Brant x f!siren!reader (spicy but not full nsfw) Wuwa
Evening! This was the top voted prompt from the poll sorry it took so long I had many tests to take and study for 🫠
I’m so ready to pull for him omgggg
Preview: he continued, “I must believe it to be true, as I can’t stop thinking about whether you feel soft to hold, to kiss…”
Scales shimmered in the moonlight, jingling on a rope from the rhythm of waves that jostled the ship. “Siren” scales, so the old man that sold them claimed to the curious sailor. They were so enchanting where they hung in the corner of a large bay window in Brant’s quarters. The light reflected off them, casting the scale’s color along the walls and other items that captured his interest. A myth, he told himself, but ended up paying for the trinket anyway. Sometimes he could swear a certain jostle would cause the scales to create a melody as they touched. The sounds would return in his dreams, so much so that the urge to search for this “myth” became too much. It wouldn’t hurt to look, as the sea often hid many secrets. Glancing again at the scales, drink in hand, he thought of an idea. If he wanted to find something in the sea, he’d have to offer something in return.
You cursed as you stared at your reflection from atop the rock. The waves weren’t the best source of a mirror, but you could still tell where the healing wound was on your beautiful but not so flawless anymore tail. You were missing more than seven scales. Seven! They took ages to grow back, and they were missing all in one spot from a fisherman’s spear throw that happened to strike true. The embarrassment you felt was huge, although there were no other sirens around to make fun of you for it. The worst part was that you couldn’t find your missing scales. You liked to keep them, make jewelry from your own beauty by putting it in your hair, on your ears, or to your breast coverings, but after scraping the sea floor and coming up empty handed, you gave up on looking.
It frustrated you. Clearly you underestimated the old man’s sight as you swam closer than usual under a boat. You guess he had seen your shadow and immediately thrown his weapon. It hurt of course, and you panicked, swimming quickly downward and out of sight, bleeding from your tail as seven precious scales floated up to the surface.
Sighing, you turned away from the water, resting your head on your palm. The air was nice, something you couldn’t feel under water. The small retractable gills under your jaw helped filter oxygen through water, but having another set of lungs allowed you to breathe air like a human above the sea. Often you’d think about the human’s and their activities on the ocean. Pirates were the most interesting to you. You’d heard that in the distant past, pirates used to hunt for your kind, keeping them as treasures among their hoards of wealth. Crazy as it might have sounded, you were curious about their treasures. Pirates seemed to have the same taste in all things that glittered under the sun as you did. Would it be so bad to be a pirate’s beloved treasure that they tended to be so possessive over?
In exploring the shipwrecks that had sunken to the depths, you always found the captain, clad in gold and shimmering gems that were still in those skeletal hands. They all seemed to love their treasure, dying covered in it with their ship. A fascinating attachment to their material things you thought. Some even had gems embedded in their teeth, many of those teeth hanging around your neck as decor now.
Your fingers ran over the sensitive barred flesh where your scales were missing, annoyed at the absence of the hard sheen that coated the entirety of your tail. The beautiful fins attached to your back and tail end flopped on the rock, much like an annoyed cat thumped its own tail on the ground to let it be known they were frustrated.
What could you do to lift your spirits? Spirits?…drinks…Sometimes when rummaging through sunken pirate treasure, you’d find closely sealed bottles that hadn’t broken under the pressure of the water, containing some dark colored liquid that made you feel hot and funny. You really liked those when you drank them on your rock, and since they were pretty hard to find, you usually kept them for rare occasions. This seemed like a very important occasion you reasoned with yourself, and quickly retreated back into the depths to gather a bottle to bring back up.
After several minutes of turning your fingers red trying to get the damn cork off, the bottle popped, little drops of the liquid flying out. The tang of it hit your tongue nicely, and soon the bottle was almost gone. You kind of forgot about your scale dilemma, singing to yourself your favorite songs that the sea had taught you.
In the middle of your one siren performance, you heard a familiar chime. It was too distant to come from your own scale made trinkets, but you knew the sound well. They were yours. Shaking your head from the heat of the drink, you set down the now empty bottle haphazardly. You were going to get those scales back. The sound of your body crashing into the water was muffled by the waves bashing up on cliffs and rocks, your water dynamic form cruising through the deep. You could hear the sounds underwater, the uncanny magic of your own scales calling out to you. There, they were hanging from a string above a ship. Swimming closer to the surface, you noticed other shimmering items beside your scales, glittering like the gold and jewels found on pirate captain remains. Your eyes gleamed with want, so quickly you dive deep before dashing upward with your tail, preparing to make the leap above.
Brant wasn’t planning on making contact with a siren, even seeing the shadow of one drawn by the sound of what was hopefully its scales would be enough to satiate his curiosity. The last thing he wanted to do was take a mythical creature captive for his own gain. Holding out the scales on a string, he let the wind do its work, moving the shards against each other to create the sound that haunted his dreams. The myths seemed to lead him to believe that siren’s were quite possessive over their things, often vain with carefully put together visages to attract sailors. Brant didn’t know if it was true, all he knew was that the song enchanted him, though no voice came from the scales.
Looking down in the waters, he saw it, a human-fish like shadow that moved fluidly. It disappeared just as quickly, retreating to the depths. A smile spread on his face, and his hand almost went to drop the scales, returning them to their owner, but before his fingers could fully loosen, a giant splash of water came from below. The sound prompted him to look quickly, quickly enough to see you, a beautiful real creature coming up to him, eyes locked with the string that had the same colors as your tail. Your momentum sent you tumbling into his, your giant tail over his legs with you on top of his chest.
The human’s chest had a very strange mark along it, and touching it let your fingers feel a bit of a hum, like the sensation of a current. The skin was soft and warm, but what attracted you most were the sparkling trinkets adorning him. There were shining circles that punctured his ears, and a big square like piece on his waist. Your hands went to fiddle with it, to which the man made an embarrassed yelp, trying to slide away. The weight of you on top held him down, your tail a bigger weight due to your years in the sea. Before you messed with it more, you heard a slight clink on the deck right beside his shoulders. Quickly your hand shot out to grab the string of scales, your scales.
“Beautiful siren, do you speak?” The human man below you voiced, a wide incredulous smile gracing his handsome features, like this encounter was the most magical thing that ever happened to him. Holding your scales close, you eyed him up and down narrowly. This man was not the one that attacked you, so how did he have them? In the end, you thought, it didn’t matter as long as you got them back. Your movements caused the many decor pieces on you to jingle, catching light on your already graceful form. His eyes sparkled, widening when you respond,
“I am familiar with many human languages.” You brought your hands up, adjusting your wet hair now that you were above water. When he looked as if to carry a conversation, you turned sharply, hearing whispers. The pirate under you was cautious, telling the crewman and others who were attracted to the strange sight to back up as you sat there unhappy at the people interrupting your time with your handsome new fascination. A short girl with pink and violet hair shooed the crowd away with the help of a box, knowing a creature like you probably didn’t want that kind of distraction when you were focused on the thing, or man, of your interest. Mythical creatures deserved respect. The annoyance faded quickly, as your attention returned to the man you had below you. Leaning down, your chests touched as your hand fidgeted with one of his earrings. “Do you have many of these shining things? I want to see them.”
“Yes, our fool’s troupe has many wonders! I…never expected they would grace the sight of a mythical siren. Captain Brant at your service miss…” He paused, allowing you to tell your name. you told him, the origin sounding foreign to the rinascitan man. The captain seemed theatrical, a fiery personality that you hoped kept some shiny treasures. Your hand left his earring to reach for his hat, holding it up and inspecting it. You didn’t know what it was, but copied how he wore it. Brant laughed lightly in disbelief at your curious behavior, but you were getting a little impatient. You wanted to see the hoards of pirate treasure that must have been stowed away somewhere.
As Brant sat up carefully, you threw your arms over him, causing him to steady you both a little awkwardly, one of his hands supporting your side. His warmth was very attractive to you, a contrast to the waters that were often very cold where there wasn’t much sun. “Do siren’s drink?” The captain sounded surprised, the smell of alcohol defined now that you were so close. You couldn’t tell what he meant, too focused on the strange anatomy of the man below you, and how his warm hand felt on your hip.
The gills on your neck had retracted into your skin to suit your lungs breathing in oxygen outside of water. Brant’s clothes were soaked, sticking to him from where you landed on him, which was almost his whole body. Accounting for tail length, you would have beaten his height by many inches if you laid side by side to compare. Brant took a breath before speaking to let you know he was going to lift you up. “Alright, let’s get you up then.”
Brant adjusted his hand on your waist, the other hand coming under your tail to position you more in his lap. With your arms around him as added support, he lifted you up before using his long legs to get a stance on the deck. Your shimmering tail hang low with the lustrous fins almost touching the wood deck, but the pirate captain made it seem like no big deal. His expression was curious, the texture of your tail certainly something new to him. The hat on your head was still secure as he walked down stairs in the giant ship, briefly pausing to put his back to the doors to his quarters.
The smell of the sea was still present even in the room. Jeweled trinkets hung from different places, and different vases had gold almost woven into the ceramic. There were chests, open and full of necklaces and fabrics. Closest to you, was a little moving creature. It looked like the other ceramic things, but it was filled with water, and gave a little bark like an animal when you were carried in.
“I figured you can’t be out of water too long, so I had one of my crewmates bring a tubpup down full of seawater. You don’t mind if I set you in it do you?”
You nodded, still taking in the different aspects of the room, eyes landing on the bed like structure covered in intricately designed pillows and metalwork of the frame. You also noticed several bottles laying around, asking, “are those bottles that have the dark liquid? They make you feel warm.” Brant glanced at them as he lowered you into the water, hands slipping away from you.
“So you do drink wine! Where would you get things like that in the sea?”
“Many sunken ships have tightly sealed chests which have ‘wine, and they are quite good, although the pressure makes most of them break, making them a rare find.” Watching closely, your eyes followed Brant’s movements to grab two glass cups and the bottle of what you now knew as wine. He brought them over, setting them down before pulling a chest full of gems over. Your finger went in quickly, pulling out a handful of sparkly things. A jeweled necklace with rubies like his eyes, earrings that were wire wrapped around polished peridot gems, and a silver cup with embedded citrine gemstones.
Coins fell from your handfull into the tub, metal reflecting off your scales while Brant poured the dark wine into the two glasses. The shimmer caught Brant’s eyes, and he moved closer to look. Your tail hung out of the tub a bit, too long for the whole tub to fit, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for you. His eyes sparkled with curiosity about your scales, the glistening seeming to entrance him the same way when he had your string of scales. Handing you a glass full of your favorite drink, he took a sip of his own and rested his arm on the top of the tub, simply looking at your tail and uniquely strung together jewelry. The seven missing scales were tied to a string you wore, probably to be taken off later for some other purpose.
His hat was still on your head, so he figured you quite liked it. Your cup was empty before he could fully take you in, and you handed it to him for him to fill it again, your lower fins moving contently under the water in the tub. After handing you a second glass, the captain asked softly, “would it be intruding to ask your permission to touch your tail?”
Lifting much of your tail out of the water, you let the larger fins and scaled parts land practically in his hands, making him have to move his glass away so as to not drop it from the sudden weight. The iridescence was fascinating, and the rays from outside cast an ethereal glow on your already luminous form. His calloused hands ran over your scales gently, fingers tracing the pattern they made to protect the flesh beneath. Tilting the glass all the way up, you downed your second large glass, small murmurs coming from your throat.
“Captain Brant, do you sing well?” You sighed out, fins flexing and moving in his grasp. Gently putting your tail back in the tub, he drank the rest of his own share, fingers wiping a stray drop from his lip to answer, “I have my fair share of practice in it. Being on the sea would be a little dull without a song wouldn’t it? I enjoyed the song your scales sang to me particularly before I returned them if I could be so honest.”
“Mm yes, what folk songs do you know that pirates sing? I have never heard any before.” You watched him down a third glass before standing, bowing and turning his back to you. Suddenly he broke out into character, recounting a story he had heard, which then turned into a folk tale you began to quickly like. His theatrical voice and playful tone had you smiling and raising another glass to his wild whimsy. The wine had made you both tipsy, you giving a little hiccup as you started singing the chorus with him after hearing him sing it before.
The behavior was wild and full of merry joy, Brant decorating you with more jewels like a character he described in another story. The festive bonding between the siren and pirate captain lasted for an hour or two more, until you both sang yourselves to near sundown. Being the treasure of a pirate was the best, you thought as you nearly fell out of the tub, your head swimming from the wine. Brant was on the floor beside it laying over soft fabrics, clothes still damp. Adjusting the hat on your head, you climbed over, falling onto him with the rest of your tail landing with a thump on the floor. Your head sought to bury itself into his neck as your hands searched for warmth from his body.
Brant grunted, cheeks flushed from wine and the proximity you shared. His words slurred as he spoke, “beautiful siren, is it true you can enchant sailors to fall in love at first sight?”
Pulling back to peer down at him, you noticed with the boldness the wine gave you how kissable a pirate looked. His lips were wet, and his mouth slightly parted, chest rising heavily as he looked up at your form. “I…” he continued, “I must believe it to be true, as I can’t stop thinking about whether you feel soft to hold, to kiss…”
His eyes were sparkling, holding adventure and a desire for things unknown to him, like the woman above him. Sitting forward from his flat down position with you on him, he tilted his face up, his hands coming where you guided them, up the small of your back and below your shoulder blades. With slow, teasing motions, you peeled the billowy shirt and jacket down, revealing glistening skin where the water hadn’t dried from your encounter.
“I have no such magic, captain…” you whispered back in a subtle tone, encouraging him to keep going. Your hands lightly ran over the black mark over his chest, feeling the hum it made as well as the fast beating heart underneath. He sighed, pleased at how your hand danced on his skin, coming up to tilt his jaw. His eyes open briefly to catch you smiling, before pulling you closer, closing the distance between you. Those lips were indeed soft, warm as every part of him was.
Pushing him back down, you used the movement to open his mouth, allowing your kiss to turn heated. The tang of wine hit you as your tongues met, Brant giving a small whimper like grunt beneath you. His hat had fallen off the the side, forgotten in your desire for more of him. It felt strange, to want something other than shiny things and trinkets. A siren and a pirate intertwined on the floor. His hand was feather light along your curves, gentle and careful in his caresses, dipping down to your side to feel the scales again.
“Brant…” you whispered against his lips, words slurred by the burning heat of the wine in your bodies. His eyes glimmered when his name fell from your mouth, fingers twitching at the syllables. His breath was hot, lips pressing into your neck, jingling the jewels and strings of gold and silver. Time passed slow, and you were sure you’d come to find other treasures he was hiding besides gems and pearls, helping him sing in other ways. Being with a pirate didn’t sound too bad.
As you may or may not know, I write MHA smut based on my most unhinged fantasies, and I do it completely shamelessly.
BUT I don't just write for myself. I want other people to enjoy it just as much as I do. So... here we go again. I have 3 main options, I'm gonna explain to you what each one is about and I'll let you decide which smut scene gets uploaded to AO3 next wednesday. Deal? Deal.
1. Cheerleader Revenge: Denki tricked you into that humiliating cheerleader outfit at the Sports Festival… now it’s payback time. You corner him alone in the locker room, still in the tiny skirt, no panties underneath. He’s all shy, nervous, and blushing—total virgin energy—and you're in complete control, teasing him mercilessly until he’s a wreck.
2. Midoriya’s Notebook Full of You: You accidentally find Midoriya’s hero-analysis notebook… and there’s a whole section dedicated to you — not just your quirk, but little notes about your smile, how you encourage him, how pretty you look when you fight. He walks in, panics, tries to explain — but you’re already blushing and teasing him. The embarrassment turns sweet; he nervously asks if you’d like to “analyze” each other in a different way… leading to shy, exploratory kisses and touching in his dorm room.
3. Sleepover with Kirishima and Mina: You have a sleepover with your best friends as usual. Kiri's parents are out of town and you three spend your night as you usually would (popcorn, sweets, horror movies, and gossip). Until... Mina decides it's a great idea to watch porn. All three of you together. You and Mina snuggled up to each side of Kirishima. It was supposed to be for fun, but soon after you play the video, it's not laughter that comes from Kiri's bedroom.
Which smut do you want to read next?
Denki
Midoriya
Kiri & Mina
Voting ended onApr 8
Vote in the poll or drop the number in the replies. The winner gets written first. And remember not to worry if your option doesn't win this poll, I'll surely bring that option back later in other polls, just be patient and follow me so you don't miss any updates :)
If you're just discovering my blog... welcome to the chaos 🩵
i have a toe-curling smut prompt floating around my head and it just screams mean!robby to me.
sprinkle of dumbification, almost pleasure-dom type of vibes…
i’m not sure who i want to write the prompt for yet, but i feel it takes a certain level of harshness that suits michael robinavitch more than jack abbot.
Summary: It's 1999 and you got FUCKED over. You meet a curiously hot man with a cat and invite him to your big lonely hotel suite for some good old fashioned revenge fucking. In the end, you end up giving him all the things that your ex wanted and more. (A Hank Thompson Story)
Well Fuck Him! came in at 25.9% on my 250 follower poll. Sorry this took a while! It was my least finished WIP! Hopefully the rest will be quicker to get out.
Enjoy!!!
The sunset along the Playa Las Palmas was gorgeous, searing oranges and pinks to the west fading into the darkening blue to the east.
It was undoubtedly a magical place.
This was meant to be a magical trip. This was the year when it all was supposed to have all started for you, when you’d have finally triumphed over love, when everything you’d worked for in the past three years would be realized. You were supposed to mark 1999 as the beginning of the rest of your life together.
Instead, you were here alone, still single. You weren’t broken-hearted, not exactly. You were furious.
You had been standing waiting with your father watching your little adorable cousin toss flowers out of the basket just as she had rehearsed. You could see the back of him, his blonde hair coiffed just like you liked it. He wasn’t exactly your dream man, but how many women married the kind of man that made you swoon. There were issues, but what couple doesn't have those? You liked him well enough, and at least you were marrying into an independently wealthy family.
You had been half way down the aisle when he turned to look at you. That first look, there should have been tears of joy in his eyes, his future shining so bright in front of him that it hurt. Instead his face was a mix of panic and revulsion. He put his hand out to stop you and shook his head. He mouthed ‘I can’t’ and he bolted out the side door, his best man following him.
The music stopped like a record scratch, at least for you. At first you didn’t want to believe it. He was just gonna throw up or pee or something. Everyone was looking at you, murmuring under their breaths. Your vision narrowed as you realized what had just happened to you. You turned and ran away from the pitying faces,.You were humiliated.
You found neither hide nor hair of him after that. His apartment was empty, he had told you it was packed to move in with you. He wouldn’t answer any texts or phone calls. It made sense when you found his phone was dumped in the bushes outside his old place.
You went to the airport the next day to see if he and his goon of a friend would try to use the tickets for the honeymoon. He was nowhere in sight. He’d already prepaid for the all inclusive hotel in Tulum, that was probably where he was. You’d brought your luggage, just in case, it had already been packed afterall. So you decided, fuck it, and got on the plane.
You checked into the honeymoon suite. The fucker was no where to be found. No, not fucker, he was terrible at it, asshole was a better word. He was always trying to get into yours. Yup… asshole.
You’d cried your tears on this long walk on the beach and now you were just looking for some way forward, metaphorically speaking.
You had stumbled upon a long haired cat just sitting at the edge of the wet sand. It’s the last thing you expected to see. He let you sit next to him, both of you looking out over the waves.
The cat looked up at you and directly into your soul. Its tail twitching, he turned away, licked his paw then scrubbed his cheek with it.
You reached out a finger and he rubbed his cheek against it, then walked off into the jungle behind you.
“Yeah, you are right,” you had said, “clean myself up and move on.”
“Wow,” a voice from behind you said low and quiet. “Bud hardly lets anyone else touch him, hisses at most people. You must be special.”
A caucasian man, around 30 you’d guess, sat down beside you in the sand. He was ridiculously handsome. Skin beach bronze, eyes pale blue, and the shock of blonde hair that wasn’t shaved on the sides was bleached by the sun. He had a scar across his nose and one on his forehead. It was like he’d just stepped out of a Skaldic Poem.
“Not everyone thinks so, but thanks,” you said, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice.
“Aint’ that the truth, even when you’ve done nothing but hit straight, life will still throw a wicked curve ball at ya.” His voice had been calm, like he’d been through a lot and come out on the other side scarred but not broken. “I’m Henry.” He held out his hand.
You’d poured out your heart to his stranger sitting in the sand, watching the stars come out. In hind sight, it could have been terribly romantic. He’d been easy to talk to. You’d invited him to dinner, then you’d invited him to your huge lonely honeymoon suite.
You told him to come in for drinks, but he said he didn’t drink. You hadn’t thought much about it.
The cat, Bud, had found his way onto the balcony, like some kind of a burglar- a cat burglar. You had laughed at the thought as you stroked the purring animal.
“She’s really beautiful when she laughs, huh Bud.” Henry’s voice was close behind you.
That was all it took.
Why not, it’s what this room is for, you thought as his lips pressed to yours. If boots were made for walking, those lips of his were made for kissing.
Besides, you’d never been with anyone but the asshole before.
That was how it started three days He’d not left since, and you didn’t want him to. He was a fucking machine, in the best sense of the word. It was like the man was an athlete. That body, that stamina, good god you’d never been fucked so thoroughly or for so long. In fact, that first night, he had taken his time to make you cum. Something that dirtbag had never taken the time for. Little did you know it was just the tip of the iceberg.
It was the second night, well it was afternoon still, when you had found out the truth about his non-drinking.
You had been watching Hank walk in from the bathroom and finally asked about the huge scar on his side. He said he’d had an accident a few months back and had lost a kidney.
“Yeah so no drinking for me anymore.” he shakes his head at the fancy bottle of Don Julio 1942. “But no one told me I can’t do this,” he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a bag of grass. “Actually it really helps with the pain.”
He starts to roll a joint on the table near the balcony.
You didn’t know if it was emotional or physical pain he was talking about.
“Hell, I have pain Henry,” you had said.
“After I made you light up like a Christmas tree last night, Angel?” he shot you a devious smile. He’d taken to calling you that pet name after you had curled up in bed next to him. It hadn’t dawned on you that you never told him your name.
He wrapped those gorgeous lips around the end of the tight little cylinder he’d made, lit up and passed it to you.
When the out-of-body feeling hit you, he brought you right back. Trailing those lips up your leg, his warm palms pressing your legs apart. How he’d gotten between your legs you didn’t remember, not that you cared. You rake your fingers through the longer hair on the top of his head. It made him look just punk enough to be sexy as hell.
His soft lips mouthe at the crease between your deep inner thigh and waxed pussy. Then he plants a soft kiss on your labia then pulls one side gently into his mouth to suck in it.
You are breathless. The jerk had only ever put his mouth on you once, and then only as a means to an end, his end. But this man, this Adonis sent by the gods, he went down on you like it was his mission, his calling.
His flickering tongue is insistent between your lips as he settles down between your thighs. When it was getting good, your pussy tightening, he doesn’t stop. He just keeps at it, pushing a finger inside you as you moan and wetness seeps out your hole.
Finally, he closes his mouth over your clit, a thing you previously joked that men didn’t even know existed.
Henry knew.
Without warning, you orgasm right onto his beautiful face with a spine shattering moan. He smiles wet and wide from between your legs.
“Good god, who taught you how to do that?” you say after you regain your breath.
“An old… friend of mine,” he wipes his chin with his thumb. “She was a spitfire, an EMT actually.” Had you been able to see straight, you’d have seen that his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Well, a huge thank you to her,” you giggle.
He takes another hit, shaking his head with a melancholy smile and passes the doob to you. You had always heard that weed lowered sexual desire. But as you both get higher, you just want more. Maybe it was the revenge fucking, maybe it was the pot, maybe it was Henry, but it’s like you couldn’t be satiated. You two fucked like intense bunnies. You struggled to remember every detail but it felt like everywhere and in every position. You lost track of how many times you came.
Late the next morning you order breakfast and the server who brought it looked knowingly at you two.
“Many happy Felicidades,” he had said in a mix of English and Spanish as he left the room with a tenner in his hand from Henry.
Both you and Henry burst out laughing. It was an easy mistake to make. You both dig into the eggs, salmon, toast and fruit. He passes on the champagne, but you definitely don’t.
“You know what?” you say as Hank lights up another joint.
“That we should have smoked before eating?” He says handing it to you.
“No. I mean good idea for next time, but no. I was going to say that there are toys in my bag, we should fucking use them,” You giggle after puffing out a plume of smoke.
“I’m down for whatever you want, Angel.”
The way he says Angel makes your toes tingle. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t intimidated by the word ‘toys’.
You had barely unpacked your suitcase, having spent most of your time either in the expensive hotel robe or nothing.
You’d packed before the wedding to ensure that you had just as much fun as the asshole did. You had your trusty old vibrator and a thing called a ‘rabbit’ that your bridesmaids had gotten you at the bachelorette party. It looked intimidating with its shuddering bunny ears and rotating shaft.
But right there, under the things you had packed was not one, not two but three sizes of silver butt plugs complete with jeweled hearts on the back. The note that accompanied it read like it was slipped in as a joke by the asshole’s buddies and yes there was a tube of astroglide.
“Those fuckers…”
Henry smiles, reading over your shoulder.
“A stupid joke, I’m not …” you look up at him, not sure what he’ll think of you.
“Can I be honest?” he says, kissing your neck like he’d been doing it for years. “I always wanted to try those.”
“Like, on yourself?” you look at him perplexed.
“What you haven’t wanted to see what the fuss was all about, never had your ass touched?” he sits on the bed, pulling you to his lap.
“He was always wanting to. Once he tried to shove his whiskey dick into my butt when he was drunk.“ You sit down, feeling so oddly comfortable talking to him like this. You had discovered a level of trust with Henry that you’d never had with the man you’d spend the last three years with. The closest he’d ever gotten to communication was when he had left a penthouse article ‘how to get her to take it up the ass” out on his bed. You’d thrown it in the trash, put the trash bin on his pillow, then went home, to make a point. It dawned on you that it was likely him that stashed the plugs in your luggage.
“Nah, that’s not how you do it, gotta take it slow, use the lube.”
“Oh you know all about anal, do you?” You smile at him. Somehow you weren’t rolling your eyes.
“Well, I dated a girl that loved it, freakiest chic I ever met. Only had her a few times before she told me she needed more of a Daddy than a brother. Fuckin’ freaked me out, her thinking of me a brother.”
“I bet.”
He opens the package and pulls out the two smaller ones.
“Since all is fair in love and war, I was thinking one in me,” he holds up the larger one, “and one in you, if you want to try.” He holds up the other one.
You are impressed that he didn’t allocate the bigger one to you, so thoughtful of him.
Yeah, the past couple days has been about revenge fucking, but now, to readily give this relative stranger the assplay that your ex wanted felt devilishly poetic. It made you want to do it more.
“Well, if you are gonna do it, I will too.” You find yourself saying.
With a smile, he had dragged you into the shower, scrubbing you both down thoroughly. The way his hands slid over your skin was almost more tantalizing than him eating you out. Almost.
“I’ll go first,” Henry said, lubbing up the medium one. “Do you want to put it in?” He offered you the plug. You shook your head, a little intimidated and sat on the bed, the towel still wrapped around your chest.
He drops the fluffy white towel from his hips and gets on the bed on his knees.
You can’t quite get over just how hot he is, obviously he takes care of his body. He had said something about playing baseball in high school, but none of the has-been jocks that you knew still have muscles like this. And no one you knew at all had an ass like his.
“Will you jerk me as I do it then?”
This you could do. You lick your palm and grasp his shaft.
“Oh yeah, slow and light like that,” he moans as you stroke him.
Henry bends over onto one strong arm, reaching back to rub the lubed thing between his cheeks.
It takes him a minute to get the right angle, then pushes the plug letting out a breathy moan.
“Is it good?” you whisper in his ear.
“I think so,” he nods, eyes closed and his brows furrowed. “Can you put some more lube?”
You drip astroglide into his crack and you can see he’s moving the plug back and forth, spreading the lube.
“You are nearly in,” you whisper in his ear. Your fingers ride over his tip and he gasps as the plug pops past his ring of muscle and settles in his ass.
He stands, instinctively moves his hips, feeling the steel move inside him.
“Are you ok?” you ask, hand still gripping his now rock hard dick.
“Oh yeah, I think it’s gonna be good.” he says with a wry smile. “Your turn? I could lick you… there, if you want.”
It was almost a dare, at least that’s how you took it. You’d never had anyone do that before. It was what dirty girls did; strippers and whores and pornstars.
Well fuck it; in for a penny, in for a pounding. At least you hoped so.
“Yeah ok,” you said nervously, suddenly grateful for just how much he scrubbed your asshole.
He laid you back, kissing you all the way. Good lord he was swoon-worthy.
As he made his way down your front he moaned sexily every time the weight in his ass shifted. It made you suddenly excited to feel what he was feeling.
He pressed your knees up to your chest.
“I can stop at any time, you just say so.” he said in a sexy growl.
Then he was lapping at your taint and into your cunt, making you shudder. The flickering across your pucker was light. Your moan betrays you. You had no idea it would feel so good.
“You like it?” he asks superfluously. He knew you would, if you read his smile right.
“Uh huh, don’t stop.”
He continues the lord’s work between your thighs. Lapping, licking, sucking, proding. Soon you are a mess, riding the raggedy edge of orgasm. You find yourself out of your mind with pleasure.
“You ready?” He picks up the plug.
“Yeah,” you nod.
He dribbles lube on it and your wet asshole. His thumb rubs across your pussy he presses the cold tip to your pucker. Your nerves make you shy away, tightening.
“Push out, against it, it’ll go in easier.”
You frown up at him, that seems counter-intuitive.
“Trust me” his smile was disarming.
His thumb rubs gently across your pussy. He pushes and so do you.
About half way he relents and lets your muscles push it out. Holy hell it feels good in a way you hadn’t expected.
“You ok, Angel?”
“Uh huh” you nod, pushing your ass back towards him. You find you want it again.
He slow fucks you with it twice more, each time you shudder as it comes out.
“Fuck, Henry,” is all you can get out.
“Gonna go all the way this time,” his fingers trace circles around your clit.
As your ass stretches to the widest point, he groans and you squeal.
Whether because of his delicate ministrations or your revenge attitude, it’s much easier than you had expected it would be.
“That is so hot,” Henry groans as your ass takes the steel, his rock hard cock a mad red.
You move your hips, seeing exactly why he had done it earlier. It feels surprisingly good inside. As you rock back and forth, you start to comprehend just why people do this.
“God I wish I could take a pic and send it to that fucker that left you at the altar.” Henry says heatedly. “He’s a fool.”
Before this, Henry had listened to your rant about your ex, he’d nodded, he’d mmm’d and uh huh’d. But he’d not really said anything.
Until this moment, you’d forgotten the digital camera his mother had bought. She had said it was to take pictures of the grandkids. Well fuck that.
“In my bag over there,” you point, “in the top zipper.”
It takes a minute to figure out the camera. Henry snaps up close photos of the glittering heart in your ass.
“Get one with your dick in the picture,” you say, hell-bent on revenge.
“Dang girl,” he says with a smile. He is all too happy to help you get back at him.
He lays his dick on your pussy and snaps a couple. You are finding that all this deviant stuff is really getting you hot.
“Fuck me with it in,” you roll over onto all fours.
“My god that is gorgeous,” he murmurs, you hear the camera button clicking then the sound of a ripping condom package. He swipes his tip up and down your wet pussy lips.
“Gonna take a pic when I’m in, ok?” he says low and hot behind you.
All you can do is nod and reach under to guide him in. You hear the click.
He doesn't grab your hips and slam in, which is what you had come to expect
from doggie style. He slips in slowly, groaning as he enters you.
Click!
Fuck you feel so full, the pressure from his dick pushing at the plug.
“Shit,” he says breathlessly. “I can feel it in there, and in my ass.”
He rocks back and forth, still moving slowly and tentatively. Every inch is a new sensation, a new tremor that radiates from parts of you that you didn’t know had those kinds of pleasure receptors. It’s wild how good it actually feels.
“You ok, Angel?” His voice is laced with concern.
You realize you have been vocalizing like mad. Puffing out little groans and shivery moans.
“Yeah, don’t stop.”
“Baby, I couldn’t if I tried. It’s like my hips know that you need it.”
And it was true, you did need it, you needed to know that you had worth, that someone somewhere wanted you.
Henry did.
He kissed you like it was the air he breathed. He fucked you like your pleasure came first, no matter how long it’d take.
When you came it was like a freight train, screaming whistle and all. He had been barely holding on with the teasing plug on his prostate. He exploded a millisecond after you.
It was the best orgasm you’d ever had.
During the seven day stay, you two racked up a huge room service bill charging it to the ‘card on file.” You had ordered a scandalous amount of extra things sent to the room. Anything not covered on the all-inclusive list, booze, massages, manicures and pedicures, specials on the room service menu. You never heard a peep out of your ex about it. You suppose it was his version of hush money.
You begged Henry to come back to the states with you. He insisted that his life was here, but you should stay. It was tempting, but you needed to clean up the mess back home.
“How about this then,” he said, pulling you to straddle his lap, sinking his throbbing dick into you like it was meant to be there. “You come back, stay with me.”
Your pussy was just a little sore, the kind of sore that made you smile from why. And you didn’t care, being impaled on Henry’s cock had become your favorite place to be in the past several days.
Your face scrunched up in a way that told him he was hitting you just right inside.
“Atta girl,” he thrust up into you,”you gonna cum on that cock?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” You came five seconds after this wet thumb found its way to your clit. It had become pavlovian.
Collapsed on his chest you panted out, “When?”
“Whenever, I’ll be here.”
A year to the day you were back on that sandy beach overflowing with nerves. Not a day had gone by that you hadn’t thought of him. He was quietly there, whispering in your ear as you dealt with your ex, your parents, his parents.
Henry had left you with no contact information other than ‘the beach’. You’d gone back anyway, you had to try even though your best friend thought you were crazy.
It was sunset and you had been at the exact spot on the beach for two hours when you felt a tell tale rubbing of fur on your arm. Your heart fluttered.
“Hey Bud,” you said as he purred his way around your waist. A warm hand mirrors him moments later.
“Hey Angel,” his voice whispered in your ear, for real this time, “been waitin’ long?”
“Only a couple hours,” you lean back into him, “you?”
“Every day for the past year.”
You turn and kiss him as though not a moment had passed.
