maddy is for sure a mean top. very bossy and she always wants her way, and she gets her way. she’s not persuasive at all and if you do something that pisses her off, she’s standing on whatever punishment she has for you.
rue on the other hand is very sweet. she’s always very lenient with you and her words are always sweet like honey. she can be assertive but her words are never sharp like maddy’s. it works, really well. it’s a balance in your relationship.
especially during sex.
like now, you were on the bed between rue’s legs as she held your titties in her hands, her fingers wiping against your sore nipples every now and then. maddy was between your legs, her knees keeping your legs open so your puffy pussy was in full display for her to use. she had this vibrator attacking your clit for a while now. overstimulating your clit until your close to making a mess but then taking the toy away, edging you and teasing you for thinking she was gonna let a bad girl cum.
“you wanna cum? you think i’m gonna let you cum when you pulled that earlier, you brat.” maddy spat the words out of her mouth, moving the vibrator away from your pussy. you cried at the action, sinking into rue’s arms in despair, this isn’t the first time maddy edged you, and you knew she was far from being done. “bad girls don’t cum.”
“my baby isn’t a bad girl, isn’t that right, baby? let maddy know you’re a good girl.” rue kissed you next, whispering softly in your ear. “please, maddy. i’ll be good, i’ll be a good girl please let me cum, please.” maddy rolled her eyes at the audacity. laughing at your attempt, she’ll respect it. “it’s too late for that bullshit. don’t let rue trick you.”
you whined at the response, your pussy clenching around emptiness. you were desperate for a release, desperate for maddy to have a change of heart. “don’t listen to her, baby. you’re my good girl.” rue’s hand left your titty, reaching down to your leaking pussy. she sunk her fingers inside of you, keeping them still and keeping you full. “sometimes good girls need reminders, yea?”
word count: 3336 / masterlist | inbox (please request ! ) | WIP list
summary: max starts breaking out and needs to develop a skincare routine. billy's girlfriend y/n steps up to the role of older sister and walks her through each step. billy lingers by the bathroom doorway, putting himself in the position of the perfect model.
Contents/Warnings: afab!fem!reader
A/N:...sorry i haven't posted in like. years. i lowkey kinda fell off of stranger things!! i still liked it but I wasn't watching it and I found it hard to write without the inspiration. but I'm back! I can't guarantee it'll be for forever but I'm gonna milk it for all it's worth right now. And I can finally cross something off of my wip list YAYYYY :D send me some requests to kickstart my writing again!
reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)
Billy’s surprised, pleasantly so, when you show up at his door with a… big metal box? He’s not sure what’s in it, but it looks important, there’s a lock on it and you’re holding the key. The situation gets less pleasant when you remain stony faced, unreactive to his grin at your presence, and shoulder past him.
“Sorry Billy,” You march through the house, down the hallway and to the bathroom, “Urgent matters to attend to.”
He doesn’t even get to finish latching the door shut when the bathroom door starts to close, and he rushes after you to catch it.
“Hey!” He reaches you just in time, stopping it from slamming with a large, rough hand that thumps against the wood, “What the hell? Why are you holing up in my bathroom with a safe?”
“My bathroom, dickhead.” Max sneers, seated on the lid of the toilet, “You like to use the empty beer cans under your bed.”
“Someone’s bitchy today,” He gripes, leaning against the frame, “Period?”
“Billy,” You scold, unlocking the latch on the box and flipping it open, “Be nice! This is girl time, you’re intruding.”
His eyes widen, and he scoffs, “Unbelievable! So they put me in charge, then my girlfriend comes over into the house that I’m responsible for, storms off without even a hello, and tries locking herself away in the bathroom with the middle schooler, yet I’m the problem here!”
“Yes,” Max insists, eyes icy as she shoves down the lid of the box so that Billy can’t see the contents, “Just get out!”
“No.” He crosses his arms, glaring her down, “I wanna know what you’re doing.”
“I told you,” You try placating him, voice smooth and sweet, “Girl talk. It’s private.”
“What, is it about periods? I already know all that shit,” He scoffs, and you and Max share an amused, side-eyed grin, “I took health in freshman year. My girlfriend is here and I’m going to spend time with her while she is.”
His chest heaves slightly with the force of his insistence, and you sigh, glancing over at Max. You communicate silently, your eyes holding the words you can’t say in front of him, then you turn back to flash him a single pointer finger.
“One minute,” You promise, “C’mere, Max.”
She huddles closer to you, and you cup your hand over her ear, whispering into it. Billy doesn’t appreciate even more secrets, huffing and puffing at your display of dramatics. After a few nods, a smirk, and a giggle are released, you separate, and turn back to him with an eager smile.
“Okay, Billy,” You start, grin wicked, “We’re creating a skincare routine for Max. If you want to stay and be part of the fun, be my guest. But you’ll have to be our model.”
“Skincare?” He narrows his eyes, “Just wash your fucking face, Max.”
“That’s not how it works,” You groan, “She needs a multi-step routine, and that’s what we’re going to work out today, with this.” You pull up on the case’s latch, and Max doesn’t stop you this time. Inside are individual packages, what Billy identifies as face masks, bottles, tubes, wipes, cotton pads; he’s honestly surprised there’s not a beauty technician stored in there, too.
“If you’re so insistent on spending time with me,” You bargain, and there’s a sweet smile on your face as you say it that lets him know you’re not really as annoyed with him as you tease, “Then you’ll let me demonstrate on you.”
“No way.” He stands tall, shoulders stiff, “I’m not letting you put that shit on my face.”
“You could use it,” Max mumbles under her breath, and the only reason Billy doesn’t gripe back is because he thinks you’ll scold him for it. Instead, he watches as you take out a bottle, showcasing the greenish gel inside.
“Soap,” You inform him, “That’s all it is, Billy, is soap. Would you just wash your face for us?”
“Soap..” He narrows his eyes at the suspicious bottle, “That shit’s just soap?”
“Just soap,” You promise again, “Please?”
He doesn’t need to look into your eyes to know they’re shiny, and he won’t admit defeat because of them. So he succumbs on his own terms, sighing heavily and reaching for the bottle, “Gimme the damn soap.”
The tap water is cool, and he relishes the feeling against his burning cheeks. He can feel his hair getting wet, and some of the longer strands threaten to dip into the water and become completely soaked, ruining his curls. He’s not happy to be giving in so easily, but those damn eyes of yours, that sweet ‘please?’, and he’s a sucker. A sucker who smears green gel soap over his face, scrubbing extra hard at his cheeks like it’ll wash away the pink stains there.
“Okay, gentle,” You chide him, pulling at his elbows, “Max, don’t scrub this hard. You want to lather it in but you don’t want to damage your skin in the process.”
“Unbelievable,” Billy blubbers, bubbles encroaching on the gap of his lips, “I’m being your life sized beauty doll and you’re telling me I’m doing everything wrong.”
This time, you don’t hold back the unamused glare that you and Max share.
“No, Billy.” You placate him, smoothing a hand down his back while he rinses his face, biting back a smirk as Max lets one fall over her face, “We’re not telling you you’re doing everything wrong. I just want you to be nicer to your skin.”
“There,” Billy drawls, smoothing over his bubble-free face with a damp washcloth and staring down his nose at you, a few unfortunately drowned strands of hair sticking to his cheeks, “That it?”
“Uh,” You falter, eyeing the kit you brought, “Not quite. Just a few more steps.”
His face falls, “A few? I washed my face with soap, it’s clean. What more do I need?”
“Well, when you wash your hair with shampoo but you don’t condition it, it gets really dry, right?”
“Yeah,” Billy nods cautiously, eyes narrow, “So?”
“So your skin’s the same way,” You reach for a foil-lined packet in the case, hot pink silhouettes of Barbie littering its surface, “And you need to moisturize it.”
When you draw the package from the confines of the box, BIlly’s eyes go empty. It’s like he’s trying to fathom how he’s gotten there, how he’s in a bathroom with a freshly-washed face surrounded by people who want to stick Barbie all over his cheeks.
“It’s just a face mask,” You try calming him before he can even get started, “It helps moisturize your skin so that it’s not so dry after washing. It’s just a little sheet that you lay over your face, you’ve seen me wear them before.”
“Yeah, and you walk around looking like you fell asleep next to a toddler with a marker.”
“If you’re going to be antagonistic, you can leave,” You finally snap, brows lowering in a condemning glare, “This is supposed to be me pampering your sister because she’s struggling with being a teenager, I will not let you ruin this for her with your shitty attitude.”
Billy’s own brows, impeccably groomed and slit on one side, nearly reach his hairline, one now obscured by a damp curl that hangs down over his forehead.
“Okay, okay.” His gruff voice concedes, the wind successfully taken from his sails, “Barbie me, baby.”
The sheet mask leaves a thick, gelatinous layer of product on your fingers as you unfold it, and the chill of it nearly sends a shiver up your spine. Billy shrinks away from you as you hold it up towards his face, but true to his word he lets you stick it to his skin and smooth away the wrinkles.
The sheet mask intrudes on the seam of his lips so he can’t complain- at least not until you readjust it. You consider not doing so at all, and ensuring that you won’t be hearing any bitching and moaning out of him, but you take pity on him and tuck the mask into place around his mouth.
His stunted groans turn into a panted protest, “This shit feels disgusting.”
“Beauty is pain,” You recite, “Or in this case, mild discomfort for ten to fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes?”
“Fifteen minutes.” You tilt your head downwards, glaring through your eyelashes at him, “Got a problem with that, Barbie?”
“No.” Billy grumbles, “No problems.”
Max snickers, and now Billy has a problem.
“You don’t need to use one of these every day,” You peer at Max, “The more you do it the more you’ll understand your skin. If you need to do one every day, that’s one thing. But most people usually only use them once a week, or a few times a month. And that’s if you have them on hand. If your allowance runs out,” You watch Billy try and fail to itch a patch on his cheek by jabbing his nail into the gooey mask, “You can go without them. It’s an extra moisturizing step, but it’s not essential.”
“Then why the hell is it on my face?” Billy drawls, his voice grating and rough, “I thought you said it was just gonna be a few steps, not the whole tour.”
“This is the only extra step I’m adding,” You turn towards Max to roll your eyes, exaggerating the movement so that she snickers into the palm of her hand, “Just sit down and relax for fifteen minutes! Better yet-” You point towards the open doorway, “Go lay down. Take a little nap,” You suggest, “I can use the time to go over the rest of the process with Max.”
“Don’t get slime on your pillow,” Max grins wickedly at her step-brother, and you honestly think he might have complied were it not for the sibling rivalry. Instead, he plants his ass firmly on the lid of the toilet, resting his ankle on his opposite knee and subsequently kicking Max with the toe of his socked foot.
“Ew!” She jerks away, her back hitting the shower door and rattling it in place, “Y/N, he kicked me with his gross socks.”
“Billy,” You scold, reaching out to tug at a curl that hangs over his shoulder, “Be nice.”
He glares mutinously at you from the eye holes of the pink face mask, but it’s not as lethal as it would be if you weren’t his girlfriend. Although, you suppose, he wouldn’t have put the face mask on if you weren’t his girlfriend, so you drop your hand to his shoulder and rub comfortingly between the blades.
He grunts in response to the impromptu massage, apparently helpless to the comfort despite the mortifying situation he finds himself in. You keep your fingers working diligently against his clenched muscles until he loosens them, “It’ll dry out a bit in the air, but the serum is gonna soak in. After the timer is up, we’ll peel it off, and he’ll rub the rest of it into his skin. Then, toner,” You hold up the bottle, “And moisturizer. Eventually,” You sift through the rest of the bottles in your case, “You may need specific products like undereye serum, or additional creams that do one thing over another. But for right now, I think three steps will be perfect for you. And I’ll leave you with some of these,” You gesture to the numerous packs of face masks you’ve acquired over years of convenience store runs, “So that you don’t have to buy more for a while.”
“Thanks,” Max breathes, her expression breaking into a grin that bunches her cheeks up. It’s genuine, which is something you don’t always see from the oft-sarcastic girl, but it suits her beautifully, and you use your free hand to tug affectionately at one of her braids.
Fifteen minutes eventually passes, but you damn near have to restrain Billy for the amount of times he tries peeling it off before his timer is up. Once the kitchen clock buzzes on the counter his hands fly to his face, but he’s not accounted for the way that the mask has partially dried against his skin, still sticky and gooey but much less dripping.
“Ew,” He twitches, the pads of his fingers now glistening, “Get it off of me.”
“Say please.” You gripe, and you can hear his teeth clacking together in his mouth.
“Please get this shit off of me.”
You acquiesce instead of further tormenting the man, peeling the sheet mask off of him with practiced ease. He grimaces at the way that it clings to his face, but blinks when it’s off of him, like he hadn’t been able to see properly beneath it despite the eye holes.
“Finally.” He grunts, and you bring your hands to his face, gently smoothing the remaining substance into his skin. His eyes, previously scrunched shut, fly open when your hands meet his face, and he locks his gorgeous blue eyes with yours as you rub your fingers over his cheeks.
You share unashamedly back, briefly lost in the moment. He’s got such pretty eyes, and they’re framed by lashes that might be better than your own, resentfully. It’s easy to find yourself suspended in time, and you stroke along the ridges of his cheekbones with a reverence that your thumbs easily sway with. The solution is long gone, but you continue kneading your hands over his face the way you’d eased the sore muscles of his perpetually-tensed shoulders.
You’re not sure how long you stand there, pinned between his knees where you’re standing at the toilet. He’s completely relaxed despite all of his earlier grumblings, limbs loose and resting in his lap. Your fingers rove easily, adoringly over his features, and you honestly forget there’s anyone else there besides the two of you until Max clears her throat, and you glance backwards over your shoulder to see her leaning against the wall, legs and arms crossed. She’s got a flat, unimpressed expression on her face, and you try stepping out from between Billy’s legs until you realize he’s trapped you there.
“Do I have to stare longingly at myself in the mirror when I do it?” Max asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Or- should I get Lucas in here to do it for me? Do we have to stand like that,” She glances at Billy’s large hands now slung around your waist, “Like we’re trying to fit two people into a dressing room at JC Penny?”
“Okay, okay.” You wrestle your way out of Billy’s hold, fighting against his hands that try desperately to drag you back between his legs, “I get it. Sorry. I got distracted.”
Max’s lip curls into a sneer, clearly disbelieving that her step-brother is anything to be distracted by, “Whatever. So you rub it in, then what?”
“Toner.” You secure a cotton pad, dabbing the liquid onto it with two fingers pressed tight against the back, “Don’t use it if you’ve just popped a pimple. Don’t pop any pimples anyways,” You level a stern glare at her, “But if you do, don’t put this on broken skin. It stings.”
Billy’s eyes darken, and he jerks his head away when you try smearing the pad against his face.
“It’s fine.” You assure him, “It won’t hurt. You don’t have any cuts on your face, right?”
“Baby,” Max snickers, and you have to redirect Billy’s chin towards you when he shoots Max a glare over your shoulder.
“It won’t hurt.” You repeat, taking his face in your hands again to begin smoothing it over his skin. It picks up any excess moisture you’d left behind while staring dreamily into his eyes, but it picks up a layer of dirt that he hadn’t managed to scrub away with the soap, and you show off the stained pad with pride.
“See? That’s why you need toner. It gets rid of everything, and it leaves your skin ready for the moisturizer.”
Max wrinkles her nose again at the sight of the dirtied cotton pad, but Billy doesn’t seem perturbed. He watches carelessly as you toss it into the bin, and pick up your bottle of moisturizer. You pump the nozzle once, twice, thrice until there’s a sizeable amount on your palm, showing Max the size of the portion.
“No more than this,” You tell her, “You’ll go through it too fast and it won’t absorb properly.”
She watches dutifully as you spread the moisturizer over your hands, then rub it into Billy’s face. It’s excessive, because the face mask has already soaked into his skin, but he’ll simply be extra moisturized tonight, and you’re looking forward to cupping his face under cover of darkness in his bedroom tonight. You can be the softest and sweetest when there’s no one else around, and even though Max was understandably uncomfortable witnessing it, you long to continue worshipping your boy.
“There.” You step back, admiring your handiwork, “That’s it. We’re done.”
“Finally,” Billy grumbles, but you know from his recent lack of fidgeting that he’s not as put out by the whole thing as he tries appearing. He stands, looming an impressive distance over you and Max. It’s awkward to edge between the two of you in the small space, but he manages to do so without knocking you over, though he does bump into Max harder than he needs to. He pairs it with a lazy, grating, “Now that you know what you’re doing, I’m gonna go ahead and take back my girlfriend. Enjoy your slime,” Billy grabs your hand, tugging you across the tiled floor so forcefully that your socks slide against it, “Don’t get it in your mouth because I’m not calling poison control.”
“I will!” You yelp, as Billy drags you down the hallway to his room, “But- just don’t eat it anyways!”
When Billy’s door shuts with a whoosh of air you whirl on him, almost getting lost in admiring the way that his skin glistens, “You’re mean to her.”
“She’s my sister,” He looks affronted, “I’m supposed to be.”
“You could be nicer.” You insist, your own face hardened into a frown, “She just wanted girl time.”
“I wanted girlfriend time,” He shrugs, “You came to my house, you really thought I wasn’t gonna steal you?”
“It’s good for her to have girl friends,” You hum, still lost in thoughts of Max who’s insanely deprived of a womanly figure in her life. Billy wastes no time getting you into his bed, his jeans stretching tight over his thighs as he pushes you down, then crawls over you. He flips you when you’re both laying down, settling your body weight over his so that you’re laying against his toned chest. You prop your chin up against his pec, peering down at him as he closes his eyes in bliss as your new napping arrangements, “Promise me you’ll let us have one-on-ones every once in a while?”
“Alright, I promise.” Billy grunts, his eyes still firmly shut, “But don’t act like you guys didn’t enjoy tormenting me in there.”
“Your face is so smooth,” You’re certain he can hear the grin in your voice, and you trace against the contours of his face again with your pointer finger. It’s slightly tacky from the excess moisturizer, but it’s smoother than it’s ever been, and you busy yourself with drawing lines down his nose and curves beneath his chin.
“Stop doing that,” He gripes after a few long moments of nothing but your finger against his skin, “I’m gonna fall asleep.”
“We were gonna nap anyways,” You reason, “Just let me admire my handiwork.”
A grunt is your only answer, and Billy’s lips don’t part again as he drops into a hazy, blissful sleep, though they do lazily pinch together to pucker against the pad of your pointer finger when you drag it against them.
reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)
okay, so if my memory serves me he only wears the one consistently, but he's got others on his dresser, right? i'm thinking that maybe they're all special to him, that's why he has them, but the one that he wears every day is the most special.
not to make things terribly sad, but i think his mom probably gave it to him, maybe even the night before she left. she came into his room, shook him awake, slipped it around his neck on a chain, kissed his forehead, told him to keep it safe, and that she loved him a lot. he just smiled all sleepily and promised he'd keep it safe for her, he didn't know why she was taking so long to look at him and smile at him with tears in her eyes. then the next morning he woke up to neil shouting, and she was gone.
when you start dating, he probably thinks about giving you one off of his dresser, but he doesn't for a while. he's still too scared to commit, sure he's your boyfriend and you're his girlfriend but one day you could just up and leave like his mom did, and he doesn't want you taking that much of him with you, if he can help it. but then, the first time you ever come over, definitely when neil is gone, you're poking around his room, snooping in his stuff, and he's sitting back on his bed watching you amusedly. you come across his dish of rings and poke around in there, examining the bands and their patterns.
'pretty,' you murmur, brushing your finger over a silver one that's got a design stamped into it. he knows which one you're holding, and he's still somewhat cautious about you leaving, even if you've told him a thousand times you won't, but it's not the one around his neck, so he decides he'll trust you that much.
'keep it', he grunts, looking down at the one on his middle finger to avoid the eye contact he knows you're trying to make with him, "It can be, like, a couple-y thing. Just- uh.. keep it safe."
he's looking down at his hands in his lap so the only way he knows you're on the bed is when it dips, and you crawl on all-fours to pop your face below his own, peering up at him with a cheesy grin
'you sap,' you giggle, and even though he wants to retreat back into his shell at the teasing, even though he wants to be mean and brush it off, he doesn't, because you lean up to kiss him, and he doesn't have time to think before you're breaking away and turning to sit against his chest.
you maneuver between his legs, slumped down so that your head lays on his chest, and you reach for his hand, the one with the ring. yours is on your middle finger too, so when you lace your hands together, they clink against each other, slotting into place.
"There," You tip your head back so that his chin is snug against your crown, "They match now. We match now."
God, he's so glad that you're sitting with your back to him, because he bites back the biggest, sappiest, most puppy-like smile in the world.
and what's even better, you don't take yours off. He assumes you'll swap it out depending on outfits, moods, days, etc, but you don't. it's part of you now, just like his mom's ring is part of him, and he doesn't miss what that says about the way you feel about him.
he secretly adores the way your cheek is stamped with the mark of his mom’s band when you fall asleep with your face on his hand 🥹 if he notices it before you’re awake he’ll kiss the mark all soft and sweet
sometimes, he has to take his mom's ring off. during the shower it gets caught in his hair and pulls, hard, so whenever he's showering while you're around, he hands it to you instead of setting it on the counter. or when he's doing the dishes, he doesn't want it to get old food on it, so he places it in your palm, tells you to take it for a little while, and tries not to smile at the sight of it around your finger.
you always always always remember to give it back to him, though, because you know how much it means to him. except.. one night. he'd been washing your dinner plates, and he'd handed it off to you distractedly. He watched you put it on just to be sure, but then you'd had to rush home because of the time, and he didn't remember to grab it back from you, nor did you remember to take it off and slip it back to him.
it means that exactly seven minutes and twenty-three seconds after getting into bed that night, he starts getting drowsy and tucks his hand under his pillow, and in doing so, sees that it's... bare. he's instantly in a panic, stomach dropping and eyes widening. he is not sleepy anymore, he's shooting out of bed and grabbing the phone like it owes him money
he knows you have it, he's trying to tell himself that it's okay, but neil has always called him.. not so nice things.. for wearing a ring, a ladies' ring, and he can't shake the idea that maybe he'd gotten his hands on it somehow. his fingers are shaking, almost too much to dial your number. but he gets it eventually, and he hopes he’s not breathing too shakily against the receiver.
you barely get a, ‘hello?’ out before he blurts, “Y/N, you have my ring, right?”
“Oh, Billy,” you glance down at your hand, and, sure enough, it’s there, “I’m sorry! I just forgot, I-”
“It’s fine,” he audibly sighs, trying to calm his pounding heart, “It’s fine. Just- keep it safe, okay? Can I get it from you tomorrow?”
“of course,” you promise, and even though he’s anxious about not having it on his hand, he knows he can trust you with it, “See you tomorrow, Billy.”
he asks you for it first thing, he barely even hugs you before he’s staring at your hand, his ring definitely not on it, “Uh, babe, you got my ring?”
“Here,” You reach into the neckline of your shirt, pulling out a chain that his mom’s ring is strung on, “I just gotta-”
while you unclasp it, Billy watches with a funny feeling in his heart. it’s a scene from his memory, a sweet creature with his mama’s ring around their neck. All at once his mom’s words hit him, and he realizes it’s never been safer. It’s important to him, and so are you. You’re his safe place, and his mom would have loved you, he knows that. For the first time he’s sure you won’t leave, he knows you won’t.
he also thinks that maybe she was never talking about the ring in the first place. Maybe she was talking to the ring, taking a symbol of her love and asking it to keep her baby safe. And it feels right to pass it on, to make sure his mama keeps you safe too. So he reaches back to where you’re fumbling with the clasp, pulling your hands away from it.
“You can keep it.” He decides, leaning in to kiss your forehead, “Just.. keep it safe, okay?” And maybe he doesn’t know who he’s talking to either. Maybe it’s you, maybe it’s the ring, but either way, he wants it around your neck.
you’re stunned, for more reasons than one. First, of course, it’s his mom’s. He’s told you about it before, that’s why you’re always so diligent about getting it back to him safe. And second, he’s never done that to you before. Sure, he kisses your face when you’re about to sleep, maybe his lips against your cheek or your nose, but he doesn’t usually let himself get sappy enough to grab your face and kiss your forehead. You want to push back, to insist that he keeps his special ring, but this obviously means a lot to him, more than you’ll ever understand.
so you keep it, and now you have two of his rings on you at all times. He touches them a lot, he’ll fiddle with your necklace or spin the one around your finger, but he never takes them back, and that’s how you know he loves you
tending to his tremendously lengthy tresses is one of your favorite pastimes. meticulously, your fingers lather the shampoo into his long hair — care evident in your actions. you mutter a "is this alright?" when he grunts a little; he cant help but admire how careful you treat him. as if he was made of glass and a fragile thing to be taken care of.
realistically, he had the world at his hands. yet here he was: in a tub of warm water with sakura petals floating about and careful hands in his hair, tending to it as if tending to a delicate flower. he was anything but delicate, but you could care less.
fingernails softly raked the surface of his scalp, a sigh of relaxation uttering from his lips at the touch. he couldn't say he was used to the care you were administering to him currently — yet it was not unwelcome. in fact, it was long overdue.
he found himself thanking your stubbornness to do this.
as the water spilled from the transparent cup to rinse the shampoo from his hair, you spoke soft words; telling him to close his eyes since you didnt want the chemicals to irritate his vision. yet again, you cared for him, treating him as if he was a child.
"what's so funny?" you asked of him, a slight smile on your lips as you poured some of the conditioner into your hands. the liquid dispersed in between the both of your hands before you took his hair in your hands and threaded your fingers through it. you were mesmerized in the simple act of washing his hair for it.
he had so much of it and since you'd never done it for him before, you grew curious as to what it would be like. to your happiness, he accepted your offer (after you begged relentlessly just hours before). he could never say no to you, not truly anyway.
thus, here he was.
the brush went through his hair with ease, safe for a few knots. you realized from experience that the brush was harsh on knots so you took those into your iwn hands and untangled them manually so as to not hurt him. frankly, it amazed him how much you were enjoying this.
of course, he took great of his hair before this. but you somehow blew his own hair-care routine out of the water. "nothing, i just.. why did you beg me to do this? it's a little tedious for you, is it not?" genuinely, he wanted to know your reasoning. this was such an intimate moment, not the same intimacy he's had with you before; it was a different kind of intimacy.
".. i wanted to take care of you." the words were spoken so easily, but the impact they had on him was enough to cause his eyes to widen. it wasn't strange coming from you, but rather.. the ease in which you said felt otherworldly. he wasn't used to this passionate attention.
and while he may never get used to it.. he'll enjoy it while he has you, because despite all the things he can give to you, you still feel a need to give back.
that heart of yours always proved to be too big to fit in you which is why he vowed then to protect it with everything he has.
could you possibly do a kinda dark Charlie Kelly x female reader smut , where Charlie is obsessed with the reader like he was with the waitress and the reader feels bad for him and finally gives him a chance I could see him being really whiney and excited!!
PICKING UP A STRAY
summary: on your way home from work, you catch charlie outside your apartment complex in the rain. you don’t have the heart to tell him to go home.
pairing: charlie kelly x reader
cws: reader has a 9-5 job, reader is implied to be broke/struggling, afab terminology, reader has a bra, i imagined reader as a lady as per request but technically reader’s gender isn’t really specified, stalking, premature cumming, charlie unintentionally overstimulating himself, charlie is very unhygienic, bad sex but it’s okay reader fixes it, “making love,” charlie is a closet pervert, reader and charlie are both pathetic in their own ways, charlie is EXTRA pathetic though, panty sniffing, panty stealing, the year is ambiguous so you’re free to picture whatever season you want, excessive plot before porn, plot holes i’m sure but reader HAS to be insane for this to work, reader is bitchless, charlie is nervous and excited, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), not really proof read
wc: about 6k
reblogs appreciated!
5:08 PM
ON A FRIDAY
the ten minute drive home from work was always a little depressing. you didn’t exactly live in a comfortable area in the city, and it only looked more gloomy in the dark, gloomy rain; the further you got from the bustling heart of the city and closer to your humble apartment, the more the reality of your life brought down your mood. the music humming in your car does it’s best to drown out the harsh patter of rain hitting your roof, but it wasn’t enough to truly distract you. you pull into your usual parking spot outside of your apartment building, aching to just get inside and rot inside your bed. at least you got to leave work a few minutes earlier than usual.
stepping out of your car, you grimace slightly as the rain waits no time in soaking you. you’re quick to slam your car door shut and lock the vehicle, before making haste to your apartment building. you wrap your arms around yourself, hoping your light jacket will spare you even just a little. you’re approaching your door when you see it — him, actually.
“charlie?” you stop, squinting. in contrast, he looks like a deer caught in headlights as he whips around; he stands straight, the bushes he stands in catching on his worn out jeans. even drenched in rain, you could recognize charlie a mile away — after all, he was your non-threatening stalker. it was a long story, really, but it’s important to recap. it’s important because, while he was non-threatening (for now), he was still stalking you. sometimes, you wouldn’t see him for weeks, and would almost forget the amount of times you’ve changed apartments.
it all started about two years ago. while you were working at an old service job, charlie was your customer. he was with two of his friends, and you were polite — that was your job. to be polite. a job that you really needed at the time, and so, you always did your best with customer service, no matter how rude or strange a customer was. maybe you were a little too good at it, because it had certainly left a lasting impression on charlie. he kept showing up by himself after that — most of the time, he wouldn’t actually order anything. he’d only linger, making various poor attempts at conversation with you; which, of course, since it was your job, you had to offer polite conversation back. people hitting on you at work is always an awkward situation, especially when the person doesn’t directly ask you out, leaving you unable to verbally reject them. maybe charlie knew you would, and so he never gave you the opportunity.
it went on like that for a couple of weeks. after that, you’d see him less and less. it didn’t stop, but it was no longer a daily occurrence. another few weeks went by before you started noticing some odd things — your hair was suddenly much nicer than usual, which was odd considering your cheap shampoo and conditioner. the outside of your car looked less and less dirty, as if you started regularly taking it to the cleaner — which you certainly did not do. you’d suddenly have extras of basic necessities laying around, ones that you swore you were running low on. maybe your memory was playing tricks on you, but you couldn’t help but feel weird about it.
you finally found out the reason behind these things one day while you were getting out of the shower. you had gone to your room to get dressed, only in a towel, when you saw a figure move down the hall in your small apartment. at first, you froze — then, you grabbed the nearest blunt force object available, and carefully tip toed towards the opening of the fall, which lead to the open concept entrance, living room and kitchen. there, you saw a disheveled figure struggling to prop open your kitchen window. you had yelled, with a shaky voice, for the person to freeze and turn around — what were you, a cop? no matter, when they had, you saw him. and that was when you discovered that charlie had been meddling with your life in secret. he argued that he was helping it, but you weren’t so sure you could get behind the idea.
after that, you moved out as quickly as you could. rent around city had gone up, unfortunately, leaving you with little options; you ended up somewhere shitty, and stayed like that until it started happening again. and the process repeated, until you eventually ended up where you lived now. why didn’t you go to the police? it was complicated — sure, charlie was bothersome and a delusional freak, but he really wasn’t violent. he was the most consistent part of your life the past two-ish years. you also didn’t technically have any proof, and people often ignore cases like this until it was too late. the police just felt like a waste of time. you really should have gone, though.
“uh—“ charlie’s squeaky voice brings you back to reality. what a strange reality you lived in. his stance was stiff and rigid, clearly uncomfortable. and likely from much more than just the rain. “you’re… home early.”
“what are you doing here?” you ask with a pinch between your brows. you already know the answer. well, you had a few guesses, anyways. he’ll spill his guys anyways. he had a bad habit of rambling when he’s caught.
“well, uh— i was just… stopping by. wanted to see if your new place was… safe.” he answers, awkwardly playing with his hands and adding on a fake, airy chuckle to the end of his words. that was another habit of his; downplaying what he was doing to a causal, chill explanation. you clearly don’t look impressed, and he falters. he looks like a kicked puppy. or, a drowned rat — he goes to speak again, but you cut him off.
“how long have you been out here, charlie?” you already feel cold, and you’ve only been in the rain a few moments. he looks like a complete mess. you knew charlie didn’t live lavishly — he didn’t have to tell you. if you couldn’t tell by his barely held together clothes, or the sickly complexion of his skin, you’d at least smell his ungodly odor. maybe him out in the rain was good. like a bath.
his eyes widen at your question. he looks aside for a moment, nervously chuckling. “ahh—“ he waves a dismissive hand; “don’t worry about it.” he says, because he thinks you’re creeped out by the prospect of him hanging around outside your windows. he hates to cut this short, because he really wanted to get to know your new place better, but he supposes it’ll just have to wait for another day. he would have just broken in like he usually did, but with all the rain and mud, he would have left too obvious of a trail. he had started to learn how to be real sneaky early on.
again, you stare at him with an unimpressed expression. he hates when you look at him like that. he misses that cute customer service smile you used to always flash at him. you were one of the only people that made him feel like an actual human being. in a poor attempt to save face, he goes to start again, and you once again cut him off.
“c’mon.” you grumble, nodding towards your apartment door. it’s rainy and cold and maybe it was messing with your judgement, because you’re inviting your stalker inside. he looks surprised, too, but he stumbles out of the bushes and follows you inside. you aren’t 100% sure why you’re inviting him in — he just looked so… pathetic. for some reason, you didn’t like seeing him look like that, and you certainly didn’t like the idea of him walking home in this weather. after all, you practically moved to the other side of the city where you first met him. you wanted to get away from him. and yet, you were letting him inside your home.
charlie clumsily reaches down to take off his beaten up sneakers after he watches you step out of your shoes. the rain outside clearly wasn’t a good enough bath, because now that you were inside with him, you could still smell… him. you try not to cringe, and he seems to not be self aware of his odor. he looks quite happy for a guy that was soaked to the bone. his gaze doesn’t stay on you for long, wandering instead to look around your apartment. it wasn’t very homey yet, as you moved recently, but anything that was yours he loved.
“do you want to take a shower?” you ask after a moment, trying to not be flat out rude, but also desperately needing the man to wash if he was going to stay until the rain passed. plus, you didn’t want him to get sick — maybe you can toss his clothes in the dryer? he perks up at your offer, and you can see the affection in his eyes. you weren’t sure what else to call it. any display of kindness you showed seemed to be just another nail to the coffin.
“really?” could this night get any better? when you tentatively nod, he grins — you lead him to the bathroom, and give him a general guide; letting him know any quirks of the shower, since it wasn’t exactly well kept before you had gotten there. you didn’t have very fancy products, but you got him a wash cloth he could use with the soap and such — there was already a few towels in there, and while you’d debate burning whichever ones he uses after, the premise of him not stinking up your apartment was enough to get by. you leave him to do his business, and you decide to get changed in your room. while you didn’t stay in the rain nearly as long as charlie did, you were still pretty wet. afterwards, you head to the kitchen — when you pass by the bathroom, you hear awful singing.
you remember that you were going to put his clothes in the dryer. right. you hesitate before knocking on the bathroom door — you hear nothing back, and sigh through your nose. of course, he didn’t lock the door, and so you were able to just open it. the shower curtain is thick, so you couldn’t see him, but a loud gasp pulls from him as if he could.
“just getting your clothes — i’m putting them in the dryer,” you say quickly, and grab the mentions items from ontop of the closed toilet lid; he lets out a little *oh, okay, * and you don’t stick around. you close the door behind you, and head over to the corner where you crammed your washing machine and dryer. since it’s only a few items, it shouldn’t take too long. you doubt his shower will be terribly long, either. still, you have time to kill; why not make supper?
you keep it simple, with a classic box mac and cheese, because fuck cooking after work. you take your time as you get plates and such together, before actually grabbing a box to cook up — it’s a few minutes later that you hear the bathroom door open.
coming down the hallway is a slightly wet, but surely cleaner charlie; he walks into the space with one of your towels messily wrapped around his waist. you can see some remaining droplets of water rolling down his abdomen, getting trapped in his poorly maintained happy trail, and —
“you’re cooking?” he sounds much jollier than he usually did. you blink, and quickly meet his gaze. there was no way you were just distracted by charlie — well, you haven’t been with anyone in… awhile, so, surely that explains it!
“y—yeah,” you clear your throat a little; “just mac and cheese. uh… your clothes will be dry soon, i think. sorry about…” you trail off, and gesture to the towel. “that.”
he glances down and chuckles. “nah, can’t complain.” his cheeks are a little flustered. “thanks for letting me shower.”
“no problem…” you almost mumble, bringing your attention back to the mac and cheese. you didn’t want to start ogling him again like a freak. were you really so lonely and starved of male attention that… *charlie * had you feel some type of way?
around when you finish up cooking, the dryer goes off. charlie snags his clothes, and heads to the bathroom to change. you can’t help but eye him as he walks down the hall. you were practically asking to be murdered, weren’t you? you take out two plates, serving food on both and placing them on your dainty kitchen table; charlie shouldn’t take too long, and so you decide to start without him.
“heyyy-yo!” charlie greets as he comes back in, now dressed in, not quite clean, but at least not soaked clothes. you swallow down the food in your mouth, perking up a little — you can’t help but look him over. you never thought charlie was particularly bad looking, only extraordinarily disheveled at all times; he didn’t clean up half bad.
“hi,” you eventually reply, and gesture to the seat in front of you. “i made mac and cheese.”
“holy shit, really?” his eyes light up and he makes his way over with haste. pulling out the chair across from you, he plops down and doesn’t really bother to tuck himself in under the table. he grabs a utensil with an overzealous carelessness, and you can’t help but wonder when the last time he ate was from how he starts to eat.
“uh… no one’s gonna take it away from you,” you try to joke, but your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and there’s a pinch between your brows. from this close, you can see his still damp hair start to drip.
charlie looks up at you through his eyelashes and away from the food. an airy, small chuckle falls from his lips. “ah, yeah…” he seems almost self conscious, but he makes little effort to change, aside from straightening up a bit. “i just haven’t had a proper cooked meal in awhile.”
you blink, because your boxed mac and cheese was most certainly not a ‘proper cooked meal.’ you knew a lot of random trivia about charlie, from his early day visits. to keep conversation going, he would unpromptedly share facts about himself. they tended to be drawn out, poorly explained facts, though. you’re beginning to realize that, in the big picture, you don’t know much about his actual life.
“well…” you start again, unsure of what to say. “i’m glad you like it.”
“like it? i love it!” he compliments, taking a generous bite. “you’re a super amazing cook, i mean —“ he swallows; “seriously.”
you try to not notice his poor table manners, because it wasn’t like you were exactly classy yourself. you look down at yourself and your shitty work clothes. with a small, hardly audible sigh, you thank him and continue to eat. dinner carries on; charlie makes various attempts at conversation, and you do your best to keep up with his random thought process. it’s hard to not stare during his tangents — he was, admittedly, passionate. it was endearing, when it really shouldn’t have been.
as the pair of you finish up eating, you can still hear the rain tap against your windows. the realization that you may just be stuck with charlie all night is starting to sink in, and you still have no idea what your plan is. you had let charlie in on a sympathetic, impulsive whim. you didn’t exactly have a spare bedroom in your dingy apartment.
“thanks for the food,” he says, and if you didn’t know anything about his mother, it would seem uncharacteristically polite. you only nod, and awkwardly stand to grab his plate and yours. you can feel his eyes on you as you place them in the sink — you’ll clean those later, you think. you glance over your shoulder, and charlie only smiles. you try your best to offer one back.
“so…” you trail off, turning to face him and leaning back against the counter. he makes no attempt to add on, and can’t help but squint a little.
“wanna watch, like, tv or something?” you suggest, and his eyes widen.
“oh, shit, you got cable?” he grins, and you open your mouth to confirm, but he’s starting again; “yeah, yeah, we should watch tv!” he stands up from your table, and clumsily tucks it back in. you lead him to your living room, and the two of you do your best to get comfortable on your not so impressive couch.
this close, you can smell your shampoo on him. you can only imagine his body smells like your soap. blinking hard, you reach for the remote and flick through channels until you find some romcom that was in decent quality. throughout the movie, charlie makes some unfunny commentary, which you hardly have the energy to even fake laugh at. when the male lead finally works up the courage to kiss the female lead, there’s a sudden silence in the room. out of the corner of your eye, you can feel him staring — again. you glance over, and this time, he’s not smiling. he looks almost dazed.
“… charlie?” you question slowly, squinting and leaning back a little. you’re suddenly very aware of just how close you two are. he isn’t meeting your gaze, though — instead, it looks like he’s looking down at your lips, his own slightly parted. your brows furrow.
“char—” you start again, a little exasperated. he cuts you off, mirroring what he saw on screen moments ago. your eyes nearly pop out of your head as he presses his lips against your own. a vague noise of protest rumbles in your mouth, and he only takes the opportunity to, as best as you can put it, eat your face.
you promptly push him back, your hands planted firmly on his chest. he looks confuses, eyes wide and his brows stitched up and together. there’s a little bit of a rosy hue on his otherwise pale cheeks.
“what the fuck was that?” you ask, but your voice is much softer than you expected it to be. you should be angry — furious, really. you can feel your heart pound against your ribs, and in the dim lighting of the living room, you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks as he tentatively apologizes.
what the fuck were you thinking?! this is the guy who had been harassing you. sure, he argued he was making your life better, always looking out for you — something no other guy has ever really done. the dating scene in the city was six feet under, really. a guy even planning a date was a one in a million chance. your friends insisted guys were just intimidated by you, but the last couple of years had been notably lonely. other than…
something in you was changing, and you wish you could blame it on alcohol. the hands flared out on his chest, move to grip his shirt, and you tug him back in for another kiss. this time, it was his turn to make a sound of surprise, but he settles into the kiss much faster than you did.
the hands holding onto the fabric of his shirt move to the back of his neck, your fingers sliding into his still damp, dark hair. you can feel his hands grip your waist, and there’s an underlying uncertainty in the touch — you can tell he isn’t so sure about what was happening, but he’s kissing you all the same. you’re kissing him. he was most certainly not your ideal hookup candidate, but dick was dick and you were really struggling to remember the last time you got that.
“uh—“ you can feel his nervous chuckle against your lips as you start to climb into his lap. pulling back, you look at him — he looks at you like you put the each and every star in the sky, and you still aren’t entirely sure why.
“is… is this okay?” charlie asks, swallowing thickly. you squint a little, because you don’t want to talk about it. this has to be in your top five worst choices made — sleeping with your stalker? seriously?
so, instead, you just nod and lean back in to kiss him again. he seems more confident this time, practically hugging you closer; he’s surprisingly warm. your lips messily mesh against his — you don’t feel any need to impress him, which was … actually pretty nice. if anything, he should be trying to impress you!
he does — as you grind down against his crotch mid-makeout, he wraps an arm under you and flips the both of you. the kiss breaks as you lay back, eyes widening. he leans over you, your legs hooked over his hips. if the lighting was better, you’d see how blown out his pupils were.
charlie presses his lips against yours again, but it’s more like a peck. his lips wander, and he kisses along your cheek in haste as he shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall down besides the couch. you cringe a little as he sucks at the edge of your jaw, a little too close to your ear lobe. you can feel yourself start to grow wet nonetheless. a hefty sigh pushes through your nose at the feeling.
none the wiser, charlie mistakes your sigh for a sound of pleasure and smiles to himself. he can’t even remember the amount of times he’s jacked off to this idea — let alone to the lingering scent you left on your pillows when you weren’t around, the panties you left in your laundry bin, your used washcloth from the shower you had that morning — his pants feel awfully tight now.
“you…” he starts again, his voice a little breathy. “you — you do want this, right?” he asks, an excited undertone to his words. the hands on your waist inch down to the edge of your shirt, and you know he wants to take it off. so, you do it for him — you sit up a little, peel your shirt off, and let it fall by his jacket.
“yeah…” you practically mumble, and you aren’t sure if he’s really listening. he seems to have no shame as he stares at your bra-covered chest. you can’t help but raise your eyebrows. “hello?”
“oh, oh— yeah, yeah. yes?” he shakes his head, gaze flickering between your face and your breasts. his tongue darts out, swiping across his bottom lip, and you bite yours.
you feel his hands reach behind you, and they unclasp your bra. he doesn’t struggle with it as much as you’d expect. well, if you consider all the locks of yours he’s picked, maybe it makes a little more sense. he drops it to the growing pile of clothes.
he leans back on his knees as he looks down. “wow—“ you almost miss it with how quietly he mumbles, and his hands come to cup your breasts.
“hey—“ you distract him, and he looks at you. your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt. “come on.”
“oh, right, right. sorry,” he chuckles, reluctantly removing his hands from your chest to tug his shirt up and over his head. he smiles down at you, and you really notice his crows feet. he presses a kiss to your lips again, and then to your chin; the kisses are quick to trail down your neck, and then the valley between your breasts.
“i’ve waited so long for this—“ he confesses against your skin, as if you don’t know. you inhale softly as his lips stop at the top of your pants. he looks up at you through his lashes; “can i…?”
you nod, and he leans back on his knees. he unbuttons the button of your pants, and unzips them. tugging them down with an underlying desperation, he stares intently at your underwear while he tosses your pants aside. you feel almost insecure at his staring, but before you can comment, he moves.
charlie lowers himself, lower and lower, until he’s face to face with your clothed cunt. his nose, probably unknowingly, presses against your clit and he takes an excessively long inhale.
“charlie.*” you cringe, your hips involuntarily arching in an attempts to get away from his bizarrely embarrassing interest. he pulls back, looking up at you.
“sorry,” he says with a loose smile, and you can tell he doesn’t really know what it was he was even apologizing for. he leans back up to sit on his knees again, his fingers coming under your underwear to tug them down your leg. he shoves them in the back pocket of his pants, and starts to get his barely held together, worn jeans off. he’s a little clumsy, as he tries not to disturb your legs hanging on his hips, but you’re considerate enough to lift them while he shoves his pants down. his boxers look… well, they look. if you weren’t so focused on the tent in them, maybe you’d be a bit more concerned with the state of his underwear.
“so…” he swallows hard, and a hand combs through his slowly drying hair; he feels a little sweat building up in his hairline, and he hasn’t even put it in yet…!! sometimes, he wishes he was even half as ‘smooth’ or… what was that other word? sw-ouve? suave? as dennis… maybe he’ll have to get in his apartment and re-watch some of his sex tapes… but, the angle of them was so…
“i’m, uh, i’m good.” you say, noticing what looks to be charlie spacing out right before having sex with you. you try to not take offence. after all, you’re quite literally positive that he has even less luck in the love department than you.
“oh—“ charlie blinks hard, “yeah? yeah, okay, good. that’s good.” it feels like his heart was gonna jump out of his throat as he tugs his boxers down, but is too lazy to take them off all the way; his cock falls out, erect and already leaking pre-cum. you can’t help but stare at the hairy mess of his crotch.
charlie is staring at yours, too, but for different reasons. he’s looking at your little hole, biting his bottom lip — he really has waited so long for this. the gang was never going to believe this. maybe, after this… you guys can… hang out a little. you know… date!* and you can tell them yourself!! the thought makes his dick twitch. he grasps his length, and angles it so that it presses against your drooling cunt. you feel a spark of arousal zap you at the feeling of his tip against you, but you don’t get to really appreciate the feeling for long before he’s pushing inside you.
a little noise of discomfort hums in your mouth, your lips pressing together firmly; it wasn’t like a terrible rip inside you, but, you usually preferred a little more… prep? charlie stops half way in, looking up at you with wide eyes.
“are you okay?” he asks, voice breathy. you wave a dismissive hand, nodding.
“yeah, yeah— you’re fine, don’t worry,” you assure, and once the initial stretch settles, you finally feel full. even if you masturbated, your fingers couldn’t truly emulate the feeling of an actual cock inside of you. your face heats up as charlie pushes himself the rest of the way inside, and you can hear him let out a little groan.
there’s a pause, assumably to let the both of your adjust for a moment, before charlie is dragging his length against your velvety walls. he doesn’t pull all the way out, leaving most of his tip in before pushing back in; he works up a rhythm, even though it’s a little uncoordinated. he’s panting softly on top of you, and you struggle to hold back soft sounds of pleasure. he catches them, and his hands move from your hips to your hands — he intertwines your fingers, and your eyes widen. he leans over you, and you can’t help but squeeze his hands. he smiles at you, and squeezes back.
this pace lasts for about 30 seconds before his hips buck forward with more passion. he groans, and you can’t help the way your cunt tightens around him; a whine settles in his throat, and he feels too caught up in the feeling of your warm walls around him to realize he should back off before he —
you suddenly feel a thick, gooey substance inside you and your eyes widen. your back arches, and you feel grossly turned on — you just wish it didn’t end… so fast? you open your mouth to say something, but charlie is just as quick to apologize.
“sorry, sorry—“ his voice is even more pitchy than usual, and his hands grip yours like his life depended on it while his hips stay nestled against yours. he seems to struggle every time your walls contract around him. you kind of wished he pulled out, but… oh well? he will in a second, anyways.
to your surprise, he takes in a shaky breath before slowly starting again. a pinch forms between your brows, and a quiet moan gets caught up in your throat. you can hear a light squelching sound from between your legs, and your face burns. you feel hot and a little sweaty, and he looks… well, much worse. you’re surprised he’s even still hard, but… you know he tends to get hard around you most of the time. still, this must have been awfully overstimulating for the guy? the thought that he just wanted to fuck you so bad that he’d continue to, orgasm after orgasm…
one of your hands wiggle out of his grip and snake down your body. your fingers find your clit, and you softly rub it; your tummy tightens and so does your cunt. charlie whimpers on top of you, and he breathes out an i love you. you’re too focused on chasing your own high to fully process his words.
his thrusts start to smooth out a little, rolling his pelvis into yours — there’s still an obvious uncertainty to them, but your fingers speed up against your clit all the same. you pant, and the two of you make eye contact. his cheeks are flared, his lips are red from biting and kissing, his pupils were blown out; in the shitty lighting of your apartment, he looks so good like this. he feels so good inside of you. you can physically feel your distaste for the man melting away each time his cockhead plunges against that spot inside you.
an actual moan escapes you, and he refocuses. he leans does to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, while trying to hit that same spot inside you again. you can hardly kiss him back, jaw slacking — your fingers move furiously against your little button, and your legs cross behind him, desperate to feel him against you. the feeling begins to overwhelm you, and your tummy flips.
it isn’t much longer before that knot inside you snaps, and you cum around him. the pleasure washes through you, and your swear your foot just twitched. the hand that was messing with your clit comes up to push in the hair at the nape of his neck, gripping the strands there; charlie’s hips buck against you at the feeling, and he moans and whimpers into the kiss. he cums for the second time tonight with a whine, and he slows to a stop inside of you.
a few moments pass before he reluctantly pulls back. you look so beautiful like this — under him, panting softly, with parted lips and a notable slump. he had thought about this moment so many nights with his dick between his hand, and none of those scenarios ever compared to this.
charlie pulls his cock out of you, and some of his cum dribbles out of you. he doesn’t really notice, although you feel it. you let go of the hand that still held yours, and you almost cringe at how sweaty it feels.
“… hi,” he practically whispers with a little chuckle — reality was really starting to hit him now, and he can’t help but feel giddy. it makes your heart flutter.
“hi…” the hand at the back of his head comes forward, brushing his hair out of his face. you feel tired and a little spent. reality was hitting you, too, but you feel more weirded out than happy. charlie takes your hand and presses a playful kiss to it, and you realize that you’ve really made a mess of things.
“do you wanna… go to bed?” he suggests, his mind wandering. he imagines himself abandoning frank and coming to live with you. maybe he was just feeling romantic and impulsive, but he thinks he’d probably abandon everything for a chance to be with you.
“i think…” you slowly pull your hand away from him, and start to sit up. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”
“oh,” is all he says for a moment, but then he grins. “i’ll see you in bed, then?”
“uh, sure.” you nod, and you can still hear the rain outside. he nods too, and his grin stretches so wide it hurts his cheeks. he gathers up his clothes, putting his boxers back on and starts to head down the hall to your room. you watch him, and your mind wanders, too. you aren’t sure how you can ever hope to even possibly get rid of him, now.
a/n: heyyyy guys..... did u miss me.... it's only been 160 days LMFAOOOO. sorry for my absence, college is wild. not sure what my uploading will be like from here on, i have a ton of requests to sort through but nandor is on my radar !!!! got alot of nandor requests so expect fic soon.
thought id ease in with my fav lil bastard man. ive been meaning to do an nsfw alphabet with dennis for so long that it came really easily for me to write, but this isnt like my usually fics, very relaxed and lazy writing style. love u all as always and thank you for all the concerned messages I AM ALIVE!!!! just busy
cw: dennis shenanigans, some disrespect to woman ofc, smut smut smut cannot stress that enough, fem reader, not proofread, very casual writing style, 1.3k words, lowercase.
very lazy. will flip over, give you a kiss on the head, and then go to sleep.
B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partners)
on partner: boobs. there's so much evidence to support this. he's so a titty man. he's constantly trying to get his hands on them when fucking which is why he favours positions like cowgirl or missionary.
on himself: his dick. he's very gifted and very proud of it, cocky bastard (pun intended)
C = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
dennis is a dick. he hates to get cum on himself but would happily see you ruined in it. he tries to convince you to let him cum on your face when you give him a blowjob. would love to cum inside you. not for the purposes of reproduction, but in a very predatory way of claiming you.
D = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
i think he'd love to watch one of his tapes with you. fucking you while he fucks some other girl in the background is very hot to him. he doubts you would be into it however. he knows its unappealing for you to imagine him with someone else.
E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
say it with me: WWWWWWHOOOOOOOORRREEEE.
dennis is not shy about the fact he has had many, many sexual intercounters. he prides himself on how many women he's been with and uses that knowledge to get you and him off.
F = favorite position (this goes without saying)
like i said before, i think he'd been into missionary or cowgirl so he can grab your tits. although i think he'd opt more often for missionary and its plain and easy.
G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
dennis would definitely try to be super serious and sexy to a humorous extent. he would try to be all suave, but it would come off as just plain stupid. he'd try to incorporate music and a little dance into his foreplay and you would giggle, and he would get super offended. like "no take this seriously!" as two of hearts by stacey q plays.
H = hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
very well maintained. dennis definitely prides himself on his dick and spends effort making it look the best it can.
I = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.)
if this is a one night stand, he will try to fake some kind of deep romance into it, but truly it is not there. it is a one and done situation.
however, if this is an established relationship, i think he'd lose himself in the moment. he'd be more sappy than he realises, caressing your skin as he thursts or letting out a few "i love you"s that he would never admit to later as he cums.
J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)
i think dennis would believe masterbating is just something teenagers do and if he's horny he will just fuck. but occasionally if you are away from home and he's lonely he'll have to rub one out to that tape of you he has.
K = kink (one or more of their kinks)
bondage. obviously. love love loves the idea of you being restained and fully at his mercy. however, he doesn't just introduce this kink to anyone. you would have to be together long term before he brings out his "bondage shit." that's because it comes with him hiding the more insane parts of himself.
L = location (favorite places to do the do)
pretty vanilla and will usually want to do it in his bedroom. he feels most comfortable there, and mac knows not to come in. also, maybe because of the cameras he has in there. maybe.
M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
dennis is a simple man. short skirts and low-cut tops usually do the trick.
less traditionally, you telling him off can also get him going. either he's filled with the need to 'discipline' you or he wants you to take your anger out on him and ride him till the sun comes up, baby!!
N = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
there's nothing he wouldn't do to you. truly. anything is on the table. for himself, however, i don't think he'd like to get hurt. he's a big ole baby, and it would bruise his ego :(
O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
definitely prefers receiving because he is a selfish bastard man. he's rough with it, too, grabbing your head and using you like his personal fleshlight.
and of course, he's shit at giving. you'll have to teach him how to properly eat pussy.
P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
starts off painfully slow and ends hard and rough. he makes an ordeal out of foreplay. he will tease and test you before finally entering you, and even then he's going slow. when he actually starts fucking you though he's unapologetically fast. he's chasing his own high and you'll probably cum along the way.
Q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
he prefers to take his time during sex so i doubt hed be down for full penatration quickies. however quick blowjobs? he loves. especially if there's a chance you could get caught, like taking you to the office and having you suck his dick under the desk before going back out to serve again.
R = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
definitely prefers to fuck properly at home, however, like said in 'Q' up to take some risks.
S = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
one and done, im going to be so real. he will come then turn over and go to sleep.
T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
so many. so. vibrators, ball gags, rope. you name it, he probably has it. but only for his partner. he doesn't like the idea that he would need a toy to get himself off.
U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)
like mentioned in 'P', he likes to drag sex out, making a performance. he likes to degrade you by making you wait, dennis is solely focused on his own pleasure usually.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
dennis likes to pretend he isn't a whiny bitch. he lets out swallowed groans and grunts as he grinds against you, but pathetic little whines and occasionally even whimpers will slip out. this will only happen in a relationship and usually when your being aggressive towards him, like pulling his hair and clawing his back with ever growing need.
W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)
i think with enough persuasion, you could peg dennis reynolds. if you somehow frame it in a way that caters to his hypermasculine view, he'll be begging for it.
X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
dude, he's huge. as seen in "mac and charlie die" (ifykyk). it almost makes up for his huge ego, almost. i imagine he's around 9 inches hard.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
dennis acts as though he is constantly seducing women and bringing them back to his place, this is not true. when not in a relationship, he usually only brings like 1 or 2 girls home a month. there's so much rigmarole to using his stupid D.E.N.N.I.S system that it's usually not worth the effort.
when he's in a relationship however, this drive rises. when you are around all the time suddenly he's always eager to fuck. most nights, infact.
Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep)
like mentioned in 'A', he falls asleep pretty quickly. he'll give you a lazy kiss and drape his arm across you as a sort of 'thank you'. an appreciation.
- dennis isn't entirely sure how to act when you tell him you're sick.
- as your boyfriend, he knows he should be concerned and doting and attentive. but as dennis reynolds? he doesn't want to get sick too, ew.
- you know him, you know he won't want to be infected by your disgusting horrible disease (a common cold), but you are bedridden and ask him to pick up a few things for you.
- and he can at least do that for you. he makes his way to your apartment, a plastic bag stocked with pills and soup in hand. but when he swings open the door, he crumbles, finding you curled up on your sofa.
- you tell him to go home and to not get sick but suddenly he's a nurse and he's tying back your hair and pushing the strands that stick to your sweat coated forehead out of your pretty face and cooing about how gross you look.
"you should've called me if you were this bad. this feels like neglect." he says as he turns off whatever stupid reality tv show you were dazedly watching and raises his cold, cold hand to your scalding forehead. you hum at the sensation. "you look like you're near death. did you eat? of course you didn't." he talks to himself, blocking out any protests you might have.
- he'd rummage through your cupboards until he'd find a suitable bowl to microwave the soup in. you'd watch in dazed amazement, still ensure if this was some sort of sickness inflicted hallucination.
- you knew he'd feed the goddamn broth to you if you didn't take the spoon from him.
- he rambles about how your sickness is a result of "not having enough vitamins in your system" and you "need to take care of yourself" and how tomorrow he'll bring down some of the supplements he has to fight the cold.
- you try to tell him that it is only a cold and it would disappear in a couple of days, but he only argues back about how he didn't want to get himself or anyone else infected.
- but truly, he hated to see you suffering. it broke his heart when he heard your nasal-ly tone or when you'd shiver from being too cold. and frankly, he'd do anything to ensure this never happened again. even if that meant force feeding you omega 3 supplements.
when he's sick:
- dennis being sick is hell. whiny, lazy, sniffling hell. he would be denying the fact he is sick - not wanting to appear weak, of course - while also begging for you to come help him.
- unlike when you're sick, he'd immediately call you complaining about how he'd caught something, how he felt like he was dying, and how he needed you to come nurse him back to health.
- used to his theatrics by now and also feeling a little guilty hearing his stuffy pathetic tone on the phone, you make your way to his apartment.
- mac had long evacuated the apartment. now that you were in the picture? his days of dealing with sick dennis were over, good luck to you.
"what the hell took so long?" dennis groaned from his bedroom. you walk in and gesture to your tote bag of supplies.
"i don't get sick, ever. i'm perfectly well," then after a moment of silence, "i think it's something like the flu or pneumonia," dennis coughs.
"i think you just have a cold baby," you say blankly. he tuts.
- he whines when you get up to leave. he whines at you to get stuff when you stay. he whines.
- in fact, all he has done is whine. he has made zero effort to get pills for his raging headache, possibly still in denial he was sick. so you grab him a small glass of water and set the painkillers in his lap.
- he would be so slow and dramatic. just staring at the glass before him.
"i'm not helping you drink the water, dennis," "no, i know, just give me a second."
- he eventually takes the tablets, groaning when the taste lingers on his tongue.
- he's even clingy when he's sick, not wanting you to leave again. he'll claim you have to stay over and watch him in case something horrible happens while he's sleeping.
- you make yourself comfortable by his side, stroking his leg over the duvet to lull his to sleep. you have to keep up the petting motion in one hand while the other scrolls on your phone as you wait for him to wake up and start yapping again.
pls send any dennis reynolds requests or prompts or ideas or ANYTHING u have. im begging the brainrot is SO BAD and i NEED to write for him im just outta ideas. can be sfw or nsfw thank u pookies 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
could you do romantic Dennis or Charlie hcs with a super affectionate s/o btw I love your account ^^
YASS i got you!!!! and tysm omg!!
charlie
- lowkey really obsessed with you. like hes never had anyone so openly love him like this. so it kind of reduces him to gibberish when you kiss him on the cheek
- hes always pointing you out to people who come into the bar bc hes so dumbstruck that you’re actually his and he wants to tell everyone
- sometimes when the gang is sitting in a booth and you scooch in next to him and interlock your hands, he just goes blank for a couple minutes until he comes back to reality
- one time he actually offered you his jacket and you kissed him on the nose in gratitude. he didn’t stop grinning until mac tried to tackle him for “looking dumb as hell”
- im sooo picturing lots of times where you’re holding his hand and he just can’t stop glancing over to look at you because hes so amazed
- at some points he gets so overwhelmed he has to take a couple laps around the bar
dennis
- initially pretend he hates it. hes always pulling his hand away or swerving away from a kiss while mumbling “pda is gross”
- but one time when you guys are sitting at the bar, you catch him off guard with a kiss on the shoulder. he spins his chair away with an annoyed noise but you can see his cheeks go bright red
- he’s bartending one night and gives you a drink and you go “thanks handsome” and he has to fumble to not drop the bottle he’s holding. you pretend like you weren’t looking to save him the embarrassment
- one of the first times he initiates is when you guys are sitting in a booth with the gang, and he nudges ur hand under the table. when you go to move it away, he interlocks your pinkies and shoots you a quick smile
- you come into the bar one night after an awful day at work and make a beeline for him. he opens his mouth to say something rude but stops short when you wrap your arms around him. he looks around to make sure no one’s watching and surrenders, putting his arms around your shoulders and mumbling his best attempts at encouragement
Hihi!!! I was wondering if you could do a fluff/smut fic w Charlie and afab!reader, the reader is a virgin and is nervous for their first time but Charlie is just super sweet, funny, and caring w them <3 thank you!!!
-🐀💜
first time | charlie kelly x reader smut
authors note: this request has been in my inbox so long i am SO sorry anon omfghwuehehe. im finally in the mood to write smut cuz im off for summer (woohoo) and charlie was also the most requested for me to write smut of 😭😭 SO here we are. this is my first charlie fic i hope i did him justice. love yall as always
cw: NSFW !!!!!!!!!! smut smut smut. afab!reader, taking virginity, p in v sex, charlie is so sweet shsh, 1.9k words
Charlie was an amazing boyfriend. Astonishingly. Not that you went into this relationship believing he was a horrible person or something, just expecting that he would have a lesser grasp on how a relationship functions, and the key things that happen in one. But no. He remembered birthdays and brought you "unique", but well appreciated gifts. And he tried to do one thing he knew was vital for a relationship: affection. Charlie, despite not totally getting the hype himself, was intuitive of what a partner would expect in a relationship and made sure to give you affection. He would give you little awkward cuddles when watching a movie, forehead kisses when you left for work, and would make out with you if you both felt in the mood. When things got heated though, you would back away and mutter apologies about not being ready. And that was okay. He would confirm with you that that was okay and he didn't want to do it if you weren't happy, and that he wasn't upset. But even still you would understand if he was. Because you never explained why you didn't want to.
Despite general weirdness and being unadjusted to society as a whole, Charlie Kelly knew how to fuck. Put gracelessly. It was probably that rough and rugged look that attracted others, as well as you. You knew him long enough to know this about him. And this thought was haunting. Not because you were insecure about him having partners in the past, but because you hadn't. There was a major difference between you and you're boyfriend, Charlie: you were a virgin.
You were growing tired of this abstinence, but you were ruled by fear. What if Charlie was embarrassed or even turned off by your lack of experience? Even so, you couldn't stay like this. For his benefit and your own. So you ask him to talk. Charlie wasn't great with picking up on social cues, so he didn't understand why this could be a big deal. He did pick up on your uncomfortable behaviour, however. You were fidgeting with your hands and pushing your hair out of your face obsessively. You fumbled over your words.You avoided looking at him on the opposite side of the couch.
"So, um, I wanted to talk to you about taking another, uh, step? I guess? In the relationship. Not like marriage or something, um, like sex?" You blabber nervously.
Charlie felt it was important to hold eye contact while you spoke. He was unusually quiet and nodding along. It was encouraging. He wasn't overly eager but also not distressingly unemotional either. He waited for you to continue.
"I know I haven't really wanted to go, uh, 'all the way' before, and you've been really good about it, but I think I'm ready now? But I've been really hesitant about it because, well, I don't have any experience." You were starting to get more comfortable expressing your feelings. "I'm a virgin, Charlie."
Charlie studied your face for a moment. He went to speak, but you butt in first.
"I don't know if I was maybe supposed to tell you? I don't know. I was just nervous you.." You paused and bit your lip, "I thought maybe you'd lose interest?"
"No, never!" Charlie said quickly. It was the first he'd spoken since you asked him to talk, and it was a strong rebuttal. "No, I'd never lose interest in you. I like you a lot. I jus' wanted to make sure you were happy n' stuff." He said. You smiled, feeling a wave of relief hit you.
"So, what, you wanna do it now?" Charlie said bluntly. He wasn't known for being tactful or having much grace in his words. He didn't move from his place across from you. He waited for your reaction. Suddenly, you were feeling a little warm under his gaze.
"If- if you want to- I.." you fumbled.
"No. Do you want to?" Charlie enforced.
You nodded gently before given spoken consent. "Yeah. I do. Badly."
Charlie leaned over the couch. His calloused hand found your cheek. You assumed they were coarse from all the 'Charle work' he had to do at the bar, but he was so so gentle with you. Before he connected his lips, he leaned in close, his breath vibrating against your skin for a moment. He was giving you an opportunity to protest of back away, but of course, you didn't.
You had a lot of practice making out with him, but this felt more charged. You knew what would happen after this. His body followed yours. When you needed to pull away for air, he followed suit and gave you space. When you reconnected, his hands gently held your waist. You found yourself being pushed to be lying on the sofa.
"Is this okay?" he pulled away to ask. You nod and his hands tangle in your hair - not pulling or tugging, just relaxing in it - and moved your face closer.
You're fully laid back on the sofa when your lips disconnect this time. His hands move to grab your shirt. Your heart is beating faster and faster when you realise this is happening now. You're not uncomfortable. No, this is a feeling of excitement.
He delicately lifts the shirt over your head. He's treating you as carefully as you would some bone china or a kitten. You were in the comfort of your own home, so you were braless, and he's studying your tits like they were a piece of fine art, someone's magnum opus. Or whatever Charlie would consider fine art.
"Can I uh- touch?" His voice has a gravelly touch to it, unusual for your squeaky boyfriend. It makes your stomach flip.
When you nod, his hands quickly reach to paw your breasts. The rough texture of his hands against your nipples makes your breath labour a little. He takes note of it.
He continues to fondle you. You're twitching and breathing heavily. But to be honest, you're wishing he would touch your pussy. Deciding to take matters into your own hands and feeling more confident now, you grab his shirt and pull it over his head. He's taken a back by your actions but not upset at all. He let's you take his shirt off. It ruffles his hair a little
You lay back and admire his toned arms. It had always been a feature you were drawn to in him. You'd watch him carry beer boxes or a keg in the bar and feel yourself get wet at the view.
He lets you study him without saying anything and obliges when you kiss him again, just happy to see you gain some confidence in the foreplay. His beard is rough against your face as he angles his head to get deeper into your mouth.
His hands move lower, headed towards the waistband of your sweatpants. "Is this okay, baby?" He mumbled your mouth in-between kisses.
"Yes, please." Please? 'I sounded so pathetic', you thought.
Charlie shimmied your sweatpants down. Your lips stopped moving against his, and you felt your chest get heavy. Charlie stopped what he was doing quickly.
"Are you okay?" probably the 100th time he had said that tonight, but comforting no matter. "We can stop if you need -"
"No, no, no," you cut him off. "It's okay. I'm just a little nervous still."
Charlie leaned his forehead against yours. "You're okay, s'only me." He repeated.
After a minute of silence and when your heart rate returned to normal again, "You can keep going."
Charlie gently took your underwear off. You were embarrassingly wet. Apparently, caring and affirmative boyfriends really get you going.
"So pretty," Charlie mumbled to himself. You could've cum right there.
He gently rubbed his finger along your soaked slit. The contact made you jolt. He kept his eyes on your face the whole time, ensuring you were still into it. The whines you were letting out were all the confirmation.
"Are... do you need me to, like, uh, 'warm you up' or..?" Charlie mumbled awkwardly while still stroking your wet slit.
He was asking if you were wet enough for him to fuck you. You were. You had been since you started making out. And you certainly were now that you were staring at his hard dick in his pants.
You shook your head, "No, I'm ready." You say, taking a deep inhale.
Charlie carefully hooked his hands under your knees to bring you to the edge of the sofa and spread your legs. You angled your hips and watched him bring his dick out of his pants. He tugged it a few times while looking at you spread before him. He kept one hand hooked under your knee again as the other held himself.
"You ready?" He asked.
"Yeah." You reply breathlessly.
He pushes himself into you. When he's got his head in, he grabbed your other knee to open you more. He was trying to keep you at the most comfortable angle. The squelch noise that was produced was borderline pornographic. Your eyes squeezed shut when you took him in, slowly slowly. It did hurt. You felt like you were being split open.
Charlie obviously noted your discomfort and repeated, "s'okay," and "doing so good" in a soothing manner over and over until he bottomed out.
He brushed the hair that was sticking to your forehead away so he could see your beautiful face. He was waiting till you gave him confirmation to move. It felt like forever as you waited for the horrible sensation to fizzle out, but it did. Eventually all you could feel was a deep, deep need for him to properly fuck you.
"You can move," you said shakily.
Charlie cautiously moved out, then back in again. This time, it felt good, so good. You found yourself angling your hips so he could be deeper. He kept increasing the pace, letting out low huffs while you began to whine and groan.
The he hit it.
"Jesus! Fuck.. right there."
He jumped a little at your outburst, worried he had hurt you. But when he realised he had found your G spot, he quickened his pace.
You were moaning now, and Charlie had to bite his lip to hold back a smile. Of course he was happy to be fucking you, but he was also grateful that you trusted him enough to be your first.
Charlie moved your legs to his shoulders so his hands were free. One moved to fondle your chest while the other moved down to apply pressure to your clit. The combination was all too much. You gripped his forearm tightly and choked out, "gonna cum."
Charlie only sped up his administrations, and you were pushed over the edge. You spasmed and whined as you came. He let you ride it out on his cock as he gently stroked your hair.
When he was sure you were done, he pulled out to jerk himself off while watching you pant and come down from your high. He grabbed his discarded shirt and came into it.
He shuffled back down onto the sofa so he could hold you. You leaned into his chest and tried to catch your breath. He danced a finger around a strand of your hair.
"S'good... oh my god." you mumbled while looking at him. "Thank you... thank you, Charlie," you babble.
"'It's no biggie." Charlie replied. But he did understand the gravity of the sex you just had.
"Let me get you a towel," Charlie moves to stand up, but you grab his arm.
"No, no, we'll do that in a second. Just hold me." You whisper.
He does, of course. Gently kissing your head while appreciating that he gets to inhale the scent of your hair. He rubs gentle circles on your upper arm. You both could die happy in this moment.
just a lil bit of dennis being crazy and obsessive and predatory :)
For Dennis, sex was always the means to an end. Something that he would have whenever he felt that need had to be met. He would take what he wanted and it would be done. Uncomplicated. A simple solution to a problem. But with you, it's different. For him, you are not only a conquest, but something to be mastered, and he takes his studies very seriously. From the day Dee brought you into the bar, he was obsessed. He would imagine devouring you, slowly, savoring the taste of your lips, your skin, the heat between your legs. How he would drink in the look in your eyes as your body trembled around him, how the feeling of your nails raking down his back would satisfy his hunger. These thoughts would keep him up for nights on end, drive him insane, make his skin itch, until no amount of scratching gave him his fix. So he planned it all out- every last detail down to the second. You would come over for a dinner he would cook- something impressive, but not pretentious. Throughout dinner he would touch on topics he knew you would find charming. He would know enough about you to seem like the perfect match, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Then, after dinner, he would set the mood with your favorite slow songs. If that didn't do it, he had a few of your favorite movies queued up on his TV. Thank God for the internet and his oblivious, idiot sister. But when the night actually came- after the stage was set, after he'd spent hours rehearsing the night in his head- it was you who had him.
The night did go according to his plan. You laughed over dinner, which was delicious. He took you into his arms to dance to a few of your favorite tunes after, savoring the warmth of your body against his and the smell of your perfume that enveloped him. You even got to one of the movies he'd prearranged, shocked that he'd ever even heard of it. It wasn't until around midnight that you finally made your way into his bedroom. By then, the two of you had finished a bottle of wine. Standing in the middle of his room, lit only by the street light filtering in through half-closed blinds, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, trailing his fingers along your jaw until your chin came between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your face up to meet his, he pressed his lips to yours. The rush was immediate, and suddenly everything became so intense. He kissed you harder, tugging you closer, causing you to gasp. Shoving his tongue into your open mouth, he took a fistful of your hair into his hand to hold your head in place as he devoured you. When he was done tasting your mouth, he moved to your neck. He could feel your pulse tickle his lips, and he swore he could almost hear the blood rushing through the delicate arteries and veins that lay just under the surface of your soft skin. He bit down hard, eliciting a loud moan from you and leaving behind two dark red crescents.
"Fuck, Dennis," your voice, so full of pleasure, made him lightheaded. His hands roamed your body, groped at your thighs, your ass, your waist- anything he could get them on was his. You gripped his biceps, feeling his muscles ripple beneath the thin fabric of his henley. He hissed when you dragged your nails down his chest. Quickly, he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. You gasped when he easily picked you up and carried you to his bed.
There he laid you down, and he had his way with you. Just as he had planned. But he wasn't expecting to feel the way he did after, lying next to you, panting as he came down from his climax.
Normally after sex he would feel empty- satisfied, but, after the euphoria subsided, empty. He'd never felt like this before. It was like it never happened. The itch was still there. He needed more. More of you, more of your body, more of your attention, your time, your presence. Everything. So, instead of getting up to shower, or asking you when you needed to be home, or offering to call you a cab, he rolled over and pulled you into his chest. You relaxed into him immediately, but he remained tense, unsure of himself for the first time that night. Maybe, even, in his life.
Hihi!!! I was wondering if you could do a fluff/smut fic w Charlie and afab!reader, the reader is a virgin and is nervous for their first time but Charlie is just super sweet, funny, and caring w them <3 thank you!!!
-🐀💜
first time | charlie kelly x reader smut
authors note: this request has been in my inbox so long i am SO sorry anon omfghwuehehe. im finally in the mood to write smut cuz im off for summer (woohoo) and charlie was also the most requested for me to write smut of 😭😭 SO here we are. this is my first charlie fic i hope i did him justice. love yall as always
cw: NSFW !!!!!!!!!! smut smut smut. afab!reader, taking virginity, p in v sex, charlie is so sweet shsh, 1.9k words
Charlie was an amazing boyfriend. Astonishingly. Not that you went into this relationship believing he was a horrible person or something, just expecting that he would have a lesser grasp on how a relationship functions, and the key things that happen in one. But no. He remembered birthdays and brought you "unique", but well appreciated gifts. And he tried to do one thing he knew was vital for a relationship: affection. Charlie, despite not totally getting the hype himself, was intuitive of what a partner would expect in a relationship and made sure to give you affection. He would give you little awkward cuddles when watching a movie, forehead kisses when you left for work, and would make out with you if you both felt in the mood. When things got heated though, you would back away and mutter apologies about not being ready. And that was okay. He would confirm with you that that was okay and he didn't want to do it if you weren't happy, and that he wasn't upset. But even still you would understand if he was. Because you never explained why you didn't want to.
Despite general weirdness and being unadjusted to society as a whole, Charlie Kelly knew how to fuck. Put gracelessly. It was probably that rough and rugged look that attracted others, as well as you. You knew him long enough to know this about him. And this thought was haunting. Not because you were insecure about him having partners in the past, but because you hadn't. There was a major difference between you and you're boyfriend, Charlie: you were a virgin.
You were growing tired of this abstinence, but you were ruled by fear. What if Charlie was embarrassed or even turned off by your lack of experience? Even so, you couldn't stay like this. For his benefit and your own. So you ask him to talk. Charlie wasn't great with picking up on social cues, so he didn't understand why this could be a big deal. He did pick up on your uncomfortable behaviour, however. You were fidgeting with your hands and pushing your hair out of your face obsessively. You fumbled over your words.You avoided looking at him on the opposite side of the couch.
"So, um, I wanted to talk to you about taking another, uh, step? I guess? In the relationship. Not like marriage or something, um, like sex?" You blabber nervously.
Charlie felt it was important to hold eye contact while you spoke. He was unusually quiet and nodding along. It was encouraging. He wasn't overly eager but also not distressingly unemotional either. He waited for you to continue.
"I know I haven't really wanted to go, uh, 'all the way' before, and you've been really good about it, but I think I'm ready now? But I've been really hesitant about it because, well, I don't have any experience." You were starting to get more comfortable expressing your feelings. "I'm a virgin, Charlie."
Charlie studied your face for a moment. He went to speak, but you butt in first.
"I don't know if I was maybe supposed to tell you? I don't know. I was just nervous you.." You paused and bit your lip, "I thought maybe you'd lose interest?"
"No, never!" Charlie said quickly. It was the first he'd spoken since you asked him to talk, and it was a strong rebuttal. "No, I'd never lose interest in you. I like you a lot. I jus' wanted to make sure you were happy n' stuff." He said. You smiled, feeling a wave of relief hit you.
"So, what, you wanna do it now?" Charlie said bluntly. He wasn't known for being tactful or having much grace in his words. He didn't move from his place across from you. He waited for your reaction. Suddenly, you were feeling a little warm under his gaze.
"If- if you want to- I.." you fumbled.
"No. Do you want to?" Charlie enforced.
You nodded gently before given spoken consent. "Yeah. I do. Badly."
Charlie leaned over the couch. His calloused hand found your cheek. You assumed they were coarse from all the 'Charle work' he had to do at the bar, but he was so so gentle with you. Before he connected his lips, he leaned in close, his breath vibrating against your skin for a moment. He was giving you an opportunity to protest of back away, but of course, you didn't.
You had a lot of practice making out with him, but this felt more charged. You knew what would happen after this. His body followed yours. When you needed to pull away for air, he followed suit and gave you space. When you reconnected, his hands gently held your waist. You found yourself being pushed to be lying on the sofa.
"Is this okay?" he pulled away to ask. You nod and his hands tangle in your hair - not pulling or tugging, just relaxing in it - and moved your face closer.
You're fully laid back on the sofa when your lips disconnect this time. His hands move to grab your shirt. Your heart is beating faster and faster when you realise this is happening now. You're not uncomfortable. No, this is a feeling of excitement.
He delicately lifts the shirt over your head. He's treating you as carefully as you would some bone china or a kitten. You were in the comfort of your own home, so you were braless, and he's studying your tits like they were a piece of fine art, someone's magnum opus. Or whatever Charlie would consider fine art.
"Can I uh- touch?" His voice has a gravelly touch to it, unusual for your squeaky boyfriend. It makes your stomach flip.
When you nod, his hands quickly reach to paw your breasts. The rough texture of his hands against your nipples makes your breath labour a little. He takes note of it.
He continues to fondle you. You're twitching and breathing heavily. But to be honest, you're wishing he would touch your pussy. Deciding to take matters into your own hands and feeling more confident now, you grab his shirt and pull it over his head. He's taken a back by your actions but not upset at all. He let's you take his shirt off. It ruffles his hair a little
You lay back and admire his toned arms. It had always been a feature you were drawn to in him. You'd watch him carry beer boxes or a keg in the bar and feel yourself get wet at the view.
He lets you study him without saying anything and obliges when you kiss him again, just happy to see you gain some confidence in the foreplay. His beard is rough against your face as he angles his head to get deeper into your mouth.
His hands move lower, headed towards the waistband of your sweatpants. "Is this okay, baby?" He mumbled your mouth in-between kisses.
"Yes, please." Please? 'I sounded so pathetic', you thought.
Charlie shimmied your sweatpants down. Your lips stopped moving against his, and you felt your chest get heavy. Charlie stopped what he was doing quickly.
"Are you okay?" probably the 100th time he had said that tonight, but comforting no matter. "We can stop if you need -"
"No, no, no," you cut him off. "It's okay. I'm just a little nervous still."
Charlie leaned his forehead against yours. "You're okay, s'only me." He repeated.
After a minute of silence and when your heart rate returned to normal again, "You can keep going."
Charlie gently took your underwear off. You were embarrassingly wet. Apparently, caring and affirmative boyfriends really get you going.
"So pretty," Charlie mumbled to himself. You could've cum right there.
He gently rubbed his finger along your soaked slit. The contact made you jolt. He kept his eyes on your face the whole time, ensuring you were still into it. The whines you were letting out were all the confirmation.
"Are... do you need me to, like, uh, 'warm you up' or..?" Charlie mumbled awkwardly while still stroking your wet slit.
He was asking if you were wet enough for him to fuck you. You were. You had been since you started making out. And you certainly were now that you were staring at his hard dick in his pants.
You shook your head, "No, I'm ready." You say, taking a deep inhale.
Charlie carefully hooked his hands under your knees to bring you to the edge of the sofa and spread your legs. You angled your hips and watched him bring his dick out of his pants. He tugged it a few times while looking at you spread before him. He kept one hand hooked under your knee again as the other held himself.
"You ready?" He asked.
"Yeah." You reply breathlessly.
He pushes himself into you. When he's got his head in, he grabbed your other knee to open you more. He was trying to keep you at the most comfortable angle. The squelch noise that was produced was borderline pornographic. Your eyes squeezed shut when you took him in, slowly slowly. It did hurt. You felt like you were being split open.
Charlie obviously noted your discomfort and repeated, "s'okay," and "doing so good" in a soothing manner over and over until he bottomed out.
He brushed the hair that was sticking to your forehead away so he could see your beautiful face. He was waiting till you gave him confirmation to move. It felt like forever as you waited for the horrible sensation to fizzle out, but it did. Eventually all you could feel was a deep, deep need for him to properly fuck you.
"You can move," you said shakily.
Charlie cautiously moved out, then back in again. This time, it felt good, so good. You found yourself angling your hips so he could be deeper. He kept increasing the pace, letting out low huffs while you began to whine and groan.
The he hit it.
"Jesus! Fuck.. right there."
He jumped a little at your outburst, worried he had hurt you. But when he realised he had found your G spot, he quickened his pace.
You were moaning now, and Charlie had to bite his lip to hold back a smile. Of course he was happy to be fucking you, but he was also grateful that you trusted him enough to be your first.
Charlie moved your legs to his shoulders so his hands were free. One moved to fondle your chest while the other moved down to apply pressure to your clit. The combination was all too much. You gripped his forearm tightly and choked out, "gonna cum."
Charlie only sped up his administrations, and you were pushed over the edge. You spasmed and whined as you came. He let you ride it out on his cock as he gently stroked your hair.
When he was sure you were done, he pulled out to jerk himself off while watching you pant and come down from your high. He grabbed his discarded shirt and came into it.
He shuffled back down onto the sofa so he could hold you. You leaned into his chest and tried to catch your breath. He danced a finger around a strand of your hair.
"S'good... oh my god." you mumbled while looking at him. "Thank you... thank you, Charlie," you babble.
"'It's no biggie." Charlie replied. But he did understand the gravity of the sex you just had.
"Let me get you a towel," Charlie moves to stand up, but you grab his arm.
"No, no, we'll do that in a second. Just hold me." You whisper.
He does, of course. Gently kissing your head while appreciating that he gets to inhale the scent of your hair. He rubs gentle circles on your upper arm. You both could die happy in this moment.
