Captain Boomerang x Fem!Reader, word count: 2.5k
this is sort of a continuation or extension of this 5 sentence fic here, and also from a text post i feverishly made about wanting this exact scenario to happen. he's gross and stinky and filled with pheromones that make me moan, so please enjoy this fic dedicated to george making you smell him and worship his manly musk💙
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: musk/scent kink, forced smelling, teasing, worship, filthy talk, oral sex, armpits, licking and tasting george's body, dominant/dominating george, you could read this as more forceful than it is if that's your thing or as a roleplay into dominance and submission with keen participation if you lean that way
To everyone around him, George Harkness was mischievous. Playful. Not a real threat. He gave off such immature vibes. A tease, a bit of a bully in the most loving way possible. Like a boy on the playground who couldn't figure out how to be kind to his friends or his crush and relentlessly tortured and teased them instead. He'd describe himself as a larrikin, a loveable one, if anyone asked. And no one did. No one had to. It was evident from within the first few seconds of meeting him that he was that specific brand of "boys will be boys" trouble that some people found impossible to resist. People like you. That's how you had ended up with him, at least according to George. He'd tell people that you were the only person who could ever put up with him for more than an hour at a time, so he had to 'lock you down'. He was eternally grateful to have someone like you. But that didn't mean he would ever alter the way he behaved.
Even now, months into your relationship, George was just as much of a pain as he had ever been. Not in a disrespectful or malicious manner. It was just in his nature to be rude, to be constantly lecherous. A point proven by how he woke up in the bed, stirred for a few minutes, and then, once he had decided to get up and tend to his needs, gave your ass a playful smack before getting out of the covers. No care about whether it woke you or not. He saw a body, he touched the body. That was understood.
As he did every morning, he walked to the bathroom with slight discomfort, his morning erection preventing him from taking quite as wide and arrogant strides as he usually walked with. Shambling into the darkened room, the sun not quite hitting at it's full potential as yet, George dipped his hand into the opening at the front of his boxers, freeing his cock and aiming it lazily over the bowl. As his stream hit the porcelain with a hard crackle, he let go of his impressive length and trusted that he could keep his aim steady. Now, free of the boredom of holding his own cock without the intention of masturbating, he stretched with a groan and let his hand fall to his chest to rub his sternum. It slid easily down his front, his fingers scratching over his abdomen and then sinking into his boxers. He scratched there too, fingertips curling through the messy pubic hair that he kept untrimmed and wild, then released the digits and brought them to his nose. One sniff was enough for him to decide that he didn't need another. His nose wrinkled up and his eyes shut tight, before he let out a groan of equal parts intrigue and disgust at his own scent.
"Fuck me, that is ripe. I need to take a- Oh! Babe! Hey, babe!"
He turned quickly, excited by his idea, enough to forget that he hadn't finished pissing yet. The stream of urine, gentler now as it tapered off from the desperation of a long night's sleep, hit the toilet seat and the floor. It surprised him, at first, before he remembered what he had sleepily started a minute before, and he finished the rest of his piss before coming through to the bedroom. Notably, he had decided to forego washing his hands along with the toilet and the puddle by the shower. He was far too excited by his own immature intentions.
"Babe? Babe!"
When you stirred he continued.
"Smell my fingers."
"George! No, oh my god, I just woke up!"
He persevered, wearing that nasty grin that you usually found irresistible.
"Smell them!"
He thrust them under your nose, not really giving you the option to protest further. You inhaled, not intentionally but out of necessity, and recoiled just the slightest bit at the sudden intrusion of your personal space.
"Stop! Hey! Oh… What is that?"
As you leaned in closer for a second investigative sniff, George pulled back this time, his own shock displayed on his expressive face with wide eyes and raised eyebrows and lips that parted in a surprised silence that didn't last long.
"Do you… like it?"
"I don't hate it."
His mouth closed into a smug grin now, and you felt your heart sink, dreading what could possibly have made him that happy and not having to wait long for the answer.
"That's the smell of my pubes."
"Oh, come on! George!"
In defence of his actions, he raised his hands and then pointed his fingers at you in an irritatingly accusatory manner.
"What!? You liked it!! You're just as filthy as I am!"
"Georgie, honey, that is a statistical impossibility. No one is as filthy as you. In any meaning of the word."
Another scoff, his smile so wide it pushed his cheeks into his eyes. He was gone, you'd lost him to his own ego, and now, no matter how much fight you put up against him, he was never going to back down.
"You love it! You wouldn't have me any other way, would ya?"
"I don't love it. I tolerate it. I love you in spite of it."
"Nah, you can't kid me, babe. You're a dirty little thing, you love it filthy, rotten, nasty."
There was nothing you could say that would deter him, and even if you had thought of something, he was on you before you could have gotten the words out. With a bounce that jostled you, he landed on the bed, his arms around you in a hug, fingers tickling at your body before gripping your face and positioning you under his raised arm.
"C'mere, come get your fill."
Against his strength, you tried to break free, but it was entirely futile. Not only because if he wanted to, he could pin you there without much effort on his part, but also because you weren't really all that upset about being so close to him in the first place. And he knew that all too well.
"That's it, you can struggle, but I know you could push me off if you really wanted to. I'll keep your little secret, pretend to hate it all you want. But breathe in deep and really smell me."
You were suffocating in his pits, the smell of them choking you as you attempted to breathe anything but hot, George-scented air into your weakening lungs. But you still inhaled greedily, the tang of his own personal scent thick in your throat, drowning you.
"How are those pits, huh? Ripe? Smells like a man, eh?"
It smelled wild. It was driving you there too. A musk that was strong, familiar, given how often you found yourself surrounded by it, thicker and more intense now that you were forcibly breathing only that. And as you flailed a little, if only because of the lack of oxygen, you were thankful, in spite of yourself, to be able to be this close to him.
"What about my chest? Smell my sweat? Smell yourself on me, hm?"
With his fingers pressed to the back of your skull, George lifted his armpit and freed you, if only briefly, before he pushed you into his chest. The muscles there weren't bulky, in fact while he was strong and possessed impressive arms, his torso was lean and well-toned. You could tell it was a source of concern for him, especially given what he said next.
"Tell me how big they are… How firm… You like them, don't you? Tell me you like them. Tell me you like how I feel."
You did as he asked, pausing only briefly at first to offer a muffled, tickling moan into his sternum.
"I love how you feel, Georgie. I love how strong you are, I love how your body looks, I love the way your tattoos make you seem so cool."
You'd hestiated before that last word, but knew you had to commit. His tattoos were considerably less than cool, but they were a point of pride for him and you were more than happy to enable his ego where you could. What goes around comes around, after all, just as his tattoo said.
He gave you a little more room to breathe, but you stayed pressed to him. His chest was oily, not quite glistening with sweat but greasy enough that you knew he'd slept hot the night before. Each of his tattoos received a gentle kiss, a sultry placement of your lips against the designs, a hint of tongue flitting out as a tease.
You'd had your taste of freedom now it seemed, as George was quick to push your face back into his armpits, closing down on you, the pressure against your skull and cheek warming and oddly comforting. You inhaled deeply, assuming this was what he wanted, but he was quick to correct your assumption.
"I want you to lick them, taste my sweat."
Your tongue moved quickly, greedily, and you lapped at his armpit. He flinched once or twice at the way it tickled but he grew accustomed to it enough to remain still, the only sound his gentle groans as you matted his hair and swirled your saliva around the sensitive skin.
"Aw fuck yeah, babe… Fuck… More…"
And then, as though it was an after thought of importance.
"…Don't suffocate though, I've got more planned for ya."
You were suffocating, though, and willfully. You could have eased your head back, but you liked the idea of drowning in him, of consuming him completely. Your nose was wet, covered in your own drool as you nuzzled into the wetness of his underarm, licking it still, tasting the individual layers of filth on him. It was his rough and rugged stench, sweat mixing with his natural musk, the hint of his cheap deoderant, which you had bought him, sprayed on at least three days prior but not quite yet faded completely.
And despite acting like he cared only seconds before, he forced you closer, to the point there was no room for you to press your tongue out. Wriggling out of it, you let yourself sink slightly, falling to your knees as you kissed down his side, taking care to hit his tattoos on your way down. He took your movement as an indication of your own intentions, and he smiled, his teeth bared and pupils feral.
"Wait, George, I need-"
You tried to express your need to catch your breath before whatever would come next, but you weren't afforded that luxury.
"Sorry, love, but I think you'll like this even more if you just stop fighting it."
You made an effort to stand up, hoping you could get a little reprieve from him, just a small one, not even through want but from your body's need, but George had other plans.
"Get on your knees."
"Oh! Of course, give me a second to-"
George pushed your shoulders down and you fell immediately, folding to his demands without any push back.
"I said… Get back down on your knees and beg ol' Digger for his big meaty cock, eh? Give it a wash, slurp it clean. I haven't showered in days and I have been sweating like a bloody shearer."
Before you could beg, he took your open mouth and, with his hand at the back of your head once again, he pushed your face agaisnt the front of his underwear, and you could smell him there, stronger than before. His own musk was mixed with a tang of grody age, droplets of piss that stained them yellow and offered an almost acidic note to the mix. The fabric was grimy, nasty, but you let your mouth cover it regardless because that's what George wanted.
Even with his thick length constrained by the once tight but now worn and fraying material, you still found yourself choking on it. Tongue dried by the cotton, nostrils full, mouth stretching over the bulge. You soaked his underwear with your struggling drool, spluttering over it as you struggled to pull away. Finally, mercifully, he let you, and with a gasp you were freed from him.
As you filled your lungs with pure, fresh and clean air, George dropped his underwear, stepping out of them along with his shorts, and then positioned himself back in front of you, his cock at face level. He ran his palm down his abdomen, following down the stiff length, before removing his palm and letting his bounce back up, straight out and fully erect.
"Deep breaths through your nose for this next bit, babe, gotta let that mouth focus on the important stuff."
You could smell George's cock already, that sweet odour of his precum, the sweat and the piss. Your mouth watered, saliva collecting at your cheeks, and you put it to use immediately. Giving into him was only enabling his behaviour, his lack of personal hygeine, his pride in his presumed masculinity, his desire to have you on your knees servicing him. But truthfully, you were just as bad as he was. So you placed your lips to the flushed and glistening tip and let them open wider as you slid down the length, taking him in and letting his taste wash over your tongue and down your throat as you tried to swallow your drool and your gasping breaths.
"Beg for it. Beg me for my dirty, unwashed cock. Tell me how bad you want to taste it."
In vain, you moved your jaw to speak around it, your words muffled by the size of him forced in there, saliva pooling and spilling down your cheeks, bubbles of spittle coating the corners of your mouth, lips reddening from the stretching. George groaned and sighed, those far gentler sounds turning to aggressive grunts as he began bucking his hips forwards and fucking your face, the head of his cock at the back of your throat, choking you as you gagged and moaned.
Your nose tickled as he pushed you down to the base of his impressive length. You'd never have guessed you could have taken it all, especially with the minimal gagging you were expressing, but you supposed that's how desperate to please him you really were. As you felt your mouth, neck, jaws, squeezing and convulsing, it became a necessity to calm down by remembering his instructions.
"Breathe through your nose."
Relaxing into his grip on your head, your mouth filled, chin warm as his balls stuck to it, you let the smell of his pubes, sweat and salt and skin, overwhelm you, all of your senses clouded by him. Your eyes flitted upwards and caught his gaze, his own eyes wide and focused as he smiled, mouth open, eye teeth glinting.
"Yeah, that's a real man, babe. And you're a good girl for treating me right."
