pairing‧₊ ̊🍹✩ ₊ ̊🍉⊹♡. . . perverted bf x big booty(🤤) male reader
warnings𓂃 ོ⋆☀︎𓂃⛱. . . having gooning sessions , body worship , reader got a fat ass , spanking , purposely buying someone tight clothes , hinted himbo reader(heavily implied that reader is in fact a himbo. he doesn't need to be buff in your perspective tho he is got a nice ass), VERY cringe wording i refused to read over it, obliviousness, public-ish sex
background knowledge⋆. 𐙚 ̊🍋🟩♪⋆.✮. . . your boyfriend loved absolutely everything about you. especially your ass. loves the way it jiggles when you walk, loves
notes. . . y'all im sorry again school is annoying and im always taking longggg naps on weekdays😔 i never proofread
he met you on a bad day. terrible day in fact. he only got half credit from his professors due to a late turn in, people were doing too much, he wasn't getting enough sleep, and his managers were such assholes at his job. he just needed a smoke, that was it.
what he had expected was to get his pack and go, smoke the cheapness of the cigarette filter when he got back outside. but what he hadn't expected was the see the finest man in existence to snap him out of his tiredness. you were real sweet for this time of the day too, all about "hi! welcome to the gas station, how many i help you?" bright and pretty smile on your face, gave him a little wave too. you were already cute, he was already captivated.
"i'll get uh.." he squinted his eyes a little. "camel brand please." he nodded, with a "you got it," then you turned around— good lord you turned around. he noticed the shape first, the way the back of your shirt rested at the top of your ass, tight and hugging that bit. then the way your pants had hugged the curve so damn good he felt himself salivate. then it was the way it moved, a small step making your cheeks jiggle subtly but very very noticeably. he took in a sharp breath, leaning on the counter as his hand covered his mouth.
"here you are sir," you handed him the pack, calculating the price. but no, not yet he couldn't leave. "ah..shit. im a fuckin' idiot i meant marlboro." he hated that brand. he tskd, handing the pack back to you and you reassured him it was no issue. his head went a little to the side, tongue licking at the top row of his teeth. yeah, watch you arch your back reeaal good and pop that ass out for him— "here you go! just need your ID please and that'll be 2.50." he gave an mhm, and gave you the things needed.
constant visits to the gas station turned into conversations on your break, to number and social exchange, then he was inviting you to his dorm room and holding a (ass)cheek with his tongue down your throat. he wasn't too subtle about it anymore if you could call his past little flirts subtle, though to you they definitely would be. he would smack your ass whenever you got up or walked in front of him, especially if it was up the stairs. he would give comments, squeeze real tight and bend his finger near your hole just to see you flinch and jump. it was cute.
it was even better when he fucked you, having you bent in front of him and each plap, plap, plap of skin drove him mad. his hand could be elsewhere yet his eyes would be fixated on the way your ass rippled with each thrust of his hips slapping into your skin.
you shivered, teeth clenching together hard enough to grind as your fingers gripped to the front counter you worked behind. the gas station apron you wore was loose around your hips, pants down to your ankles and back arched to perfection. his pupils dilated, hands squeezing at the fat flesh of your glutes as his hand lifted and— "ah!?" a harsh thwak echoed throughout the small store, your squeal of surprise even louder. "mhm.." he huffed through his nose, never stopping despite the very stinging burn pulsing through his lower back and hips.
"yeah, look at this ass bouncin' for me baby." your head turned back, embarrassment clouding your face completely because he was right. you could see the way your arch made the globes of flesh bigger and you could genuinely see it. you whined, flustered as ever and burying your face into your arms like that would erase it all. even worse was that you could feel it too.
"na-uh, don't be all shy with me now." he clicked his tongue, fingers coming to your hair and pulling so harshly that your scalp burned. "i said look. 'nd you gon' keep lookin' understand me?" you hiccuped, nodding your head as your glossy eyes flickered towards his hips pounding the ever loving hell out of you.
whenever he got you pants they wouldn't ever last long. he would buy you things all the time when he should be paying his tuition, yet each time he past the leggings section or jeans he just had to buy the entire rack of each.
"mh..this is..eugh–" your fingers looped around the jeans loops, your legs shuffling a little to try and get the waist line above the bottom part of your body but it just wouldn't go up! "this is a little tight.." he almost told you that was the entire point. you scoffed in annoyance, your toes tipping before you lightly jumped— fuck.
on about the fifth jump they popped on real quick. you huffed with accomplishment, buttoning and zipping up your fly. "alright! i got them on thankfully!" he nodded, standing up and turning you around to face the mirror again. your face dropped seeing his hands start to unzip the fly and unbutton the button. this asshole.
"i just got these on! you can't just take them off!?"
ANGEL | Having a best friend who wants to be the one to take your virginity…
Male Best Friend!OC x Male Reader
Warnings: Smut, you’re both 18 (still in high school), purity kink (oc), cheating (oc on his girlfriend, anal sex, blowjob, fingering, fucking while his parents are home…
Summary: He’s your fuckboy best friend who wants you…
(A/n: First OC fic I’m posting, hope you all like it)
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• He’s your best friend who you’ve known since you were both toddlers. And you’ve stuck together ever since, even late in to your High School years.
• He’s one of the most popular guys in school, known for being the schools biggest fuckboy, with a new ”girlfriend” every other week.
• While you, yourself, weren’t unpopular but you were more so ”popular by proxy”, known for being the guy who has some weird sexual tension with his popular best friend.
• The best friend that buys you a red heart shaped lollipop everyday on the way to school insisting that it’s a completely normal platonic thing to do as he unwraps it and sticks it in your mouth. But who really does it because he loves seeing you suck on it, imagining your lips around something else.
• The best friend who’d never do that for any of his girlfriends cause he dosen’t really like any of them, at least not the way he likes you.
• He has a thing for virgins, loving the idea of deflowering someone, being the one to take their purity, ruining them. He usually gets tired of them afterwards.
• One day he invites you over to his house after school, the two of you hang out, sit outside tanning by the pool, play video games and later you eat dinner with him and his parents. After that you and him lay in his bed watching a movie on his tv.
• You’d be laying on your stomach, making him easily see the outline of your perky butt through your shorts.
• He knew you were still a virgin, you’d have told him if someone had popped your cherry.
• But yet he found something so whorish about you. The way you dressed, you were currently wearing a tank top and short-shorts. The way you sucked on the lollipops he bought you, as if hinting something at him. And the way you had that ”dumb slut” tone of voice.
• You were like a walking contradiction of your own wholesome and sweet personality.
• He’d lay down next to you, as close as he could, then pull you into a hug. And once you started getting confused by his clingyness and asked him what was up, he’d kiss you and you’d kiss back.
• The two of you would roll around in his bed making out. You crothes grinding against each other.
• He’d get you on your knees infront of him, pull down his underwear to reveal his hung thick juicy cock, dangling it in front of your face. And when you’d look up at him from the floor with innocence in your eyes and ask him ”What about your girlfriend?”. He just answers ”What about her?”.
• He’d love finally getting to see your lips wrapped around his cock instead of a lollipop. His dick stuffed in your mouth until you almost choked on it.
• Then he’d undress you, let you lay on the bed as he fingered your ass, he’d then lube his cock. And as you turned on to your back and he’d spread your legs he’d start pushing himself in to you.
• He’d love finally getting his cock inside your tight virgin hole, it clenched hard around him. He loved the sound of your moans and whines from having his dick shoved deep inside you.
• He’d say things like ”Fuck your loving this aren’t you, you’re not as innocent as I thought” and ”My little virgin, Y/n, finally losing it and to me of all people”.
• He knew that his parents definetely heard what the two of you were doing upstairs, hearing their son taking his friend like he did with every other girlfriend he’d ever had. The sound of his creaking bed, the sound of your moans, the sound their son’s rough thrusts. They could hear it all.
• The moans coming out of your mouth were music his ear. It helped encourage him and roll his hips so reach deeper inside you.
• He’d fuck you so good you came early and watch your embarassed face as you both knew he was far from done with you. But he’d just smile continuing his thrusts deep into until you got hard again.
• Once he’d gotten you to cum two more times he finally started getting close to his own orgasm and he pushed his full hard self into you erupting inside you, his cum taking what little you had left of your innocence.
• He’d pull out of you watching as your gaping hole leaked with his seed. The sight could make him hard all over again.
• He’d lay down and pull you close to him and whisper how good you had been. And he’d hold you as you drifted off to sleep as he layed awake thinking about you.
• Once the virginity was taken he grew tired of whoever he slept with, he only liked the part of having them first, ruining them for those who came after.
• But you were different to him, now that he’d deflowered you, he needed to be by your side to protect you from the sinful world he’d now taken you into.
Reverent college professor x male reader Drabble~ ! ᜊ𐔌՞ ' ⩊ '՞𐦯ᜊ
A/N: m’ own filthy indulgence’s <33
Warnings: dark content, reader is in his twenties, insert/oc is mid 40’s, Amab anatomy, older man/younger man, pia, riding, rimming, oral, reader receiving, power imbalance
Just imagine it now, staying after class tryin to muster that courage up, trying to stop the humiliation in your gut! Oh you knew it would work, this man eyefuckin you day in an out you just knew it would work, “I got a D sir” You’d respond like an insult musterin up all that confidence just T’ lose it in one blow “seems so yes?” He was cool but that perversion isn’t an easy hide “want a better grade then earn it” he sat there with his brows furrowed not makin the first move, safe words, free interpretations if you weren’t interested but you were.
“Ride me, make it slow and make it last, don’t stop even if I finish…keep going show me you’re an exemplary student ‘boy’ “ he knew what he was doin! He knew he was rilin you up with those words, workin you all up like an angry school boy. Hips straddling his behind his desk burnin inside from your own fingers- you were doin all the work clearly, prepping yourself an all. You needed it. You were rude when he was revenant, bitter when his adoration was lathered on your skin, your fingers shoved down his throat for spit as you fingered yourself, workin it all open makin him watch, makin him suffer the way heat crept his neck an his cock gave a twitch in those sinful slacks. Could almost taste tha salty twang of his salty spill on your tongue.
His face buried away hot in the side of your neck, makin out with it licking you up like a rent a boy, like he was gettin what was owed, groans and soft grunts pleadin against your skin when your perk little ass brushed against his groin givin teases of what he was gonna taste. You rode him like your life depended on it- maybe not your life but your grate at the least! He was leaned back by tha time he spilt in your insides, hot white flashes behind those otherwise foggy eyes just for you. “Do—nt stop” his teeth gritted, jaw clenched tight his demand sounded weak, sounded like every sinful thing you never knew you needed. How could he still feel so hard when your cock was weeping red, spurts of your own on that itchy sweater, the one abandoned on his desk a few moments later
After his fill, begrudgingly lettin you off his cock he’d have your body bent awkwardly on his desk, limps all over the place lickin up his mess when it oozed out of the puffy pucker between your cheeks, letting an almost feral growl when you tried mufflin those as he called them “pretty boy sounds” in that sweater. Your peaks were raw an tender pressed too his desk sore from his mouth jus like your hole, he was like a starved man, like a thirsty man in the desert an you were the gods nectar against his tongue, each delve an glide inside you makin you all flushed, from face T’ shoulder, only lettin ya leave when you couldn’t physically bare it anymore.
“I’ll fix it in the grade book” he’d breath out weak out of breath, his hands shaky, your hips bared the scorn of those hands, you had thought. His tie was loose his face red with a wet mouth down to his slickened chin, his stomach hot full of your taste he was delighted crackin a grin with those lust filled eyes watchin ya dress back an limp on out.
TW: Unrealistic sex, breeding, knotting, gentle-rough sex, praising, belly bulge, cum inflation, comfort words, fingering, after-care, and etc.
The heat had been building for days, but tonight it finally broke you open. As an omega, once your cycle hit its peak, there was no fighting it—your body flooded the room with sweet, needy pheromones that wrapped around Damon like a vice. He wasn’t just any alpha; he was a dominant one, the kind whose rut kicked in hard and fast the second he caught even a hint of your scent. One deep inhale while you were writhing on the sheets and he was gone—eyes darkening to near-black, muscles locking tight, cock already thickening and leaking as raw instinct took over.
You’d lost track of how many hours you’d spent in the bedroom. He’d fucked you through the mattress in every position imaginable: on your back with your legs hooked over his shoulders so he could watch your face twist in pleasure, riding him while he gripped your hips and forced you down onto every thick inch until your thighs shook, bent over the headboard while he knotted you from behind and growled low, filthy promises against the bite-marked skin of your neck. Load after load had already been pumped deep into your core, each knot locking you together for long, pulsing minutes while he whispered. “That’s it, omega… take every drop of your alpha’s cum… let it settle right where it belongs in that greedy hole of yours.”
Your stomach had grown noticeably full by the fourth round—softly rounded and heavy with the warm weight of him, skin stretched just enough that you could feel the faint slosh when he pressed a possessive palm over it.
But Damon’s rut wasn’t slowing. Dominant alphas like him didn’t come down easy. Even after five knots in the bedroom, his cock was still rock-hard, still leaking steadily, still demanding more. He’d scooped you up mid-moan, your legs dangling weakly, thick cum already starting to trickle down your trembling thighs, and carried you straight to the bathroom without a single word.
The bathroom was already thick with steam from your earlier shower, the mirror half-fogged yet still cruelly clear, reflecting every single filthy, obscene detail as Damon stood behind you like a solid wall.
His big hands were locked iron-tight on your hips, fingers digging deep enough to leave fresh bruises blooming over the old ones, while his thick, veined cock was buried to the absolute root inside your stretched ass—so deep the clear outline of it pressed visibly against the taut skin of your lower belly, shifting and throbbing with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips. Your [hair color] hair swung and bounced wildly with each measured thrust, damp strands sticking to your sweaty neck and shoulders like they were trying to cling to the rhythm he dictated so perfectly, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world and wanted you to feel every single dragging inch of him.
Your naked body looked completely ruined in the mirror—bare skin turned into his personal canvas of ownership. Dark, throbbing bite marks ringed your throat like a permanent claim, purple hickeys scattered across your chest and shoulders, fingerprint bruises blooming vivid and deep across your hips and ass cheeks from the hours he’d already spent gripping you like he’d never let go.
Every single thrust made those marks shift and stretch under your skin, a constant aching reminder of how long he’d been owning you completely. Your plump lips stayed parted in a broken, gasping 'O', raw needy moans pouring out and echoing off the tiled walls—high-pitched, desperate little sounds that climbed higher and louder every time his fat cock dragged back almost to the tip, leaving your hole clenching desperately around nothing but air and slick, only to sink back in with that same calm, heavy, soul-shaking push that bottomed out against your deepest heat and made your belly bulge outward again in that slow, visible swell.
Your [eye color] eyes kept rolling back helplessly, lashes clumped and wet with overwhelmed tears, a thin trail of drool slipping shamelessly from the corner of your mouth because your brain had melted into complete blankness hours ago. Nothing existed anymore except the brutal, delicious stretch in your ass, the throbbing pressure grinding against your deepest core, and the heavy, bloated, sloshing fullness in your stomach from all the loads he’d already pumped into you—skin stretched shiny and tight, the visible outline of his cock pushing outward every single time he pressed all the way in like he was already reshaping you from the inside.
Your own cock hung heavy and aching between your trembling legs, flushed dark red at the head, leaking thick, endless strings of pre-cum that dripped steadily onto the floor tiles in messy little puddles. One of your hands drifted down on pure instinct, palm rubbing slow, possessive circles over the swollen curve of your belly while your fingers brushed teasingly along the base of your cock, feeling how painfully hard and sensitive it still was, twitching violently under your own touch.
In the mirror you watched yourself—flushed crimson, trembling violently, eyes glassy and completely fucked-out—then your gaze helplessly shifted to Damon behind you. His black hair fell messily over his forehead, powerful arms caging your frame completely, veins bulging thick along his forearms as he kept you pinned exactly where he wanted you. His dark eyes locked onto yours in the reflection, calm and burning with that quiet, terrifying control that made your stomach flip.
“Damon… hngh…”
The name tore out of you, shaky and completely wrecked.
His hips slowed to a torturously gentle grind, cock still buried balls-deep, his knot already half-swollen and pressing insistently against your stretched rim without popping in yet. One huge hand came up, brushing your [hair color] hair tenderly out of your face, thumb stroking your tear-streaked cheek with surprising softness that somehow made everything feel even more intense.
“You look exhausted, baby,” he murmured, voice low and warm like he was commenting on the weather, not the way he’d been methodically destroying you for hours on end. “Was I too rough? Want me to stop for a minute? Let you catch your breath?”
You shook your head frantically, fresh hot tears spilling even as another slow roll of his hips ripped a broken, guttural moan from your throat and made your cock twitch hard against your belly. "N-no… don’t stop, please… this is on me. It’s my fault—my heat hit so suddenly and triggered your rut too. I have to take responsibility for this… so don’t stop until you’re satisfied…"
Damon’s expression melted instantly into something softer, deeper. He leaned down, broad chest pressing flush and hot against your back, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, then another to the corner of your wet eye, his breath warm against your skin.
"Baby, look at me."
His palm was warm and steady against your jaw, his fingers exerting just enough pressure to keep your eyes locked onto his in the mirror. He let out a low, shaky breath.
"Stop," he commanded softly, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "This isn't on you. If anything, I’m the one who’s reaching a breaking point. I’ve been holding back more than you know. I’ve reached my limit, and I can't stay patient anymore. It’s been far too long since I’ve had you like this, so let’s just stop talking. I just want to enjoy every second of this with you until it’s over."
The air in the room—already thick with raw, filthy sex—suddenly felt heavier, warmer, aching with something so tender it made your chest tighten. You sniffled, nodding, but the tiny movement made your inner walls flutter wildly around his cock. Damon groaned low and deep in his chest, hips twitching once as he felt it.
“Fuck… so tight when you do that,” he breathed, but he stayed perfectly slow, letting you feel every thick inch sliding in and out while his thumb wiped your tears away with aching gentleness. “Don’t blame yourself, okay? You’re mine. My sweet boy. My omega.”
That single word slammed into you like lightning straight to your core. Your hole clenched violently around his cock without warning, squeezing him so hard and greedy he hissed through his teeth, eyes darkening further. Your own cock jumped and spurted a fresh, thick bead of pre-cum onto the sink edge. The soft, caring atmosphere shattered right back into raw, burning heat in an instant.
“Shit— baby boy, you like when I call you that?” Damon’s voice dropped an octave, rougher, darker, dripping with filthy promise. He started moving again—still measured, still that maddening calm control—but each thrust landed a fraction heavier, the wet, obscene sounds of skin slapping skin and slick echoing louder off the tiles. “Like being my little breeding hole? Like knowing I’m gonna pump you so full you can’t walk tomorrow?”
You whimpered desperately, nodding so fast your [hair color] hair flew around your face. Your hands gripped the sink edge white-knuckled as he kept that perfect, controlled pace—long, dragging strokes that let you feel every single vein, every ridge, the fat head kissing and grinding against your deepest heat on every thrust like he was mapping every inch of you.
His hands roamed possessively: one staying glued to your softly rounded belly, pressing lightly so you could feel the warm weight shift inside, the other wrapping around your leaking cock to stroke in the exact same lazy rhythm, thumb spreading the endless pre-cum around the sensitive head until you were shaking. Every time you got close—body tightening, moans turning frantic and broken—he slowed right back down to an agonizing grind, edging you mercilessly until you were sobbing and babbling incoherently, tears streaming freely.
“Please… Damon… need it… please…”
“Need what, baby?” He nipped your earlobe hard, voice still so calm while his grip on your hip turned bruising. “Tell me exactly what you need.”
“Need you to breed me… please… fill me up again… make me yours…”
That was the trigger.
His pace stayed steady and controlled, but the force behind every thrust turned savage—hips snapping forward hard enough to jolt your entire body forward against the sink, balls slapping loudly and wetly against your ass, the mirror shaking slightly with the impact. Your moans dissolved into broken, animalistic sobs of pleasure, drool running freely down your chin and dripping onto the counter, eyes rolling back completely as he hammered that sweet spot over and over without mercy, the wet squelching sounds of his cock plunging through all the cum already inside you filling the room. Your cock throbbed violently in his fist, leaking nonstop all over his thick fingers as he stroked you in time with every brutal thrust.
He kept you right there on the edge for what felt like forever—slow, torturous withdrawals that left you clenching desperately around nothing, followed by punishing slams that made your stomach round out a little more with each load, the outline of his cock so clear in the mirror it looked like he was claiming you from the inside out. His hand never left your cock, thumb rubbing relentless circles over the swollen head while he whispered filthy praise right against your ear.
“That’s it, baby boy, take every inch… feel how deep I am inside you… gonna swell you up so pretty with my cum.”
The knot started swelling gradually, stretching your rim wider and wider, the burn mixing with blinding pleasure until your vision whited out at the edges.
“Gonna knot you now, baby. Gonna lock in and breed you full. You ready?”
One final, hard-shaking deep thrust and the knot popped in with a loud, wet, obscene sound that echoed off the tiles. Damon groaned long and low, chest vibrating against your back as the first thick, heavy spurt flooded your deepest part—hot, endless ropes of cum blasting straight into your core in powerful pulses that you could feel bulging your stomach even more, skin stretching tighter and shinier right before your eyes in the mirror.
Your own orgasm crashed through you so hard your legs nearly gave out, cock spurting weakly onto the sink while your walls milked him greedily, fluttering and clenching around the massive knot like they never wanted to let go. He ground in slow, deep circles, pushing every last drop deeper, hand rubbing possessive circles over your now noticeably fuller stomach like he was already proud of the weight he was putting in you.
“That’s it… take every single drop for me. Gonna look so fucking pretty all round and heavy for me.”
The tie lasted forever, his cock still twitching and pulsing inside you, more cum leaking in lazy waves as he kissed your neck and shoulders softly, murmuring how perfect you were, how you were made for this.
When the knot finally deflated just enough for him to move again, he didn’t pull out to rest—no, he spun you around with that same calm, effortless strength, lifted you onto the bathroom counter so your ass hung right on the edge, and slid back in with one smooth, impossibly deep push that knocked the breath out of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist automatically, heels digging into his back as the new angle let him hit even deeper, the gentle roundness in your belly even more pronounced now with each thrust.
He started slow again—long, dragging strokes that let you feel every thick inch pulling out until only the head stretched your rim, then slamming back in so hard your whole body jolted and your rounded belly pressed against his abs.
His hand stayed glued to your swollen stomach, pressing down lightly every time he bottomed out so you could feel the cum slosh and shift inside you like liquid heat, the other hand stroking your cock in lazy, torturous pulls, thumb circling the head relentlessly while he whispered, “Not yet, baby… I want you to feel every single drop when I fill you again… gonna make you leak me for days.”
Your [hair color] hair stuck to your sweaty face, tears and drool mixing as you begged shamelessly, hole fluttering and sucking him deeper with every thrust, the wet sounds growing filthier. He kept edging you mercilessly, slowing every time you got close until you were a sobbing, trembling mess, then building back up until the second knot swelled even bigger, stretching you to the absolute limit. “Gonna lock in again… gonna pump another load straight into you. Gonna get you pregnant.”
The knot popped in with a loud, wet squelch that echoed, and another flood hit—thicker, hotter, endless ropes that made your stomach push out a little more noticeably, skin stretching shiny and tight. You came again, cock spurting weakly between your bodies while your walls milked him desperately, the tie lasting even longer this time as he rocked gently, hand rubbing slow circles over your fuller stomach. “Feel how full you are now? That’s all me, baby boy… every drop is mine.”
When the knot went down enough, he lifted you like you weighed nothing, turned you around, and bent you over the edge of the tub. Your chest pressed flush to the cool porcelain, ass high in the air, and he slid right back in from behind—still starting slow and calm, but each thrust landed heavier, balls slapping loudly and wetly while the tub edge dug deliciously into your hips and your cock hung down, swinging and leaking with every brutal slam.
One hand fisted your [hair color] hair, forcing your head up so you had to watch every second in the mirror. “Look how pretty you look getting bred, baby… look at that… that’s all my cum making you swell like this.”
His free hand reached around to stroke your cock again, edging you mercilessly while the other pressed down lightly on your cum-bloated stomach, feeling the sloshing mess with every thrust. The third knot swelled bigger still—he ground it in deliberately, letting the stretch burn so good you saw stars and your moans turned into raw screams of pleasure. When it locked, the third flood was heavier, your belly rounding out further, skin stretched tight, cum already starting to leak in thick rivers down your thighs the moment the knot softened just enough for him to keep moving.
He pressed you against the cold tiled wall next, one of your legs hooked high over his arm, cock driving upward so deep your inner heat felt permanently reshaped around him. The contrast of cold tiles on your back versus the burning stretch inside made every sensation sharper, more overwhelming. He started with those long, rolling thrusts that dragged every vein along your walls, then turned absolutely savage, slamming up into you until your back arched hard and your [hair color] hair stuck wetly to the wall, your cock rubbing frantically against his abs and leaving sticky trails.
“Still not done,” he murmured against your ear, voice still so calm even while he railed you senseless. “Gonna keep breeding you until you can’t take another drop…”
The fourth knot swelled even thicker—he let it stretch you impossibly wide, grinding in torturous circles while your hole fluttered and milked him, then slammed it home with a wet pop that made your vision spark. The fourth flood was massive, your belly noticeably heavier and rounder now in the mirror, skin so tight it gleamed, cum already leaking in heavy rivers down your thighs the second the knot started to soften, but he never let you empty, just kept thrusting through the mess.
When that knot finally gave him room to move, he lowered you gently to the bath mat on the floor, folded you into a deep mating press—knees pushed all the way to your ears, ass tilted up perfectly—and started the fifth round right there. Slow, grinding strokes at first that turned into punishing slams, his hips snapping down with bruising force while your cock was trapped between your bodies, rubbing frantically against your own rounded belly, the friction driving you insane.
The fifth knot swelled one last time as he rubbed slow, possessive circles over your swollen stomach like he was already talking to the weight inside. “Gonna fill you one more time, sweet boy… gonna make sure you’re leaking me for days.”
The knot popped in and the fifth load was bigger yet—thick, endless pulses that made your stomach round out even more noticeably, skin stretched shiny, your own weak orgasm ripping through you as your walls milked him desperately. He held the tie the longest yet, rocking gently, kissing your neck and whispering how perfect you were, how your body was made to take him like this.
But he still wasn’t done. The moment the fifth knot deflated enough, he flipped you onto your hands and knees right there on the mat, sixth round starting instantly—doggy style on the floor with your chest pressed down low, ass arched high, and he mounted you from behind like a beast claiming what was his.
His hands gripped your hips harder than ever, yanking you back onto his cock with every thrust, the angle letting him spear even deeper while your belly hung heavy beneath you, brushing the soft mat with every brutal slam, the weight of it making your arms tremble. He started slow again, dragging out each withdrawal until your hole fluttered and begged, then slammed home with bone-rattling force, balls slapping wetly against your leaking rim, the obscene squelch of all those loads inside you echoing louder than your broken moans.
His hand reached under to stroke your spent cock in rough, uneven pulls while the other pressed down firmly on your belly from above, squeezing the sloshing mess so you felt every thick drop churn and shift inside, making your vision blur with overstimulation.
“Look at you, baby… so fucking full already and I’m still not satisfied,” he growled low, voice steady as ever while he railed you senseless.
He edged you mercilessly again, slowing every time your hole fluttered too close to release, until the sixth knot began swelling—bigger than any before, stretching your rim to its absolute limit until the burn turned into white-hot, mind-melting ecstasy. When it finally popped in with a loud, filthy squelch, the sixth flood hit like a tidal wave—ropes so thick and hot your stomach inflated visibly even more, skin stretching furthermore, the roundness so obvious and heavy it made you scream into the mat, body convulsing violently, cock spurting dryly while your walls milked him for every last drop, the tie lasting so long your legs shook uncontrollably beneath him and your arms gave out completely.
Only when that sixth knot finally softened did he pull you up one last time, pressing your back flush to the cold tiled wall again but this time lifting both your legs to wrap around his waist in a standing full carry. Your arms looped weakly around his neck, body completely suspended on his cock as he drove upward with brutal, measured thrusts, every slam lifting you higher before dropping you back down onto his full length with punishing force. The new angle crushed your swollen stomach, the pressure making the cum inside slosh audibly with every movement while your cock rubbed frantically against his abs, leaving sticky, desperate trails.
He fucked you like this with that same terrifying calm—slow, deep rolls that let you feel every vein dragging along your ruined, oversensitive walls, then savage upward snaps that made your entire body jolt and your hoarse moans turn into shattered, breathless screams. His mouth latched onto your neck, biting fresh claiming marks while one hand supported your ass and the other rubbed slow, possessive circles over your rounded belly.
“One more, baby… gonna give you the biggest load yet… gonna make sure you’re bred so full all of me.”
The seventh knot swelled monstrously, stretching you past what you thought was impossible, the burn so intense your vision blurred with fresh tears as he ground it in deliberately, whispering filthy, loving praise against your ear the entire time.
“So good for me… taking everything I give you… my perfect little breeding boy.”
When it finally locked in with the wettest, loudest pop yet, the final flood exploded inside you—endless, thick ropes that pushed your stomach out even further into that heavy, obvious roundness, skin so tight and shiny it gleamed, the pressure so overwhelming you came again in a dry, shattering orgasm that left you sobbing and completely limp in his arms. He held the tie the longest of all, rocking gently inside you, kissing every tear from your face while your walls fluttered weakly around the massive knot, milking every last drop until you were nothing but trembling, oversensitive heat wrapped around him.
By the time the seventh knot finally began to soften, you were beyond wrecked—body boneless, breath coming in shallow, ragged pants, voice reduced to faint, broken whimpers, your rounded stomach pressing heavily against his, skin stretched taut so every tiny movement sent ripples of overstimulation through you. Thick rivers of cum still leaked slowly from your abused hole whenever he shifted even slightly, dripping down your thighs and pooling on the tiles beneath you.
Damon didn’t rush. He never did.
He eased you down from the wall with infinite care, strong arms cradling your limp weight like you were made of glass, and carried you straight back under the warm spray of the shower. The water hit your overheated skin in soothing waves, washing away sweat and slick and the last traces of your own tears. He held you against his broad chest with one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other gently tilting your head back so the water could rinse your [hair color] hair clean.
“Easy, baby,” he murmured low against your temple, lips brushing your skin in the softest kiss. “I’ve got you. Just breathe for me.”
He reached for the body wash—his favorite one, the one that always smelled faintly of cedar and warm spice—and poured a generous amount into his palm. Then those big, calloused hands began the slow, reverent work of cleaning you. He started at your shoulders, massaging the soap into every bruise and bite mark with feather-light pressure, thumbs circling gently over the dark purple claims he’d left on your throat like he was soothing them rather than admiring them. Down your chest, over the scattered hickeys, along your ribs, careful not to press too hard on your stomach. He cupped the curve in both hands for a long moment, just holding it, feeling the warmth and the faint sloshing beneath the tight skin.
“So beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice thick with awe and something deeper. “Carrying all of me… my perfect omega.”
Only when every inch of your upper body was clean did he lower his hand between your legs.
He slipped two thick fingers inside you first—slow, achingly careful, letting your overworked rim part around them with the barest stretch. You whimpered instantly, hips jerking on reflex, but he shushed you softly, kissing your shoulder.
“Shhh, sweet boy… I know it’s a lot. Just let me take care of you.” His fingers pushed deeper, curling gently at first, stroking along your inner walls in slow, deliberate sweeps.
Every curl coaxed thick, milky globs of his cum to slide out—warm, heavy ropes that dripped down his wrist and mixed with the shower water in obscene, pearly streams. He kept the motion patient but relentless, scissoring slowly to open you wider, pressing firmly against that swollen, oversensitive spot inside you until your soft cock twitched helplessly and a weak dribble of pre-cum leaked out despite how spent you were.
“Still so full of me,” he breathed against your ear, voice low and intimate, almost reverent. “Gonna get every last drop out so you can sleep comfortable, okay? Relax into it… let it happen.”
He added a third finger, stretching you wider still, the burn mingling with that deep, aching pleasure that made your toes curl against the wet tiles. He twisted gently, scissoring in slow, rhythmic motions, fingertips dragging along every ridge and fold, scooping out stubborn globs that clung to your walls. The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers working inside you filled the steam—slow squelches, soft gushes as more cum poured out in heavy waves, running down your thighs in thick rivers before the water carried it away. Every press against that spot made your hole flutter weakly, clenching around his fingers on instinct, milking them the same way it had milked his cock for hours.
You moaned low and broken, too exhausted to do anything but take it, head lolling against his shoulder as fresh tears—different this time, softer, overwhelmed with care—slipped down your cheeks.
“There you go… good boy,” he praised, lips brushing your temple. “Look at all that… so much of me still inside you. Just let it out for me, baby. I’ve got you.”
He kept going, patient, thorough, curling deeper, twisting slower, thumb rubbing firm, soothing circles over your sensitive rim while his other arm held you upright against his chest. Another thick rush leaked out, then another, the warm water finally starting to run clearer as he coaxed the very last stubborn loads from your depths. Your walls fluttered one final time around his fingers, weak and trembling, and he curled them gently one more time just to be sure—making sure nothing was left—before he slowly, carefully withdrew.
The sudden emptiness made you whimper softly, hole clenching around nothing, but he was already there—kissing your neck, your jaw, your tear-streaked cheek. “All done, sweetheart. All clean now.”
He rinsed you again, letting the warm water soothe every aching inch, then turned off the spray and reached for the biggest, softest towel. He dried you with aching tenderness—patting rather than rubbing, careful around every bruise, every bite, every swollen inch of skin. When he reached your stomach he spent extra time, toweling gently over the skin, murmuring quiet praises the whole time. “My beautiful boy… look at you. So perfect.”
Only then did he scoop you up—bridal style this time, your head tucked under his chin—and carry you to the bedroom. He laid you down on cool, clean sheets, slid in behind you, and pulled you flush against his chest. One strong arm draped protectively over your stomach, palm splayed wide like he was already guarding what he’d put there. He held you, letting you feel the solid warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart against your back.
He reached for the bottle of lotion on the nightstand—unscented, the one he knew soothed your skin after a heat—and warmed a generous amount between his palms before smoothing it over every bruise, every bite mark, every fingerprint. His fingers traced each mark with feather-light touches, pressing just enough to ease the ache without causing more. He massaged your shoulders, your neck, down your spine, then spent long minutes on your hips and thighs where the bruises were darkest, working the lotion in slow circles until the tension melted. When he reached your stomach again he was even gentler, rubbing the lotion in with both hands in wide, soothing strokes, feeling the warmth beneath his palms.
“So proud of you, my perfect boy,” he whispered, voice husky with satisfaction and love.
You drifted off completely surrounded by him—owned, cherished, utterly spent and utterly safe—the last sensation the slow, soothing circles of his thumb over your belly, the quiet, unshakable promise in every touch that he would always take care of you like this, no matter how many rounds it took, no matter how full or how wrecked you became.
He pulled the softest blanket over both of you, tucking it carefully around your shoulders. Then he shifted so your head rested perfectly on his chest, one hand carding slowly through your damp [hair color] hair, the other never leaving your stomach—thumb drawing lazy, endless circles over the soft skin. He pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your temple, the top of your head, murmuring the same words over and over: “I love you. You’re safe. You’re mine. I’ve got you. Rest now, baby boy.”
18+ content ahead. angel character x human reader. intentional upper and lower case. lots of references to catholicism. amab, masc reader & character. fem-aligned & minors dni.
thinking about being on your knees alone in a grand cathedral. your eyes are closed, your hands are clasped in prayer, and you’re begging whoever’s out there to intercede for you, to purify your rotten soul. your legs are weak from how long you’ve held this position.
an unfamiliar, warm caress awakens you from your trance, but you have to strain to open your eyes. the incandescent light in front of you is almost unbearable. your corneas sting, and you can feel the beginnings of tears in your eyes.
Cry not, little one. Be not afraid.
the words echo in your head, but have no apparent source. as your sight adjusts, you can make out a shape that is just barely human. it stands between yourself and the altar you were praying to a moment ago. you could have sworn someone touched you, but the creature was much too far from you to do that. it becomes increasingly clear to you what, or who, this creature might be, and the words escape your lips before you can think any further.
“god, is that you?”
the effulgent figure laughs, or at least you think it was him. the sound seems to be coming from your own head, rather than an outside source. his voice is deep and velvety, but it had a musical quality to it.
No, lamb, for I am one of His servants.
you ponder for a moment, only to come to a stronger conclusion. your voice comes out a bit more confident this time.
“a servant of the lord? are you an angel?”
a sudden sensation of warmth fills you, much like happiness or pride. however, you sense that this emotion is not your own, and that it is merely being transferred to you.
That is correct.
his words send a shiver down your spine. tears still threaten to spill from your eyes, but no longer because of his light. rather, you am tempted to cry because due to the sheer awe that has overcome you. your heart races with divine fear of the being in front of you. electricity races through your blood and down, between your legs. you hope he doesn’t notice your growing arousal, especially since you just met the angel.
“s-so… do you have a message for me?”
Not quite, little one. I have been sent to provide an answer for your prayers.
your attempt to stifle your sinful lust is proving to be increasingly unsuccessful. all you can hope is that this angel does not know the human body well enough, so that he does not recognize your flushed cheeks or pounding heart as symptoms of desire.
“would the answer… is it not a message?”
I do not believe a human would interpret it in such a way.
suddenly, an invisible force guides you up, from your knees, and to a standing position. you feel as though you have no choice but to obey, and so you do. that same force compels you forward, the angel following close behind you. you didn’t need to ask to know what this mysterious force was.
now that you stand next to him, you are forced to confront just how much larger he is than you. he has to be at least double your own height. no wonder people are so intimidated by angels. however, he is more like a human than you expected an angel to look.
you stand in between the altar and the tabernacle, your back facing the pews. the angel comes to stand in front of you and lifts you onto the altar.
he cast both yourself and the dim cathedral in a soft glow. you was almost confident that he had toned down his brilliance so that you could bear being so close. his wings spread behind him in a grand display and a halo encircled his head. however, despite all his glory, he did not cast a shadow.
this close, the vague shape of human facial features were visible. although, they were a bit fuzzy, as if not fully realized. there were indents for eyes, the sharp point of a straight nose, and barely discernible lips.
I suppose I should make myself appear more human, if I intend to do what I wish with you.
the fuzzy edges solidified, and he was no longer a being of pure light. he had eyes like storm clouds and hair like silk. he still had his wings, but now they were formed of feathers rather than fire. you were tempted to run your fingers through them, and over his skin, to touch the divine with human flesh. his face broke into a grin and you flushed, remembering he could see your thoughts.
the angel’s robes were done up lazily, and could be pulled apart with a little tug, as if he was trying to tempt you. you could do nothing to hide your growing arousal, especially since he was right in front of you. even then, you made a pathetic attempt at covering yourself up.
he flicked your hands aside with ease, saying, “You need not hide yourself from me, little lamb. I already know how you feel.”
your face twisted in confusion, distracting from his slight teasing. “why are you speaking aloud to me if you can speak directly into my head?”
“Humans seem to be less afraid of me when I communicate in this way and in a human form. However, I do not seem to have that same problem with you. Even your tears came from a place of awe rather than fear.” one of his hands now cradled your face, as his eyes gazed into yours like you were the divine being here. he scoffed slightly as you leaned into his touch without apprehension, scooting infinitesimally towards him. “You are a curiosity amongst your kind, my dear. That is precisely how you managed to catch my attention. In truth, I have been watching you for some time now.”
you couldn’t help but question him again. “how long?”
“Not too long, but enough to become somewhat attached to you. I know you have being crying out to have your soul to be purified, especially since confession has been ineffective for you, and I have a method of doing so.”
“that method involves me being… here?” you gestured widely to the altar you were currently sitting upon.
“Why do I not just show you?”
before you could utter another word, his lips pressed against yours. how could you think whilst being held in the embrace of a sacred being, molded by god? how could describe the kiss of an angel?
his soft mouth fit against yours, like you were made for this kind of devotion. his hands, once stationary, now roamed your body, eager to learn every secret by touch alone, as well as to create a new one. the angel spread your legs with ease.
you balked at his experience, gasping and allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. you didn’t expect a being such as him to be able to command your body effortlessly.
he tasted like saccharine wine, reminiscent of receiving communion in your childhood. the angel’s tongue slid against your own, drawing whimpers and whines from deep inside your throat.
the angel guided you to lay down on the altar, as he pushed deeper into your mouth. the moment he pulled away, you were gasping for breath. “you’re… really good at that for an angel,” you sputtered.
“I have been around since the beginning of humanity. It is only logical that I would possess at least some knowledge about pleasing a human.” he looked upon you with such adoration that, if you weren’t already blushing, you could have blushed from that look alone.
without you noticing, he had already jumped to disrobing you. his fingers rested upon the first buttons of your shirt. “You do want this, correct?”
“i think you already know the answer to that.”
“Still, I would like to hear it from your lips.”
“yes, i do.”
“Good,” he said, immediately diving back in to kissing you. meanwhile, his hands worked on removing your clothes. with the way you both were positioned, you could not return the favor. you had no choice but to take what the angel gave to you.
you would have shivered without your shirt, were it not for the warmth of his body above you. you let him guide you through each movements of what is both, to you at least, a foreign ritual and a familiar fantasy.
as his hands moved down, so did his mouth. the angel took his time, pressing kisses to each inch of flesh he had available to him. it didn’t take him long to find the spot that would make you react the most: the junction between your neck and shoulder. he lightly nipped at the flesh, forcing a moan from deep inside your body. “That is precisely what I like to hear,” he muttered against your skin.
his fingers worked at unzipping your slacks, tight due to your fervent arousal, and nearly ripped them off you as soon as he could. however, the angel refused to touch you wanted, needed, him most.
you attempted to move in the only way you could, bucking your hips into his hands and whining, “touch me, please…?”
“Not yet, little one,” he said, using one hand to hold you down whilst the other removed your underwear. “Do you really think you deserve that right now?”
already knowing the answer to his question, you were about to respond “no”. but before you could, the angel fully removed your undergarments, and a whine tore through your throat.
you were humiliated with your position, being naked and wanting in front of a divine being. however, your full erection told a different story. like a lamb in the arms of a priest, you thoughtlessly laid forth your weaknesses. you let the angel guide you, with the promise of happiness.
he pulled away from your body, and you whined at the loss of his warmth. “Shush, my dear. You look so much better like this.” His eyes roamed your body, alight with passion and admiration. “Humans were always meant to be bare. They were meant to submit. Here you are, fulfilling your divine purpose. You’re already on the right track.”
“like… this?” you could hardly believe that something so right could cause you to feel so embarrassed.
“Do you not remember how you were in the Garden of Eden? I shall return you to that purity. Worry not, my dear, for you were also humiliated after the Fall.”
“well… what about you?” you said, now able to reach for his clothes.
the angel flicked your hands away once again. “Have patience, lamb. All will come in due time.”
his head, once resting in the crook of your neck now dives down, where you were just begging him to touch a moment ago. he licks teasingly at your tip, refusing to give you the exact pleasure you want.
you’re tempted to buck into his mouth, hands fisting at the cloth of the altar. you sighed at the feeling of finally having some friction against your aching arousal. however, you knew he’d take it away as soon as you tried to reach your own high.
he removed his lips from your erection temporarily, and a grin pulled at his lips. “Notice how it is not that difficult? You’re learning. Good boy.”
you were about to whine, but he immediately shut you up, taking you deep into his mouth and directly contradicting his earlier actions. his eyes met yours, bearing the color and passion of swirling storm clouds.
similarly, his tongue swirled around your length, switching between flicking your tip and licking long stripes underneath. it was hard to flush at the look he was giving when you couldn’t see it, since your head had tossed back in ecstasy.
as you looked to the sky and met eyes with the saints, you wondered how god would see this. you were moaning like a whore on an altar of worship. engaging in such behavior with a sacred creature had to be sinful in some way. for some strange reason, the thought only aroused you more.
however, the angel had initiated the encounter himself, and claimed he was sent for this. had god seen your desires and decided to be merciful? this notion was less comforting than you thought it might be.
surely, this angel get mad at you for perverting what was meant to be a purification ritual. he would see you sin for what it is: something immedicable. the idea of being scolded pushed you nearly to the edge-
“Do you truly believe you deserve to cum when you think things such as that?” your head shot up as he cruelly pulled off of you, taking away the friction your body so desperately craved.
“what? i-i don’t know what you’re talking about…” you stuttered, pathetically eager to reach the high that has been ripped away from you.
“Don’t lie to me. You know you can’t.”
you were opening your mouth to speak, but your breath caught as the angel finally disrobed. he discarded his garments carelessly behind him, and your eyes feasted on the sight of his body like a glutton. the only sound you could emit was a high whine.
without warning, the angel folded your legs up and shoved two fingers inside you. if he was as frustrated as you suspected, he didn’t let it show on his face. instead he was smiling down on you, encouraged evermore by the sounds that cascaded from your mouth.
he quickly broke this eye contact and set his sights on a new target: your chest. the angel leaned over you, further bending you in half. as he licked at one of your nipples, he pushed a third finger inside you.
your back arched and your nails scratched at his back, threatening to rip through his skin. all your senses were filled completely with him. you were still inebriated on the taste of his mouth. the shape of his halo had burned into your eyes. his fingers moved in and out of you with a wet schlik, massaging your sweet spot. he mouthed at your chest greedily, eager to drain you of every last moan he could.
you keened as the angel pushed a fourth finger inside you. he switched to your other areola, but his other hand played with the already sore one. you grasped as his wings as you were about to reach the edge, and the angel let a low groan, almost devilish in its possessiveness. he pulled out and off your chest, denying you your pleasure once again.
you wanted to cry, you wanted to cum, you wanted to be torn apart and put back together again by an angel you didn’t even know the name of. your nails dug into the bare flesh of a divine being, you wanted to make him bleed for denying you again.
“Calm down, little one. You’ll get your pleasure when I decide you deserve it.”
you couldn’t even form full sentences anymore, only fragments or whine fell from lips. any semblance of defiance died before it left your throat.
“Now, you’re about to get something much better. Hold still.”
he punctuated his sentence by thrusting deep into you, filling you up almost immediately. you let out a low moan when you realized he was still sinking into you. you knew he would be big, but you swore you could feel him in your throat.
he finally stopped, giving you a moment to breathe. the weight of him inside you was almost comforting. the only sounds in this dim place were your mixed breathing.
the angel then pulled out, leaving only his tip inside you, before slamming back in. you made a desperate noise that echoed inside the church, somewhere between a scream and a moan. your hands gripped onto his wings like they were your last lifeline as he began to pound into you.
he acted with a ferocity you didn’t know he possessed, and you were unsure if the angel was angry or extremely passionate. either way, he was ensuring you wouldn’t forget this experience.
he filled your vision, looking down at you with a grin on his face. you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “You wish to confess? Recall your sins, and by my power, I shall shrive you.”
oh. oh.
“bless me, Lord, for- ngh~” you attempted to initiate the confession, but couldn’t get through a whole sentence without moaning or stuttering. “for I have sinned- mfghh- i don’t remember my last confession-”
“Oh, dear. You truly are such an impure creature. Confess, now.” the angel said, without any real pity. he only seemed pleased, and thrusted in and out of you unceasingly.
“i-i have lusted after- mhhh- holy beings-”
one of his hands now rested over your heart. he gazed into your eyes, his own a reflection of the heavens. “Of this sin, with this kiss, I absolve you.”
his lips pressed to yours, gentle and forgiving and he stilled. his wings surrounded you in a soft cocoon. for a moment, the world slowed to a halt. for a moment, all that existed was a human, an angel, and a kiss.
a million things flashed through your mind, but at the forefront was the creation of adam. how could adam resist reaching out? how could he deny himself the pleasure of knowing divine flesh?
his lips broke away from yours, and he shushed your whining. “I have yet to give you your penance, little one. To receive full absolution, cum for me.”
he resumed his thrusts with renewed focus, and you came as soon as he gave the command. “You’re so tight, lamb,” he groaned in your ear. “You’ve done such a good job.”
he rammed into you, cumming deep inside you. the angel kissed you on your forehead, whispering, “Good night, my little lamb. I suspect I shall see you again soon.”
when you wake a few hours later, you will no longer be in the cathedral. instead, you will be in your bed, and the morning light will be pouring through your window. on your nightstand, you will find two unfamiliar objects: a necklace, the pendant of which is a feather, and a prayer card, bearing the name of an angel you’ve never heard of.
knight’s duty
knight au > vallen ( oc ) x bttm prince m reader
Vallen’s eyes were sharper than the sword he wielded, and his voice was as polished as his metallic armour.
‘The prince’s favorited’ they called him. And they weren’t wrong.
On a particularly warm spring evening, Vallen found you slumped against a window peering out to your garden. Your palm pushed against your cheek, and you sighed dramatically enough to draw his attention towards you. He found that amusing, leaning his forearm against his sheathed sword as he slowly approached you. Vallen stopped an inch before you, his eyes drawn to the vast garden before shifting his gaze to the pouty prince on his velvet chairs.
“What’s the matter?” He asks.
“It’s too sunny to go outside,” you huff; the sun had never been kind to your skin.
“But do you want to?”
You nod.
“Then I don’t see why not.” Vallen brings up his palm for you to take, smoothing a thumb over your knuckles as he gently leads you to the door connecting to the garden. His heavy armour rattles as he pushes the door open for you, bowing his head slightly as you walk out under the sun. Your eyes twitch and ache as the light practically blinds you, and you’re close to just turning around and walking back inside before something shades you from the harsh rays. Vallen had extended his arm out above your head, using his gold embroidered mantle as a makeshift parasol.
“Better, my prince?” He coos, his sleek armour glittering under the sun’s refraction. Vallen is quick to point out a bed of roses where one had bloomed before the rest. He curls his arm towards you, guiding you gently to draw your attention to the red flower.
You’re about to lean down, to pluck the rose from the garden before Vallen flicked his gloved hand against yours, stopping you from doing anything.
“You’ll get your pretty silk pants dirty if you bend,” he scolded, and where he had slapped your hand away, though incredibly gentle, Vallen smoothed his palm over your knuckles as if to soothe any lingering pains. He knelt down himself, harsh, jagged armour meeting the soil with a moist crunch as he pulled the flower out from the ground.
“Thank you,” you breathe out, taking the beautiful rose into your fingers, waving it under your nose to catch a sniff of its floral scent.
Vallen stood, his eyes narrowed down to the stem of the rose still earthy with dirt, “We should go back inside, I’ll handle the rose. You just focus on not having ladybugs crawling down your fingers” he flicked his finger at the small ladybug now making its way down your wrist, scoffing with a small smile as you jumped.
The rose settled inside a glass vase on your nightstand, sated with the amount of water Vallen had given it with.
His armour was discarded on the floor beside the door, lying useless now as his focus was on your body. Vallen trailed his fingers down your bare stomach, having a smile twitch his lips when you visibly shuddered and your chest heaved with each deep breath. He thought it was painfully cute. Vallen hadn’t opened your shirt fully, leaving the sheer fabric to pathetically cover the rest of your torso. He could still see the subtle swell of your chest and the pinkish blush covering your shoulder-down.
“Cold?” He purred, his hands slipping underneath both your trousers and your underwear to cleanly pull them off your legs. He guided the clothing down to your shins until they tangled at your ankles. “My prince,” he chuckled, glancing at the cherry-red head of your cock and the pearly bead accumulating at the slit, “Eager, are we? Your humble knight, undressing you, turns you on?” You hate his tone, his cunning smile and his intensely honeyed voice. And you especially hate how he knows you more than he should.
“That’s not true,” you bite back, but your words waver under his intense stare.
“Is that so?”
He leans over your body to lather his hands with lubricant, and then he prods his finger at the tight pucker of muscle as if to test its resistance. He pushes once, twice and the third one lets him slip right past. Vallen’s free hand grasps your weeping cock, his thumb rubbing at the underside of your already sensitive tip. He applied the lubricant directly onto your heated flesh, elicting a loud whine as you feel the cool substance coat your dick.
Vallen is quick to slot another finger into your tight hole the second he feels your tender walls relax enough to let him. He curls his fingers, poking at your insides to find your prostate—its quite easy when your whole body jerks and pre-cum cascades down the length of your cock when he digs his fingers into a specific area. He presses deep circles against that sweet spot while his other hand pumps your slicked girth.
“My lord,” he sighs, almost dramatically, “I can’t do anything without your permission.” He’s a sly bastard and he knows it, swiping his index finger along the very tip of your cockhead, smearing the creamy liquid that bubbles out of it. “Tell me to let you cum.”
The words are lodged in your throat, and you’re only able to muster out a few broken grunts. Your back arches with each teasing circle of Vallen’s fingers abusing your poor prostate, the bed creaked in retaliation to your writhing.
“Vallen—“ You choke out, and he responds with a small ‘hm?’
“I need to hear words, your majesty. Use your words.”
A moan spills from your lips as you grasp at the bed sheets, curling the satin fabric into your fists.
“Do your duty,” you grit out, “And make me cum.”
“As you wish, prince.” Vallen leans his head down, kissing at your stomach while his fist tightened its grip on your cock, feeling your pulse throb against his palm as he jerked up and down. His fingers pushed deep thrusts, creating a wet, obscene sound as lube mixed with your own pre. You feel the fluttering sensation of your stomach tightening into a thick knot, and the pressure of Vallen’s soft kisses pressing down into your pelvis makes that knot unravel.
Your vision blurs as ropes of white splatter across your stomach, catching on the side of Vallen’s lip as he chuckles against your trembling stomach.
He pulls away to swipe the corner of his mouth with a finger, darting his tongue out to have a taste of his prince.
Synopsis: After your first time, you couldn't help but ask for more.
2.6k words
CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW, bottom male reader, the ship does not sail, implied consent, handjobs, creampie, use of pet names (love, darling), feminine descriptors towards the reader (pretty), praise kink, voice kink, sex worker top oc, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (if you squint), spit as lube, rimming? (kind of?)...
Note: I did not expect to write part two. Long overdue, so sorry about that.
No beta, we die like men.
The glow of your phone bit into the darkness of the room. Your fingers were moving on their own as they texted the same number, but your rationality stopped them just as they hovered over the “send” button. You strayed back to his arms around you, his deliberate gaze as he waited for your nod, his gravely voice calling you “love” or “darling…
Click.
You tossed the phone onto the sheets. It buzzed before it hit the mattress.
He's not free this week, but he promises to put you on his schedule whenever he has an opening. You'd get to see him again.
The day comes by faster than you'd expect. You ruffle your hair for the fifth time and fix your collar for the third. You reached for the cologne, but pulled back as if the glass bottle was hot to the touch.
No. It's not even a night out. What were you thinking?
You pause for a moment. It could be a night out.
You had memorized every clause of the paperwork and found nothing in the fine print that forbade open air, or street food, or him looking at you under the glow of anything other than a bedside lamp.
That means…
Your fingers click send again before you can second-guess yourself. The read receipt pops up, and the three gray dots begin to dance
"A fireworks festival? Sounds fun, let's meet up at the entrance."
Despite the hassle of a commute to a crowded event area, it was a breath of fresh air to see him at the entrance staring idly at his phone. God, he was just as beautiful as you remembered.
"Hey..." you drifted into his personal space, taking in the familiar clean scent of his cologne. "Um...thanks for agreeing to go out with me." The words came out squeaky and thin. You bit your lip, wishing you had kept your mouth shut.
He laughs politely. "You're saying like I’m doing you a favor..." He straightens and laces his fingers with yours. "Let's have fun tonight, okay?"
The muggy summer evening was made bearable by his palm pressed against yours. The smell of grilled squid and sweet syrup filled the lantern-lit festival, and young children bubbled about between the stalls.
A sudden burst of joy from a nearby stall turned your head. You watched as children hoisted up their paper nets with wriggling orange fish as the water dripped down their elbows. You hadn't realized you stopped until he squeezed your hand.
"You want to play?"
His grin was boyish, and his eyes bright. It's almost as if he's more enthusiastic about this than you were. You feel a smile creep up on your lips as you tilt your head, "Let's play."
A few coins clinked onto the counter, and two fragile paper circles were handed in return. One for him, and one for yourself. The children parted like the Red Sea, providing a path to the shallow tub. The goldfish zig-zagged under the clear water, the water rippling on the surface. Their golden scales shimmered in the lantern light. You dipped your net, but the fish was a blur of motion, leaving you with nothing but a soggy rim of paper.
"Damn," you grumbled, "I forgot how much I sucked at this."
"Here," the voice was a gentle murmur against your ear. His hand slides over yours, his fingers curling gently over your pulse.
“You’re too tense,” his breath brushed against the shell of your ear. “Move slowly… like this.”
He guides your hand through the water, but you've forgotten how to breathe. The lantern's golden reflections ripple on the water, blending with the goldfish as your vision spins with the waves.
"Keep your eyes on the target, love," he teases as his lips graze against your ear.
It's unfortunately hard to focus on the task at hand when the perfect distraction keeps breathing down your neck.
You strive to concentrate. With a single arc, the fish breaches the surface.
"You did it.”
You were still staring at the fish when he returned, dangling a water-filled plastic bag. "Come on." He smiles, reaching a hand out towards you, "We'll miss the firewords if you keep hunkering down on the ground like that."
The moment your hand lands in his, he pulls you up with no effort and intertwines his fingers with yours. The goldfish swam around in the bag, splashing the water.
A jagged, high-pitched sob cut through the festive bustle. Nearby, a little girl stood over the tub, her face crumpled and her cheeks slick with tears. The paper net in her hand had already torn through and turned into a soggy mush of failure. Her friends hovered a few feet away, hoisting their goldfish-filled bags like trophies.
The sight was resonating. Without a word, you reached out, slid the plastic bag from his fingers, and began weaving through the crowd, dragging him along in your wake.
"Hey," you call out softly, dropping to a crouch beside her, "You want mine?"
She sniffles, hiccupping mid-cry, eyes wide as she stares at the orange fish circling inside the plastic bag in your hand, "R-Really?"
You nod and place the bag in her small hands. She stares at the fish in awe before looking back up with a toothy smile, "Thank you!"
You smile once more and get ready to leave when her gaze travels to the man beside you. You turn to look at him before returning to her inquisitive gaze.
"...Is that your boyfriend?"
Huh?
Your mind runs a mile a minute as you find a strategy to explain to the young girl that he is, in fact, not your boyfriend but a man you hired to play the act of one. Though all that effort only caused heat to flood your face as you began spluttering like a fish out of water, "I- Wha- I mean, we're not-"
She blinks a few times, "But you're holding hands, isn't that what couples do?"
You immediately release his hand, but unfortunately, he kept his hand tightly intertwined with yours. You turn to him panickedly, but he doesn’t even look at you and smiles warmly at the girl.
“He’s sweet, isn’t he?” he says, nodding toward you with a playful wink. “Make sure you take good care of that little goldfish, okay?”
The girl nods vigorously before bolting off to her friends, clutching the bagged goldfish close to her chest. Once she disappeared into the crowd, your face collapses in your empty hand.
"Oh my god...why did she..."
He laughs heartily, "Don't be embarrassed, kids say whatever they want." He tugs at your hand, "Let's get going-"
"Why didn't you deny it?" You blurt out. You peer at him through the gaps of your fingers when he replies with silence. He carefully pries the hand on your face and tilts your chin up with his finger. His eyes glowed with the lantern lights as he stared deep into yours.
"You're right. I didn't."
Before you can say anything else, he steps away and squeezes your hand. “Come on,” he urged. “Let’s go see the fireworks before the crowd swallows us whole."
You still haven't caught your breath as he pulls you through the crowd.
"Shh, keep your voice down, love. I can't let anyone else indulge in your sweet sounds," he cooed, his chest pressed against your back, an arm squeezing you close, with his free hand stroking your hard cock.
The fireworks kept going off in the distance.
Your throat constricted as he squeezed your dick. “Ah…hah…fuck- your hand…!” Your pants were pooled at your ankles as you struggled to fight disassociation. If it weren't for him holding onto you so tightly, you would've already crumbled to the floor. The fear of someone passing by finding out by squinting too hard at the alleyway drove you insane. What were the odds?
The summer air wasn’t helping one single bit. It was so hard to breathe.
“Slow…slow down…you’re gonna make me….!”
“Hm? Too much? But you look so adorable like this…” he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eye, breaking the teardrop that hung on the edge, “Look at you, I’ve barely touched you and you’re crying already.” Your hips bucked against his hand as he squeezed the tip of your cock, smearing the precum messily over your swollen tip. The heat of his body drove you crazy…oh, fuck. All you wanted was for him to fuck you on his cock until you saw stars.
He seemed to have taken the hint and began rubbing his clothed bulge against your ass. You groaned as he teasingly bit your ear, “Come on, now,” his voice against your ear, “I know you want it, but you gotta tell me, darling.”
To make matters worse, he slowed his hand, breaking the buildup to your high.
You scowled as your body flushed with embarrassment, “Please…fuck me…” you squeezed out.
“Hm?” He leans closer and holds your cheeks, turning your face to him. “I can’t hear you over the fireworks, you’ve got to talk louder, darling.”
Your eyes lost focus as you heard event goers pass by the mouth of the alleyway. The fireworks had died down by now, and any reckless sound could lead to punishment. Your mouth stitched shut from the fear of exposure.
He taps your cheek.
“Focus here, my love. Tell me what you want.” The dim neon of the alleyway lit up his perfect face.
Ah…damn it all...not when he's looking like that.
You stare deep into his expectant gaze, your eyes glossy with tears, “Please…I want your cock inside of me...I want you to fuck me until I can't breathe anymore.”
He grins and releases your face, “That’s my darling. Good job.” Your request was quickly obliged as he spat at your hole and wasted no time entering you in a fluid motion.
"Fuck...!" The pain was unbearable, but you slammed your palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds. Tears ran recklessly down your face as you held your breath and bit back the sting. You swore you were a few seconds from passing out. "Don't...don't move just yet...please..." You could barely control your body anymore; it was just so much at once.
"Shh, it's okay, I won't move until you tell me to." He cooed and brushed the side of your face, smearing your tears.
After what felt like hours, you slowly nod, allowing him to move. He wastes no time and slowly drags his cock in and out of you. Your puffy hole spasmed around his thick cock, trying to accommodate him. You've given up on preserving your dignity, and soft moans escape your lips. It somehow encouraged him to keep up the pace and begin angling his hips to where he hit the spot just right.
Your legs began to tremble as he abused that spot. Every thrust was more precise than the one before. "...too...too much- It's too much...!" You clench around him as you feel the knot in your stomach fray. "I'm gonna cum-"
Your fingers dig into the concrete wall as your cum coats the floor. Your legs shook as he continued hammering your sensitive spot, disregarding the fact that you had just come.
"Hah...you're taking me so well..." He praised, squeezing the curve of your ass. His fingers rubbed against the swollen rim of your hole, teasing it with some additional stretch. "You look so adorable right now, my darling...if only you could see how you look."
"...Shut up...gah...just finish up already." Everything hurt like a goddamn bitch. Your body shook as he drove you to overstimulation.
He laughs at your complaint and kisses your nape, "Sorry, darling, I can't let this end so quickly, not when you've only came once." He drags his cock all the way out, leaving only his tip at your rim before slamming back inside your stretched hole, hitting your prostate with precision.
"Fuck...you're gonna make me cum again if you keep doing that...!" You hissed through your teeth as he gripped your hips tightly and continued to abuse your hole.
"That's just all right with me."
You could tell he was close by how erratic his thrusts became. The world was blurring from your tears, and you weren't sure how you hadn't hit the floor at this point.
He brings your face close to his, "You're taking me so well...just a little longer, okay?" He reaches down and squeezes your swollen tip teasingly.
Your body jolts from the overstimulation. By this point, you completely disregarded everything and focused only on him. He groans as you squeeze your hole around his cock.
“Hah, goddammit, you look so pretty right now,” he groans, taking your mouth into his. He speeds up his thrusts, chasing his high before releasing your mouth from the kiss. “I’m gonna cum inside you, okay?”
“O-okay-“
That makes him go wild. You cry out as he grabs your hip roughly to slam you against each of his thrusts, shoving his cock deeper into you than ever before. Although he stopped touching you, your legs still trembled from the pleasure. His rhythm turns erratic and desperate as he pulls you into a kiss again. With one final thrust, he releases deep inside you. You forcefully break free from the kiss to gasp for air as tears flow down your face.
He catch’s his breath slowly and thrusts against your swollen hole a few more times before pulling out to admire the sight. “Fuck, look at you…you took me so well.”
You could only groan in reply. He flips you back around so you can see his face again. You were counting on the wall for support. Your mouth felt so dry despite the humidity in the air. You glance out the alleyway. For some reason, no one noticed. The night life was still going on without an interruption.
“Still worried about being outside, hm?” He runs a hand along your face. He lets out a sigh when you obviously weren’t paying attention. “I was too rough with you, weren’t I? Sorry for that. I did you a disgrace by having you get fucked for the second time in your life inside an alleyway like this.”
You shake your head.
“No…I didn’t hate it…”
“But yet, that doesn’t mean you liked it either.”
He grows silent and begins cleaning you up. Being an escort probably meant that things like this occurred often enough to make him bring baby wet wipes on him. His eyes seemed deep in thought as he wiped you down.
He gets both of you dressed quickly, but neither of you make a move to begin walking.
You bite your lip and look at him. “So, um, thank you for tonight. Let me-” You reach to pay him but he stops you with his hand.
“Let me at least walk you back.”
The walk back was awfully quiet. The handholding from earlier tonight was gone. Even though you walked close to him, it felt like there was a barrier between you.
You stand at the familiar sight of your apartment door.
“Ah, well, thank you for walking me back,” You glance at him, and check the time on your phone. “I think you can make the last train. Here, let me pay you-”
He cuts you off with a kiss.
“There’s no need. Thank you for tonight.”
His hand cups your cheek for an extra millisecond before it slips away. However, you grab his hand before he can turn.
“Wait! Same time next week?”
A look of shock graced his features. He stares into your eyes for a split second before letting out a humorless huff of a laugh.
Childhood best friend OC who became popular x nerd male reader idea in which both of them end up stuck in the Backrooms because why not
You and Matt used to be joined at the hip when you were growing up. Ever since you moved to this small town with your mom when you were six and he said "hi" to you on the first day of kindergarten, you've been an item. Everyone knew that if one of you was around, the other one was close.
At least it used to be like that.
Middle school was a peculiar experience—puberty, social hierarchies, and whatnot. You didn't really care about all that, even if your hobbies and the things you liked labeled you as a "nerd." You thought it was absolutely ridiculous—if "nerd" is the best insult you can think of, that's just pitiful—but Matt, on the other hand, started to pull away from you.
It wasn't something that happened overnight, more like a continuous, slow effort to keep you on the sidelines. So slow that you barely noticed at first. I mean, it's middle school; everyone makes new friends, there's nothing to worry about, right? You didn't have time to think about all that, not when you were in the middle of your own chaotic pre-teenager revelations—like the stupid, embarrassing crush you seemed to have towards your dumb best friend, which made you avoid him in public, too.
By the time you started high school, no one at school had any idea that you two were friends. He was on the baseball team, always surrounded by his loud, obnoxious little group and their disgusting jokes. You enjoyed your time alone, made your own friends, and kept enjoying the same interests that made Matt step aside.
Funny enough, your friendship was still alive and strong.
It was a weird feeling to have to sneak to his house when it was already dark outside, always using the back door like some nasty secret, someone with no right to enter through the front like a normal guest—like you used to do before Matt decided people knowing you two were friends was embarrassing. The little secretive show was over once you were inside; you would greet his dad, grab something from the fridge, and go straight to his room where he usually had a movie or a video game ready to play.
It went on for almost four years, until that specific night of your senior year. You chose a movie, he brought some snacks, and then his dad told him he got a call from work and needed to head out for the night. Matt's eyes glowed with that playfulness you knew so well, and as soon as Matt’s dad was out the door, Matt sprinted to the kitchen. He came back with a cheap whiskey bottle, already half-finished, that he managed to sneak inside the house.
You don't remember very well what happened after—who leaned in first, who pushed against the other's lips, who let the kiss linger for as long as it did—but when you woke up the next morning, Matt was already gone.
That's when the real avoidance started.
If he barely acknowledged you in public before, now he pretended you didn't exist, shoulders tense and eyes nailed to anything but you. Every time you invited him to your house or asked to go to his, he would make some excuse, and every time you texted him, he would read the message but never respond.
So you stopped.
Soon after, as if some cruel joke of the life that seemed to hate you, you ended up in this place. You went to the mall planning to watch the new release of your favorite franchise and took a wrong turn. Suddenly, everything was halls and halls of infinite length and a dissertation that bordered on creepy.
You don't know how long you wandered around—hours, days, maybe weeks. The place kept changing, opening new doors to different scenarios. Every one looked more and more familiar, adjusting to your memories and adapting to you.
And one day you saw him.
Matt.
He practically knocked you over, panicked and overwhelmed and somehow happy, saying that he's been looking for you for months, that your mom is worried sick, that he was sorry. You even cried a little—not because you were scared before, of course not.
So you start looking for the exit with him, grateful for the company, euphoric because you don't feel like you'll go crazy anymore, after so long with nothing but your own thoughts to distract you—and who better for the job than your crush?
It felt like things between you two were finally going back to normal, or at least as normal as they can be in a luminal space filled with entities. He had also stopped treating you as a freak—yes, because of the lack of people, but a win is a win.
You were happy. Somehow. Maybe you had already lost it. But he didn't look that miserable either.
At least not now, sitting beside you in a classroom with an eerie similarity to your kindergarten class, illegible books spread over the floor and desks of different sizes organized in some sort of specific chaos. The colors on the wall are so bright and artificial that they make your eyes hurt. Both your backs rest against the wall after you stop for a small break, the silence in the room somehow comfortable. You suppress the need to rest your head on his shoulder.
"That night," he starts, out of nowhere. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I don't know. Everything, I guess. Ignoring you."
The silence stretches. Seconds that feel like hours, since you don't know how to answer. And then, really tiny: "Why did you do that?"
"I thought you were going to reject me after I kissed you."
You turn your head so fast your neck hurts.
Matt also looks at you, somehow shy, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach flap their wings so hard you might as well throw up. You don't move when his hand raises to your neck, thumb tracing patterns on your jaw, nor when his eyes drop to your lips and stay there. You let him lean closer and closer, until his breath crashes against your mouth and you can hear his heart pounding in his chest.
The memories of that night come crashing down.
The way you kissed him first.
The shock makes you push him away. You lose your balance and land on your elbows. The way he looked at you, surprised and confused and hurt, almost made you apologize.
"That's not what happened."
But your memories don't match how they're supposed to.
Matt's face twists into something morbid, eyes losing all light and mouth stretching unnaturally. The air around him changes—how he moves, how he breathes, how he fits in the room, everything shifts. The room stretches, the walls grow pale, the air gets colder.
