbed one of his legs, feeling him tensing under you, and manoeuvred him so the false cock would hit deeper.
And you were rewarded with another involuntary noise before he caught himself and promptly shut up. Though he was obviously struggling.
Your own pleasure was steadily increasing, building back up again and getting closer to a second release with each thrust. You grabbed him by the sweater and yanked him down at the same moment you rolled your hips. A bolt of pleasure had you gasping. He squirmed relentlessly, either trying to get away or grind further down, you couldn’t tell. Not that you cared. Not when this was about you, when it felt this good, when your thighs were slick and trembling again as you neared the edge.
“Ready for round two?” You sounded a little winded as you said it.
Freddy stared at you in disbelief. “Already?”
“Yes, already. It feels so good, so fucking good.” You preened a little as you said it, letting a breathy moan escape you and letting him see just how much you were enjoying this.
You slammed into him mercilessly. And once again, he writhed as if it would be any different this time, as if he’d be able to move a little more and get away or do anything. His breath was coming in short, stuttered gasps. It was a beautiful sound, one you were sure to commit to memory.
“Ooooooo I’m gonna cum again,” you moaned. So close so close so close -
“Fucking-!”
You grabbed his cock again and squeezed. And he yelped, full-on yelped, as you nearly bottomed out and hit your breaking point. For a second time, pleasure burst through you. It was almost better than the first. You threw your head back, moaning aloud, stilling for a moment before moving again. You rode it this time, each thrust enhancing the pleasure more and more, building it and adding an extra, perfect edge that almost had you whimpering from how good it felt.
It felt so good after having been denied so much for so long. There may have been a demon pinned and writhing and panting beneath you, but you might as well have been in heaven.
You didn’t stop as you came down from the high, the vibration allowing a constant pleasure to hum along your veins. A beautiful contrast to the past months.
And Freddy knew it, too.
“Enjoying it, slut?” he hissed.
“Aw, feeling jealous?” You rubbed your thumb along the head of his cock, rubbed the tip, and that had Freddy’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, you know. You did this yourself.”
“Please.”
You knew he meant it in dismissal, but you couldn’t help but grab onto the opportunity. “Oh? Begging, are we?”
“Keep dreaming,” he snapped.
You pulled your hand away from his cock, and he tried - rather pathetically - to thrust up into nothingness.
You grabbed the lube bottle again. “How about we make a deal?” you said. He eyed you suspiciously as you pulled out of him completely to lube the false cock back up. “You beg. You beg like your life fucking depends on it, and maybe, maybe, I’ll let you cum.”
The glare he shot you was sharper than any blade he’d pressed into your skin.
“I don’t beg for anyone.”
You shrugged and set the lube aside again. “Your loss. How about we go for a third then?”
He snapped his mouth open as if to retort, but you pressed back in with a single harsh thrust. And instead of a retort, a stuttering moan escaped instead.
You did intend to get yourself a third orgasm, but you were determined to make him desperate this time. Make him moan, get him close, and then cruelly deny him what he’d denied you. Until he had no choice but to start begging.
A shift of your hips, a shift of his hips, and this time when you thrust, his entire body jolted and strained, eyes screwing shut with a groan. Ahhh yeah, right there. Perfect. You slid your grasp to his thighs and used them as leverage as you rocked into him, making sure to hit that spot over and over again, making sure he felt every inch dragging in and out.
And as you ruthlessly fucked him, Freddy started to shudder underneath you.
It sent satisfaction and a punch of lust curling through your core. He may have been resisting as much as he could, he may have been hurling insults and being the brattiest bottom you’d ever encountered. But he was starting to break.
You just had to push him a little more.
One hand went to his cock again. You made sure your grip was tight and almost painful as you jerked him off. He was panting, sucking air between his teeth as he bit into his bottom lip in an attempt to keep from making noise. Desperate. Desperately trying to resist.
You let go of his cock. Then shifted, leaned over him, and grabbed him by the throat.
His eyes flew open and he instantly started writhing as you choked him. His hips rolled, and you weren’t sure whether he was trying to thrust up or grind down. You quickly shifted again, hand going from his throat to his cock as you slammed against that spot inside of him.
The hoarse cry that left him had you shuddering with pleasure.
God, yes, now we were getting somewhere.
Any time he would try to clamp down, try to stay quiet, you’d grab his throat and squeeze until he was wheezing and gasping for air, mouth forced open, then hit him extra hard and force another delicious cry from him. He sounded so good like this, desperate and needy and unable to stop himself.
A third orgasm was building up faster than you thought.
But between the vibrations and the noises he was making, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.
You picked up the pace. His body jerked like a ragdoll with each thrust, and each pant had become dangerously close to a moan. Every time you stroked his dick without warning, you earned the most viscerally satisfying noise from him.
You were fucking close. “How you doing there, Fred? Close?” You punctuated the word with another thrust. Whatever response he was going to make was lost in an incomprehensible sound of pained pleasure. Heat pulsed through you. “You gonna start begging?”
“NO!” he shouted, the word torn from him with another harsh roll of your hips. Still refusing to beg, even with how obviously close he was, how he was steadily teetering towards the edge while your own release hurtled towards you.
Fuck, God, you were going to -
“That’s a fucking shame.” You came with a last thrust, yanking your hand away from his cock and stilling so he got nothing while you stole a third orgasm. He practically screamed in frustration, desperately gyrating his hips for any hint of friction. You clamped your hands down on his hips and pinned him in place while heat simmered and sparked through you.
Denying him while indulging yourself.
It was perfect.
His muscles were tense and coiled beneath you, trembling uncontrollably as he watched your ecstasy. He was furious, nearly spitting in rage. And yet there was an edge to it, something you’d never seen before, something helpless and frustrated and bizarre to see on him.
For a split second, you thought he was about to start crying.
Freddy fucking Krueger. The Springwood Slasher, the dream demon, the vengeful ghost, the urban legend, the thing that went bump in the night.
Had nearly been reduced to tears of frustration because of you.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he snarled.
He wanted to be a bitch? Fine. Then you could be a bitch right fucking back.
You bared your own teeth at him, shifting to lean over him again. You curled your fingers around his throat and applied just the slightest bit of pressure, not enough to cut off his air supply but enough to make his breath catch.
“You don’t get to fucking bitch and whine when I told you exactly what you needed to do,” you hissed. “Beg, and you get to cum. Don’t beg, and I leave you high and dry. It’s a simple fucking instruction, Krueger. And I’m not fucking letting you cum until you fucking beg me to.”
His eyes were wide as saucers. A pretty silvery-blue look of utter shock.
And for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved. There was only the sound of your mutual heavy breathing.
And then, softly, so softly you thought you might’ve imagined it -
“Please.”
You tilted your head. “What was that?”
Freddy grit his teeth and cringed, lip curling as if it physically pained him to say it. “Please,” he muttered. He somehow managed to sound both pathetically desperate and half-hearted at the same time.
You slid your hand up from his neck to his chin, tilting his face up to look at you. Much in the same way he would do to you with that glove. “I think you can do better than that.”
You could see him have to fight the urge to roll his eyes and he muttered something, probably a curse under his breath aimed at you before he speaks again and the words are devoid of the proper emotion. He doesn’t sound contrite. It is like he is just saying the words hoping that would be good enough. “Please let me cum.”
It would be impressive the way he managed it other than his still laboured breathing but you wanted all of it. Him just saying the fucking words was not good enough.
You sighed, “C’mon Fred. Where is your passion?” You asked, hands clutching his shoulders and pushing him down as you thrust forward, another directed him to his prostate that pulled a loud moan from him. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting it.
“Make me believe you want it, let me feel your frustration.” You prompted with another hard roll of your hips causing him to almost yelp out, “Please!”
Better. Definitely better.
“Mmm not quite there. Let’s try and get you where I want.” You lean forward, you are tempted to kiss him but think he might bite you still so you hold back. You pull him down again, another thrust and how much closer you were pressed his cock between your body and his, providing some very much needed extra stimulation to hopefully get the result you wanted.
“Shi-please?” He sounded breathless, and you were eating it up. You shake your head and cluck your tongue sympathetically, “Nope.”
You popping the ‘P’ like he had earlier, mocking him was too much fun especially when he couldn’t retaliate in any serious way.
You pick this as the moment to get what you want. You are craving another orgasm yourself honestly. You sit up, hands dragging down his chest, his sides, until they are gripping his hips firmly once more and you set a steady pace.
Each thrust is purposeful, sure, very confident as the pleasure spiked in yourself.
It only took a few more short minutes and some verbal encouragement from you for his entire body to be tense as could be and him chanting out, “Please, fuck, please, lemme cum-” in time with your thrusts.
He was sounding needy, much better than he did previously, eyes were squeezed shut and nearly drooling, you never thought you would see him like this and you were loving it holy shit. You were so sensitive, extremely worked up, clit was so sensitive and thighs were drenched and the view and obscene sounds of skin on skin and his begging was aiding you, pulling you closer to the edge so fast.
You spit into your hand and wrapped it around his shaft tightly. You jerked him off in time with the rhythm of your hips, you were short of breath as you asked, “You wanna cum?”
His eyes cracked open, pleading as he looked up at you, “Yes, shit, yes okay? Fuck-Please-please-”
His voice sounded so rough, so perfect. You wouldn’t be long.
“Yeah? M’ getting close, gonna cum together. Yes, yes, get ready-” You taunted, your hand that wasn’t jacking him off was under his thigh, hauling his leg up, letting yourself really assault his prostate and he gasped. A nod, “Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop-”
You wanted to hear that on repeat. Freddy panting out “don’t stop”, it might be the hottest thing you’d ever heard. The climb was quick for you.
While he knew your tells, you’d been paying attention the whole time you’d been seeing him, his own end was obvious, you could see it coming.
Which meant that you were able to time this next part perfectly.
“Close, close, fuck, Freddy, gonna cum-” You moaned and you knew he was far gone when he matched and mirrored the moan in passion and nearly in pitch.
This was going to be too fun.
A few more hard thrusts and you feel his cock throb in your palm and you knew it was now. You dropped his leg, your hand let him go, letting his cock slap against his stomach hard as you pulled out suddenly. He went wide eyed, mouth fell open, you watched the shift in his expression, the way he seemingly couldn’t process what you’d just done to him.
Next your hand was wrapping around the toy, so quick, no time wasted, jerking it off, keeping the vibration going for yourself, ensuring your pleasure while denying his. You came to the best sight of the night. Freddy still chained down and barely able to move, trying to thrash, cursing up a storm as he came.
Or well tried to.
He ruined and he ruined hard. Hole empty, fists clenched and his cock leaking out his load of cum pathetically all over his own stomach and the edge of his sweater. “You stu-stupid fuckin’ cunt! How could you-you bitch!”
You came so hard listening to him losing his mind at what you’d just done to him. All the pleasure that he could have, lost, gone in an instant, cum spilled and cock still hard he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine.
You almost thought maybe this was too mean. But that didn’t last long. You remember all those nights you were in his shoes and he deserved worse than just one night of this. You wished you could subject him to as much denial and pain that he put you through.
One thing at a time though.
Once you stopped shaking, once your orgasm had risen and fell and honestly felt incredible, matched the others so far beautifully, catching your breath you reached out again.
Your hand wrapped around his cock that had just stopped leaking cum, your other hand guided your strap and you slammed back into him, balls deep, all the way making him let out a half scream. His eyes had been closed and they flew open upon you doing this, your hand still on his shaft began to work.
Your thumb and middle finger pinching the space where head meets shaft and your pointer finger is flicking up and down between frenulum and tip, his own cum serving as lube, focusing on literally the most sensitive part of his dick post ruin.
The response was immediate.
He sobbed.
He actually fucking sobbed. He sounded, wrecked, hands pulled weakly at the chains making them barely creek, a shaky inhale in, trying to rein in his reaction and failing. His breathing is erratic, his feels are digging into the mattress behind you, he is going to buck away from your hand. You let the strap rest in him and your hand doesn’t ease up.
Your finger moving with purpose, flicking up and down, up and down, before you ask in a tone of mock concern, “You alright there Freddy?”
You then bring it home, swirling your finger right over his tip several times with a single rock of your hips that you know drags against his prostate.
He chokes out a painful sounding “No!” It tears from his throat and makes your cunt clench, causes you to leak more.
“No?” You ask softly and sweetly, finger back to flicking up and down, thumb and middle finger slipping and sliding from all the cum, running along the sensitive ridge of the head of his cock.
Your eyes were down, looking at your slippery hand toying with him when you felt it. His whole body is shaking and you look up to his face at hearing the hiccupping breath.
You did it.
He was crying. Actual tears, overstimulation and pain too much to bear and you simply say his name, “Freddy-”
And it all comes pouring out of him.
“I’m sorry! I-I’m fuckin’ sorry okay?! Shit, stop it, stop it, s’ too much! I can’t take it-” Another sob before he continues babbling, “-it hurts, it really fuckin’ hurts, let go, please, please, I’ll do anything-”
There it was.
Your hand paused. Smile curling over your face, “Anything?” You repeated sounding utterly delighted.
“Yes, yes, anything-” He was so far gone he didn’t know what he was saying now.
You had him right where you wanted. But what were you going to do with him?
“Mmm, you sound really sorry.” You hummed out and he agreed, a sniff and another furious nod and you took his hat off. Holding it with one hand the other wiping over your forehead, it was sweaty work breaking him like this.
“So I think I just might take pity on you.”
“Really?” He asked, still breathless and you placed his hat back on, your hand coming up, tasting some of his cum off of your fingers, sucking lightly as you paused for dramatic effect before affirming, “Really.”
He sighed in relief, body sagging below you, eyes falling closed. He didn’t see you grin.
Didn’t see your hand slowly reaching back to his half hard cock.
You always kept your promises. You really were going to stop.
"Flirting With Danger." Poly!Ghostface X FEM! Reader.
Hey, hey, hey! It's Multi-May! First fic is here and boy is it a doozy, 10,000 words dedicated to THE poly ship of all time on this blog! This is a belated b-day fic for @29bohemianmoons who has a speical more customized version, the one you all get is more reader insert friendly. I have a lot planned for this month, this is just the start of it so buckle up!
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 10. Billy Loomis X Stu Macher X FEM! Reader. Poly!Ghostface. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Breaking And Entering. Predator/Prey. Teasing. Banter. Ghostface Hunting The Reader. Fear Play. Taunting. Making Out. Voyeurism. Pampering. Slight Exhibitionism. Vaginal Fingering. Getting Double Teamed. Blow Job. Cunnilingus. Rimming. Vaginal Sex. Raw Sex. Cream Pie. Sloppy Seconds. Degradation. Praise. Talking You Through It. Smugness. Dirty Talk. Choking. Overstimulation. Multiple Orgasms. Aftercare.
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The term is urban exploring. Of course, you have heard of it, and it isn’t like you are shocked that they have heard it exactly… More so that you just didn’t expect them to have any kind of real and vested interest in it, certainly not enough to make them want to actually partake.
So when the suggestion is made over dinner one night with a movie on the TV and the three of you on the couch in a neat little row? You are a tad surprised. To the point that the pizza you were bringing to your mouth stops in midair. The food lowers, your brows furrow, and you ask, “You want to go where?”
“Out of town, on a little romantic getaway-” Stu starts, and you cut him off with a laugh and a roll of your eyes, “-I’m not having trouble with the concept of going out of town, or of a romantic getaway. The thing I am stuck on is the locale put forth-”
Stu makes an offended sound that causes Billy to crack a smile, before he jumps in to “help” by way of asking you, “C’mon, what’s wrong with it?”
Around the bite of your pizza, you laugh before saying, “Ohhhh I dunno, an abandoned mall is one of the last places I’d consider the ideal setting for a romantic weekend together.”
One of Billy’s hands comes down onto your thigh. He squeezes as he tries to sell you on the idea and smooth out Stu’s ruffled feathers at the same time, “Have you ever not had a good time when Stu and I planned something?”
The man makes a good point, they have more than proven themselves time and again; They suggest an activity, you go along with it, fun is always had. You quickly apologize to him, very sincerely, “You are so right, I’m sorry for pissing on the party.”
Stu mutters loud enough for you to hear, “There is no appreciation for our artistic vision or our creative sense, I swear-” He sighs heavily before saying at a regular volume, “-I guesssss we can forgive you-”
“How big of you-” A smile creeps onto your face, along with your pithy reply.
Stu cuts back in, pressing, “-I wasn’t done! We can forgive you iffff, you put your total and complete trust in us while we are away and do whatever we say.”
Billy’s grip tightens on your thigh, causing you to cast a glance his way. He gives you a meaningful look which tells you that he is in total agreement with Stu. You get the sense he is very serious about this whole plan, whatever it is. Billy’s cynicism surpasses even yours, so him being so in with Stu’s idea is telling, meaning? You are completely and totally sold, just like that.
To let them know just how contrite you are, you take the plate off your lap and put it on the coffee table, and with your hands free you take one each of theirs. Your eyes flit from Billy to Stu as you impart, “I promise to go along with whatever you have planned on our weekend away.”
Stu looks suspicious yet hopeful, he asks, “You mean it?”
You tell him, “I do.”
To hammer home how sincerely you mean it, you shift your hands, hooking your pinkies with theirs. It’s been a long-running bit, Stu started it ages ago as a joke but somewhere along the way pinkie promises have taken more of its original meaning. It is now used to telegraph how deeply committed you are to a promise instead of used for comedy. When you make one, there is no wiggling out of it, no back peddling. You are totally locked in on this. Billy usually rolls his eyes whenever you do this, but not this time.
Stu seems much more pleased and completely believes you with the simple curling of fingers together. He utters an enthusiastic, “Yesss!” He leans over and kisses your cheek.
You lean away, wiping at your face as you exclaim, “Bleck! Wipe your mouth first next time! Fuckin’ pizza grease, are you trying to get me to break out?”
Stu wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close as he places several more messy kisses over your cheek while you squirm all the while. You are begging him to stop or for Billy to help, who categorically refuses while he laughs.
So you pack a bag and a few days later the weekend is upon you, the car is packed, and soon you are in the passenger seat as you tear down the highway. Billy is driving, you have control of the music, Stu is stretched out in the backseat and excited conversation is had over the tunes. The drive breezes by easily, your destination is a few hours of time and several towns over. When you pull into the parking lot and lay eyes on the mall for the first time, you are frankly impressed by the size. You find yourself actually excited to see everything it has to offer inside. You are very ready to get out of the car and stretch your legs, too. The car is parked under some trees, behind the mall, hidden from the view of the road. You obviously are not supposed to be here, and you don’t need anyone getting tipped off to you all trespassing and potentially putting an early end to your fun. Not to mention the potential legal trouble, you’d rather not worry about it unless it actually happens so you push the mild concern from your mind.
Billy unbuckles his seatbelt and declares, “Okay, let's get the shit out of the car-”
You question, “Wait, all of it?”
Stu chimes in, “Yeah, all of it.” He leans forward, between the driver and passenger's seat, raising his eyebrows as he says, “Remember your promise?”
You certainly do, so without another word of protest, you release your own seatbelt and hop out. The car is swiftly unpacked then locked, bags hoisted over shoulders and the boys carrying a cooler between them. Stu steers you all in the right direction with a point, “That door over there.”
You shift and head to where he indicated, you pull on the doorknob and find that yes the door is in fact unlocked. Pulling it open, you stand to the side and allow them to head on through. You follow, the door closes behind you as you ask, “Seriously, this place is just left unlocked like that?”
“Nah, usually when someone finds a place like this, just one low-key door is broken into, every other door is probably locked up tight.” Stu informs simply, tacking on, “Plus everything’s been cleared out, not like there is anything worth stealing.”
It makes sense. You entered on the lower floor of the two-story former bustling shopping centre and your eyes wander. From the high arched ceiling comprised of glass letting in ample light, to the various shopfronts and the long multicoloured tile floor stretching out in front of you. The place is grand, and your curiosity is strong, it feels like it is purposefully drawing you deeper, and you give in to the feeling without question.
The three of you walk along, the pace is slow and every step echos in the large empty space, the sound carries absurdly well. If there is anyone else here, you are sure you’d be able to know, and that provides some level of comfort.
You wander along the lower level, get a basic sense of the layout, pass by what used to be thriving businesses at one point. You walk by a now defunct jewellery store, what used to be a kitchen supply outlet, a former hot topic, the usual things you’d expect to find. Some of the store signs were totally removed, obviously closed long before the mall itself was shuttered. The lower level hosts the old food court, the tables, chairs and booths remain, affixed to the floor. Past that, you find the heart of the mall, a large open space with stairs and nonfunctioning escalators that can take you to the upper floor. There are benches around what was once a fountain that has long run dry, the tile work still looks surprisingly good, all things considered.
You ask, “How long ago did this place close?”
“Like, five years?” Stu supplies, and you are impressed that it all still looks this good. Billy is the one to suggest, “Lunch?”
You all decide here is a good a place as any. Perching on the edges of the fountain, the cooler is partly unpacked and a leisurely meal is shared with the sun shining high above your heads and pouring from the large glass domed ceiling.
The question that has been lingering on your mind is at last asked, “So are we just gonna explore around or is there a goal for this excursion?”
A brief look is shared between Billy and Stu, something communicated silently that you are totally out of the loop on. You are informed by Billy, “The goal will be made clear soon enough.”
You scoff, but still smile, “Ominous, but okay you cryptic bastard, fine.” The barb is punctuated by a firm bite down on a carrot stick, the satisfying crunch book ended by Stu’s laugh that echos outwards around you. The conversation meanders over sandwiches, chips and the assorted fruit and vegetables you insisted on packing. The main topic is about the mall itself and what it was like when it was in its heyday, to which Stu finally spills, “My parents brought me here before.”
“No shit?” You question, and he replies, “Yeah, Christmas shopping once, did the whole picture with Santa thing. It got framed, and my folks still have it up in their place.”
“Is it weird being back here with it like this, then?” You inquire, and he laughs, “No way, it’s honestly cool seeing how different it is.”
You asked Billy if he’s ever been by here, and he said, “No, I never even really visited the one closer to our home town unless necessary. I’m not much of a mall rat, if you can believe it.”
“I figured you’d live and breathe the capitalist consumerist dream! You mean to tell me it doesn’t get your dick hard?” You joke.
Stu jumps in before Billy can reply, “You know just as well as I do what gets him off and shopping isn’t it.”
Billy sighs, rolling his eyes and taking a bite of his sandwich. He lets you both carry on, riffing loudly down this path, assigning outrageous fetishes and kinks to him for the comedy of it.
After lunch is done, the rest of the lower floor is explored.
Finally, you find that next to the bank outlet you find a furniture store, the boys encourage you to follow them in. You do as asked, and you discover this place isn’t totally empty, the large cavernous space has one pretty exciting feature in the middle of it.
There is a huge rectangular carpet and on said carpet there is what can only be described as a hotel room set up. A bed, nightstands, a couch, most things you would find in a standard rented room for the night just here in no man's land in this abandoned store. Once close enough, the boys start to set down their bags and the cooler.
Billy walks over to the mattress and crouches down, inspecting something, and Stu asks, “Is it clean?”
“Yep, no bed bugs, we’re good.” He stands back up and states, “We should take advantage of the light and set up now.”
You really can’t take being out of the loop much longer, and you ask, “Set up what?”
Stu is closer, he hooks an arm around your shoulders and pulls you near as he explains, “Soooo we aren’t staying in town at like a hotel or whatever, we are spending the night in the mall. Right here!”
You would say that sounds terrifying, if you were alone, but you are with them. Honestly, anyone who comes in here should be much more scared of them, especially if they tried anything funny. So any worries don’t have the chance to grow legs, you just remember your promise, keeping that in mind you ask, “How many people know about this place? Did you have to like book it in advance so no one else tries to ‘stay over’ during the same time or?”
Stu seems very pleased you aren’t fighting them on staying over. He humours you as he responds while he fondly squeezes your shoulders, “Oh yeah, had to put in our rez months ago, it was a real shit show but anything for youuu.”
The boys insisting on bringing everything in right away makes sense now.
You drop your bag onto the rug and ask, “Okay, so how are we doing this?”
It doesn’t take that long with the three of you all putting in the work. The bed is made, the bags partly unpacked, there is even a generator nearby to plug in a few things if need be. The boys fill you in that this is a hidden gem of a thing, not a lot of people know about it, and it’s been kept hush, hush. It all explains why the space still looks so pristine and hasn’t been ransacked to shit.
You flop down onto the bed, proclaiming, “And all on the honour system, turns out there is still some good in the world.”
Stu drops beside you, stretching out while humming, “Seriously.”
Billy is standing nearby, watching you both he asks, “Comfortable?”
“Come try for yourself.” Comes the retort from you and he joins. The bed is a king-size, meaning it is big enough for the three of you, thank God.
You don’t intend to have an afternoon nap, but it just kind of happens. Curled up and cozy, the talking slows until eventually you all just kinda pass out without meaning to. When you wake up, you are groggy and a little confused. It takes a moment for it all to click back into place of where you are. You nudge the boys awake, the sun is a lot lower, you all get yourselves up and leave the furniture store behind. Intent on checking out more of what the mall has to offer before the sun totally sets.
The upper floor you take a bit longer exploring, walking through some of them, checking out store rooms and offices. In the administration portion, you even find a map printed back there on the wall and from there are able to figure out how to access the delivery loading doc. It is much more fun than you expected, walking around the space, the conversations that start and stop are interesting, not ones you’d have if not for this venue. You allow yourself to wind down strange hallways both physically and verbally and feel oddly closer for it.
As night draws closer, you seriously wonder what it is that they have planned, you don’t want to keep bugging them about it. You’ve broken off to go use the bathroom, and are thinking that when you come back out, you might just ask one last time what exactly their intentions are. However, when you come out, you discover that you are alone.
Your head turns to the left, and you don’t see them. Then you turn your head to the right, still no sign.
Weird.
The phone in your hand vibrates, and your eyes turn downwards to it, seeing a text notification. You click on it. The message is from an unknown number, and reads, “The game starts in five minutes. The idea is simple! Try not to get caught, put up a good chase. Stomach some of your worst fears for our entertainment, and then we’ll do whatever you want.”
Christ you should have known.
This isn’t the first time you’ve done a game like this, but it has been a long while, it is honestly overdue. You love your boys dearly, and you know intimately the urges they have and that they need a good outlet on occasion. It is necessary to keep themselves happy and healthy, remain even keel. You are very happy to help them do this, but this is a step-up. In a totally new and unfamiliar setting, sure you spent a while walking around and have a general sense of the layout, however you weren’t exactly paying super close attention. At least not the level you would have if you knew that this was tonight's intention. Add on losing light and the fact you will have to rely on your flashlight soon, and how different a place can look in the dark? It’s a totally different ball game. Keeping in mind all the while that there are two of them, and they are working in tandem against just one of you.
Well, you do have one thing on your side, the sheer amount of space here and places to hide. Not to mention how many times you’ve done these kinds of games and how well you know them.
Standing stock static still is not the way to win this game, you want to do this right because the prize is too tantalizing. You start to walk, knowing just where you want to head, mind awash with just what you might ask them to do for you later.
You aren’t a match for them when it comes to cardio. Obviously, you are going to have to run at some point, the chase is a big part of it, but you can’t outrun them. Hiding is needed, so it all doesn’t end prematurely, making it exciting is important. You intend to lengthen the process as much as you can. Making sure to keep your ears open, you decide to try finding a good spot to lie low for a while. You move quick and quiet, eyes constantly scanning the surrounding area.
You are alone. Completely and totally so, and that is fucking terrifying. All alone in this huge, imposing structure, devoid of life and empty, steadily growing darker and darker. The place wasn’t scary at all in the daylight and when you were with them, but now that you are solo, and they are on the hunt for you? The fear is rising in you, first pooling in your stomach and curling up your spine, terror setting up camp in the corners of your mind as the light continues to fade. You can’t let yourself get too freaked out this early on, or it is certain to bite you in the ass.
You look all around, keeping your head on a swivel as you walk, you don’t like how out in the open you are right now. Your five-minute head start is ticking down, and you are still much too close to where they left you. It is obvious that the bathroom you just left is going to be the first place that they check, you need to put some distance between you and here. Picking up the pace into a light jog, still trying to keep your steps light, being mindful of the echo as you head towards the back offices. You find the door you were hoping for and slip inside.
The hallways stretch and turn, you move quick and quiet. Soon finding what used to be, one of those unassuming administrative office room that backs onto a clothing store. You enter, then keeping the door cracked and plant yourself flat against the wall and you wait.
Your five minutes are up, and your two boys are ready to play.
When you had gone to use the bathroom, the two of them immediately made their way back to where you set up camp in the furniture store. Stu drafted the text on the burner phone on the way, a brief exchange made, expressing how amped they were to finally be doing this here.
Once they had made it back to their bags, their beloved costumes were pulled out. The text is sent and all that was left was getting dressed. Gearing up was done with the same excitement it always was, the air between them crackling with electric potential and promise. There isn’t any conversation when getting dressed, nothing to say, plenty of talk happened in the weeks leading up to this. Finally, before the masks are put on, Billy asks, “Think she’ll put up a good chase with so little notice?”
“Natch, she impresses and surprises up all the time.” Comes the easy and flirtatious response from Stu. A kiss is shared, briefly lingered in, before their masks are slid on.
No time is wasted once your five minutes are up, they are on the move. They know that there is no way that you’d stay around the bathroom, the question becomes just where you’d go.
You are still in the office, palms sweaty and straining to listen for them.
Waiting, waiting, the fucking waiting, that is the real killer. You want some kind of clue or sign of them, no matter what side they come in, you have an option to take the other direction. While left here and to your own devices, your mind fills in the blanks and left to wander, and in these situations your mind is not exactly cooking up nice pleasant thoughts.
Then, at last, the sign you’ve been waiting for. Down the hall, you hear a door being pushed open none too gently, your eyebrows raise, and you immediately start to retreat. Now that you know they are in the area, you feel confident in moving, putting more space between you. The store is bare, save for a few clothing racks, you weave between them, keeping low. You think that they wouldn’t split up this early, but better safe than sorry. Knowing your luck, if you weren’t careful, you might just bump into one and get surrounded on both sides. Peeking out, you see and hear nothing, think you are alone again.
You creep out slowly until you are back on the main walkway, around the other shopfronts, you think that perhaps you should-Then you see it.
A flash of white, a billowing of black fabric in your peripheral, and fucking Christ your blood runs cold. You don’t think you’ve been spotted yet, so you back up, pulse thumping in your ears. You wait for a moment, the moment, the one that will tell you just what direction you should go. It is this odd feeling that overtakes at times, a feeling in your gut to give you direction. It hasn’t steered you wrong in these situations yet, so you go with it.
First floor it is. The shut-down escalators are nearby, you break away for them. You don’t hear anyone in pursuit, that however means shit all, you don’t look over your shoulder it would just slow you down. You reach your destination, fingers grip the railings, and you make your way down the stairs. After reaching the bottom, you don’t wait, you keep going until you reach the food court and then find an adequate table to hide yourself under. You quiet your breathing, hugging your knees and listening, and a minute later you do hear it. Footsteps clear as day, purposefully heavy and echoing, it’s like they want you to know how near they are. It does as intended, your fear spikes.
Whichever one that you spotted sounds like they are on the escalator, the steps have a lackadaisical yet menacing quality to them, clunking on heavy metal stairs. You can imagine those sturdy leather combat boots you are so familiar with, tightly laced and well-loved, as they carry him to your location. You've been pursued many times by your boys while they are in those boots. It is like every footfall is purposeful and predatory, but not in any rush, like catching you is a forgone conclusion. An eventuality.
The sound changes, rubber soles meeting tiles, and it gets your hackles up. Nudging deeper under the table, you pray he doesn't come towards the food court. That prayer falls on the deaf ears of a God who stopped listening years ago. You curse to yourself as the steps grow louder on their approach. Trying to mentally figure out just where he is in relation to you is difficult. Your fear is clouding your mind, it’s not like you had the tables positions memorized but trying to think critically about it in this state is impossible. Relying totally on sound is all you have, which isn't much.
You can't look at your phone, worried that the light it gives off might give away your position. Time during these games has a terrible habit of always getting away from you. Has it been ten minutes or an hour since that text they sent? You have no way of knowing, that doesn’t potentially risk outing your current location.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Pause.
A tension, thick, heavy beat. Wait, wait, keep fucking waiting and hoping that he moves on.
No such luck.
“Tiiiiffaaaannnyyyy-” You flinch as he calls out your name, eyes squeezing shut as you take a deep breath. He speaks again, “-come onnn baby, I know you’re on this floor.” More footsteps, followed by more talking, and your eyes peek back open, “We both know you can’t run that quick.”
They know you so well, plenty aware with him so close, hiding is the first thing you’d do. The hallway ahead stretches long, trying to run down it would have been foolish, he would have seen you and made a beeline and there goes the game.
“You know we are gonna get you sooner or later.” Comes the next call and yeah, of course they are, but you intend to give them quite the run around before that happens. Then a true heart stopping moment that sends a shock up your spine, those boot clad feet come into your field of vision.
“Don’t look under here. Don’t look under here. Please don’t fucking look under here.” Your train of thought circles round and round your skull. He walks so easily, lazily, without a care in the world. Must be nice. You wish you could enjoy this as much as they do, doesn’t matter how many times you do this, you still get genuinely very scared every time, which you suppose is the entire point of it. You never have to worry about acting or selling it when you are really feeling the emotions in question so intensely.
Next you hear an all too familiar sound, a knife being dragged over a nearby tabletop, a distinct metal shhhhinck as the edge of the blade is run over Formica. Oh God, they brought the knives this time. Great.
Finally, the feet leave your line of sight, and you think that you can maybe crawl, get far enough away without being spotted. You decide to risk it, getting on your knees and starting to crawl, out from under the table. He is meandering away, and you think you might be able to do this. Until you misjudge it, when getting back on your feet, your shoes squeak loudly on the tile. His head snaps towards your direction immediately, you can feel his eyes land on you and shit. The view is bone chilling, empty souless eyes of that mask fixed on you, hand gripping that knife. It’s time to run.
You are in just the right position for it, hands on the ground and crouched, so you launch yourself forward like a runner at the starting line of a race. There you go, tearing off down the hallway.
He is in hot pursuit, and you need a plan, and quick. Should you try to trip him up? Take off into that defunct coffee shop and give him the run around? What to do, too many options, and you can’t settle on a single one so for the time being you just keep running.
Fear is a pretty good motivator, it is carrying you along swiftly, you think you might be able to-
And just before you could really start to wonder where your pursuer’s partner in crime could be, there he is. Sliding into view ahead of you, exactly where you were running towards.
Fucking shit.
You panic and make a hard left turn, and jackpot, this is the way that leads to the delivery bay. Pushing forward, you break through the doors and lucky you! Just what you need, this back hallway is lined with debris, trash that no one bothered to throw away when the mall shut down. You snatch up a metal pole and feed it through the door handles, creating an effective door jamb. Less than twenty seconds after you put the pole through the handles, something, or someone rather slams into the doors. Then it rattles multiple times, like it is continually trying to be forced open. The metal holds, this way is closed off, you bought yourself time and distance.
With a breathless laugh, you confidently head down the hallway in search of your next hiding spot.
The two of them are on the other side of the door that you managed to lock them out of. The pair of them are looking at each other, breathing heavier than normal from the run. Billy and Stu have always had a great sense for one another, have amazing nonverbal communication. It’s only gotten better since their shared “hobby” so there isn’t the need for words exchanged. The break is needed, masks tugged up and closing the minimal distance for a brief make out to get out some of this extra energy. Lips meet, tongues brush, teeth nip and heat spikes.
When they pull apart, Billy’s voice sounds significantly rougher when he gushes, “I fucking love her-”
Stu has a wide grin, gives a breathless laugh, agreeing, “Fuck, right? She’s the best.” Before hauling Billy in for another filthy tongue kiss. It is quick, they don’t want to lose you. The pair of them need to go the long way around to the loading dock, masks pulled back down, Stu gripping Billy’s hand and encouraging, “C’mon, let’s go get her!”
You have made it to the loading dock, now where should you go from here? There are multiple ways to gain entry back into the mall, you need to pick one, fully aware that they might choose that one in hopes of getting to you. A risk you can't avoid. Enough dawdling, you need to go. The hall you picked is windowless, and the sun fully set a while ago, so you are using the flashlight on your phone.
God, this place is so creepy. They must be living it up, a perfect hunting ground for them. A sudden sound makes you jump, causing your heartbeat to pick up. It was just a small pile of some of that scattered trash your foot accidentally knocked over. You mentally berate yourself for getting so freaked out over nothing, kicking the garbage in mild frustration.
“Stupid backrooms ass, fucking liminal space bullshit-” You mutter as you walk away.
You stumble across the old employee locker room and don't linger, pressing onward until you are back in the mall properly. The skylights provide a bit of natural light from the moon, not enough you feel comfortable enough to kill your light.
You’ve wandered back upstairs are standing in what used to be a sporting goods store, listening for them and hearing nothing. Stay or go, stay or go.
Stay.
Sitting yourself down behind the till and listening for them. The tension remains in your body as you are back to waiting. If you don't remain alert, you could lose when they appear again. Honestly, you think you nailed your hiding spot, nearly a half hour passes by with nothing. In fact, you hid so well, that the two of them resort to a rather dirty tactic. The phone in your pocket rings, and, stupid you, left your ringtone on. Getting onto your knees, your hand scrambles back into your pocket, fumbling for your phone, as you curse, “Shit, shit, shit-“
Finally getting a grip on it, you manage to silence it. Your palms are sweaty, and you wait, listening hard. You hear nothing. Then, finally, a footstep on tile. Yep, your position was given away, you shoot up, and there they are in the store with you.
It is back to the chase, but you were sitting for so long that your legs partly fell asleep. Meaning? You are totally boned. A valiant attempt at further chase is made, around the counter and through the store, you make it as far as the main hallway again before one of them gets a hand on you.
His grip is tight, and he yanks you back into the strong wall of his chest.
A gleeful, “Gotcha!” Is uttered by who is now obviously and clearly Stu.
Billy slides up, mask pulled off and hood back, he starts to speak, “My God, you-” his arm snakes around your waist, and he pulls you to him. He kisses your cheek before finishing his thought, “-did so fucking good!”
Stu wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly and effectively squishing you between them both. He praises, “Seriously! New record!”
“Wait, really?” You ask in disbelief, and it is confirmed in stereo when they both say, “Yeah!”
“Majorly fun! God, we need to do this more-” Stu starts and Billy confirms, “Right? I feel so much better whenever we can let loose.”
You groan softly, “Ughhhh. My boys, please think of my heart and my knees!”
“Awe, didn’t have as much fun as us, hm?” Stu teases as he starts to pull back and unwrap his arms, however, Billy keeps his arm around your waist as you start to walk again.
You fire back, “Do I ever?”
“Yet you still humour us every single time. How lucky are we?” Billy always sounds happiest post hunt.
Stu agrees, “Supremely lucky, truly.” How sunny they are after this makes it worth it, always.
“Soooo I earned my reward?” You ask.
They both agree, Billy starts, “Completely!”
Stu finishes, “Whatever you want for the rest of the night sweetheart, scout's honour.”
You breathe a sigh of relief. Very happy for the night to move onto whatever strikes your fancy.
“You are so, so fucking lucky too. You know why?” Stu starts and you hum in question. He explains, “If you would have gotten chased by us up here, we were totally planning on using your fear of heights to our advantage.”
That sends a chill through you. Glancing towards the edge of the walkway, the metal railing with glass under it, that set up that brackets all the way around up here. They know how much you hate heights, you would have totally folded if they tried anything related to that.
“You guys are the fucking worsssst.” You grouse, and they laugh again. Pulling your phone out with one hand and flicking on the flashlight feature. Your other hand settles on Billy’s while it rests on your waist, you pull him along, leading him towards the escalator. You are intent on going downstairs and making it back to the furniture store.
The boys follow your lead happily, you and Billy descend the escalator first. Billy asks, “Sooo anyone hungry?”
Stu follows close behind as he replies, “Yeah, should we start thinking about dinner?”
You glance briefly over your shoulder as you inform, “Yeahhh, maybe later on. Think I’ve got another craving to satisfy first before I can even begin to give a shit about that.”
“Ahhh, reward first, food later?” Stu asks, and you tell him, “Exactly.”
“So what are you craving then?” Billy inquires.
It rolls easily off your tongue, “After the shit you put me through? I think I deserve something sweet.”
Very soon, you are back in the furniture store, as soon as you hit the edge of the carpet you start to take your shoes off. You slip away from them and make your way to the bed. You turn, then flopping backward onto it with your arms out. The warm comfort of the bed is very welcome, you stretch out with a sigh. Turning your head to look over to see them getting their robes off. Once they have stripped the costumes and dealt with their own shoes, you make your first direction known, your tone haughty and demanding, “Pamper me.”
It pulls a surprised laugh from the duo. Billy rolls his eyes and Stu is still chuckling as he approaches, “Jesus fuck, you are so funny.”
With Stu close enough you reach out and hook a finger in his belt loop, tugging him nearer as you say, “Yes, I know, I’m hilarious. I am also being serious, you both said anything I want and this is what I want.”
Billy has come around the other side of the bed, sitting on the edge as he affirms, “And we are gonna keep our word, don’t worry your highness.”
“New nickname, hm? I’ll be honest, I’m not mad at it.” You tease as you pull again, encouraging Stu to join you and Billy on the mattress. He relents. You are overjoyed at this moment. Right now, here with them, the whole affair they put you through already feels worth it.
As Stu gets comfortable, Billy takes the opportunity to kiss you first. Leaning up into him, you return the affection, your lips slowly moving against his. You can feel that you are being watched, the sensation only lasts a minute before you feel Stu’s hand on you. He can never only observe you, he always has to join in, at least he starts at an easy pace. His touch seems to have no destination or any real purpose other than to make you relax, and between the lazy tracks his fingers draw and Billy’s unhurried kisses it is working. Moving from your shoulder to brush over your collarbone, barely tracing the curve of your breast with the backs of his knuckles before travelling down your side.
As Stu grips your hip, thumb tracing over the bone, Billy’s tongue finally parts your lips causing you to softly moan into the ongoing kiss. Stu’s fingers are trailing up and down your thigh when he says, “You seriously impressed us earlier.”
You let out a questioning hum, and that is all that was needed for Stu to continue on, “Really. After you gave us the slip into the back hallways Billy was going on and on while we hunted you down.”
You break the kiss with a breathless laugh, asking, “Really?”
Taking this as a cue, Billy’s mouth moved, affection laid down over your jaw and down your neck as he confirms, “Really, I still can’t get over it.”
“You give suuuuch good chase, getting better all the time.” Stu praises and Billy adds on, “The perfect victim really.”
God, that sends a thrill through you. They keep it up similarly, Stu insisting, “No one looks better when on the run-”
Billy is musing with his mouth still against your throat, “And when she screams?”
A sigh from the blonde, “You are just too fucking good for words, can’t do you justice.”
Their words are serving to relax and cause you to further melt. You are pleasantly adrift thanks to them, the next question pulls you back closer to Earth, “What do you want us to do next?”
You know just what you need, asking, “Touch me?”
Stu in that totally classic asshole way of his taunts, “We’re already all over you!”
You whine his name and Billy admonishes his partner in crime, stopping to level a look over to him, “Play nice man, she went above and beyond tonight, she’s more than earned this.”
“I am! I’ll do whatever she wants, she just has to be specific.” Stu explains.
If that is how he wants to play it, you can do that. You hold eye contact as you state plainly, laying out just what you want, “Make me feel good, be creative, make me cum and cum fucking hard and don’t stop until I’m satisfied.”
Can’t get more clear than that.
Stu’s grin practically splits his face, he sing-songs out, “You asked for it.”
Billy starts to deal with your clothing, Stu helping to strip you bare and give them full access to do just as you requested. Even with the goal clearly laid out, the pair still have fun with it, grabbing greedy handfuls as they expose more and more of you. With the pair of them working in tandem it doesn’t take much to get you naked. Billy is tossing your underwear aside and before the pair of them can start overwhelming you again you say, “You are both way too dressed right now, fix that.”
“Whatever you say.” Billy says with a shrug, not at all complaining as he takes his shirt off, Stu following suit. Pants come off too, thrown onto the rug, leaving them in just their underwear. You rest your cheek on your hand and struck with an idea and a particular craving you speak up, “You know, you’ve been giving me a lot of attention so far, don’t go neglecting each other now.”
They know just what you are after, and who are they to deny you? Stu reaches out first, on his knees, leaning closer. Billy’s hands connect, splaying over his ribcage and initiating the kiss. You watch, perfectly content as the pair begin making out in earnest, wandering hands and the slick slide of their lips together serving to work each other up. You just know that anything they do to get each other going is going to be taken out on you, but the view is just too good. Billy has his hands on Stu’s hips as he deepens the kiss, the pace is picking up, getting more heated, and you watch the first pass of their tongues with great interest. Stu is the one to break the kiss, but Billy doesn’t let up, instead his mouth drags down, over his jaw and to his neck.
The affection laid down makes his head roll back, he breathes out a quiet, “Fuck man-” a half-laugh pairs with a light moan, and he makes eye contact with you. This image right here, is going to be burned into your mind. Your two boys, close enough that you could reach out and touch them, on their knees and mid-passionate make out and Stu’s gaze meeting yours in the heat of the moment. You feel a pulse between your tightening thighs and your bottom lip is caught between your teeth.
Stu’s hands squeeze Billy to get his attention, and he says, “Think she’s ready for more.”
The brunette lets up and glances over to you and smiles, “Yeah, she looks like she’s feeling lonely.”
“Soooo lonely.” You simper and the pair descend upon you.
Stu kisses you, deeply, full on the mouth. Further, he wraps one arm around you, his hand slides under your arm, cradling you nearer to him as his fingers are able to trace the curve of your breast. The touch is gentle, but it doesn't remain so, it becomes greedier as he closes on your already hard nipple.
While Stu is busy rolling the taut flesh between his fingers and licking into your waiting mouth, Billy is content to tend to your lower half. He slips his hand between your thighs and the first touch makes your breathing stutter. He is annoyingly good with his hands, and can devastate you with minimal effort. Currently, he is kissing over your hip while his thumb rubs confident circles over your clit, pleasure slides through you like water down a drain. You spread your legs wider, squirming your hips, silently begging for more. Luckily for you, Billy provides, mercifully his touch remains consistent, and the feelings grow. While you are swept up in Stu’s kisses and his hands working over your tits, the thumb on your clit increases the pressure, and then you feel two fingers sink into you as deeply as they can.
Billy withdraws his fingers halfway before diving them in again, curling them up to that spot he knows like the back of his hand. When the pads of his fingers press upwards your back arches in response, mouth breaking apart from Stu’s as you moan, “Oh God-”
Stu looks down the length of your body, taking in what Billy is doing with a lewd grin, the praise flows out easily, “Look at you earning the first real moan of the night.”
“Don’t tell me you want to keep score tonight.” Billy sighs, curling his fingers again and Stu laughs as his ministrations on you pause for the time being, “No, no way. We’ve got much more important things to do than some dumb shit like that.”
A particular pleasurable pass of his fingers tears an even louder moan from you next, causing Stu to perk up further, “Speaking of!”
Billy agrees readily, “Now that is something worth talking about.”
“Let’s check in with her, shall we?” Stu asks before looking down at you, “Feeling good?”
Your lips are still parted, you are about to reply when the fingers still gently holding your nipple instead tweak the tender flesh harshly. You nearly yelp in response, earring a laugh from the duo. You whine out, “So fucking mean!”
“Awe, I know, sorry!” Stu doesn’t sound sorry in the least. Billy’s hand hasn’t broken stride when he speaks up next, “He is so hard on you, but you take it amazingly well.”
You find your voice, a soft moan before that one word in question, “Yeah?”
“Oh God yeah, you’ve been blowing us away all fucking night.” Billy praises and then moves his hand harder, the obscene sounds of him fingering your cunt filtering out, loud and wet. “Just listen to her right now!”
“Can’t listen to anything else right now, so loud.” Stu replies before lowering his head, his fingers release your nipple and instead his tongue starts tracing around it making you let out a terribly hot sounding whimper.
He is right, your moans are just getting louder, increasing in pitch as you are getting closer to release. It’s been only a few short minutes, and you are steadily working towards the edge, unable to shut up as you do. The moans release unbidden, spilling out while you can’t do anything but endure. Your body feels as if it is out of control, helplessly dragged along the rough current of total bliss that they provide, threatening to outright drown you.
“Oh she’s getting close.” Billy is practically grinning at the sensation of your walls tightening up around his fingers. Stu’s mouth lifts briefly to comment, “Already? It’s been what, all of five minutes?”
“We are just that good.” Billy replies and Stu agrees simply, “Clearly.”
They really were, you were teetering on the edge of cumming, so fucking close, and they work together help to seal the deal. Billy utters in a sweetly condescending tone, “C’mon, you deserve it.”
Stu piles on, “Yeah you do, and we both want it, almost as bad as you do.”
They are so right. You do deserve it. You do cum at last and the strength of it makes your whole body shiver, a loud cry ringing out in the mostly empty space around you. Billy works you through it perfectly, drawing out your high as long as he can until you are nearly sobbing out, “St-stop, stop please, I-I need a sec-”
Thank God he listens, only one more circle around your clit before his fingers slip out, he holds them up to Stu who happily leans in and cleans up your mess with gusto. He moans around Billy’s fingers, tongue rolling between them before they are pulled out with a wet pop. Stu starts to untangle from you as he says, “I gotta get a taste from the source.”
Billy presses a hand to Stu’s chest as he says, “Are you capable of giving her a minute to recover before you attack her?”
“No, not without you occupying my very short attention span.” Comes the taunt in response. Billy rolls his eyes fondly before he leans in to kiss him, a hand out to grip him through the thin layer of his underwear. You watch the pair again as they keep each other busy, you bring your breathing back to normal. In a few short minutes, you’ve regained some strength, and they’ve lost what little they had on.
You are on your back, legs spread and Stu is making himself comfortable between your thighs. Hands on your hips and his mouth coming down to your soaked cunt, his tongue running up through your dripping folds, he runs a trail up from your hole to your clit. You react as if you were shocked, a gasping moan of his name tears out from your throat. He moans against you as he starts to eat you out, putting that stupidly long tongue of his to work. Billy is laying beside you, watching as Stu is winding his tongue around the most sensitive part of you over and over.
Your eyes are squeezed shut at the moment, breathing already becoming wrecked again and feeling far too good for how l little he has done this far. “It is so hot to watch him work, don’t you think?” Billy asks. You agree without thinking, “Yea-yeahh.”
“How do you know? You aren’t even looking.” He teases, before saying next, “Come on, he is working so hard to make you feel good! The least you can do is look.”
You know you aren’t going to get out of this. A groan as you make yourself open your eyes, looking down your body to see Stu’s eyes turned up towards you as his mouth works. You feel a pulse of heat shoot up your spine upon making eye contact. He sucks on your clit, and it is a struggle to keep your attention focused on him. “There you go, see what I mean?”
You pant out, “Yeah, I-I get it, fuck-”
“He makes it look so fucking good, I feel a bit left out.” Billy muses and Stu gestures with his hand, an encouraging wave of his fingers, inviting him down. Billy asks, “You feeling lonely too, hm?”
Stu nods, not stopping his work and that is all the convincing Billy needs. You are adjusted, rolled onto your side, one of Stu’s hands on your inner thigh holding your leg out of the way. He focuses on your clit, flicking over it again and again as Billy sinks down to join. A casual, “Hey.”
Stu’s laugh vibrates around your clit, quickly responding, “Hey man, glad you could join me.” And getting right back to it with such fervour your head falls back with a passionate moan.
Now most people can easily see the appeal and get behind the idea of a double blow job, but not enough people are as ready to preach for the same when it comes to eating pussy. Logistics are not that big an issue so long as you are willing to get a bit creative.
While Stu is able to give your clit consistent stimulation, Billy has the rest of the space to play, and fuck does he ever take advantage and play. He runs his tongue around the edges of your soaking wet hole, before starting to dip inside. The pleasure of it steals your breath away. The ecstasy, the heat of their combined mouths, not to mention having their complete focus on just your enjoyment; it is a lot to take. Your face buries in the pillow, you moan incoherently as your fingers twist in the sheets.
There is this moment, that often happens during a double blow job, no matter who is on the receiving end of it. Whenever you are your knees, with one of them with you to devastate the third party with unending feeling, your mouths have a habit of meeting. It is thoroughly natural, a tongue wanders too far, lips brush and as if magnetized you kiss. A make out mid-blow job is akin to breathing, automatic and hardwired into your DNA. So the two of them doing the same while between your spread legs only makes sense. You are treated to the sounds and added feeling, as they switch between kissing each other and licking and sucking at you.
You are whispering broken disbelieving praise into the fabric rubbing against your cheek, “Fuck, fuck, so-ohh good-”
Soon the pair are more focused on you again, Stu is strumming your clit and the edge is slowly creeping up low in your stomach. Before you can truly contend with how quickly this is happening, Billy ramps it up. His tongue is teasing the tight rim of your asshole and Christ alive. You are being catapulted to orgasm in frankly record time. Stu’s tongue winding clockwise on your clit and Billy’s going counter, and you have no idea which to lean into or away from.
“Shi-shit, M’ close! Don’t stop-” You beg and they listen. The second orgasm of the night sweeps through you, body tense and your knuckles nearly aching from how tightly you are gripping the sheets. They help you ride it out beautifully, don’t stop until your hand comes down to push weakly at Stu’s forehead, “Ease up.”
The pair of them both listen the first time, which you are mildly shocked by, until their intentions become clear. You’ve already cum twice, are more than warmed up and ready, meaning that it’s time to start putting your holes to work. They start to untangle from you and reposition themselves, talking as they do, Billy says lightly, “She cums so quick, it’s almost embarrassing.”
Stu retorts, “Right? Lucky for her, we find the whole uselessly pathetic thing hot.”
“Love how you talk about me like I’m not even here.” You breathe and that earns a laugh from them both.
“Awe trust me, we know you are here baby.” Stu coos condescendingly, and Billy chirps after, “Just what you’ve got to say is of little consequence of what we want to do.”
You suppose they have a point. You roll onto your back, legs still spread and Billy is in position, grinding his hard shaft against you. Stu has taken his place up near your head, he is on his knees with his fingers in your hair. Your lips part so your tongue swipes over his tip, and he breathes out your name. As you begin to take him into your mouth, Billy starts to sink into your cunt and the real fun begins.
It is easy at first, your legs over Billy’s hips as he rocks into you, with a hand around the base of Stu’s shaft as your head bobs up and down. You are doing pretty well, have a good rhythm, until Billy’s hand falls between your legs and his thumb starts to circle your clit again. God, they cannot leave it alone tonight, thoroughly abusing it so totally. You find it hard to keep your movements smooth, your hand starts to falter, and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth.
Stu asks, “Awe can’t keep up? Billy too good at fucking you dumb, hm?”
He really is. You whine pitifully around the shaft in your mouth, and Billy joins in, “Dunno if I’m that good, or she’s just that easy.”
It can be both, you think it genuinely might be. Billy gets into such a good rhythm that you can’t even pretend to continue blowing Stu, your lips mouth absently at his head while you just try to hang on. Stu’s hand pats your cheek lightly as he degrades you, “Can’t get your mouth to work right either! C’mon try a little harder.”
You do try, you honestly do, but it is just so fucking difficult. Billy pants out, “Prettiest, stupidest slut around, and she’s all ours.”
You are completely all theirs. No one else’s.
This position doesn’t last.
Next up, Stu gets a turn, to make up for your lacklustre blow job you are made to ride him. Billy has his hands on your hips, helping you keep a good pace, until you start getting close that is. Then he has one hand on your throat as he is behind you, whispering in your ear, “Don’t stop, don’t slow down. Cumming is no fucking excuse baby, you gotta keep going. Make him feel good.”
God that tone, they are both just so fucking smug.
“I’m tr-try-ing!” You groan, eyes squeezed shut. Your thighs are trembling, you don’t think you can keep this up, Billy sees you slowing down so he helps you out. He squeezes your throat and uses that point of contact to force you up and down, it steals some of your breath, isn’t out right choking but if you kept this up your vision would be going fuzzy around the edges. At last, your third orgasm of the night rips through you and it is incredible. You are gasping for breath when it has run its course.
You can’t keep this up, much too sensitive and weak, so they take further control.
Billy finds his release with you on your hands and knees in doggy style, he cums deep in you to the root with your name staining his tongue. He pulls out and when he does, your arms give out, tired body falling onto your stomach. Stu takes back over, forces into your overflowing cunt and uses Billy’s cum as lube. He doesn’t stop until he’s dumped another full load into you, saying beautifully degrading things to you all the while.
It is like a switch is flipped when it is time for the aftercare. Kisses pressed to your hairline and cheeks, you are relaxed as can be on the mattress. You are partly cleaned up, then wrapped up in their arms. You are totally blissed out as you cuddle, completely spent. It is quiet for a few minutes, until you speak up, “There was talk of dinner earlier?”
“Ahh, she’s finally hungry.” Stu says with a grin.
“Aren’t you after all that?” Billy asks and Stu concedes, “Duh, of fucking course I am. I’ll wrangle the food, you set it up.”
They let you go and get up, you lie there and watch them both get their respective tasks done. In a few short minutes, you aren’t alone in bed any longer. Stu has some cold pasta salad from the cooler and a few forks, as well as a few drinks for all of you. You were much more interested in what Billy had done though, he’d set up a projector screen, the portable projector is a gift you’d gotten them a while ago. You didn’t know that he’d packed it, but you should have expected it. The three of you sit on the mattress, close and comfortable, leaning on one another as you start to eat. The movie is one you’d seen before, but who cares about the content when you’ve got such good company.
It wouldn’t be a date night without a movie.
You lean up and kiss Stu on the cheek before doing the same to Billy, “I love you both so much, thanks for a seriously amazing romantic getaway.”
“I told you it was going to be good!” Stu exclaims, and you laugh, “That’s what you have to say? Not I love you too?”
“Figured it was implied.” He said with a shrug.
The rest of the night passes by like that, easy and comfortable, you don’t even make it through the whole movie before you all pass out. A tangled and still slightly sweaty mess of limbs in the dim glow of the projector.
saw ur multi may request post and just HAD to request this. Poly Billy x Stu with a breeding kink? Preferably fem or gn reader. I've been itching to read some new Poly Ghostface fics
Ay! Great, great, request! I don’t write breeding kink often, but it is a really fun one to do, and I took this one a bit of a darker route, hope everyone loves this one, second entry into Multi-May, and it was a really fun one to do. I am still accepting requests for Multi-May btw, so anyone who wants to get theirs in, please do! Your fic might be the next one I write!
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.3K. Poly!Ghostface, Billy Loomis X Stu Macher X FEM!Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: DARK FIC. Dub-Con. Tampering With Birth Control. Breeding Kink. Creampie. Rough Sex. Threesome. Vaginal Sex. Vaginal Fingering. Sloppy Seconds. Messy Sex. Cum Play. Dirty Talk. Banter. Begging. Multiple Orgasms. Overstimulation.
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Over And Over.
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You love them coming inside.
The biological drive behind it all cannot be understated, thousands of years of hard-wired feelings to want, to crave, to need a thick cock cumming inside your wet and willing cunt. Sure, a facial or a shot in the mouth still has some appeal, but nothing compares to getting it right where nature tells you it should go.
They have a deep desire that matches yours to receive perfectly, they want to give, they want to provide and fill you up over and over, with the idea that it will, hopefully, eventually take root and then the evidence will be undeniable by you becoming pregnant. At least that is what the dirty talk and idea behind the kink implies, actually getting you knocked up isn’t the ultimate goal, the real reason is simply a shared love of it and finding it hot as fuck, using it as a vehicle to wring as much pleasure as possible from the act.
At least that is what you thought.
They have a different view of it, what you said was in part true, sure it felt good and made the sex better, but the pair had decided a long time ago that they wanted you forever, didn’t want you going anywhere. What better way to tie themselves to you permanently than to get you pregnant? They are positive, if it takes, that you’ll keep it and by extension, them. So they do some work on their end to ensure it, you don’t exactly hide your birth control, tampering with it is laughably easy, then the fun part, fucking you over and over while what is in your system runs its course until the inevitable happens, they aren’t in a rush.
Naturally some further precautions are taken, and you go along with your hips being propped up to help the large amounts of cum pool against your cervix, with them fingering the mess back into your loosened hole. The times you can’t rest are when the plug comes out, a thick and wide thing to keep the cum in and prevent it from spilling into your underwear, it can’t keep it all locked in but holds the majority, when the toy comes out the rush of slickness that follows is immense.
Again for you, the thought of questioning any of this never occurs because you are confident you are safe, you think it is just to elevate the kink and scenes, all the while you are blissfully ignorant to them fucking with your pills, unaware that with their intervention it is taking your normal 99% protection with perfect use down several notches every single day.
Most people don’t know what days will change their lives forever, going through it normally, only upon reflection can they point and say, “There, that’s when it happened.” This is one of those days you will think back on and see the whole picture.
Tonight is for the three of you, this week has been busy, trying to get your schedules to line up has been tricky, but it’s your collective Friday, a few days off, so this is extremely needed.
You are pinned down on the couch by Stu is sitting over your head, his hands on your shoulders, your own hands circling his wrists, grip tight, nails biting into skin, as he watches with rapt interest.
Billy has his hands tucked right behind your knees, forcing them to your chest, folding you effectively in half while he fucks into you deeply, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs, before pulling out nearly completely before diving in again. You cannot help the sounds that slip out, pathetic moans and gasps are torn from your mouth with every loud smack ringing out with your body and his meeting.
You can tell that Billy is getting close, the sweat on his brow as his grip under your knees tightens, the rhythm he had set earlier getting uneven, the pace getting faster while curses stain his tongue. Stu notices, he is talking him through it, “Fuck, come on, do it man, pour it in her, nice and deep.”
“God yes, gonna-” He doesn’t get the full words out before his sentence breaks off with a groan, and he does just that, his hips flush with your body, buried completely inside as he unloads. You feel the pulses, accompanied by that delicious warmth spreading, your breathing as laboured as you lay there, waiting for Billy to collect himself enough to pull out and for Stu’s inevitable turn. Billy leans down, more of his weight pressed to you, a soft kiss to your lips that you return momentarily before he pulls back, his hands release you and your knees go slack, no longer held tight to your chest. You watch as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and Stu asks, “Good one?”
He hums in the affirmative, and holds his hand out, a gesture as he points, “Pillow.”
Stu lifts his hands from your shoulders, and you stop gripping his wrists, he turns and picks up the pillow and passes it over. You are adjusted, and you know what they want, your arm hooks under your own knees, the pillow is slid underneath so it keeps your hips in their current upward position, as opposed to Billy doing it, allowing him to move freely. He gets up and asks casually, “Water?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Stu comes over to sit in the space where Billy had just left, you call, “Yes please.”
Stu licks his fingers before his hand falls between your thighs, he says simply, “Keep holding those legs up.”
You nod once and inhale sharply when his fingers get to work, slipping over your clit, your head falls back against the couch cushion. If one cums in you, the other usually gets you off before fucking you to add to the mess, the idea is that it increases the chances of getting pregnant, you don’t know how true that is, but you aren’t going to complain about enthusiasm for your enjoyment.
You are already very warmed up, so Stu’s touch isn’t gentle nor rough, just firm, consistent pressure, exactly where you need it, tight circles drawn that draws a nearly dreamy moan from you. Billy comes back promptly, water bottle in hand, he holds it out and Stu takes it, he drinks deeply, his hand between your legs not stopping.
Billy’s eyes are on your form, how you twitch and tense, sigh in pleasure, he poses a question, “How’s she doing?”
Pulling the bottle away and handing it back, Stu responds, “Good, she’s kept all the mess inside, so far anyway.”
You cut in as you breathlessly say, “You could always ask me yourself, I’m right here.”
“I could, true.” He kneels on the floor next to you, his gaze locked on your face as he asks, “So how are you doing?”
You open your mouth to respond and Stu, in that way only he can, presses down harder and speeds his fingers up, causing the words to die on your tongue, replaced with a choked moan instead. Billy smirks and raises his eyebrows, responding as if you actually spoke a coherent sentence, “Really? You don’t say.”
Stu is snickering, and you try to bite out, but with how out of breath you sound, on top of it being cracked around the edges with your moans, it falls flat, “Fuh-fuck yo-you.”
“Hurry up and cum so I can.” Stu teases, and you can feel it building already, you’d gotten halfway there when Billy was fucking you, getting back to the edge is not a challenge. “Gimmie ahh, minute-” You moan and Billy reminds, “Tall ask. You know how impatient Stu can be.”
You are in fact well acquainted with how impatient Stu can be, you doubt you could ever forget it, even still, you don’t leave him waiting long. It is one of those orgasms that creeps up on you, the build starts slow and seemingly gets faster, like a train picking up speed, until the moment turn from, “I think I’m getting close.” to, “I’m on the edge!” and finally, thrown suddenly clear off and into, “I’m cumming-”
He works you through the bliss until it bleeds into painful overstimulation, leading to you batting at his hand, begging, “St-stop it.”
“Alright, alright.” He lifts his hands away, and you exhale at the relief you feel. You are offered the water, you lift yourself only slightly and drink your fill, soon as you have swallowed the last mouthful Stu is getting ready to fuck you. There is no position change, the name of the game is keeping all the cum inside, and thus far you haven’t spilled a drop, if never stays that way.
It isn’t like Stu always has to go second, but he seems to prefer it, the extra messy nature of sloppy seconds appeals to him, seems to make him fuck you harder. He has his hands pressed to the backs of your thighs, his thumbs spread your slick lips open and he presses the hot and flushed tip of his dick to your hole.
“Been dreamin’ of this-” He presses his hips and begins to slide inside, a weak groan breaks off when his head is enveloped by you, “-haven’t cum all week, been saving it for you.”
God, you know that isn’t a small feat, even during a busy week Stu always finds time to take care of himself, holding back so he can really fill you, it serves the exact purpose he wants, it makes a fresh wash of arousal soak your brain. He doesn’t stop his forward momentum until he is totally inside, once he is, a shared moan spills forth.
He lingers for a moment, Billy still on his knees has his eyes on the point you are both locked together, he doesn’t look away when Stu starts to move. He fucks in and out at an easy pace, halfway out and then back in, grinding down on that perfect spot on every thrust in, making your cunt ripple in response. Billy can’t stay out of it, the same way Stu never can, he leans down and kisses you, a filthy moan into his mouth from how it immediately lights up your nervous system. Getting kissed while getting fucked is one of the best feelings possible, you cannot get enough of it.
It is never stays easy, it turns rough quickly, and you take it gratefully, the kiss breaks, head falling back to the couch again as the pace is increased. You are thankful the walls of your place are thick because you are not quiet, moaning, crying out, panting and the sound of skin on skin, and soon, Billy talking.
Speaking up, he says to Stu, “I think this’ll be the one man.”
A deep groan in response, “You think?”
“Oh yeah, no doubt, it has to be. She’s going to get pregnant this time for sure.” Fingers push some of your sweaty hair back off your forehead, and he prompts you, “You want it, right?”
With a shaky nod, your tongue flicks over your dry lips, uttering over the sound of sex, “Yeah, yeah, I do-”
“Say it then.” He urges, and you do, with a small shiver you indulge in your shared kink, playing into it, “I want it, I want it so much.”
“Not to me, to him, beg him for it.” Billy directs, and you look up at Stu, you can see how much he is becoming effected too, keep in mind he hasn’t cum in over a week, he won’t be lasting much longer, “Fu-fuck, Stu, please, cum in me. I-I want it bad, M’ dyin’ without it.”
It is more than working for both of you, feeling that familiar curling pleasure deep, the throbbing of your straining clit, the tenseness of your body over all as he slams in harder, “C’mon please, please, get me pregnant-”
It is as if those last three words moaned longingly yanks Stu to the edge, sudden and unexpected as he breathes out, “Shit-” His hips stutter to a harsh stop as he starts to cum and that is when you start to really overflow, with how rough he is, how wet you are and the both of their more than ample loads it is bound to happen. As soon as he is collected enough he pulls out and still panting he starts to finger the mess back into you, Billy reaches out to help, he can tell how close you were and how Stu came before you could again, his fingers rub your clit to help get you there.
You always cum so quickly at this point, two thick fingers pushing the slippery cum back inside and pressing against that sweet spot every single time they enter you and the perfect friction and stimulation on the outside does you in rapidly. Body shuddering and sweat slick as you are gripped by the peak of your orgasm, it is drawn out until you are thoroughly spent and exhausted. Soon the hands lift one last time, leaving your swollen and stuffed cunt alone, and you are glad for the hard-earned break. Your arm released from behind your knees, you are so comfortable you could fall asleep right here, and you just might. You can hear the boys talking about what a good time that was and about you getting knocked up and you, all happy and sleepy are, of course, agreeing with a light laugh, “Yeah, I sure hope it happens this time.”
Again, it’s fun! This is all in the name of insane orgasms and engaging in kink, you play along happily.
Until the test comes back positive a few weeks later, and you are able to trace it back to this night.
Casually Devoted. Part One. "Textual Relationship." Erik Campbell X FEM! Reader.
Okay, so. I have been posting about my newfound love for Erik fucking Campbell and basically this week I wrote a nearly all of 10K fic about being his unlikely sexting FWB. I had so much fun with this, I seriously love Erik and I think that this will not be the last thing I write of him. I hope everyone enjoys this! I do love, love, love this kind of senario. Who knows this might even get a follow up if people really dig it.
Series Masterlist Here.
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 9.6K. Erik Campbell X FEM!Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Sending Nudes. Sexting. Anonymous Sex. Dirty Talk. Mentions Of Cuckholding. Banter. Playful Relationship. Friends With Benefits. Teasing. Use Of Sex Toys. Cum Eating. Phone Sex. Mutual Masturbation. Blow Job. Hand Job. Riding. Vaginal Sex. Cunnilingus. Lots Of Compliments. Praise. You Are Both Super Into Each Other. Premature Ejacuation. Semi-Public.
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Isn’t it crazy how a tiny change, one single moment, a slight pitch to the right or left, can cause such a massive and undeniable effect? That is what you have been pondering lately, you had been a little fixated on how one mis-entered number when putting in a new cell phone contact brought about such good, how that screw up introduced you to him.
It was an average evening, you were going to have a shower and then sort out dinner, you’d selected the clothing you were going to change into, while in just your robe you sauntered into the bathroom. The door closed, you turned on the fan and took out your phone to put a music playlist on, it was at that exact moment you received a text, you click on it and see it is from an unknown number, a simple, “Hey, you busy tonight?”
Your brows furrow and you type out a response, “Who is this?”
The shower is turned on, and you let it start to heat up, eyes on the bubbles showing whoever on the other end was in the midst of typing a reply, it comes in a moment later reading, “Hilarious, been two whole days, and you already forgot me?”
You did not give out your number to anyone in the past few days, you were about to type out a response when another text came in before you could, “Maybe you just need a refresher.”
Next popped up a picture and your breath caught, eyes going wide, the picture in question was a selfie taken using a mirror, the setting was a dark room, the lighting so low it was hard to make anything out in the background. However, who cares about the room when the focus was a close up of his open pants and belt sitting low on his hips. Creamy skin with a ton of tattoos on display, one hand is in his pocket which is pulling his pants down lower to the point you start to see the beginnings of coarse hair over the edge of his underwear. Okay so, one, hot, two, whoever he was trying to reach out to was very fucking lucky, and three, you definitely do not know this guy, but you think you want to.
You don’t want to lie and lead him on that you are some other person, so you quickly decide a picture for a picture is a fair trade, you open your robe, showing a heathy amount of cleavage and stomach, you take a snapshot of your newly exposed flesh. You look at your work and are satisfied with it, you look hot, no face shown, very minimal risk, so why not take a chance? Then you are sending him a text saying, “Sorry, I don’t think I am who you were meaning to send this to, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be who you are looking for.”
You send the picture along with it and then drop the robe, you turn on your playlist and get into the shower. Once under the spray of water, what you just did really starts to hit, you just sent this admittedly attractive stranger a somewhat scandalous picture, and it was hot, even if it doesn’t go further, you are glad you did it. You begin to feel pretty turned on, you might have to hop in bed to take care of this before worrying about dinner.
After you are clean, you get out and start drying off, once wrapped in a towel you pick up your phone and check to seeing the texts you got in response, “Oh fuck.” And then, “I know I should apologize.” and lastly, “But it’s hard to do it sincerely with a response like that.”
A laugh breaks out, and feeling bold, you text him back, “Nothing to apologize for.” After that you type out “Got me curious what you were planning to get up to with whoever that first pic was meant for, tell me that, and we’ll call it square.”
You use your hand to wipe the steamed up mirror enough to show your body but still obscure your face, you snap another pic, it shows you wrapped tightly in the towel, showing off you from shoulder to hips and still very wet, and then you send it off.
The picture comes first less than a minute later, similar to the first but this time it is obvious that he is very fucking hard, the outline of his erection clear, then the text comes, “I think I can do that.”
A grin stretches over your face, and you abandon the bathroom and the clothing you’d picked out earlier and made your way back to your bedroom.
Turns out that he thought he was messaging someone he flirted heavily with a few days ago and hooked up with in a bar bathroom, he got her number afterwards, and you guess was just one digit off and ended up getting you instead, crazy how that can happen. He was messaging that person in hopes of meeting up for a repeat session, you express sympathy but also offer some companionship, “I think I can still salvage your night, if you let me.”
You send another picture of you, this time in bed, it shows a hint of the underside of your tits, as well as the sheets that are pooled around your hips and one hand dipping under the fabric between your legs.
He takes you up on that with a simple, “Oh my God, yes.”
Now you take it upon yourself to get the ball rolling, asking, “If you met up with that other person, what did you want to do?”
“Ooh you want to know, huh?” He texts, and you respond with one hand as your other begins to touch yourself slowly, “Badly.”
“You cuck.” Just like that, a clearer picture of him begins to take shape. You wonder what his voice sounds like, but those words paired together gives you a better sense of him, and most importantly, the tone. You swear you can almost hear the teasing timber he would utter that with; the levity combined with an edge of taunting and slightly degrading? It is honestly exactly the kind of thing to turn you on. He follows it up with, “But I can tell you.”
He indulges you, talks about how he had intentions of getting her into a more private space than their last hook-up, tells you about how he has been thinking so much about giving her the chance to not have to muffle her moans when he is eating her out this time. The image of this hot faceless alternative guy on his knees in a filthy bar bathroom, fingers tangled in his hair as he eats pussy really does it for you. He tells you a lot more explicit details of how he’d fuck her, and you pretend to be in her place, you imagine how it would feel to be on the receiving end of.
You don’t let him do all the heavy lifting, you make your own intentions known and tell him in no uncertain terms what you would like to do to him, building off the framework of what he laid out. This sexting is some of the best you’ve ever had and with a complete stranger no less, though you suppose maybe that is part of it, the taboo nature, the freedom you feel because there is no baggage whatsoever.
Many pictures were sent back and forth that first night, plenty were noteworthy, but you have to admit when you get the first picture of him, hard and fully exposed, it literally made your breath stutter and how many guys can claim they have an honestly breathtaking dick? The proportions are good, but the piercing is what really grabs your attention, you are immediately struck with the craving to run your tongue over it and taste the tang of metal mix with the salt of his sweat. You tell him what you want in explicit detail, trying your best to paint the picture with words of you taking him to the base.
Both of you get bolder still, names are not exchanged, a lot more skin is shown, but neither of you reveal your faces. It ends with you both cumming pretty hard. You show this off with sending a picture of your soaked fingers, wet strings of slick between your spread digits.
He shows off the splatters of cum onto his stomach, and you admire how the pools of pearly white play against the black line work of the tattoo on his stomach, as well as how it drips off that piercing adorning his still mostly hard dick. God, you wish you could make this your screensaver.
You play it cool, a very casual text is sent by you, “This was fun, we should do it again sometime.”
In turn, you receive an easy reply of, “Totally, you’ve got my number, hit me up.”
Soon you are getting out of bed, throwing on clothes and heading out towards the kitchen to make dinner.
The following day you find him popping into your mind a few times, you feel your mood overall lifted, you hadn’t realized how much you had been missing sexually interacting with another person. You don’t message him yet though, you decide you will when the mood feels right.
You quote, “hit him up”, about a week after the first time, you are getting dressed for work in the morning and while looking over your underwear options an idea strikes, and remembering how well lack of thought worked in your favour last time, you don’t linger, you do.
It doesn’t take that much time, and you leave on schedule, you have more of a spring in your step and wonder when he will take the bite, not if, you are confident it is when.
Erik finds himself staying up late a lot of the time, whether working or gaming, going out, the usual things that can keep anyone his age from slipping into bed at a decent hour, so waking up in the early afternoon is not uncommon. He rolls over and picks up his phone to find you sent him some messages, with one hand rubbing at his eye the other swipes them open, and he is rather pleasantly surprised to see what you sent.
The first text reads, “Morning!”
Then comes the pictures.
You had chosen a matching bra and panty set in a rich dark jewel tone that looks criminally good against your skin and slipped into it. Three pictures were taken using your floor length mirror, your phone purposefully blocking your face, the lighting and angle also helping to hide your identity; the first is of you, head on, tits tilted forward. The next is you on your knees, taken over your shoulder and leaning to show off how amazing your ass looks in the silky fabric. The last is you back on your feet, mostly dressed but, pants are low and shirt pulled up by your other hand not holding your phone to show you are wearing the set under your clothes today.
The last message reads, “You gonna be around later? Was hoping for a repeat of last week if you are up for it.”
Your phone vibrates in your pocket once, then twice, honestly several times, and when you pull it out you see he has reacted to every picture you sent with exclamation points and black hearts, you laugh lightly thinking of his overall aesthetic, “Very fitting.”
His texts are as follows, “Holy fucking shit, what a way to wake up.” and then, “Yes, I am definitely going to be around later.” and a picture of his own, he seemingly is still in bed and not wearing much, you can tell how hard he is with just the thin bedsheet covering him. The last text is, “You look so fucking hot btw, oh my God.”
You smile, an appropriate response to getting some unprompted sexy pictures on top of him, sending evidence of just how much he enjoyed your efforts. You type out your response, “You are one to talk, I want to see what is under that sheet, badly. I’m going to be done work in a few hours, that cool?”
He treats you further when you get another picture in response of that sheet pulled out of the way, hard dick resting over his hip along with a, “Very cool.”
You laugh, texting, “It’s a date.” You know the rest of the shift is going to drag, too consumed with how excited you are for what is going to happen later.
When you get home later, you don’t even bother showering, you strip on your way to the bedroom until you are just down to the underwear set you took those pictures in this morning. You know you want to kick this off with another picture, and you’d been thinking hard about this on the way home and knew just want to do.
Erik is at work, this day of the week is dedicated to walk-ins, no real appointments, so he is just waiting around at the moment, it’s near the dinner hour, he is expecting some people later but for right now he is kind of bored, until your first text comes in that is. His phone lights up and, he clicks on the notification to see what you sent. It is you in your full length mirror again, face out of frame, bra off and on the ground by your feet and an arm crossed over your tits, wearing nothing else but your panties and fuck, he is glad that the shop is empty at the moment.
The next text reads, “You around?”
He responds automatically, thumbs tapping out, “I am.”
You text him another picture, this one has your chest totally exposed and your free hand sliding your panties tantalizingly down your thighs, with one single word, “Good.”
This time you take the lead, you texted him next, “I’ve been thinking about you ever since you texted back this afternoon, I have been dying to get off with you again.”
You are in your bed now, texting again before he can respond, “Last week was a ton of fun, but I want to ramp it up, if you are into it.”
The next picture Erik gets from you takes him from being half hard to completely erect, it’s you holding a rather sizeable dildo; realistic, prominent veins, and he has the first partial look at your face, just your chin and mouth, tongue out and teasing the tip of your toy.
He makes the picture full screen, taking in the sight of that perfect looking wet mouth, your soft pink tongue, and wishes he was there in place of that toy. The very thought of the slickness of your spit, your warm breath, God, just the heat of your mouth would feel like heaven, he is sure. He responded, with a very enthusiastic, “I am very into it.”
You are torturing him, you have been talking about how much you want to taste him, how badly you want to be filled.
You had taken a few more pictures of you blowing the toy, still focused on the lower part of your face and the anonymous aspect is very much doing it for both of you, he loves that he knows what you look like with drool down your chin but has never seen your eyes, and you love that fact as well as showing off for him.
He is aching in his jeans and dying for relief, he hasn’t sent any pictures himself yet tonight, still sitting in the shop and fully dressed, but he has been typing out responses agreeing with every single thing you’ve been saying and talking about how he is sure it would feel incredible to slide as deep as he can into your mouth.
You ramp it up further, taking him by surprise, sending your very first video, he clicks on it quick as he can and as it starts to run he sees that you have secured the suction cup base of your dildo to a hardcover book. He watches with rapt attention as you swing one leg over, line it up and then start to slide it inside of you. The sound is obscene, he can fucking hear how wet you are, but more than that he can hear you moan out at the satisfaction of being filled. Once you settle down and have it fully inside of you, he can make out your breathy, “Oh my fucking God, yes-”
You start to bounce up and down, he makes it exactly three rolls of your hips before he decides fuck it, he is taking his break now. He grabs the sign that declares, “Be back in twenty.” and hurriedly tapes it to the glass front door and locks it. He makes a beeline for the bathroom and locks himself inside, he had still been watching, phone in hand and eyes glued to the screen, losing his mind at how hot the visual of your soaked cunt taking well moulded silicone. Erik gets his belt and pants open, intent on sending you something back for that.
You pause your riding when you hear your phone ding, you scoop your phone up and see he responded, you are greeted with the words, “You’re killing me.” With a picture of one of his hands gripping the base of his very hard dick. His pants are slung low again, he is leaning against a sink and the lighting is low with a red tint, your mouth is watering. Before you respond to that, he sends his own video, the text reads, “A video for a video seems fair.”
You click on the video, and it is a blissful minute long video of him stroking his dick, you can hear his heavier breathing, the slight jingle of his belt buckle from the rough movements of his hand and of course, the sweetness of the sound of skin on skin.
It is on.
Your next one is you riding the dildo, dirty talking in between moans about how fucking hot he is and how good this feels, but that you are positive that he would feel better.
The next video he sends you into overdrive, it opens with him spitting into his hand and then wrapping it back around his shaft, he strokes himself as he admits, “God, you know I’m at work right now? Fuck, couldn’t focus at all-” He huffs out a breath and confesses further, “-made me take my break early, you’ve got me jerking off in the bathroom right now-”
Your hips pick up the pace, fucking yourself rougher, fingers swirling over your clit as you watch the video, listen to his filthy words, “-who can sketch when all I can think about is you riding me?”
Just listening to him is getting you close, you hold out and soon as you are done watching his video you set your phone back up for the big finish. Your hips roll, you moan out as your hand works, “So-sorry for taking you away from your work, bu-but M’ close-”
A broken gasp as you manage to get out a little more praise, “-seriously you are so fucking hot, I can’t last, fuck! Ahhn I’m gonna-”
You capture it beautifully, managing to get all the clear detail in your low bedroom lighting, the shudder of your thighs and how your pace stutters, moaning out weakly as you tip over the edge and your orgasm sweeps through you. Somehow you manage to ride through your high, shaky, uneven movements, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you think of your swollen walls wrapped around him as you cum.
Once the pleasure finds it’s natural end, your hand falls away, and you sit there with the dildo still inside for a moment. You are panting, still coming down from your orgasm, after another few seconds, you lift off the toy, letting the camera on your phone capture all the excess wetness that leaks out and runs down the toy.
You stop recording, and you send it off, you flop down and wait eagerly for his response, which you get in just a few minutes, right when your breathing comes back to normal, only for the video he sent to steal it again. His video is much shorter, about thirty seconds long, but the best one so far, incoherently moaning out a curse as he cums all over his own fingers.
Honestly, even though you just came the sounds he makes when he is cumming are getting you going again, you are so going to jerk off to that video on loop again when you regain a little strength.
With another flash of inspiration, you remove your toy from the book cover and bring it up, you start to clean it up with your mouth; you took a picture of the soaked toy resting on your cheek, your tongue lolling out and clearly dripping with your own creamy slick, combining it with a text, “Oh my fucking God, how are you this hot? Wish I was there to help you clean up.”
His own response comes back with, “I’m hot? Have you seen you? Also serve return, I bet you taste amazing.”
The texting continues on for a while, you are into the fact he would love to help you clean up and wants you there to do the same, you thank him for helping you out and for all he shared, and he thanked you for making his night at work a lot more interesting. He gets a walk-in and has to get to work, and you go for a shower and to figure out your dinner, and the conversation stops for the night.
This situation keeps going as is for a few weeks, at least once a week, either initiated by you or him, a quick check in with a, “You busy?” accompanied by a risky picture leading to a heavy sexting session, pictures and videos exchanged where you both get off spectacularly. You both have a good sense of when works in each other’s schedules and when the other person is normally busy, the times you catch each other at a bad moment you find yourselves prioritizing finding space to make up for it as soon as possible. You think that you are a tad addicted to these sexting sessions, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he is too.
The times you text after a session become longer and at times you are texting even when you aren’t being nasty and sexual with each other, you learn small details, like some music he likes, that he is a tattoo artist, his brother has a pet turtle that is always getting lost. You still haven’t seen each other’s faces, you don’t know each other’s names, you still like those small things and get off on the anonymous nature.
While in mid-session while in bed, a vibrator in your hand and pressed between your thighs and your other hand holding your phone, in the middle of typing out a response to your sexting buddy when your phone starts ringing. You are so shocked that you nearly drop your phone, the feeling increases when you see that he is the one who is calling you. It has been a while since you had ramped it up, it has been weeks of pictures, voice notes, and videos, but you’ve never actually talked on the phone, the idea of it is exciting enough that all nerves are forgotten and you answer.
“Hello?” Jesus, you didn’t mean to say it so breathy, but you can’t help it, with how turned on you are, the toy still running and how good it feels.
“Hey-” Oh, thank God, he sounds pretty out of breath too, a small moment before he says, “-I just really wanted to hear you.”
Fuck, you feel a surge of arousal and you want to whimper in response. He continues, “I love the videos and shit we do, but there’s this uhm, disconnect right?”
You know exactly what he means, you film the video, send it, he watches it, records the response and then sends his, the process is hot and fun, same story for voice notes, but it does take a bit of time and definitely creates a disconnect.
“I was thinkin’ this could maybe bridge the gap.” You get it totally, have some more immediacy, can respond in real time and also not have to fuss with your phone while jacking off, instead you can just talk. “Not all the time but-”
You breathe out and finish his thought before he can, “Sometimes. Yeah, I’m with you.”
“Good.” He responds and then there is this moment where it sinks in, you are both on the phone together, just listening to each other breathe and you know what the other person is doing. He is fucking his well lubed fist while you are grinding your clit against candy coloured vibrating silicone. You’ve never spoken like this, and you think he is having the same realization, he must have just called you on impulse, you are thankful he took that first step; to show appreciation for how thankful you are, you figure you should break the ice properly.
You turn the toy up and the moan that spills out in response is automatic, “Oh God-” and you can hear his own breath catch, you squirm your hips and hit a particularly good spot that makes you whine slightly; that gets a good moan from him, and it really starts rolling.
“Jesus Christ, the sounds that you are making.” He groans, and you let out this sound that strikes somewhere between a half laugh and half a moan, and he finds it gorgeous, “You can thank the vibrator I am using, ahh-” A harsh inhale in you say, “-you sound so good too.”
“Yeah?” There it is, that teasing tone, that one that you knew he was capable of that first time you were texting, that same one that does you in and ruins you so perfectly. You confess this next part broken only by a few moans, “Yeahhh, I swear, ohh, guys who are too quiet are such a fucking turn-off, bu-but ah! The stuff you send? Perfect to get off to.”
“Couldn’t agree more, what we’ve been gettin’ up, ugh, to has kinda ruined me for regular porn for the time being.” His own admission fuels this all a lot further, because you’ve done the same thing, traditional porn that isn’t stuff he has sent you has very little appeal currently. You normally think about him being physically with you, but that is a Hell of a lot easier with him in your ear like this, you could imagine him in bed beside you as you both play with yourselves, or better yet, have him play with you.
In a few short minutes of losing yourself in the fantasy, with a few more things said back and forth, accompanied by a whole lore more moaning you can feel the pressure building low, and you choke out, “God, M’ getting close over here-”
“Same, fuck, I’m almost there-” He sounds so unbelievably hot when he is near the edge, you wonder briefly if he thinks the same about how you sound, but he keeps talking and your mind goes blank, “C’mon, I want to hear it, fucking do it, cum.”
It wasn’t a question, it had a harsher edge, you’d land it more in the camp of being a command, your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on the idea of him holding the toy to you, of him using it to get you off, and you are done for. You cum so hard that you cannot contain your moans and midway through your own peak you can hear him reach his own end, the broken off curse sounds so good you wish you could make it your text tone. Once you’ve both ridden out your respective highs, you turn your toy off and put it aside, laying back to relax.
The come down is quiet, just the pair of you connected on the phone and panting, feeling amazing. You get an idea and pick up your phone, you snap a quick picture of the lower half of your face, a flirty smile as well as your slick toy resting on your chest, you send it off, and you can hear when he opens it up half a minute later. He laughs, sounding clearly delighted, “Nice picture.”
“Thanks, thought you might like to see the aftermath.” You sigh, and he says, “You guessed right, here, give me a second.”
In a few seconds time, you have a picture of your own in your inbox, him shirtless with cum splattered on his stomach again, it reminds you of that first night from over a month and a half ago, and you smile at the memory. “Very nice, I love these pictures, the cum plays great off your tattoos.”
He laughs a little more unsure, “Thanks?”
“It’s a compliment, that’s good praise right there! Appreciate it!” You protest so fervently he belts out a laugh, and the conversation continues on for a while longer, playful banter that flows like water, with a complete and comfortable ease. Twenty minutes flies by before you say, “Well, I’m gonna go, but we should call like this again.”
He agrees, you can hear the smile in his voice, “Yeah, soon.”
“Totally.” You confirm, and before you go, you realize something and so you say, “Wait.”
“Yes?” He asks, and you say, “We haven’t shared names so far and that is fine with me, I know why, but we are deep enough in that I think we should have something to call each other, right?”
“Oooh, you think were there in our relationship?” He teases, and you laugh, “I’d like to think so, but it’s more that I want to have something to moan when I’m cumming for you.”
“You strike a compelling argument.” He hums, and then says, “I’ll trust you to come up with something adequate if you trust me to do the same.”
Eye for an eye, how very like you both, you tell him, “I think I can get behind that, thanks again for the great time, night.”
“Night.” He returns before you hang up.
The phone sex enters the regular rotation, it has really improved your dynamic, and honestly your life, you feel less stressed, more relaxed, overall mood completely improved.
After that first phone call, the non-sexual communication becomes more frequent, you ask him for some music recommendations and pass some back, a few normal pictures are sent, and casual conversation struck, you feel like you are getting to know him better in the times between you are getting off together. A perfect example is you sending a picture of your hand curled around a coffee once you’ve gotten to work, complaining of the long day ahead and him responding, “Least your nails look cute, new polish?”
Since the advancement of the phone calls, you can hear how he’d say it, causing a smile to paint your face as you type out a response, “It is, you want to know the name so you can paint yours to match?”
You joke a lot and have gotten very comfortable teasing each other, part of it is because it is fun, and part of it is to cover your ass just a bit, you think he looks great with his nails painted, you wish he’d indulge in it more but asking for that? Feels a shade too far, a little too intimate for what you are. One of the most frequent pictures you get from him, (when he is clothed), is whatever sketch he is working on, and you love seeing his art and whatever the current project is. He has a great handle on perspective and clearly knows his wheelhouse, if it wasn’t overstepping and would ruin this whole thing you think you’d like and be proud to get a tattoo done by him.
After another lazy afternoon conversation, the conversation was centred again on what you’d both been listening to, you had been cleaning earlier and listening to a song he’d sent and were just complimenting him on his good taste, trying out that nickname you’d been contemplating for a while, “Seriously, how you find such good stuff, music man?”
The response was immediate, ignoring the majority of your sentence and focusing on the last two words, it wasn’t even a text, he sent a voice note, his tone incredulous as he inquires, “Music man? Do I give Broadway vibes?”
You laugh and send your own voice note in response as you defend yourself, “I mean, you are pretty dramatic, but ignoring that, you say you aren’t a Broadway guy, yet you picked up that was a musical theatre reference right away.”
“It isn’t like it’s a deep cut!” Comes his reply that makes you laugh even harder, before sending back, “You are never beating the theatre fan allegations, I am sorry.”
“Goddamnit, okay so, forgetting all that, you think music man is the best nickname you can come up with?” He asks and, you return, “I think it fits a lot better than just calling you the name of some musical artist or band, it is more all encompassing, and with how much new stuff you’ve been turning me onto it makes sense.”
“You talk about me like I’m a drug dealer for music.” It is said jokingly, but it has an undercurrent of fondness.
“I think that’s apt, you’re my music man.” You coo the last two words teasingly, thinking to yourself that you are going to try moaning it out later and see if you can’t change his mind, or at least make him laugh, probably the ladder.
True to your word, later on you do try that, in the heat of the moment, the pair of you touching yourselves while on a phone call you moan it out and that causes you both to break down laughing and halts things for a minute. He manages to get out between laughs, “God, you’re the worst! Totally got the drop on me. I am vetoing, music man is a non-sexual nickname, only! Got it?”
“Got it.” You giggle and soon find your rhythm together again. You know it is all fine because he is nice enough to send you a special video after you’d both gotten off the phone call. He had been using a toy himself, one he bought a bit ago, said he was inspired by your ample toy collection you love to show off to him, and so he took a video of him lifting the fleshlight up and off, letting the messy cum pour back out onto his mostly hard dick.
Your response is simple, an easy joke typed out of, “Hey, so can I eat the cum out of your fleshlight or-?”
“Oh my God, you are such a freak.” You can hear how he’d say it, and you tap out, “You love it <3.”
“True, it’s one of your best qualities.” You knew it.
You had been doing this song and dance for nearly three months, and you are doing your best to not question your arrangement’s longevity, just happy it is still going, why ruin a good thing by overthinking? Both of you have great sexual chemistry and are still having a great time, so on it goes, unquestioned.
It was a Saturday night when the change happens, you had been busy and hadn’t gone out in a couple of weeks, you were going to have a good time, some drinks, maybe take a few risky semi public pictures and send them off to your sext buddy, it’ll be fun. You come home from work, have a shower, then take some serious time to get ready, go out for a late dinner, and after that you head to a cool sounding bar you’ve heard hyped up.
Upon arriving you see the place is about three quarters full, seems to have a good vibe, you make your way up to the bar, take an open stool and pick up a drink menu to see the specialty cocktails they have on offer. You are humming to yourself, some song that he sent to you has been stuck in your head all week, debating whether you want to commit to a vodka or whiskey based drink when your phone vibrates on the bar top. You glance at the phone screen and see that he texted you, a small smile crosses your face as you scoop up your phone and swipe on the notification to see, “Work is dead as shit, I am getting the opportunity to bail early, what’s going on with you?”
“Went out for dinner, just grabbing a drink at a new bar.” You type out your response and the bartender finally addresses you, another quick glance at the menu, and you pick whiskey for the night, he steps away to make your drink as your phone vibrates again. He texted back, “You know, that is a great idea, I might go out for one or two myself before I go home.”
With a grin, you respond, “If you strike out, you want to hook up later?”
The bartender sets the drink in front of you as his response arrives, “Absolutely.”
Something fun to look forward to, and even if he meets up with someone, hey you might be able to sweet talk him into sharing dirty details later, sounds like a win-win to you. Picking up the cool glass, you take a sip and find that yes, the drink is very good too, honestly this is going to be a fantastic night, you can just feel it.
You enjoy the atmosphere, the music, your drink and the general din of the people in the bar. After a little time you debate texting a picture of your drink, or better yet, slipping off to the bathroom to take something much more risque’ to send off. Until someone else walks up beside you at the bar to order, you glance briefly for a moment, or you mean to, until your eyes land on him, then you can’t look away.
There is absolutely no fucking way, I mean what are the chances? It can’t be him but also, it has to be. You have gotten so many pictures over the past few months, you haven’t seen higher than the lower half of his face, that matches though, the septum piercing, the facial hair, that mouth; you have become pretty intimately familiar with the rest of him too. He is in a black t-shirt and pants, leather jacket slung over the empty stool between you both, you scan his arms, and you know those tattoos very well, had seen them in so many pictures it is crazy.
He hasn’t said anything yet, you are sure it is him, but if he speaks then that will really seal it, make it undeniable, you still can’t buy it because just, what are the odds? You and he both ending up beside each other in the same bar on the same night after all that has happened? It is just too good to be true, as much as you wanted it to be, you had never allowed yourself to seriously hope that it could. You never suggested meeting up in person for a few reasons, one, you were worried your chemistry might not transfer to real life and would ruin such a good thing, and two, you assumed you weren’t in the same town, the same area code doesn’t promise that afterall.
Your eyes tear away to focus on your drink, you take another drink and the bartender comes back, you feel brief hope as you listen up, poor you though; he must be a regular here, because without having to ask a drink is placed in front of him. He picks it up, and you are worried he is about to step away, so with another swallow of your drink to give yourself some courage you turn towards him to see he is already looking at you.
The intense eye contact is maintained.
Silence hangs for a long moment.
You speak first, more confident than you thought yourself capable with the nerves twisting your stomach up, “Hey music man.”
Eyebrows raise slightly, lips part, complete surprise overtaking, a shake of his head as he speaks, “No fucking way.”
You smile and laugh lightly as you shrug, “I was thinking that very thing the second I saw you.” With a nod, you gesture to the stool next to you his jacket is still laying on, and he removes it, sits down before he puts it over his lap, and he speaks again, “No seriously, I was looking at you thinking how familiar you looked and wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to assume-”
“And look totally stupid if you were wrong, right?!” You finish his thought and both of you share a laugh, he responds, “Fuck, exactly!
An hour passes with total ease as you talk, you go over the fact that you both lived in the same town this whole time without realizing it and apparently never crossing paths, the insane odds of this happening, but that you were both glad it shook out this way. You talked about the fact his tattoo shop was on this street, you talked about how near where you lived, and where your job was, a few other things and honestly, you felt good, the energy is managing to carry over to real life, thank God.
Soon you say, “Oh, we should probably actually exchange names now, right?”
He nods and says, “About time, right? I’m Erik.”
You tell him your name and hold your hand out, he takes it with a chuckle, and you shake hands, saying in a light tone, “So nice to finally meet you.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” He responds.
You can’t look away as you both talk, you were totally right, he is very hot, the kind of messy “I don’t care” quality to his hair, his blue eyes, his casual body language, you are very down bad. On top of that, it is fulfilling to get to see the whole picture and talk like this. You wonder if he thinks the same thing about you, is he pleased with the whole picture now that he has it?
After much more conversation, another drink each, much lighter and looser the conversation takes the natural and expected turn, you say, “Sooo, I don’t live that far away.”
“Smooth.” He jokes with a grin, and you nudge his shoulder with yours, “Asshole. You are just as much of a dick in person as on the phone.”
“I think you love it, and besides I can’t help it, getting to see your reactions in person? I can’t pass that up. You are just too easy.” He defends, and you take your in as you say in a flirty tone, “You have no idea how easy I can be.”
He stops leaning on the bar as he leans just a little closer into you instead, eyes clearly raking over you, “I think I might have some idea after all this time, not like I’m much better though.”
Next, you let your hand fall to his knee and squeeze as you say, “I was gonna say, you did kick this whole thing off.”
He scoffs, “Ah the ol’ you started it argument, I’ve been a fan of it since childhood, you really can’t beat it.”
“To be clear, I’m glad you started it, but come on, you have to admit it’s a lot easier to initiate on the phone. You send a dirty pic and the ball is rolling.” You tease, and he hums in agreement, his hand comes down to meet yours on his knee, you lift it, he initiates your fingers twining and tangling together, he retorts in that tone that you’ve become so familiar with over the phone, “So go to the bathroom and send a picture while you are in there, obviously.”
You laugh, your head pitching forward slightly, “God, you are so brilliant, how did I never think of that?”
His hand that isn’t holding yours closes around his glass, he takes a drink, and you take that moment, your hand squeezes his as you say after another moment, “After everything, aren’t you dying to know how it would actually be?”
His drink is set back down.
“If we really fucked?” He asked it a lot quieter, you look up and there is this change in the air, you had felt the tension slowly building over the entire conversation with him, you had both started to get closer, touchier, feeling one another out. You’d have to be stupid to not see where this was inevitably going, you get it, you are now sure that neither of you wanted to assume anything or jump the gun, but it’s painfully obvious you both want this, badly.
This whole time, you have been doing a lot of talking, and you love talking to him, getting to know him has been amazing, but you are in person now, before you didn’t have this option, but now you do. Since this thing began you both continue to escalate, and you figure that now it is your turn again, your other hand comes up to the back of his neck, you tug him down and you kiss him.
The response is immediate, he kisses you back in a way that shows that he has been craving this just as desperately as you and for just as long. Your fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck, and you pull him just a little closer as his lips part and with the smallest hint of tongue he draws a quiet sound from you at the shock of arousal it delivers. Yeah you cannot continue this here.
You pull back, dropping the volume of your own voice, lips two inches apart as you answer his earlier question, “Yeah.”
The remainder of your drinks are abandoned, you had already paid and off you go, your purse slung over your shoulder and his leather jacket is thrown on as you head out the door. The trip to your place was swift, hand in hand, you are glad you lived so nearby and shortly you were inside and getting your shoes off. The trip to your bedroom is slow going, now that you were away from prying eyes you were back on each other, he initiates it this time, kissing you before you could move away from the door. You return his efforts, dropping your purse to the floor and shrugging out of your coat, you’ll deal with them later.
As the kissing continues, you are helping him out of his jacket, walking backwards as you try to steer you towards your bedroom.
You are kind of losing your mind during this, all the build up and anticipation, the worry this wouldn’t live up to the hype was very real, but turns out the fear was unfounded, this feels incredible. His jacket is tossed on the couch on the way, you manage to pant out between kisses, “Down the hall, here-”
A nod before he kisses you again, following as best he can but clearly much more caught up with the ongoing make out, until you pull away with a laugh and take him the last bit of distance to your room, the door is opened, and you push him inside. He takes a brief look around, giving the normal customary compliment, “Nice room.”
“We can talk room decor later, get on the bed.” You gesture to the plush and soft furniture as you quickly turn on your bedside table lights. He does as he is told, even as he comments, “Awfully bossy in person.”
“Yet you are still so obviously hard, I could get bossier if you want, like how about you start getting some of those clothes off?” As you say this, you start to strip, there isn’t much to tonight’s outfit, you peel off the tight dress and toss it aside, leaving you standing there in the panties you picked out tonight, you’d intended to show them off to him later, now though he is going to be able to take them off of you.
“Oh my God.” His eyes were fixed on you and yes he was rushing to get his own clothes sorted out, shirt taken off and thrown aside, you start to cross over to him as he begins to open his belt and pants. You get onto the bed and start to help him, soon as his pants are down his knees you swing a leg over and straddle him, you’ve been waiting long enough, and you don’t want to wait much longer.
Your lips capture his and his hands are on your back, pulling you close as can be so you are chest to chest, your tongue slips into his mouth and God, you are so far gone for him. You already thought he was mouth-wateringly hot, totally your type, but knowing he is just as into you, and it feels this good, this easy to actually be this way in real life, you know this is going to feel amazing.
A move of your hips, you grind down and feel him through the thin remaining layers you have on and you both gasp out a moaning into the kiss, he grinds up to meet you and fuck, you need him already. “Erik, been dying to ride you, can I?”
“Yes, holy shit-” He agrees, and he reaches down, fumbles to get his underwear down, and you pull your panties to the side, he holds himself steady, and you line yourself up; his tip kisses your soaked hole, and fuck, you can feel his piercing, there is no way you are having him any other way than raw. You take a second to grind on his shaft, to test how he feels sliding against your dripping slit and your aching clit, and you could get used to that.
You wait for just a moment more, taking a deep breath before you drop and begin to take him. Sharing a moan between you both until you come to rest with him fully inside, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply again.
The make out picks back up, messy tongue kisses, needy as you start to ride him, rocking against him and him working with you. He can’t stop his hands, they slide up down your back and pause at your hips to squeeze, before resting on your hips and helping you move better, you rock down as he fucks up. The most common thing you manage to moan out between kisses is his name, you love that you know it now, the taste of it on your tongue is addicting, getting to pant it while you fuck him raw is setting you completely on fire.
He is breathing your name in kind, the kiss is broken, his head tips back, and you take the chance, your mouth attacks his neck, the salt of his skin invades your senses, and your arms unloop, wanting to touch him again. Your hands start to explore like his had, they run up his sides and your fingers brush over his nipples, and he stiffens in response. You bite the side of his neck gently as you start to play with his piercings in earnest, he acts like he has been shocked from the way it rocks his body. You pull back enough to look at his face, pausing your riding as you check in, “This okay? Do they hurt?”
He laughs lightly, “No-ohh, they hurt to get sure, bu-but now, oh fuck-” Erik releases the best groan he had all night and your blood sings, you crave to hear that again. You tug carefully, ”Is it good?”
You asked it in a teasing voice, and you think you could feel him throb inside you, his hips thrust up involuntarily, oh this is going to be so fun. Starting to ride him again, harder, the sound of skin on skin becoming much louder, you twist and toy with the metal as he chokes out, “Yeah, s’fucking good-”
“God, they seem, ahh, really sensitive.” You comment, eyes fixed on his face as you pinch both of his nipples between two fingers, and he nods, an incoherent moan and this is so good. You are much more concerned with this, with ruining him than cumming yourself, you push him onto his back, and he allows this, he falls easily, and you take in the sight of him under you. Adjusting yourself, you lean forward, hips continuing to work as you kiss down his chest, your tongue circles around one nipple, and he inhales sharply, the sound drives you forward. Your lips close around it, teeth sink in, and you nip lightly, and you aren’t sure you heard him right the first time so you do it again and yes, you are able to confirm he whines.
You don’t think you’ve heard him sound this needy, you bite harder, he exhales harshly, before you are switching to the other side, and he says, “Wa-wait, fuck, hold on-”
Now even though this is your first time fucking, you know that tone, can tell from all those videos, voice notes and phone calls, from all the months of experience, he is getting close. The thought of him being so into you playing with his piercings that it is threatening to make him cum early is making you melt, you have decided that is all you want.
You continue to tongue and bite, speeding up your riding, and he lets out this weak laugh, like he is trying to play it off, but quickly it bleeds, shifts into him moaning brokenly, “No-ohhh, seriously, if you don-don’t, sto-op, I’m gonna-”
He didn’t have as good as of a grip as he thought he did, his end rockets through him, he wraps his arms around you and fucks up into you all the way, a certified whimper as he cums into you. He holds you to him as he unloads, and you feel the slick warmth, you shiver and feel immense satisfaction, mouth letting go of skin and metal as it curves into a smile. His arms loosen, and he sighs into your ear, you sit up, looking down at him, his face is flushed, and it has spread down his neck and chest, he is panting, eyes closed, hair even messier and a little sweaty. With a grin, you ask him, “You still with me, Erik?”
“Yeah, I’m still with you.” He groans, hands rubbing over his eyes, and then when they move, his lids crack open and blue eyes meet yours as he huffs out with a half smile, “Fucking bitch.”
You laugh, light and warm, “What? Wasn’t that good?”
A hand runs through his hair as he admits, “Fucking, of course it was! But this is our first time fucking after how much lead up? I busted in like five minutes, you didn’t even cum, it’s embarrassing.”
You are laughing from his tone, how annoyed he sounds, he is unfairly funny, you reassure, “Hey it’s fine, I kinda purposefully milked it outta you, no hard feelings, you’ll get me next time, right?”
“Are you planning on kicking me out already?” He asked, and you shrugged, “No I wasn’t, why? You wanna sleep over?”
“Sure, but I’m getting you off before that.” His hands close on your hips, and he lifts you up and manages to toss you onto your side next to him on the bed, “Woah!”
His takes the remainder of his clothes off, pants and underwear left on your floor before his hands rip your underwear off leaving you both completely bared. His hands are on your waist, and he adjusts you so you are on your back, and he moves down, before you can protest or really say much of anything he is on his knees on the floor, pulling you nearer and putting your legs over his shoulders. Erik’s tongue swipes up the centre of your folds, and you gasp, so he isn’t afraid of his own cum, very good to know. Another lick right through the middle, from your hole to up and over your clit, and then he starts to slide into finding his rhythm, you sink into the mattress, a moan spilling out, eyes falling closed. Your hand slides down your body and tangles in his hair, and you are thrown back to that first text conversation, that image that permeated your brain, of the hot alternative guy on his knees, eating you out while you hold his hair, and it makes your clit throb against his tongue. You moan in bliss, disbelief that you managed to get into this position.
All this from a mis-entered phone number, who would have ever thought?
HERE WE ARE! Alright, your favourite porn author took a break from writing chapter five of Casually Devoted to get this out to the people. A pretty extensive break down of my personal NSFW thoughts and headcannons about one Erik fucking Campbell. Let’s get into it, keep up with me, we're walking! We got the goods under the cut!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
I am of the belief that Erik looooves kissing, a good make out is a must, you know? So if he is able to kiss you while still inside of you, he is. A good breathless, heavy kiss, tongue included and wrapped up in you immediately after he finishes cumming. After that very important thing done, I got two more things in mind, sweaty post sex cuddle while you even out your breathing, and then? Food. I can just see the dude needing loving a post fuck snack, can’t you? Doesn’t matter what it is, whether leftovers from the fridge, ice cream from the carton, getting into very comfortable clothing and hitting a drive thru, Hell, even a homemade grilled cheese. It doesn’t matter, the guy wants something to eat more often than not, preferably when back in bed and re-hydrating. IF you need anything more, though? He provides. Also after sex debrief for sure, “I loved how that sound you made when I-” you get what I am saying? Words of affirmation are very forthcoming, as is being generally physically close on the comedown.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Okay so, this may be very obvious but his hands. The guy is talented as fuck with his hands, vital to his work clearly, and the one area he is unashamed in that aspect. I think he can get kind of down on himself sometimes, not in this way though, never. You could use the word confident, but cocky is more accurate. He’s earned it, though.
In regard to his partner, though! Hips, it doesn’t matter how much or how little there is to grab he loves them, I can so see him as a guy who loves having his hands on your hips, sexually or otherwise. A mildly possessive gesture at times yes, and others casual physical affection, standing in line waiting somewhere like at the movies? A hand is on your hip. You seated in his lap? Hands on your hips. Riding the absolute fuck out of him? Hands. On. Your. Hips. Do you hear me?
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Erik is obsessed with cumming in any and every hole you have. Allow me to paint a pretty word picture for you. I shall provide an example. Imagine you are blowing him, you are on your knees before him, lips tight, bobbing up and down his spit soaked shaft. His hand on your head as he helps you move, the firm rocking up of his hips to meet your efforts. Soon you hear that breathless, “Fuck, gonna cum-” and he pulls backwards, and you know just what he wants. You pull him out of your mouth fully, hand taking over, stroking him to his end, mouth open, tongue out, the first two ropes paint your tongue, catch on your wet lips and then? Midway through his orgasm, he shoves back into your mouth to try and get the rest right down your throat. The sounds he makes during this process are fucking unholy.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Ahhh, Erik Campbell's preferred porn category is anonymous sex. He is weak for it, he also might have some serious glory hole fantasies, receiving sure, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t have real temptations, serious considerations about doing that himself. He sees the appeal on both sides, whether being the disembodied dick, leaking and hard as fuck wanting to be serviced, or being the person with the drooling open mouth wanting to do the pleasing.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
So I might be a big fan of the thought of Erik Campbell being a slut, I can admit that! He’s good for a hook-up after meeting at a bar or a concert, a great dude to have a one night stand with. Serious relationships? Not so much. Or at least it hasn’t worked out yet. A casual partner here and there, sure, but I am of the school of thought that his longest relationship was less than two years. It isn’t like he doesn’t want one, just hasn’t found someone compatible enough. He is GOOD at doing first time sex where the idea is that might be the only time you do, fun, a good one and done. Give the guy some repeat performances or something more established and he can really do some good when he knows what you are into. His body count is in the double digits, no question.
F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)
Credit to my beta reader for this idea, but you on top. It is nice to be taken, to lay back and be ridden, enjoys the view, how much of you is on display ready and waiting to be touched. He can be intensely involved, hands on your body and fucking up into you, or not as much and letting you take control, versatile and a classic, it can’t be helped how much he enjoys it.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Wild card, you can get both sides in the same session, starting off laughing into kisses over something ridiculous and decidedly playful! Until one really good moan or move causes the tension and pleasure to spike in equal measure, causing the mood to shift. Isn’t that the best? A partner that you can either laugh with in bed or can make it a more intense affair when the mood calls for it? Best of both worlds indeed.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Deff, the carpet matches the drapes, not bare, but thick dark coarse hair that is trimmed just to make it easier. Enough to run your fingertips through.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Erik Campbell is capable of romance and can get caught up in it sometimes. Now allow me to lay it out, there is an almost whimsical kind of love and affection for the concept of potential. At times musing on potential is fun, the fantasy can be enjoyable! Blank skin before a tattoo, the clean page of a sketchbook, the flirty smile and fuck me eyes of an attractive stranger across the room. All hold total untapped potential and could go anywhere! Meaning what? The occasional hook-up can happen, and he gets in this mood, treats the person under or on top of him as if they were or could be a serious partner. Touches that are a bit too intimate, movements full of a tad too much emotion, looks much too lingering. He lets himself pretend. With an actual long term situation though yeah the guy can and does get romantic, not all the time, but trust me, often enough that you are not left wanting.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He is messy. Handful of lube, heavy breathing, biting his lip, cumming onto his own stomach fucking messy. Dude is getting after it often, with a healthy sex drive at his age, if he isn’t fucking that day, he is getting off by his own hand, or fleshlight as the case may be, he does own at least one he dropped some decent change on. (I like to think he has one of those totally clear ones, you know the ones you can see the dick through from the outside.)
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Oh heaven above, let me count the kinks. This won’t be all of them, but a few of the greatest hits.
Pain play: Giving and receiving! Pull on those piercings, tug on his hair, bite his fucking neck, he isn’t going to break, treat him a bit roughly please and thank you.
Marking: Tying into what I just said above, hickeys, scratches, bruises, any sort of physical mark left afterwards on you or himself is such a delightful debauched reminder he cannot help but love it.
Corruption: You cannot fucking tell me that this guy doesn’t get his rocks off on introducing you to some filthy fucked up kink and seeing the shift in your eyes, the hitch in your breath and the squirm of your body as the realization sinks in of, “Oh. I like this.” He doesn’t want a virgin, but someone he can show a thing or two? Hot, hot, hot. He wants to make you worse. (Or better, depending on how you look at it.)
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Semi-public place that he totally shouldn’t do it. The guy has a bit of a problem when it comes to liking risky sex. Tattoo shop after it is closed, living room of his family home trying to be quiet late at night and everyone else has already gone to bed, back of a car parked on a not as dead as it should be street. He knows there is a time and a place, the risk is calculated, but the elevation it brings is undeniable. You aren’t doing it like that even half the time, he isn’t that much of an idiot, but you are doing it often enough where you shouldn’t.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Lingerie! Let me say it louder for the back, lingerie! Put on some fucking fishnets, something impractical with straps, tight, faux leather mixed with lace that highlights your best assets. If you are in a skirt and bend wrong and let him see those aren’t regular tights, they are thigh high stockings, you are getting bent over, duh! Also a well-placed whisper in his ear in public of something filthy. Sending him a dirty text at work too? Nudes? Ugh, kickstarting Erik’s drive is easy if you know the buttons to push.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Short list in my opinion. I get the feeling that Erik wouldn’t be into watching someone else fuck you. He would much rather do it himself, the man is not a cuck. (Which is fine, I am cuck enough for all of us.)
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
This man. Ohohoho this fucking man? Let me say the three words we are all thinking and desperate to hear. Oral sex addict. From the first time he went down on someone, the inciting incident of when he tasted cunt or cock, the man loved it. The reactions he can pull, the sounds he can make someone make and the taste, fucking Hell on fire the taste. He isn’t afraid of his own cum either, you aren’t totally satisfied? Doesn’t matter to him that he just came in you, he will get down there and eat and eat until you are blissed out. Erik gets drunk on it and ends it looking about as messy as you do. Just pull his hair while he’s doing there, would you? Also climb on and ride his face, he can take it, might even jerk off while he does, imagine that view for me. It’s too good to not.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Now hear me out, fast and rough is fine, slow and sensual also has its place! But a preferred method is slow but hard. Good, firm, purposeful strokes at a tempo that is just a hair too slow, a frustrating tease, until you beg pretty enough, then he will pick up the pace till you are moaning brokenly. He eats it up.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Get this man a fucking quickie three times a week, and one to two longer sessions that are more heavily kink dedicated. Also keep in mind, a quickie with Erik doesn’t have to mean full on penetration. It means sometimes he will go down on you with the idea you will hit him back later, or just finger you till you cum, or you doing the same. Hand stuff or oral is totally on the table to get you or him off quick as you can, a hot gotta have you now thing is just fun. When there is adequate time in your schedules, you can slow it down and get really into it.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Haaaa, as outlined above, yes! Erik enjoys some risk taking behaviour and he is very open to experimentation! You have an idea you think is even mildly hot, he will at least hear you out if not jump on doing what your fucked up little heart desires immediately.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
So because he is getting off once a day at least, whether with sex or masturbation his stamina is decent, however, so is his sensitivity. The guy can get swept up in the moment! Sue him! If it is a particularly hot session, at times he can cum relatively quickly. Guy would touch or use his mouth until he can rally for round two which would last longer.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
As mentioned above, he has a fleshlight, I think a few plugs, a sounding set (don’t get me started on the sounding set-), a paddle or two, a flogger, an anal vibrator, should I keep going? OH! AND! Imagine this, picture it, a cock ring. A good quality leather fucking cock ring. Also, a couple different lubes too. ROPES! He uses them on himself naturally, would love for you to use them on him, and he would for sure use some on you. He isn’t intimated by toys, they are teammates, not compilation. He wouldn’t be into you fucking someone else in front of him, but using a dildo to simulate double penetration or you getting A-framed? That he can get behind.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Too. Much. Too fucking much! He likes to tease too much and can take a good amount himself, but eventually it will become a bit too much, and you can bring out that more submissive side. The dirty talk, the constant shit he says in public, the more hushed filthy things in the most teasing timber that sets you on fire, can he chill? Absolutely not! The whore.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Good luck shutting him up. The man breathes loudly when he is inside you, forget about the groans, gasps and moans and cursing. He is capable of a whine and a whimper, and they are fucking incredible to cause and bear witness to. He is into those times where you have to be quiet because you are fucking in a semi public risky place AGAIN, and the fact that he shouldn’t be making sounds makes it hotter, leading to him being louder than he SHOULD ERIK DO YOU WANT TO GET CAUGHT, SHUT UP-
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He is a switch. This is one of my most deeply held head canons, he loves to give it or get it. He can play the part of being on top or on the bottom beautifully, both suit him. I will be generous and give you another, he has cum hands-free in his pants when going down on someone before after far too much making out and foreplay.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Alright! The goods, from the tattoos to the piercings to the slightly soft stomach and that lovely semi-thick body hair, that happy trail is begging to have your tongue trace it! He is hot. He just is! Doesn’t look it that much, but decent strength and muscle that you wouldn’t figure by first glance. Now the real thing we are all here for, the dick.
So we all know canonically he has a prince Albert piercing, I think he goes in for a nice dark polished metal, nearly black. He is slightly above average in length, a good solid six and a half inches, but well above average in thickness. The stretch of him burns just a bit if you don’t get warmed up enough. Balls aren’t much to comment on. The only thing to say to me is that they hang a little lower than you’d expect and feel full when you get them in your hand. (Tip! Try lightly scratching your nails down while palming them, and watch him shiver in response. The occasional tug won’t go amiss, either. Put them in your mouth and suck, I’m rambling, you get it-) Now as for the cum, because I have to wax poetic about the cum! Erik Campbell’s loads are just above average in amount, thick in consistency, tangy in taste and make the most beautiful ropes when cumming onto you, just really satisfying.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
High. Dude is in his like what early to mid 20s we figure timeline wise? I put him personally around 26, I’d say on the high end of average for a guy his age.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Let's be honest, depends on how heavy the session was, the time of day, what have you, but if you have nowhere to be? Post snack, you can talk him into an after fuck nap just about anytime. Actual bedtime? Erik can be out in five minutes after he is sure you are all good.
Casually Devoted. Part Two. "Going Offline." Erik Campbell X FEM!Reader.
Hellllllooooo! So, I know it has been legit a week since the last almost 10K Erik Campbell fic, but he is living in my head lately, so you get this delightful follow-up to Textual Relationship now! I already have ideas for a part three, Hell I have already started writing it, lord help me. I hope everyone loves this, I got a lot of nice comments and reblogs.
Seriously I am shocked by the influx of notes. I would be remiss to not mention the fact that the amazing, @28bohemianmoons, beta read this for me! The whole thing is so much better for it that it isn’t even funny, I am endlessly thankful, you have no idea the love poured into this by her, so let’s get into this!
Series Masterlist Here.
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 8.7K Erik Campbell X FEM!Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Casual Sex. Friend With Benefits Relationship. Cunnilingus. Cum Eating. Eating Pussy. Oral Sex. Vaginal Sex. Creampie. Restrained Reader. Dirty Talk. Multiple Orgasms. People Watching. Teasing. Banter. Blow Job. Throat Fucking. Messy Head. Vaginal Fingering. Piercing Play. Semi-Public Sex. Edging. Both Of You Are Down Bad But Trying To Keep It Casual.
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You know how some people tend to over inflate themselves and their abilities? Like a prospective job applicant embellishing their resume to get a leg up on the competition. Or the frat boy boasting to his buddies about how many chicks he’s hooked up with over Spring Break. Or even the attractive stranger you’re sexting promising you a mind-blowing time in the sack, given the chance. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out all the ways these scenarios can break bad and end up disappointing, instead of what was promised.
Yet, somehow, against the odds, Erik is proving that he is, most definitely, a man of his word.
He had commented on the pictures and videos you shared over text, mentioning how good your cunt looked. He divulged, in the heat of the moment, that he wished he could taste you and make you squirm on the end of his tongue. It was hot, in theory, and it helped get you off beautifully that night. But in practice? It turns out he wasn’t all talk. He didn’t set the bar too high, and now you are in fact squirming thanks to his mouth between your thighs.
You truly had no idea how deeply this affinity for eating out was ingrained in him. Nor did you ever suspect Erik’s strong oral fixation. If only you knew that his love affair with eating out began from the first time his tongue slipped over soaked velvety skin, and he heard the gasp it drew. That the moment he felt the way thighs tensed around his head and tasted that unique flavour, was when he became totally addicted; Only then you might have had half a clue of how much he loved to do this. It is quickly becoming obvious that he has cultivated a wealth of knowledge to reach his current level of skill.
The most valuable and vital skills when it comes to being outstanding at eating out are as follows: One, adaptability, changing to fit the tastes of the individual, listening to how they respond and filling those needs as they arise. Two, consistency, it cannot be understated how important it is, after finding what works, to be able to maintain that for an extended period of time, as long as the receiver needs without faltering. Erik has both these skills down pat, burned into his brain, hardwired into his damn DNA it seems.
Normally, Erik would start with a little more build-up; taking time to strip your clothing away; kissing over your hip bones and inner thighs; just barely tracing his fingers where you wish his tongue was. He would be so featherlight and much too teasing to satisfy, until it gets to be almost too much, then fingers lift and lips take their place. Tonight’s scenario is different though, not as much preamble is required as this is far from an average encounter. It wouldn’t be the first time, but normally he eats someone out before he cums inside them, not after. A few quick, exploratory licks and then his tongue is focused on dealing with the mess he made before he really settles in to figure you out. He never really got the whole ‘being weirded out by your own cum’ thing. The taste of him mixed with you is better than it has any right to be, he swallows it back with ease and unfiltered delight.
With that taken care of, he treats you to a few light swipes on and over your clit, then slowly with each following lick he provides more pressure. You shift your hips slightly, a hum slipping out as his tongue passes over and then back down, again and again. Your fingers tangle in his hair and tug, nudging him just a little closer. His mouth lifts, a wet sort of laugh escaping as he speaks, “You okay up there?”
“Just, fuck, feels good-” You mutter and as you do, he suddenly licks again, much harder causing your sentence to break off as you exclaim, “-God!”, he laughs again, louder, his head tips forward, so his forehead rests on your lower stomach. You want to pout, desperate for him to continue, “C’mon Erik, please-” You pull his hair so he lifts his head, his lips are wet, blue eyes half lidded, there you find playfulness lurking, he coos condescendingly, “I know, I know, I’m being too mean, right?”
“Yeah-” He drops back down, mouth latches back onto you, his lips wrap around your clit, he sucks noisily, messily. His tongue flicks over the nerve dense tissue he has trapped on all sides, the sheer slick heat of his mouth is indescribably good and makes your head fall back with a moan, “-ahhhh-”
There is no more teasing or pausing, just careful and purposeful moves of his mouth to bring you devastating pleasure in short order.
This whole ordeal is enough to make your head spin to think about, let alone allow yourself to admire the irresistible visual you have right now.
Erik on his knees on your plush rug, hands cradling your hips, and fingers digging into your soft flesh, his lips latched on your clit, sucking with perfect pressure. His eyes closed in concentration as he focuses on making up for cumming early, doing his damndest to ensure your pleasure. You are flat on your back, ass near the edge of the bed, legs over his shoulders, fingers in his hair and breathing his name on an exhalation. Currently trying your best to hang on as sensation threatens to eat you alive.
God, you needed this so badly; Much more than you previously realized. There is nothing quite like being able to lay back and have someone else see to your enjoyment; To completely give yourself over and do nothing but feel. The last time you experienced this kind of pleasure that wasn’t by your own hand escapes you. In fact, all thought does, your mind only capable of registering how he is making you feel; All coherent thoughts and attempts at intelligible speech long forgotten. Any potential to ruin the moment by overthinking how you smell, taste, or look, gone. Even how long you take to reach your end is impossible, self sabotage is not a factor here.
He kisses, licks, sucks, you pulse, leak and ache, body tense. The feeling builds, and your breathing is a wreck, shuddering on every inhale and barely restraining sobs on the exhales. He has worked you up fantastically, and soon you are getting so close. You can’t get your mouth to work well enough to alert him properly, but something tells you that your trembling thighs on either side of his head let him know what’s about to happen. Your pleasure plateaus for a blissfully tortuous minute, just on the edge of oblivion but not quite there, it is just the right side of being almost too much until it all catches up with you, clicks into place and you cum.
Your hand tugs on his hair again, keeping him as close as possible as you ride out your peak, you pulse against his tongue in time with the rhythmic contractions and the radiating waves of ecstasy that accompany them. Soon your orgasm finds its natural end, your body slackens, relief and relaxation setting in, going boneless against the mattress for a moment. Simply basking in the feeling, until Erik doesn’t relent. He continues to work, lick and suck, his tongue delves into you again, and you tense up once more, overstimulation setting in. You tug on his hair rather uselessly, a hard swallow, and you find your voice again, “Shi-shit, fuck, I-I’m done, please-”
You pull harder on his hair, but he remains locked down there, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough to keep his place, you beg a little more, “Erik, oh God, s’too much-”
Trying to pry him off isn’t working, the only option you have to escape is up the bed, this is a challenge with how your legs are hooked over his shoulders. Your hand releases his hair and falls, gripping the sheets instead, you try to push yourself backwards up the bed. He doesn’t let you go that easily, he follows, it’s easy for him with the points of contact he has maintained so with your last hope, you moan weakly, “Please, please, stop!”
Thankfully he only indulges himself for another second before his head lifts, a laugh spilling out, and he licks his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
“You are the worst.” You roll your eyes fondly, struggling to catch your breath. He finally takes your legs off his shoulders and gets up to fully join you as you stretch out back on the bed. Erik says, “Yeah, I’d say we are a pretty even match.”
“I didn’t overstimulate you like that!” You argue, and he agrees, “No you didn’t, you just made me bust embarrassingly fast.” Erik then adds on, “Besides, soon as you said stop, I did.”
Fuck, he did, if you had just actually told him to stop sooner you could have saved yourself there a bit, so much for accusations of not playing fair. Conceding, you say, “Alright, alright, the score has been settled.”
“Mmm, not quite yet.” He hums, you raise an eyebrow, and before you can properly ask what he means, he has his hands on you again, starting to reposition you as he says, “I’m hard again, so how about round two?”
He is full of great ideas.
One of which leads to your current position; Face down, one cheek to the sheets, and your ass up. One of his hands is resting on the back of your neck, while the other is gripping one of your wrists, pinning it to your lower back. He is balls deep, and currently destroying you.
When you are in control, it makes it a lot easier to take, you know what to expect. You are the one moving, shifting the angle, and can anticipate the sensations that will follow, but like this, pinned and made to take it? It heightens everything, ramps it up significantly, makes you moan louder, feel everything more intensely. It doesn’t help that he got a lock on your G-spot in record time, he got inside of you, slipped in and out a few times. Once he had coated himself in your ample wetness and then started fucking with the angle. He adjusted till he heard that choked off gasp and felt how your walls tightened in response that told him just where it was. Now he was being relentless, hitting it over and over again, you are moaning brokenly in such a delightfully debauched way. A breathless laugh rings out above you, followed by a question, “You alright?”
You force the answer out, a low and embarrassingly wobbly, “Yessss-”
“Yeah, fuck, you sound pretty good right now.” You can hear the smile on his face and the praise sinks into your bones, warm and pleasant, fingers curl into the sheets, eyes squeezing shut as you hold on.
He doesn’t let up until you manage to cum again, hands free this time. In short order, satisfied now that your pleasure has been ensured, he pumps another load into you with a long groan, causing you to shiver.
Once he pulls out, your body sinks down to the mattress, you lay there on your stomach, cum leaking out and panting. You have thoroughly been taken down a peg, he can more than hold his own, he can ruin you if he decides it so. Erik falls onto his back beside you, trying to catch his own breath.
It is quiet, it reminds you of another shared moment between you both, laying and breathing together, back then the only form of connection was the phone call. Now he is here, you can reach out and touch him if you want. It’s still kind of mind-blowing it all worked out this way. You are the first one to speak up, “Is it just me or was this-”
“Amazing?” He fills in the blank, sounding a mixture of equally baffled but happy about it, and you laugh, pushing yourself onto your side you say, “Yeah! Like for a first time hooking up? Pretty unbelievable.”
“To be fair, the whole thing we’ve had going on has been pretty fucking unbelievable.” He points out as he rolls to face you better, cheek resting on his hand, and you have to agree. It is quiet again for a moment, before you push yourself up to a sitting position and ask, “I could do with a snack, are you hungry?”
“After all that, it would be weird to not be.” He responds.
You reach for the box of tissues to deal with some of the excess mess before you throw them away and get up. Making the way to where you have your robe hung on one of the series of hooks on the back of your bedroom door. You select your usual one and slip it on and turn back to the bed to ask as you tie the belt, “You want something to wear?”
“Well, it’d be nice, otherwise I’ll be walking around your place dick out.” He quips, and you say, “I wouldn’t complain about the view.”
Tragically, he does put his own underwear back on, and you come back to him, another robe in your grip, and you hold it out. He takes it and lifts it to get a better look, taking in the black silk robe with the lace edged bell style sleeves. Erik lowers it and looks up at your face, asking in a tone that makes you want to bust out laughing,“Really?”
“What? I ordered it a while back, and they sent the wrong size. It swims on me so it’ll totally fit you.” You say with a wide smile before saying next, “Besides, it’s in your favourite colour.”
“You spoil me so.” He sighs as he gets up and slips it on, he ties the belt around his waist and finds that yeah it fits alright, however it hits high above mid-thigh. He holds the edges, swishing the satiny fabric and sleeves back and forth comically, “Pretty short, lucky for you that I am so secure in my masculinity.”
You laugh lightly, before you said, “Lucky me indeed, you’ve got great legs, Show em off!”
Soon, snacks were retrieved from the kitchen and brought back, you sit up in bed, sharing a bag of plain chips and a carton of chocolate fudge banana split ice cream between you both.
“I gotta say, you really showed me, I was a total mess there when you were on top.” You praise him around your bite of ice cream, and he shrugs, brows creased as he said, “I had to defend my honour.”
“Consider it defended. You seemed to enjoy it when I was the one riding you, though.” You start, and he says, “Of course I did, just because I love taking it doesn’t mean I can’t give it and love that shit too.”
“Same here.” You say easily, Erik laughs, head dropping for a moment, his hand runs through his hair, before he asks, “Did we really luck out that hard? Both of us are switches?”
“Seems like but at this point? I think just about anything is possible if we are together.”
“I think you are onto something.” Erik muses.
The conversation hits a comfortable lull. You take a second to look at him, in the soft light of your bedroom, so close your knees touch, wrapped up in your robe. The sleeves are too short and slip down his forearms, bunching near his elbows, his scattered tattoos partly exposed. This is one of those moments that even when the visual fades, the feeling will stay, you will recall tonight and remember how this felt. You choose to revel in how comfortable this feels.
After a minute more of snacking, you ask, “So you still want to sleep over?” Erik nods, pulling the spoon out of his mouth, “For sure, been a while since I’ve done one.”
“Oh yeah, fucking randos in bar bathrooms is more your style, isn’t it? Should I be honoured you actually came back to my place?” You ask as you pluck a chip from the bag, he is scooping out another spoonful as he says with that cocky air, “Yes, you really should be.”
“And what if I wanna keep this going?” You smile but are asking it half seriously, hopeful this won’t be a one time thing, he says, “Oh careful what you wish for, if I hang around too long you might get sick of me.”
He offers out the carton as the spoon is put into his mouth, you reach out to take it, your fingers brushing his briefly. You say sincerely, “I think I would love the opportunity to get sick of you.”
You both make eye contact, and you swear you saw a softness bloom on his face for a second before he’s reaching into the chip bag again. With his playfulness back in place, he quips, “Alright, your funeral.”
You let out a laugh, playing along, “I won’t say you didn’t warn me, okay?”
After a lot more casual conversation and finishing your snacking session, a quick evening clean up happens. You settle down for the night, you loan him a phone charger, and soon you are passing out with Erik beside you pretty quickly. You sleep in later than normal, you have the day off. Assuming he has nowhere in particular to be, when you both are properly awake, you say, “I need to go grocery shopping later, so I don’t have much here, but you wanna go out for breakfast?”
Erik rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he tells you, “Oh fuck yes, please.”
He slips back into last night’s shirt and pants, you get dressed, and then you strike out. Leading him to a nearby diner you loved, turned out he was a fan too, it is seriously so strange you’ve never run into him before.
You are seated quickly, coffee cups are filled before you start looking over the menu. You watch as he adds sugar but no cream into his mug, filing away the little observation. Then you ask, “So I am curious, what kind of breakfast do you go in for?”
“Depends on the mood and the previous night’s activities.” He shrugs as he flips the page. You press, “And what do last night’s activities call for?”
He hums in consideration before closing the menu with a satisfying clack. He announces, “Salty and sweet, chocolate chip pancakes and bacon.”
“Your history of amazing taste continues.” You nod and he says, “Naturally.” Then he asks, “You?”
“I think I need something classic, hearty, with serious protein. A mainstay; eggs, sausage, toast and hash with fruit on the side.” You close your own menu, and he lets out a low whistle, “You know what you want, and I respect that.”
He holds his mug out, a raise of his brows as he says, “To a great first hook up, offline.”
A smile takes over your face as you pick up your own coffee and gently clink yours against his, “Hear, hear.”
You both take a sip, and you set down your mug, asking, “So you said ‘first’ hook up offline. Does that mean you want to do this again?”
“I do, and I think you do too.” He asserts casually, and you joke, “Did my extremely shaky legs give me away last night?” You wouldn’t be surprised if they did, you didn’t stop fully trembling until about ten minutes post fuck.
He snickers, elbow resting on the table-top and holding his hand out in a ‘trying to squish a fly’ gesture. His pointer finger and thumb almost touch as he answers, “Just a little bit.”
“Okay, so you are right, I do want to repeat this-” You admit, but he cuts you off, “No shit.” You ignore him and continue, “Anyway! The way I look at it is like this, I think we are both the kind of people that greatly prioritize having fun. Would you say that’s accurate?”
“Absolutely.” He agrees, and you say, “Good, I would too. So how about we do this as long as it remains fun? Deal?”
“Deal.” He stretches his hand out, and you take it, firmly shaking on it. And so, it has been decided that as long as it remains fun and makes sense, you are going to keep meeting up for casual sex.
The waitress stops by, you place your orders, and then she leaves you two alone again, well, almost alone. There are four people at the table across the aisle from you, and they were being rather loud and increasingly obnoxious.
They are all talking about how terrible their food is. When the waitress comes by again they proceed to complain to her, one of them bitching about how burnt their grilled cheese apparently was, and how unimpressed they were with everything overall. You had both eaten here plenty of times, so there was no way it was as bad as they were making it out to be. Your table was too close to theirs to talk about how insane they were being, but thankfully that is what phones are for. Barely holding in your laughs, you and Erik text about them while you wait for your food.
“Oh my fucking God, are you hearing all this?” Erik asked, and you typed out quickly, “Can’t hear my own thoughts with how loud they are being, but see that one in the cardigan? She was eating her pancakes with her hands.”
Erik looked up from his phone, giving you a look that translated to, “Really?”
Holding in a laugh, you nodded and typed out, “I swear, she is ripping off pieces and dragging it through the syrup on her plate.”
His next text pops up to read, “And she has the audacity to complain that they are subpar? What a monster.”
Eventually they leave and as soon as the door closes you both let loose, you start with an impassioned, “Oh my fucking Goddd-”
Erik following up with an impression, arms crossed as he intones, “This is so disappointing, we used to know the owners you know, and this is just so awful, I don’t think we will be coming back-”
“Good, don’t fucking come back! I never understand when people throw that out as a threat.” You reply, and he agrees, “Right? When someone annoying drops that on me, all I want to do is ask ‘Promise?’, like fuck off.”
You both break down into a fit of laughter. You are glad that when the situation calls for blowing off some steam, you and Erik can be a little petty without judgment. While discussing how sticky it would be to eat pancakes with just your hands, your food is brought out. You both devour your breakfasts, and it’s as delicious as you expected. When all the plates are cleared away, you split the bill down the middle.
You both head out onto the street, he is carrying his jacket and pocketing his wallet, you zip your bag closed and say, “What are you doing now?”
“Going to head home. Since I have fucking work later might as well shower, get into clean clothes, yada yada. You?” He asked, and you said, “I have the day off, so just groceries, maybe some cleaning, but the rest of my day is wide open.”
“Jealous.” He sighs.
The pair of you are wondering the same thing. How should your good-bye’s go now that you are friends with benefits? Taking the initiative, you open your arms and invite him in for a hug. He steps in, talking you up on it, and leans down to wrap his arms around you. You return the action, giving him a firm squeeze. It is a nice moment. Until you ruin it, leaning into his ear and whispering, “Text me whenever you need a hole to cum in, alright?”
He laughs and pulls back with a playful shove of your shoulder, he fires back, “Yeah and if you need a living dildo to fuck, I’m your guy.”
You start to walk off, a wave over your shoulder as you call, “Don’t work too hard, music man.”
“I never do. Bye.” He calls in return as he heads off in the other direction.
The rest of your day is uneventful, but good because frankly you are in an amazing mood.
So Erik as becomes a bigger part of your life, texting becomes a bit more frequent, at times you still engage in your old dynamic; pictures passed back and forth, dirty or otherwise, but why do that when the band aid has been ripped off? Meeting up is just so easy. Much more often than not, if you are in the mood, you carve out a space in your schedules to meet up and find that infinitely more fulfilling. After this new arrangement is established, your next meeting goes like this.
It has been about a week and a half since the last time you saw him in person. When you do hear from him, you are just getting home after a night out with a friend grabbing dinner and a movie straight after work. You feel your phone buzz in your bag as you are about to hang it up. You take it out to see a text from Erik, you swipe it open to see, “Oh my fucking Godddd!” Another comes in immediately after, “Fuck this day!”, and lastly, “I am going to fucking lose it!”
“Oh no.” You mutter to yourself, fully aware that a triple text of this nature isn’t good. You start to type a response as you take your shoes off, “What’s up? Talk to me.”
His new text comes in, reading out, “You home?” You text back quickly, “Just got in.”
Your phone starts ringing, you swipe again to accept the call, bringing the phone up to your ear, you say, “Erik? I’m here.”
“Kill me please.” He says firmly, and you bark out a surprised laugh from the sheer drama of hearing a phrase like that straight off the bat. You respond to him as you walk down the hall and into the kitchen, “Yeah, hello to you too.”
“Hi. I reiterate, please, fucking kill me.” He says more urgently, and you laugh again as you sit on a barstool at the kitchen island, “Okay, okay, I promise, I’ll kill you, after you tell me what’s wrong in the first place.”
He then begins to recount the source of today’s misery, “I had that big appointment I told you about today, the guy who was dropping over a thousand dollars on the snake thing. I sent you the finished sketch the other day.”
You hum in acknowledgment, knowing just what he was talking about. He was pretty jazzed about this one. The sketch was phenomenal, he poured a lot into it, and that amount of money for a single tattoo is nothing to sneeze at either. “Course, how could I forget?”
“Well, for some reason my alarm didn’t wake me up this afternoon, so I woke up late and had to fucking run to get to the shop-” Yeesh, you wince slightly and continue to listen to him.
“-I make it on time and start prepping and shit, whatever. Then this guy messages me like ‘Heyyy sorry, can we push back an hour?’ and that was kind of annoying, since I’d rushed over to the shop in this heat. However, I could stop rushing around right then, so I was like ‘Yeah it’s fine.’”
“Alright.” You say quietly, following along, and he presses on, “Cuz what else am I gonna say? Obviously, I don’t want to miss out on that amount of money, so I take my time, finish prepping some stuff. I get the stencil ready, even have a chance to run out to get a drink and a sandwich. Everything is ready to go, but THEN-”
You bite your bottom lip to restrain another laugh, and he continues recounting his story, “-he asks for another two hours! I was like ‘Okayyyy, are you sure you can do this today?’ And he says ‘Totally, I’ll be there.’ So I have two walk-ins for piercings and that’s fine, then I kill time working on some other sketches.Then he texts me again and guess what it fucking says?”
You can see where this is going, you say, “He cancels on you?”, at the exact same moment that he says, “He cancels on me!”
“Fucking unbelievable.” You sigh and he says, “It is! I had most of my shift blocked off for this guy, so now I can either hang around and hope for walk-ins or bail out. The whole day is basically a wash.”
“Did he reschedule?” You ask, and he laughs bitterly, “Yeah, he did. Next fucking week.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Even though the way he complains is funny, the situation he found himself in was not, and you genuinely feel bad for him. “So, are you going to hang around or what?”
“No, I don’t think so, I am not the only one here anyway. I stepped out to call you-” Another sigh, and you can picture him rubbing over his eyes and his hand slipping up into his hair. You swear you can feel his frustration over the line.
“There are some other people here now that will get first dibs on walk-ins, they came in because I was supposed to be busy.” He finishes.
You see an opportunity, a chance for you to help, you pose a question, “Well, how about you come over? We could get a pizza, maybe fuck it out if you are up for it?”
He pauses for a moment before asking, “Oh my God, are you serious?”
You reach over to pluck a grape from your fruit bowl, rolling it in between your fingers as you respond, “Yeah! Let me salvage your night.”
He confesses honestly, “Yes, please, I think I really do fucking need that.”
“Of course, come on over.” You encourage, and he says, “I’ll be there within the hour. I gotta take my station apart and clean up before I leave.”
“Take as long as you need, see you soon.” You trade good-bye’s, and hang up. Popping the grape into your mouth, you get off the stool and make your way to the bathroom, intent on showering before he comes over.
True to his word, he arrives within the hour, you open the door and there he is, looking pretty beat.You feel bad as you let him in, even more determined to try and cheer him up. You lead him to the living room and once he is seated on your couch in the living room, you tell him, “Wait right there.”
“I don’t think I could do much else.” He sighs, hands slipping behind his head as he leans back into the cushions.You walk away to head into the kitchen, and when you come back you are holding two bottles of beer. His brows raise, and you offer, “Want a beer?”
“Oh yes, definitely.” One of his hands comes from behind his head and reaches out for it. Slipping the bottle into his waiting hand, you take the seat beside him on the couch. He takes a sip and almost moans as he pulls the bottle back, “Hice Pale Ale?”
“It’s my favourite. I am not huge on beer, but having a few of these on hand in the fridge to crack open after a long day is a must.” You say with a shrug as you pull your phone out of your pocket, he praises, “And you go on about my good taste.”
“Only because it’s true. So, what kind of pizza do you want? Once I have the order in, you can bitch about your day some more.”
You decide on two wood fire pizzas from that nice pizzeria downtown; one classic pepperoni, the other margherita and phoned in the order. More venting ensues, and before you know it, you’re both one beer down and onto your second. The food arrives partway through the movie you put on. The pizza boxes are opened on your coffee table, you both just eat out of them, not bothering with plates. It tastes pretty amazing. You glance over as he gestures to the screen commenting on something, and actually smiling. You are glad to see his mood has lifted considerably.
By the time the credits are rolling, you are in his lap, some mid-2000s song you’ve heard countless times but couldn’t name playing in the background. The make out you are engaged in is getting rather heated, you have one hand on the back of his neck, the other buried in his hair. His hands are settled on your hips, his fingertips starting to edge up underneath the hem of your tank top. Your tongue slips out of his mouth for a moment as you nip at his bottom lip, before pulling back, and asking quietly, “How are you feeling? Better?”
“Better than I was.” He admits with a half smile that could make you melt if you let yourself get too caught up. Pushing that thought away, you grind yourself down, feeling how hard he is under you, “Yeah? Because I was thinking of one other thing I could do to help cheer you up.”
He responds by arching his own hips up to meet yours before prompting, “I’m listening.”
“I was just thinking about how tragic it is that I never got to suck your dick last time, how about we fix that?”
One minute later you are on your knees between his spread legs, your hair out of the way with him hot and hard in the palm of your hand.
You’ve been wanting to do this since the very first picture he sent you. No, dying to. So you waste no time leaning closer to make first contact with your tongue. Your eyes are turned up to his face, determined to catch every little reaction. When you pass over his piercing you feel him tense slightly, noticing the shift in his eyes and the sharp intake of breath. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Your lips lock around the head of his cock, and your tongue lathes over it slowly while it’s in your mouth. You suck lightly and pull off of him with a wet pop, teeth hooking onto well polished metal, and tugging on it slightly.
A fond roll of his eyes as he huffs out, “Jesus, you love to play with that shit, don’t you?”
“Call it a kink. I didn’t hear you complaining last time.” You muse before you start to slip him back into your mouth. He breathes, “I’m an asshole, not an idiot.”
You’d laugh if your mouth wasn’t already occupied with more important matters. An amused exhale through your nose would have to do as you focus on sliding him deeper.
Now, sucking dick isn’t quite as complicated as eating pussy, other than utilizing an excess of spit, there are two very important factors that should not be forgotten. The first and most crucial is enthusiasm, the second is that every good blowjob should include more than just your mouth. You have hands, use them. The first time you get on your knees for someone is exciting, but usually you don’t have this much lead up. To say you are desperate to do this for him is a major understatement. You are utterly ravenous for it. In your opinion, the best head is sloppy, messy, and you enjoy it more than you have any real right to. The act of giving pleasure is one you partake in joyfully, so you never have to fake your enthusiasm.
You take him halfway down his shaft before bobbing back up, lips now wrapped around the defined ridge where head meets shaft, you suck slowly as you pull up the rest of the way. Then you let your lips part and allow the veritable river of split you’ve been building up in your mouth run down over your fingers. You start to stroke, spreading the lube and coating him in the process, and with that done you can really settle in. Mouth and hand work in tandem, you stroke and suck, taking him as deep as you can with your hand around the base before moving back up again.
You do this for around a minute before you decide to really try and wow him, you move your hand away, and take him to the base. As soon as you feel his tip touch the back of your throat, he moans in a way that makes you want to press your thighs together. Your gag reflex isn’t that much of a bother when you are motivated enough. You bob up and down a few more times, fucking the tight opening of your throat with the head of his dick. One of his hands grips the couch cushion beside him, and the other comes to the top of your head. He moans again, with an undercurrent of confusion, “What the fuck-”
You will never get tired of his reactions. Swallowing around him, letting him feel that simple action in full, you are rewarded with a choked gasp; A sound that will haunt your dreams for many nights to come. He pushes back on your head until he pops out of your mouth, strands of your spit following the motion and your eyes locking on his flushed face as the wet leash connecting you to him breaks apart. Erik utters a breathless accusation, “Youuu majorly undersold your skills.”
You cock your head and smile softly, a faux innocence in your tone as you ask, “Did I?”
Your hand comes back up, fingers circle around his base, you spit into your other palm, then reach out and grip him. Starting to stroke firmly, causing him to inhale harshly, “Yes, Christ, you fucking did.”
“Maybe.” You sigh, twist your wrist on the downstroke, and watch in amused interest as his upper lip twitches and his brow creases in response. You continue on to say, “I just think actions speak louder than words.”
Your thumb swipes over his tip, catching the stray bead of pre-cum there, “Why blab on and on when it is so much more fun to get on my knees and just show you what I can do?” Your hand lifts to your mouth, your tongue flicks over the pad of your thumb briefly before you ask, “Can I get back to blowing you now?”
He nods once, and you sink back down into it immediately, taking him back into your mouth in one smooth motion. Suddenly deep throating him again, he moans out, “Oh fuck-”
You don’t stop, alternating between fucking him into your throat and stroking his shaft with your lips wrapped around his head. You are relentless, eating up every reaction you draw from him, and filing it all away to masturbate to later in all honesty. Until a few minutes later, he is moaning your name as he cums into your mouth.
You wait until he stops pumping out cum and the twitching subsides, when he sighs in relief you pull back to see his eyes are on you. Perfect. While he is looking at you, your mouth opens, showing off the pool of cum coating your tongue; Then you make a show of closing your lips and when you swallow him back, you show him your now clean tongue.
The look on his face is priceless. You climb back onto the couch beside him as you ask, “Good?”
You knew it was, but you liked this aspect of your relationship, being kind of dickish to each other. Erik is a sarcastic kind of guy, very funny, and you like giving it back to him. You are positive he likes it too. He scoffs, “Yeah, of course it was good.”
“No jokes?” You inquire, and he laughs as he finishes putting himself away, “No, I don’t think I can pretend that was bad even for a joke, you nearly sucked the soul out of me.”
You sigh, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it next time.”
He hooks an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in closer. You are reminded that he isn’t shy about his own cum when he initiates a kiss and his tongue slips into your mouth. Returning his affection with a moan is the most natural thing in the world, after all he is unfairly hot. He returns the favour, shows you that he is just as good with his hands as he is with his mouth. You end up cumming with two of his fingers buried inside you, grinding your clit against his palm, dizzy with pleasure.
Erik leaves in a much better mood that night, and you were glad to help him out. The boost to your own mood was just a bonus.
The next notable quality time you share is about two weeks later. It’s a hot day when you make the decision to drop in on him, since he mentioned that he was working. He was meant to be there to field walk-ins, so you decided to do the same. You’ve walked by this shop many times before you knew him; Had seen it in the many pictures and videos he sent you, too. But this is the first time you’ve actually been inside. You don’t arrive empty-handed though, you stride in with a smile and an iced coffee for him.
The bell rings to signal your arrival, he looks up as you take your sunglasses off and place them on top of your head. He has surprise in his eyes, paired with a grin as he questions, “The fuck are you doing here?”
You make your way over to him as you say, “I thought I’d be nice, bring you an iced coffee, help you cope with this hot ass day we are all suffering through.”
Now close enough you place the iced coffee on the counter he is seated at, he picks it up and says, “Oh, and here I didn’t get you anything.”
“I’m sure we’ll find a way to even the scales again.” You tease, leaning forward on your elbows. He leans nearer as he flirts back, “We always do.”
He takes his first sip, and he sighs out, “God, that’s good, thanks.” You shrug with an easy, “Don’t mention it.”
Erik asks, “Wanna sit behind the counter?”
You take him up on it, pulling over one of the cushioned stools on wheels. You sit down and ask, “What are you working on?”
“Trying to come up with my flash sheet to advertise, Friday the 13th is coming.” He sighs as he picks up his sketchbook and passes it over. You look over the half filled page as you say, “Oh yeah, cheap tattoo day, gotta be ready.”
Your eyes scan over the themed sketches, admiring his work. After a minute, you ask, “Would it be weird to get a tattoo from you sometime?”
He gives you a curious look, and he asks, “Why would it be weird? Because we fuck each other stupid like once a week?”
You reply easily, “Uh yeah that’d be why. But hey, if you don’t think it’d be weird then I’ll take your word for it.” He already leaves the occasional hickey, what’s a more permanent mark between friends. A thought pops into your head, leading you to inquire, “Wait, did you ever do that?”
“Do what?” He asked, and you responded, “Like tattoo a girlfriend or something before you broke up?”
“Noooo, I have avoided that so far.” He admits with a laugh, shaking his head. You joke, “Oooh, fresh ground, virgin territory.”
“Such a freak.” He hums amusedly, and you double down, “Erik, you have to understand, this is very exciting for me.”
“Adding corruption kink onto your ever-growing list, got it.” He holds his hand out to take his sketchbook back, you roll back on your wheeled stool, holding it out of reach, “I didn’t say I was done.”
“Look as much as you want.” Erik drops his hand, and you go back to look down at his sketches. Staring down with great interest, and that is when you uncross your legs and lean back a little.
He says your name and your eyes peek back over the edge of the book, “Yes?”
“Are you wearing anything under that sundress, orrr?” Erik asked, and you shook your head, confessing, “No I am not. Too hot, you know?”
“Too hot for panties?” He deadpans.
“I mean, it’s a black sundress, Erik! Yes, it is too hot for panties.” You defend, and he says, “No one made you wear black today.”
“Rich coming from the guy whose closet is ninety-five percent black.” You quip, foot reaching out to nudge his black jean clad leg, you add on, “Besides, I thought you’d like it.”
You spread your legs wider, his elbows come to rest on his knees, he leans forward. Watching his eyes drop significantly lower. He says, “I never said I didn’t like it.”
A bite your bottom lip before asking, “Well. Are you going to do something about it?”
He does in fact do something. You get dragged enthusiastically into the very bathroom he took that first video for you, the door locked behind you faster than you could say a word.
You are praying you can get this quickie done before anyone comes in, gripping the sink while his hands are on your body. The skirt of your sundress is bunched around your hips, and he is adjusting you, lifting one of your knees up onto the sink. Erik’s other hand is on your lower back, making sure he will be able to fuck you easily while he is standing behind you. Pressing himself against you, he slides easily as he grinds against you, and asks, “How are you this wet already?”
“Mighta edged myself in the bathroom of the coffee shop while they were making your order.” You admit, and he drags the tip of his dick up and down your slit, he spreads your wetness as he says, “I knew it, you planned this whole thing.”
How can you be expected to do anything but capitalize on his impulsive nature? He slides into you, and you moan out, “Caaah-’nt help it-”
He starts the pace out easy, sliding in and out of you slowly, and you revel in the stretch. You are content for this to be a quick and dirty fuck, and to see, secretly, if you could get home before all his cum runs down your thighs.
Erik has other plans. He starts to adjust, shifting the angle just right. Your head turns up, looking into the mirror and meeting his eyes. Your eyes quietly questioning what he is doing, wondering why he isn’t railing the fuck out of you already, but the only warning he gives you is, “Wait, wait, hold on-”
He fucks all the way in and strikes your G-spot so strongly, the stab of pleasure it delivers makes your back arch and punches the air out of your lungs. Your head barely misses hitting the mirror, “Oh fuck-”
“Therrrre it is!” He purrs. His hand that was on your lower back slides up, he grips the straps for leverage, and his other hand grips your hip firmly. You pant out, “You’re the wor-st, ha, you cocky fucking bastard-”
“Ready?” He asks in a sanguine way that blatantly ignores what you just said. Without waiting for your response, he sets a pretty brutal pace.
He doesn’t stop, and it’s your turn to cum embarrassingly quick. You can thank the ten minutes worth of edging you gave yourself prior to this. It makes the climb scary quick, and you are totally helpless as he abuses your weaknesses with glee. Worst of all, you have no one else to blame but yourself for being so sexually open with him.
You claw at the sink while he pounds your orgasm out of you in five short minutes, biting your tongue so hard you worry you might draw blood. Barely managing to whine out an approximation of his name. Your walls spasm around his shaft as you ride out your orgasm, shuddering and gasping. Even after it ends, you are incapable of controlling the aftershocks. You only have to bear the overstimulation for a few minutes before he rushes out, “Fuck, gonna cum-”
He forces himself deep as he can one last time, reaching his own end and spilling inside of you; Your name staining his tongue. Your forehead touches the cool glass of the mirror, and you heave out a breath that fogs it up, mind glazing over yet still registering the sweat sticking to your skin.
When he pulls out, a rush of cum spills forth as opposed to a slow drip. You are a wreck, heaving and mostly supported by the sink. He asks, “You okay there?”
You raise your head, eyes half lidded, and you moan out, “Soooo good.”
He seems thoroughly amused, eyes raking over your form as you endure the aftershocks, the occasional twitches endlessly entertaining for him.
“I’m gonna go make sure no one came in and heard you cum your brains out. Take a minute and clean yourself up, yeah?” He says far too breezily, he finishes securing his belt and unlocks the door. He leaves you there, cum staining your thighs and still reeling. Your mind drifts back to your previous conversation shared post-sex, the one revealing that you both were switches. Honestly, you do like rocking his shit, but there is something to be said for the times he flips it back and returns your ample efforts.
You do take the time to clean up and eventually you leave the bathroom to join him. He is sitting back behind the counter, pencil in one hand and iced coffee in the other. He looks far too normal, too put together. As if he didn’t just fuck you dumb in the bathroom. He is so attractive, it’s almost annoying.
Erik doesn’t look up as he says, “Don’t worry. No one came in, so no one heard you.”
You come back to the counter and say, “Thank God. I was trying to be quiet, but someone wasn’t making it easy on me.”
“Suuuure it’s all my fault that you couldn’t stop-” He starts mimicking your moans in an overexaggerated way, shifting in his chair and swaying back and forth in a jerky rhythm as if he were getting fucked. You laugh so hard you snort, hitting him on the shoulder, but he doesn’t relent. He only stops after you finally say, “Oh my fucking God, Erik!”
“Yeahhh-” He turns to look at you finally, “-you said that a few times too.” He says with a shit eating grin.
You don’t linger much longer after that, you have a short conversation about texting to meet up again soon. As you are leaving, he calls out, “By the way, thanks again for the coffee.”
“Anytime. Maybe you should swing by and visit me at work sometime.” You suggest, and you mean it. You slip your sunglasses back on as you leave.
