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smellydano · 1 year

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good boy || edward nashton

edward nashton x afab!reader smut

warnings: soft dom!reader, sub!eddie, prn without plot, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), teasing, riding, fingering (f receiving), if i missed anything lmk !

synopsis: i don’t have a good synopsis it’s just eddie being a little meow meow sub baby

word count: 1904 (i promise i’m trying to make them longer LOL

a/n: i haven’t posted anything in a while it feels, i promise i’m still writing and working on requests! i just have a lot going on :3

“would you like to take this off me, eds?”

eddie nods as his shaky hands make their way to the clasp of your bra, attempting to unbuckle the beautiful lacy fabric. you giggled as he struggled, eventually separating the clasps. he slowly pulled the straps down your arms, watching as your breasts drop gracefully in front of him.

“good boy, now what about my undies? do you wanna take them off too?” he moaned at your words, especially the name he’s been accustomed to. he swallowed another moan, hands trailing towards your hips. he slowly started to pull at the waistband when you stopped him.

“ah ah, on your knees.” you looked up at him with a smirk as you stopped his hands. he nodded with a shaky breath, moving down to his knees. his face meets you at waist level, you feel his breath on your stomach as he slowly pulls the matching lacy panties. he didn’t understand how they were comfortable, as they barely covered anything.

eddie lowered your panties down your soft legs, his fingers trailing down your thighs. you lift your legs out of the underwear, eddie tossing them to the side with your bra. you ruffled his hair, watching him smile as he looked up at you like a god. “aww, such a good boy.” you coo at him, his cheeks turning a quick pink.

still on his knees, you cupped his cheeks. thumb gliding across his cheekbone as you whispered praises. “you’re being such a good boy, eds. do you want to touch me?” he nodded quietly, hands to his side as he waited for your permission.

as soon as you gave him the permission he was desperate for, his hands made their way to your waist. he pressed kisses onto your stomach, slowly trailing further down. he wanted to please you, as best as he could. he wanted to treat you as his own god, worshiping your body as such. his kisses got closer to your aching cunt. he looked up at you, waiting for your permission once again. you nodded, his lips quickly make their way to your cunt. he shuffles his knees on the hardwood floor, attempting to get comfortable. his tongue pressed against your clit, wiggling back and forth. you let out a loud moan, gripping eddie’s hair with force, shoving his mouth against your cunt.

“fuck, you’re doing so good, baby. getting me all ready for you. such a good boy, you know exactly how to take care of me.” he let out a whine as he heard your words, his cock straining painfully hard against his pants. you push his head against your pussy, his nose nudging against your clit as his tongue worked its way through your slick folds. he lapped up as much as he could, your wetness covering his cheeks. you could feel his slight overgrown stubble against your cunt, making you moan out. while gripping his hair, you slowly moved your cunt against his mouth, grinding yourself on his lips and nose. you heard a muffled whine, looking down and watching him work your pussy with his tongue.

“c-can i use my fingers?” he asked, pulled away enough for you to hear him, although he was still muffled by your cunt. you looked down at him in awe, “what do you say?” you question.

“can i use my fingers, ma’am, please?” he pleaded, looking up at you with puppy pleading eyes. he wanted to make you feel so good. you let out a breathy moan, “go ahead, good boy.”

he didn’t waste any time, swiftly bringing his fingers up to your sopping pussy. he slowly brought his index finger to your hole, pushing in as much as he could. you moaned loudly, holding his head in both hands. he added another finger, wanting to stretch you out as much as he could, to prep for his cock. your breathing pace got quicker, mouth dropping open as you watched his fingers thrust inside you. your sounds of pleasure letting him know he’s doing a good job. he smiles into your cunt as his tongue lapped against your clit. he looked up at you, watching your body react to his work made him painfully aroused. his cock now hard as ever, making him groan with every moan that falls from your lips.

you pulled his face away from your pussy, admiring the slick left all over his face from completely devouring your cunt. he gave you a dopey smile as he looked up at you, already pussy drunk. you giggled, caressing his cheek. “you want to get undressed for me? you did so well taking my clothes off, i want to see you take yours off.” you said with a smirk, tilting your head as he stared up at you. he kept his gaze as he got up on his feet, awkwardly playing with the hem of his shirt.

“do you need help, baby?” he whined and nodded as your hands found their way to the hem, lifting it off his pretty torso. you threw his shirt to the side, admiring his beautiful chest and tummy, running your hands up and down them. his breathing got quicker as you made your way towards his belt, swiftly unbuckling it and pulling his pants and boxers down. you watched as his cock slipped free from the constraints. he stepped out of his pants and kicked them away, never taking his eyes off you.

“lay back, baby. you treated me so well, let me take care of you.” you pressed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him very gently. eddie fell back onto your shared bed behind him, adjusting himself to get comfortable. you climbed onto the bed, on top of him. you spit on your hand, then brought it towards his cock, slowly pumping him. eddie’s whines filled the room, he’s been on his best behaviour, waiting for this moment.

“aww, listen to you. such a good boy for me, baby. can you keep it up?” you whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his body. he quickly nodded, “yes m-mommy. please.” he whined, his eyes closed, mouth open, desperate for any touch you’re willing to give him. you smiled, watching his body react to your touch. his hips slightly pushing up, he held back what he could, making you push his hips down with your other hand.

“shh baby, don’t move your hips. or else i’ll have to punish you. we don’t want that, do we, baby?” his head shook as he whined out in fear. “please mommy, i can be a good boy. please pretty mommy!” you smiled down to him, looking at that cute cherub face, his precious cheeks, his gorgeous pleading eyes. you couldn’t stay mad at him. you lifted your hands off him, trailing them up to his chest, rubbing his chest. your thumbs occasionally ran against his nipples, which made him throw his head back with a moan. you chuckled as he cried out in pleasure. with his whining, you threw your leg over his side, finally straddling him, exactly what he needed. Your core slid against his hard cock, biting your lip from the friction. eddie was a mess underneath you, gripping sheets to hold himself from cumming over the simple pressure of you on top of him. you guided his dick along your cunt, then swiftly sinking onto him.

eddie let out an almost animalistic groan, face contorting from the pleasure he so desperately needed. you gently bounced on his cock, hands holding yourself up by his shoulders. your tits directly in his face, he leaned up towards them, smiling wide as he pushed his face between your tits. His whining continues as you ride him. you creep up towards his face, pressing light kisses all over his cheeks as he held your hips, helping you guide yourself.

“fuck, you fill me up so good, eds. y-you’re such a good boy.” you whispered into his ear, kissing the stray tears on his cheeks. he looks up at you as you sat up on him, moving your hips in a way that he couldn’t handle. your knees pressed against the bed as you kept your pace, lifting yourself up and down.

“p-please mommy, i n-need to fuck you. please pretty mommy, p-please!” he begged, his attempt to hold himself back wasn’t working, as he was so pussy drunk from you. he tried to keep his hands where they were, but he couldn’t help himself, he loved your body. he worships your body. the way your cunt clamps down on his cock, almost milking him, he was obsessed with it. with you, and your beautiful body. you chuckled, brushing the stray hairs from his face as you guided his hands where they needed to be.

“you want to fuck mommy? aww, you’re so cute. come on, baby, show me how you make mommy cum.” you cooed, teasing him slightly. his excitement through the roof, he gripped your hips and fucked into you, bringing his knees up to support you. his hips thrusting into yours at an impossible pace, he threw his head back with a whine.

profanities spill from your lips as you kiss him, breaking the kiss occasionally to let out more. his own cries following. his cock hitting the spongy spot inside you, making your stomach burn. your sink yourself onto him at a faster pace, your moans and his filling the room. he looks up at you on top of him, tits bouncing, mouth open, he watched as your hips worked its magic on his cock.

eddie had full blown tears trailing down his cute pink cheeks, letting out sobs as his hips met yours. with his mouth agape, you stuck two fingers inside, which was met with his lips wrapped around your pretty digits. he sucked on them as you pushed them in further, pushing in and out. “i wish i could fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, eds. your lips wrap around my fingers so nicely. i bet a strap would fit so much better. what do you think, baby?” you whispered, sending him into orbit.

he came immediately from your words, hips stuttering as he filled your cunt. his orgasm led to your own, milking his cock as you rode out your high. eddie shook underneath you, holding onto your hips for dear life, surely bruises would appear in the next couple days. you slowed down your bouncing, settling on his cock as you both came down from your orgasms.

you leaned down and kissed his cheek, making your way down to his neck. “i never said you could cum, baby.”

eddie’s eyes shot open, realizing he came without permission. his lips start to tremble as he looks up at you, your goddess like figure still sunk down on his cock. he never came without your permission. he knew he always needed permission to cum. but he couldn’t help it!

“i’m sorry mommy! i’m so sorry! please forgive me!” he begged, eyes glazing over with tears. you caressed his cheek, calming his cries. you pressed a light kiss on his forehead, “it’s okay baby, but that’s not what good boys do. good boys ask to cum. i think this calls for a punishment.”

his eyes were filled with list and fear, preparing himself for the punishment about to come.

——

a lil teaser to a probable part 2 !!

this is a lil different than what i usually write ,, so lmk if u liked this !!

i’m trying to work on more shit, maybe some other not dano related content because i’m a whore

as always, requests are always open! likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated !! tysm for reading 🖤🍄🧚🏻

#paul dano #edward nashton #paul dano x reader #edward nashton x reader #dano!riddler #batman (2022)#paul dano smut #edward nashton smut #riddler #riddler smut #smellydanowrites

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pauldanoluvr · 23 days

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thinking nasty thoughts about this man right now

#paul dano #paul dano oiled up #paul dano smut #paul dano whimpering

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kitmon · 2 years

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What Happens Behind Closed Doors and Live Cameras | Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's not enough to fuck you in the isolated space of his apartment, Edward needs to let everyone know just how good he takes care of his precious baby.

Pairing: Edward Nashton aka The Riddler (The Batman, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags: smut (18+ only), dom!edward, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), edging, dacryphilia, swearing (duh), BDSM elements (reader's wrists are bound and she's gagged for a good portion of the fic), praise kink, daddy kink (its only used once), kinda pet play?? there's no, like, collars or anything but he calls her 'puppy, pet, etc.,' spanking, fucking on a live stream (exhibitionism), dumbification, creampie, degradation (slut, whore, etc.), oral (m!receiving), throat fucking... I think that's it but if you catch anything, please please please let me know!

Author’s Note: I started writing this in June for a close friend's birthday but I'm fucking ass at finishing anything I start so it took me 3 months to finish this lmao! But you know what?! Better late than never so BE GRATEFUL! A fat fucking smooch and a huge thank you to @queenimmadolla for beta reading AND FUCKING KILLING IT! She left me over 250 comments and spent at least 3 hours editing this! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! So please please go send her some love, she absolutely deserves it. Happy reading, you filthy sluts <3

“Alright,” Edward mutters to himself as he fidgets with the dingy camcorder a bit more, always a stickler for the details. “And we are live.”

His voice is lilting as he presses the obvious red button upon the camera’s top, the red dot blinking in slow increments in the top corner of the LCD screen as an air of boyish excitement radiates off of him, evident in the joy laced in his voice. As he takes a step back, he rubs his covered hands in anticipation, addressing the pitiful number of viewers through the low-resolution lens of the camera he has propped over a second hand and, imbalanced tripod.

“Hi, guys,” he waves both of his hands, not able to hide the giddiness behind his movements. “I hope that you’re as excited as I am because I have,” he pauses, stepping back a few paces so his towering frame isn’t hoarding the entirety of the screen. As he does, the length of a drab mattress over a rickety metal bed frame comes into view, your naked and writhing body— dressed only in a mismatched pair of bra and panties— splayed over the pilling sheets revealing itself as well. “A little surprise.”

Your arms are bound by the wrists with what seems to be scrap cotton jersey from an old t-shirt, hands resting in curled fists over your rising and falling chest as you exhale harshly through your nose. The camera is expertly angled to keep your identity hidden, the details of your face limited to the slope of your nose and your occupied lips; separated by a gag of similar material to the tie around your wrists, effectively muffling your groans of desperation and neediness.

“As you can see, my lovely partner has offered herself up for your amusement, haven’t you, my darling?” he asks, the words leaving his lips with a condescending undertone that riles you up and has you arching your back against the mattress, bedsprings creaking beneath you. Edward takes the final few steps to the bed before sitting down at the edge of it, reaching his gloved hand towards your ankle, vinyl tracing up to your knee and back down. Having been deprived of his touch for so long, the minuscule contact has you dragging your thighs together and tossing your head back against the pillows, whimpering behind the gag like a neglected puppy in hopes that he would give in to your obvious needs.

He hums before giggling behind his mask, the sound muffled through the layers of cling wrap and cold weather plastic leather protectant.

“Looks like baby’s all hot and bothered because I won't touch her, is that right?”

“Mmhm,” you hum behind the gag, nodding your head fervently along.

His hand inches past your kneecap and up your thigh, moving closer to your aching core with a painful slowness. A wet spot had formed over the barely-there patch of fabric that clothes your cunt and you flaunt the sign of your wanting to him, curling your back against the bed and spreading your thighs, unabashed in your wanton behavior. Just as his fingertips reach the meatiest part of your thigh, only a breath away from where you silently beg him to extend his touch to, he squeezes the fat there, your skin dimpling with the force before he releases his hold on you and stands from the bed, the springs groaning with the loss of his weight and leaving you whimpering with the loss of his touch.

He steps towards the nightstand where a laptop rests, displaying a live chat. Edward reaches for the trackpad and scrolls through the few responses that have filtered in. From where you lay on the mattress, with a bit of straining, you can see the laptop’s screen and the responses on the right-hand side of it along with the live captured video of you, sprawled out along the bed, delayed only by mere seconds. From what you can see, the chat is showing an influx of interaction with waves of messages ebbing and flowing, coming to a slow stop before rushing all over again. The engagement seems to be high today, Edward often only receiving a couple dozen viewers— give or take a stream— whereas today, the chat is lively and from the view counter in the corner of the screen, you can see that nearly a hundred people have joined to watch him ruin you for their viewing pleasure.

You catch glimpses of obscene queries and remarks of adulation flickering before rippling across the screen, carried away by the next wave of comments.

Who’s the slut spread out on the bed?

I wanna see her face

I’m getting hard just watching her squirm

“Let’s see what the chat has in store for you, pet,” Edward says, interrupting your scanning of the chat and drawing your attention to his hunched-over form, still fiddling with all of the technological controls over on his end of things, clicking on this window and exiting out of that tab before he says: “What should I do to her first? The power is in the hands of the people.”

With the prompt left out in the open, responses begin cropping up within the chat, each viewer tossing their suggestion into the hat.

Undress her

Show us her tits

Show us that whore’s pussy

As Edward combs through each suggestion and mulls each one over, he hums to himself, “Hmm, seems as though the majority have a deep fascination with what you look like underneath all those clothes.” He trails off before coming to a consensus, “I suppose I can indulge them.”

He moves away from the laptop and stalks over towards you, slim shoulders hovering above you before he throws one leg over your hips and holds the other in a standing position at the side of the bed, crawling over you.

He brings his gaze down to your glistening eyes, your stare clouded with ardor, pupils dilated and shadowed over by your drooping eyelids. The look that you send him from below has his intense demeanor faltering for a moment, the man wanting nothing more than to envelop you in a tight embrace and have your soft voice coo gentle hymns of affirmation into his hair, neck and chest.

The thought is fleeting as he reacquaints himself with the situation; the game that you’re playing at but he yields to your longing and bewitching stare with just a single gesture. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, the vinyl that covers his thumb swiping over the apple of it one, two times, trailing the glove’s powdery coating over its path. His hand falls from your face, his fingers tracing the tendons of your neck, slipping past the dip of your clavicle and along the slope of your left breast. Once it reaches the underside of the bra cup, he pushes up and gropes you through the thin material. His other hand joins and soon he’s toying with both of your breasts, squeezing them and pressing them together, accentuating your cleavage before he brings his face down between them.

Edward’s mask is cool against your skin and the force of his deep inhale tickles you as he takes in your sweet scent through the brief slit of his mask. He exhales a deep sigh through his mouth before he’s reaching his hands towards the middle of the garment where a thin strip of fabric holds the two cups together. He pinches at the opposite ends of it, taking the top of each cup into his hands before ripping it apart, the sound of seams snapping encouraging you to gasp.

He isn’t very strong, not at all actually. His strength lies within his intellectual prowess but in these moments, where you are bound, helpless and at his gracious mercy, he can impress you with the slightest of aggressions. These are the moments that he finds himself to be the most powerful, the most domineering and intimidating. You worship him like this and at his weakest. He worships you just the same.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself as he admires you; your breasts on full display, nipples perked and ripe.

Your flushed chest climbs and falls in time with your heavy breathing, each rise becoming more frequent with your excitement. He lifts a hand to cup one of your lush mounds, the warmth of your skin penetrating past the elastic material of his gloves and seeping right into his skin. His thumb swipes over the apex of it, pressing against your nipple and watching with fascination as it nearly flattens into your skin before climbing to a stiff erection once more.

While Edward plays with you and watches your pliable skin mold to his fingers and palms, he wants nothing more than to latch his lips onto one of your tits and suckle your plump skin into his mouth, nibbling on the warm flesh as he watches you writhe beneath his doting lovebites.

He restrains himself though, settling for the warm weight of your breasts in his hands as he lets his imagination run wild with thoughts of what he’ll do to you the moment the cameras are turned off.

“Come here, my faithful viewers!” He cheers, his demeanor shifting seamlessly from his sultry obsession with you to his cheery and excited stream host persona. He stands from the bed, springs creaking once more with the loss of his weight as he steps towards the tripod. He detaches the camera from the stand and carries it back to you, angling it to take in the length of your helpless position; thighs rubbing together like that of a grasshopper, creating a silent sort of symphony within you that is meager in comparison to what you really yearn for. Edward’s conscious and careful to not let the lens capture anything above your cupid’s bow, tending to focus his film on your supple breasts, thighs and the erotic picture of you bound and gagged.

With your attention focused on Edward and his daunting position above you, you miss the flow of chat messages but with the way that Edward groans— the sound slipping into a giddy chuckle— you can only assume that the slim bar on the screen was painted with comments that would have your skin crawling, for better or worse.

Edward tsks at them, “Naughty, naughty, are we?”

He directs his voice to you as he informs you, “Darling, I’ll have you know that the masses are deeply creative when it comes to methods of divulging your pleasure, or alternatively, prolonging it.”

A weak sound slips past the gag crammed in your mouth and your lower body tenses, back arching over the mattress and inviting him to run his hands over you. He waddles his knees closer to you and leans over your squeezed legs, your thighs fighting to hide the embarrassingly obvious damp spot that highlights the core of your panties.

“Open up for me now,” he mutters, coaxing you to part your legs as he pries his fingers between the plush flesh of your thighs. They part with little defiance from your muscles. You squeeze your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose in frustration, pressing the side of your face into the pillow as your body yearns for his touch.

“Oh, don’t worry, puppy,” he coos, his eyes fixated on your covered center. “Be good for me and I’ll satiate your every desire.”

His hand inches up your thigh, palm soothing your heated skin as it climbs higher with each pass before his fingers finally press against your clothed cunt. Your whine climbs in pitch, choking around a gasp at the sudden pressure; he’s rubbing blindly, his index and middle finger running up the length of your panty-clad slit, feeling the warmth of your pulsing core and juices seep past the cotton of your underwear against the latex of his gloves.

“Mmm, so wet for me and I’ve hardly begun to touch you,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else present as his disbelief nearly overwhelms him.

Nearly.

His fingers continue their assault, dipping low and rubbing over the wet patch covering your hole before dragging them upwards to massage slow but firm circles against your clit. A wail escapes you, muffled by the gag and you toss your head back against the pillow, the tendons in your neck straining and bulging against the thin layer of your sheen-covered skin.

“Does my dirty baby like it when I tie her up and shut her filthy mouth? Is that what it is?” He taunts above you, the condescending pout you’re sure is on his lips coming through so clearly. “Look at this pitiful little thing; crying and humping her desperate cunt against my fingers like a little bitch in heat.”

You can't even be bothered by his degradation and bullying, the barely-there pleasure feeling like a searing brand against you as your head lulls from hanging back to falling against your shoulder. You were helpless to do anything but watch him continue his slow, torturous ministrations against your most sensitive crevice.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He croons, pushing the frilly hem of your panties to the side to expose your puffy pussy, glistening with your arousal in the low light of the room and clenching on nothing, eager to be filled as it's exposed to the cool air offered by the dingy and scraping fan twirling away in the corner.

“You love my fingers, don't you?” He goads while pushing his middle and ring finger past your entrance, pumping them in and out of you languidly.

With your speech inhibited, you can only provide him a zealous nod as you mewl at the intrusion behind your gag.

He gives a low chuckle, eyes honed on his fingers pulling out of your precious cunt, soaked to the knuckle, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His thumb rubs over your exposed clit in tandem with his probing thrusts, fingers curling to knead against that perfect spot inside of you. Your hips begin to move against his hold as you dig your fingernails into your palms and he tuts at your insubordination, reaching to prop the camcorder atop the nightstand so he can free his other hand and press it against your hip, pinning you to the mattress to keep you steady.

“Easy, baby. Told you I’d take good care of you,” he reminds you. “I’ll let you finish if you sit pretty for me.”

At his promise, you attempt to overcome your desires and keep your hips from jolting up, opting, instead, to curl and uncurl your dainty painted toes as a means of expending your energy.

He’s pulling his fingers in and out faster, fucking into your cunt at a wild speed. The subtle texture of his gloves rubbing along your walls has a warmth blooming in your stomach as the filthy noises of the latex straining and slapping wetly against you sets you alight. Your head falls back against the pillow as your eyes roll into your skull from the pressure of your impending orgasm.

Edward releases your hip and drags his free hand over the underside of your thigh, hooking into the bend of your knee to push your leg up and press it closer to your stomach to spread you wide, allowing his fingers to sink just a little bit deeper inside. His thumb continues flicking across your sensitive nub at a delectable speed and you moan a sweet sound behind the spit-soaked gag, your eyes watering as he works his fingers into that spongy patch inside you. Just as you're nearing your end, the heat in your belly building and rolling into a white explosion, he pulls his fingers out of you. The warmth dissipates and you cry out a sob, tears that had built with intense pleasure in mind falling from frustration instead as you screw your eyes tight and chew on the fabric of the gag, teeth gritted in contempt as he just chuckles above you at your misfortune.

With the tips of his fingers, he pulls your arousal from your hot, pulsing hole and spreads it across the folds of your weeping pussy, wet latex trailing up and down the expanse of your throbbing cunt. The heel of his palm just barely grazes your clit in passing as he does so, urging your body to jolt with each noncommittal touch and it only serves in frustrating you further.

“You got something to say, puppy?” He snickers and as you stare up at the static green farce, you can make out his eyes crinkling in a beady squint behind the cling wrap, a smile blooming behind his mask. You muster your best distraught look, all of which is genuine: chest heaving with the labor of bubbling tears, brows cinching, and glassy eyes downturned as you nod your head.

He brings his dry hand up to your face, trailing his fingers gingerly over the drying tear tracks that paint your heated skin before they run along the homemade gag in your mouth as he asks, “What do you think, chat? Should we let the pretty lady speak?”

It comes out distracted and hushed but the seedy microphone of the camcorder picks it up anyway. The answer is made obvious by the sudden surge of comments emerging from the low corner of the laptop’s monitor to the very top before disappearing, lost between a dozen other responses. As his eyes peek at the screen from his periphery, he’s left amused at their enthusiasm.

“You’re in luck, pet,” he cooes down at you. “Looks like they want to hear those pretty little cries of yours.”

He lifts the still-slick fingers of his other hand to your chin, drawing them up at a slow jagged pace until he reaches the frayed and curling edge of the fabric lodged between your teeth. He hooks his fingers into the cloth and pulls it out of your mouth so it can fall, damp and limp across your throat.

Your lips are flushed and swollen, glowing with a mixture of your saliva and your own arousal having traveled from the tips of Edward’s fingers to paint your cupid’s bow and chin. You whine as his touch leaves you again, just as quick as it came.

“Please, baby,” your voice croaks, hoarse from lack of use. “Wanna cum so bad. I‘ll do anything, just please let me cum.”

“Okay, puppy,” he caves to your begging and your body slumps as a weak smile plays across your lips. “But first, you have to suck my cock.”

A sick shimmer blooms within your irises, eyes glistening with lust at his terse command. Though your cunt throbs and leaks between your legs, teary with neglect, the thought of having Edward’s thick cock prodding at the gummy flesh of your throat, choking you with the girth of him— it was much too good to pass up, not that he would have let you have a say, anyhow.

His hands travel up his thighs as he leans back to sit on his calves, head angled down to monitor his movements as deft fingers glacially begin popping the button of his trousers open, the sound of his zipper loud with each plastic tooth of it he passes during its climb down. You strain your neck to watch his every move. You can see the outline of his dick, the prominent bulge stressing the blue tartan fabric of his boxers.

After lowering his pants, he pushes his thumbs past the waistband of his underwear and pulls the tattered fabric down, revealing the pale brown smattering of hair above his pubic bone that trails down and fleshes out into a bushy tuft. The golden brown netherhair crowns the base of his cock and paves the way for his pink, throbbing shaft and blushing head to spring free, bobbing against his stomach. At the substantial sight of it, all pretty and ready for your mouth, a whimper simpers past your lips, your hips involuntarily jolting against the bed.

“It's okay, puppy, don’t you worry,” he reassures you with a breathless sigh, stroking his cock in lazy pumps. His eyes gaze over your body with a predatory gleam. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”

He crawls over your crumpled figure, with as much grace as he can muster while holding his dick in one hand, sitting in a hover over your chest. His knees are planted parallel to your shoulders, his cock at eye level and you find your lips parting, almost on instinct, as an invitation for him to smother you with his length. With him so close, your eyes can only focus on the ruddy, leaking tip of him, disappearing within the snug wrap of foreskin before peeking out again with each thrust of Edward’s hips into his fist. Pre-cum oozes past his slit, the near-pearlescent liquid beginning to dribble down the underside of him at the change in angle.

His strong hand reaches for your face, fingers digging into the pillowy flesh of your cheeks to steal your attention away from his delicious offering and onto his piercing eyes. Your lips are forced into a dopey pucker and your eyes begin to glimmer with childish tears, the water blooming from your unspoken need and neglect though the rest of your features remain passive, obedient.

“You want this cock, sweetheart?” He teases, grabbing his dick from the base and tapping the sticky, shiny head against your bottom lip. Your tongue darts out to collect the salty residue he leaves behind, savoring the distinct tang.

You nod your head as best as you can with his hold, still unyielding. You can hear a giggle pass his lips before he speaks.

“Show me how much you want it, baby”

He releases your face with a shove and cants his hips forward so the head of his dick prods at your mouth. You reach your bound hands forward and have your palms travel over his stomach, pushing his hoodie and jacket up to reveal his pudgy, white belly. In quick succession, he seizes your conjoined wrists and presses them further up the bed with a heavy and hard grip so your arms extend over your head, your breath catching in your throat as he does so. Edward leans down so his face is mere centimeters away from yours, his piercing and near-frightening green eyes glare at you through the fogged plastic of his cling wrap and behind the crystalline lenses of his glasses.

With a gruff and mean voice he commands, “Suck.”

You’re quick to comply as soon as he straightens himself, giving the head of his cock a baiting kitten lick before your jaw creaks open, allowing you to finally wrap your lips around him. You push your head forward and swallow as much of him as you can with the awkward setup, craning forward and tilting your head to try and stuff him down your greedy throat. He groans and tosses his head back as you struggle to take the length of him, tongue swirling and tracing the veins that wind up his shaft.

With one hand still occupied with your wrists, Edward uses the other to fist the hair at the nape of your neck and force you further down his cock, your nose grazing the coarse hair decorating his pubic bone with each of his vigorous thrusts. The tip of his dick is testing the spongy tissue at the back of your throat, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as your gag reflex strains to remain idle.

He yanks at your hair, pulling you off after a particularly rough suck with a shudder and a groan as he grips the very base of his cock and squeezes there, almost as if he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“Gonna fucking come with your whore’s mouth working me like that,” he pants. “But I’d much rather watch it seep out of your puffy, spent hole.”

His words are wispy like he could hardly believe it himself, “Gonna ruin this pussy, mark you from the inside so you always know who you belong to, so they know you belong to.”

You love the possessive slur of his words, finding it amusing that, despite this whole ordeal being his idea, he can't stand the idea of anyone even thinking of burying themselves in what's his. His filthy words spur your aching core on further, a rush of slick trickling past your folds as you clench around nothing. You push your hips up against his ass and whimper, lip trembling, tired of his cruel game. A tear trails across the apple of your cheek, overlapping the sheened tracks of the ones that fell before it.

“You want that, right, baby?” He asks, lifting his hand to wipe the evidence of your impatience away. “Hm? Want me stuffing you so full you’ll feel it in the morning?”

“Yes,” you breathe with choked desperation.

“That’s what I thought,” he patronizes, shoving his tear-basted thumb past the seam of your lips to let the savory flavor settle over your tongue. “C’mere.”

He takes you by the shoulders and flips you over onto your stomach, trapping your arms between your body and the mattress. Your cheek presses into the musty piece of furniture, lips pursing with the pressure on your face. Edward grabs your hips and hikes them up into the air, forcing your back to arch as he situates you on your knees.

You maneuver your head to try and get a decent glance over your shoulder at what he’s doing, humming to himself as he takes his sweet time perusing your body. In the low light, he admires you, running his hands over the round globes of your ass, squeezing every once in a while as they drop and then drag back up. He dips his head lower to catch a glimpse of your glittering hole, soaked with your lust and pulsing with just the thought of him filling you up.

“Would you look at that?” He whispers in the tense air.

Edward reaches over to the nightstand, scooping up the camcorder so he can invite the chat to enjoy a look at you.

“Isn’t she just perfect?” He remarks wistfully as he glides a thumb through your lips. “All throbbing and aching for me. Just a hole waiting to be used.”

You huff and wiggle your hips, pushing back to try and find even an ounce of relief. At your jittery signs, Edward sinks his thumb past your lax wet muscle and your breath catches in your throat with the familiar sensation.

“Please, baby, want you so bad.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue. “Only patient girls get rewarded,”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll be good,” you pant out. “I’ll be patient, I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.” He draws his hand from the small of your back up between your shoulder blades, repeating the motion once, twice before pressing his hand into the side of your head and pressing it deep into the bed, nearly suffocating you. “I know you will, baby.”

He places the camera back on the nightstand, letting it clatter down before gripping the base of his cock and moving it to run the head through your slick folds, coating it in your creamy release. You mewl but try to keep still, burying your face into the mattress to muffle your disobedient noises. He takes note of your compliance and, to reward you, pushes past your entrance slowly, more so to get his dick wet before cumming rather than to be mindful of the ache that burns between your legs. A pitched gasp escapes your throat at finally having your request satisfied and your eyes flutter shut with the stretch of him against your walls.

“My God, this cunt was made for me,” he sighs, sinking deeper. “So wet and warm and fucking tight.”

With his cock sheathed to the very base, he stills before drawing his hips back and pulling nearly all the way out before slamming them forward in a violent rut, his dick reaching the far recesses within you and causing you to jolt forward on the bed.

“Gonna ruin this pussy, make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

He picks up his pace, his movements quick but his thrusts holding their same fervor. He’s hitting hard and fast and deep and all thoughts escape your mind as he abuses your hole. The squelching and slapping of skin on skin fills the room and reverberates off of the walls, his deep groans and grunts melding with your desperate moans and mewls into a hot soup of unabashed wantonness.

Suddenly, the hot crack of Edward’s palm against your ass rings within your ears before you actually feel it and as the sting begins to fester with a burn as you cry out, the pained sound dissolving into a moan.

“You like that, you little slut? You like when I hit you, punish you for being so dirty?”

You nod your head, cheek burning from the chafing friction of the sheets but your nonverbal response is cut short as he smacks you again, much harder than the first time.

“Words,” he demands.

“Yes!” You yelp. “Love it when you put me in my place!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he chuckles, though there's no humor behind it. “Take this fucking cock, fuck it like the filthy whore you are.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re gasping out in between tormenting thrusts, so close to finishing but before you can reach the blinding light at the end of the tunnel he’s pulling out and you want to cry, your tear ducts stinging with the loss as a shameful whine passes your lips, almost like a sob.

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothes. “Just wanna see your tits while I fuck you.”

He flips your pliable body over once more so you’re lying on your back, head lolling, your brain dazed and vacant.

He guides his cock, the head brushing against your glistening clit. Despite having just been inside of you, the touch shocks you, thighs tightening before he delves back in, his technique now far more brutal than before, if even possible. Your bound wrists lay between the valley of your breasts, the mounds bouncing along your chest with the force of each of his savage, pistoning thrusts.

He grips your legs by the thighs and glides his hands up to the crooks of your knees, leaning forward to press your quads up against your stomach, folding you to breed a pleasurable stretch. With your legs spread out of the way and him relentlessly pounding into you, he’s reaching an untapped patch of nerves within you, the head of his cock tapping deeper and harder with each pull and push of his hips. You cry out at how incredible it feels, each thrust sending you closer to the edge and setting fireworks off behind your retinas. The pleasure feels too good to contain, you shut your eyes and indulge in his vicious pace, relishing in the rock of your body in tandem with his.

Before you can get too caught up in feeling yourself, his hand finds your jaw, wrenching your face forward. The latex of his gloves squeaks as he tightens his hold and digs his fingers into the plush flesh of your cheeks.

He growls out a ‘look at me’ and you force your eyes to lazily flutter open, labored breaths puffing out past your pursed lips.

With your attention on him, he leans in and berates you, “Look at you, all spread out like a desperate little whore, all for me.”

You whine and writhe as he continues his bullying.

“That’s right, hmm? Just a dumb fucking slut that loves my cock?”

As he says this, he shoves his hips forward and causes your breath to stutter. His cock feels like it's clogging your throat with how deep it reaches and you do your best to answer his question, nodding your head against his resolute grip.

“Say it,” he pushes, gritting through his mask and teeth. “Tell them how much you love how I fuck you.”

You keen as his pace refuses to wither, your brain malfunctioning at just the prospect of answering his simple question. His hand readjusts and lowers so that it’s near to entrapping itself around your throat.

“C’mon, baby, tell them how much you love being used,” he chides, impatient. “We don’t have all day.”

With a particularly rough thrust of Edward’s hips and the euphoric feeling brought on by his hand constricting your airway, the tears that once gathered along your waterline fall over your cheeks as you cry out in a gasped sob.

“Mmm! Yes! I lo-ove it!” You hiccup. “I love how you use me! Love how you show me off!”

He laughs, and drags his hand down from your neck to grope your breast with an ungentle grip, squeezing one more time before lifting his hand to cradle your cheek, thumb pushing your tears away only to smear the wetness across your temple.

“I know, puppy,” he stutters out, very obviously near his end. “You’ve been so good for me and the viewers, I think she deserves a reward, don’t you agree?”

The chat floods with responses of consensus, each anonymous hermit behind a computer screen or otherwise hoping to indulge in the sight of you unraveling beneath who they knew to be their leader, their God.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby, go ahead and cum for me, wanna feel you choke my cock.”

You do as you're told, the pressure building up to a rolling boil as your body seizes and stutters with the feel of him inside you drawing you to your blinding end, crying out to the four walls as your back curls off of the bed. As your pussy throbs and convulses in spasms around Edward’s cock, he groans thickly and keels over you, catching himself on his hand as his hips stammer and start to become erratic. He releases a whiny, pitched moan when you feel his hot load spurt into you, the warmth of it heating you from the inside out as you sigh into the mattress.

You’re both panting like wild dogs caught in a heat wave, attempting to regain your lost breath. He slumps over you, the heat of his exhales clouding the saran wrap behind his glasses and mask. After a moment of calm, he leans back and pulls his softening dick out, his release crawling out of your hole and dripping onto the wrinkled and bunched up sheets. He grabs the camera and angles it to display your still convulsing hole.

“Isn’t that a sight?” he wonders aloud, muttering beneath his shallow breath.

He tuts and pushes two fingers into your cunt, gathering what spills over your asshole so he can push it back in. The breach causes you to shiver with overstimulation before relaxing back against the pillows. He takes his cum-laden fingers and reaches them towards your open mouth, bringing the camera along so it only shows your lips and chin.

“Suck,” he commands.

You lean up and take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits and moaning against the bitter taste of your combined juices.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises as he pulls his fingers away.

You fall back against the few pillows beneath you, your eyelids starting to grow heavy as your head lulls against the cushions. Edward turns the camera towards him, holding the lens much too close to his face as he thanks the audience and ends the live, placing the camcorder back on the nightstand and shutting the laptop with a gentle click.

He begins undoing his getup; putting his glasses aside, pulling the mask over his head, and tossing it to the floor before unfurling the near-suffocating wrap from his head. With his features uninhibited, he places his glasses back on and starts consciously climbing over your body.

“You did so good for me,” he whispers against the skin of your neck, nuzzling his face there before slithering his arms under your back and squishing you against him. “I’m sure everyone loved you.”

You giggle at his needy, cat-like affections, “Baby, I wanna touch you.”

“Oh, right! Let me get that for you.”

He unties the jersey cloth from your wrists and tosses the scrap piece of fabric across the room. Edward runs his thumbs back and forth over the tender indentation that runs along your wrists, soothing the skin with his warm touch and the sympathetic press of his lips. Once he’s finished, you wind your arms around his neck and reach to thread your fingers into his russet locks, scratching close to the nape and behind his ears. He smiles that goofy grin down at you and despite the effort it takes, you lean up to kiss him.

“God, I miss doing that when you wear your mask,” you sigh as you separate, uncurling his strands from your fingers to rest your hand against his cheek.

“Me too,” he assures you, turning to kiss the wrinkled palm of your hand. “But we can’t have the GPD finding us out can we?”

“Nope,” you say with a disconcerting smile. “But it’s a good thing that when the cameras are off, I get you all to myself.”

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danowh0re · 4 months

Note

begging for calvin x bottom!cis!male reader

Maybe reader just teases him throughout the day, especially when he’s writing and Calvin has enough of it and bends him over ?? <33

It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with it :)

Best way to come back into writing 🤭

Urge

SMUT!!! MDNI!!!

Calvin X Bottom!Cis!Male!Reader

828 words

(used y/n / he/him/they pronouns)

Little bit of anal?? | dirty talk/begging | yatta yatta yk the jist lmao and most of alll ENJOYYYYY

The look in Calvin’s face is like a dad watched his favourite football team play. So deeply tranced into the work that he is writing he can’t get out of it. What seems like seconds later when Calvin showed some liveliness and took a sip of the room temperature water that’s sitting at his side, y/n comes along. He sits right on the opposite side of the table corner where Calvin is; y/n slowly tapping his nail to the wooden desk. Making it clear he is bored out of his mind. The focused man that sits in front of him making him hard from how hardworking he is, knowing he can’t just help himself with the tent forming in his pants.

But his stubbornness pushes him back into finishing his book first before dealing with the beautiful boy in front of him. As he continued on finishing his story Calvin only half paid attention until the sight of y/n coming towards him is enough for him to close his eyes, a shutter in his breath beginning to form.

His body feeling cold suddenly after staring at the blank page for too long while he is able to see his partner's hands up from their laps clenching into fists as they sit on the other side of the table. He opened his eyes to stare at the long awaited boy in front of him. “Do you mind y/n? I have a due date for this and I can’t fuck it up.” Calvin’s voice grows louder, pausing suddenly as an idea comes to mind, but acting like y/n only wants it. “..or do you want to be fucked? Hm? Little bunny can’t even wait an hour?”

Calvin sits up from his chair, grabbing him off of the table and coming up from behind y/n and dropping their pants swiftly. Marking their territory by bending their back over the table in front of them. Y/n‘s pulsating Cock grinding against it.

A finger gliding down to their entrance as he moans softly. Pushing two fingers inside y/n, moving both fingers around making sure he can take all of him in. Y/n feeling as though his dick will explode soon if he continues to be worked so good, but being brought back to reality by the hand placed on his shoulder. “Say please.”

Marking their territory once again.

Y/n choosing to be bratty, he responds with a whiney voice, “please.. but please do tell me-“ he looks behind to look at Calvin, “w-whats taking so long..~” A smirk lays on y/n’s face as Calvin doesn’t take that comment. Releasing his fingers out of him, instantly taking off his belt and everything else after it. He jerks himself quickly to let his pre-cum coat his tip. Afterwards quickly pushing himself fully in y/n’s now loose hole.

Making a low moan which causes y/n to flinch away from him. Quickly thrusting forward, Y/n cries out his name not expecting it to hurt so much. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Calvin holds onto y/n’s shoulders firmly. Holding his head still. Not letting him move, y/n gripping the edges of the table from pure desperation to move but unable to since he was already in such a deep penetration. “Now.. Where were we? Oh yes, please continue to be such a naughty boy~" He makes y/n beg for his cock in a sweet way as he moans his name as well. "Please.. don’t stop! Please.. fill me up!!”

He gives him exactly what he wants. Slowly pumping his thick member in and out. Every inch pounding in y/n deeper than ever. Making him unable to stop his hips from rolling his waist to meet Calvin’s. His cock feels heavy yet sensitive inside him. If only it wasn’t on such a limited time slot he would go slower but.. He isn’t one to deny anyone what they want.

Just making y/n bounce more, y/n falls on his elbows making it easier for Calvin to work him in a little better. Fingers circling around his balls and the area around his base. Bringing him closer and closer to climax. While y/n calls out for Calvin more, begging him to fill him up like never before.

Calvin soon grabs onto y/n’s red-shoulders, spilling out deep into his hole, making sure to not leave anything out. Calvin’s shutters at the feeling, y/n’s reaction just begging for all of it again and again.

Calvin slips out of y/n. Quickly fixing himself up and leaving y/n barely naked. Sitting back into his chair and staring into the blank page once again.

Leaving y/n panting by himself, Calvin looks up at him for a moment, “you can leave now.” He watches him walk away slowly before looking back down to his paper, pretending to be working again. Just as he did when he was still on top of y/n.

TAGS!!!

(lmk if you want to be taken off)

@thehermitsaltar @ghot-girl @nephilxterra @truecobblepot @sympathyforher @trelaney @koshi-sama @creepling @the-hidden-pages @swn-kings1 @hansakind @geisterfvhrer @iggay @vocivious @2000sbxtch @beenz-beenz @sagexsenorita @foetus-on-your-breath @sleepg0blin @paramountives

#ᶜʰᵃʳˡⁱᵉˢ ☞︎︎︎ ᴀsᴋs #paul dano #paul dano x reader #Paul dano x male!reader #Paul dano x m!reader #calvin weir fields #ruby sparks #ruby sparks smut #ruby sparks Calvin #Calvin x reader #Calvin Ruby sparks #Paul dano smut #paul dano movies #calvin weir fields x reader

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r1ddlessy · 9 months

Text

off to the races

warnings: daddy kink, fingering, meanish jay

a/n: i really need to get back into the swing of things, but hello x

"I quite like this little number on you." Jay's slim fingers took the dainty lace of your underwear between them, rubbing with a mild interest.

"You bought it, so I should hope so." You giggled at his nonchalant attitude, accustomed to it by now. Jay raised an eyebrow and watched the elastic snap back on to your skin.

"Don't get sassy with me, sweetheart." He murmured and you nodded as your cheeks warmed. His glass of whiskey swirled as the ice hit the sides. He looked ahead, one arm wrapped around your middle as you stood between his legs. His palm patted the exposed skin just under your ass before he looked up at you.

"Take it off." Your brows furrowed in confusion.

"But I thought you wanted me to model it for you?" You ask softly.

"Yeah, and you did a great job darling." He gave you a small smirk. "But now I want to see everything."

You giggled and raised your hands behind you to unhook your bra and throw it to the floor. Jay's own hands slowly crept up your body from your thighs, squeezing at your waist as they passed. His hands cupped your breasts and squeezed gently.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my hands on." He murmured lowly as you preened at his touch.

"Promise?" You teased and he rolled his eyes amusedly at your attitude.

"Daddy never lies, magpie." He said, his tone laced with playfulness but always earnest. Your fingers laced around the back of his neck, moaning softly as he trailed his hands down to your clothed pussy.

"Please..." You whined, desperation seeping into your tone as his warm palm laid flat against the soft skin of your belly.

"Please what, hm? You should really articulate your requests better, magpie." He taunted gently, pulling you into the cat-and-mouse dynamic you often enjoyed.

"I-" Your breathing faltered as his hand began to turn downwards, fingers splaying towards where you most ached. "I want your fingers, please." You whispered meekly at last. His eyebrow cocked nevertheless, his need for perfection in obedience evident.

"Please what?" He encouraged, eyes sparkling with a tantalizing hunger as they bore into yours. "Who are you speaking to?" He practically hissed, his words dripping with expectation.

"Please daddy." You gasped out as his first finger dipped between your folds, rewarding your performance. "Please make me feel good, daddy!"

He nodded in approval, a warm smile gracing his face as he pumped his finger into your hole.

"That's daddy's good girl." Your hand curled around his bicep and squeezed as he introduced another finger to spread your glistening lips. You mewled as his thumb pressed to your clit and rubbed it at a steadily increasing pace.

"Daddy, that feels really fucking good." Your voice rose in pitch as your eyes seemed to squeeze shut on their own accord. Jay stole loving glances in between his absolute focus on pleasuring you.

"Do you want to cum, sweet magpie?" He crooned as your knees buckled.

"Please daddy, please let me!" The fire burning in your lower belly at his touch brought desperate tears to your eyes. "Please, I've been so good!" You begged, through sniffles and moans. He shushed you gently and kindly, using his free hand to wipe away the stray tears.

"Show daddy how good he makes you feel." His simple command pulled a moan from between your lips and caused your walls to clench around his dutifully pumping fingers. Within seconds, they were coated in your slick juices. Jay pulled his fingers out swiftly, silencing your whimper that followed by pushing them between your own lips. You sucked them clean obediently, humming softly as you worked. He pulled you on to his lap before your legs could give out, cradling you with his arm wrapped around your lower back.

"You're a good girl." He murmured quietly as he finally pulled out his fingers from your mouth. He kissed away the stubborn pout that surfaced as a result. "Thank you for doing this for me, magpie." He nuzzled his nose against your tear-stained cheek, producing a giggle.

"Any time, daddy."

#ramblings...to jay!✍️#jay (okja) x reader #jay (okja) smut #paul dano smut #paul dano x reader

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babybluebex · 2 years

Text

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 | 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | when percy is returned to earth, he doesn’t remember his father, his friends, or you. you’re tasked with reminding your husband of all the memories he lost. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | percy dolarhyde (cowboys and aliens, 2011) x fem!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut— fingering (f!receiving), slight dom!percy, pain kink, breeding kink, housewife kink (kinda), creampie, reunion sex, mentions of arranged marriage, reader and percy have a history of fighting, memory loss 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | this is @mustyrosewater‘s fault blame her but also *pushes hair behind ear* hey percy what’s up // taglist blog: @cremebruhleewrites

“Percy!” you cried, searching the crowd of lethargic people for him. Colonel Dolarhyde led the way, and, the moment you saw your husband, you couldn’t help the cry that left your throat. He looked exhausted, his several-day ordeal having been taxing, no doubt, covered in dirt and grime, blood dried by his ears. Those big green eyes of his were blown out to almost nothing, his hair curled behind his ears. Your poor Perce had been through a lot, and you couldn’t stop yourself from running to him and hugging him tightly. “Jesus, honey, I thought I lost you!” You nestled your head under his chin and, even though he stunk something awful, you didn’t want to let go. Percy was safe, Percy was alive, and Percy was home.

His arms went around you, his grip strong but almost hesitant, as if he were afraid that you would disappear if he moved too fast. You didn’t even want to think about the nasty things you had said to him when you saw him last, the night he was taken up into that odd ship in the sky. You had stood outside his cell at the sheriff’s department and berated him for his foolhardy actions with the gun that day, and he had fought back, as always. You had never really liked Percy; you had grown up in Absolution, Arizona, the smallest of small towns, only alive because of Colonel Dolarhyde’s cattle route, and you had learned several months prior that you were engaged to the colonel’s son, whether you wanted to be or not. Back then, you absolutely hated Percy. He was annoying, entitled, and he thought that he was better than everybody else in Absolution, and he didn’t have any issue with reminding you of it. It seemed as if Percy was equally tolerant of the marriage as you were, not even bothering to show up to the small ceremony that your father had negotiated. Instead, you found him at the saloon, already drunk. That night was your very first fight, the first of many. Percy tried to act as if he intended to come to the wedding but had gotten the time wrong, and you didn’t believe him for a second. “Just admit to me that you don’t care enough about me to even pretend to wanna be married!” you told him.

“Maybe I don’t!” Percy told you, his words slurred together. “Maybe I don’t wanna be married, ya think of that? I’m ‘bout as happy about this as you are, and, y’know, if there’s some way I could manage my way outta this, I’d do it! Being married to a bitch like you ain’t gonna prolong my life!”

That night was also the first night you laid with Percy. Somewhere during the night and during your yelling, you and Percy moved closer and closer and closer to each other until you were chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, and the heat radiating off of his chest was too powerful to resist. You grabbed him by his cravat (silk, of course bought for him by his father) and dragged him into a kiss, and he instantly grabbed your face and kissed back. He tasted like whisky, and his body was hot as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground to wrap your legs around his waist. The bed squeaked as Percy tossed you down, and he hurried to unbutton your dress and expose your skin to him. You had never been around a man who seemed like such an animal, and Percy fit the bill as he pulled off your dress and petticoats to reach your body. You hardly had time to unbutton Percy’s pants before he was turning you around and running his fingers along your cunt. “Look at that,” he laughed, biting at the skin of your neck. “Little whore’s all ready for me, even though you’re mad. Are ya really mad, darlin’, or are ya just pretendin’?”

“Shut up,” you told him, reaching behind you and digging your nails into the skin of his hip. He winced, biting harder at your neck, and you added, “Are you gonna fuck me or not, Percy?”

Percy laughed again. “Pretty girl using naughty words,” he said. “I like when my women get a little frisky, gets me all hot up under my collar. You wanna ask again? Nicer this time, though, Missus Dolarhyde.”

“God, just fuck me!” you cried, and his hand slammed over your mouth to keep you quiet as he pushed his hard cock into you. “Can’t fucking believe I’m letting you fuck me,” you added, muffled by his palm.

“Oh, believe it, darlin’,” Percy laughed. “God, your pussy feels so good, at least your father was right when he promised me a virgin.” And so, Percy fucked you, moaning into your neck and marking your skin with his teeth, and he apologized to you once you were leaking cum, both yours and his. “M’sorry,” he mumbled, laying with you on the bed and pushing your hair out of your face. “Maybe I didn’t care too much ‘bout gettin’ married, but you proved me wrong. I’ll love ya, darlin’, just as much as I can manage.” Then, his words from before finally sank in, and you sat up, pushing him away.

“My father promised me to you?” you repeated. “You knew about this from the start, you lied to me!”

But, as much as you fought and made up and fought again, you did love Percy. When he wasn’t drunk or acting like a damn fool, he was a good husband. His father’s wealth kept you well-fed and dressed, and Percy would bring you flowers when he came home in the evenings. He would wrap his arms around you as you made dinner and softly inquire about your day, and he would snuffle at your neck like a dog to make you laugh. Of course, the domestic nights were few and far between, and you typically spent your nights getting Percy out of whatever trouble he had found himself in, and then berating him for getting into trouble in the first place. Those nights, you followed your routine: you two would fight, then make angry, furious love, and then quietly promise each other to never fight again, until the next time Percy did something bad.

That’s why tears pricked at your eyes as Percy’s hug grew tighter and more confident around you, and you whispered, “Oh, thank God, Perce.”

Percy finally let you go, and his warm hand came up to cup your cheek, the way he always did before he kissed you. But he looked confused, like it was his first time making the movement. “Percy?” you whispered. “Honey, answer me, is something wrong?”

“Wh…” your husband began, his wife eyes flicking to his pa, then back to you. His pale cheeks grew red as he looked at you, never lifting his eyes from your mouth, and he finally said, “Who’re you?”

You sniffled as you laughed. “You and your jokes,” you whispered as you shook your head. “Now’s not the time, though, honey, are you hurt?”

“No,” Percy began. His voice was the same but slow and mumbling, like he was struggling to speak, and he said, “I don’t rem’mber much.. Who’re you?”

Percy was ravenous once you got him home, and he ate just about everything in your house. The house was small, but it was yours, and you sat at the dinner table as Percy ate. You watched him anxiously, hoping that something about the house— the smell of it, the look of the bed, the flowers on the counter or the pictures on the wall— would spark his memory, but he seemed wholly unaffected. “Thank you,” he mumbled once he was finished with his food, and you sighed.

“Perce,” you whispered, and you reached out for his hand. “Do you remember anything now?”

Your husband looked around the tiny one-room home, and he slowly shook his head. “I feel like I should,” he said. “Being home, but… But I can’t.” You sighed heavily, your chin wobbling as you held back tears, and Percy squeezed your hand. “I-I know I love you. I don’t gotta remember that, I already knew that. I know you’re my wife, but I don’t remember how we met or nothing.”

You pursed your lips, and you let your hand fall from Percy’s grip. “We were children,” you told him. “All the children in Absolution went to this one schoolhouse, and you were sat on the other side of the aisle from me. The-The boys were separated from the girls back then, probably for good reason. You… You used to tug on my braids and laugh at me when I got mad. My momma used to tell me it was because you liked me, and I guess, y’know… That’s true.”

“I’ve always liked you?” Percy asked.

“Apparently so,” you said, and Percy laughed softly.

“You are really pretty,” Percy told you. “How did I start courting you?”

“You really didn’t,” you shrugged. “Umm, I was told that our fathers arranged a marriage between us, but I later found out that…That you lied to me, and you were part of making the arrangements from the beginning.”

“Oh,” Percy mumbled. His thin eyebrows wrinkled together as he thought, and he said, “Am I usually like that? Lyin’ to you and all?”

You wanted to deny him and tell him no, but he deserved to know the truth. “Yes,” you said, and you watched his face fall. “You very regularly lie to me, yell at me, disrespect me… We fight a lot, nearly every day.”

“Oh, God,” Percy mumbled. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I’m sure I don’t mean it.”

You shrugged. “We just don’t like each other,” you told him. “It’s not a big deal, my mom and dad didn’t like each other either.”

“It shouldn’t be that way, though,” Percy said. “I mean, I must’a wanted to marry ya for some reason. There’s no way I just plain don’t like ya.”

You tried not to dwell on it for too long. You stood up and started to gather dishes, just as you did every night, but Percy stopped you. “Sit down,” he told you. “You’ve been runnin’ ‘round all day, I’ll do this.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I-I usually do that.”

“Sounds like I’m a shit-poor husband,” Percy chuckled lightly, but you could tell he was in his head about it. “I don’t do nothin’ ‘round the house?”

“Sometimes you help me clean,” you said with a shrug. “You keep me company while I cook… Even though you’re just mostly in my way.” You smiled at your poor attempt at a joke, and then said, “You’re just never really around to do stuff for me.”

“Well, where the hell am I at, if not here?” Percy asked. He transferred all the dishes to the small washtub you had next to the stove, and he pulled up his pants a bit before he knelt down and gathered the slim bar of soap. It was a sight you had never seen before, and the thought that it was so unlike the Percy you knew brought tears to your eyes. However, when Percy heard your sniffles, he undoubtedly thought that the question was the cause of your distress. “Oh, little darlin’, please don’t cry, I don’t wanna make you cry.”

“You’re always at that damn saloon!” you sobbed finally, and Percy dropped the bar of soap into the water and came to your side, kneeling in front of you and resting his forehead against your knee. You had helped him wash all the blood and grime off of himself when you first got home, and his dark ginger hair was still drying, and it was damp to the touch when you carded your fingers through his hair. “And that’s why we fight, you come home drunk and you don’t give a damn ‘bout our home or ‘bout me… ‘Bout nothing!”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said softly. He looked up at you from his place on the floor, his big green eyes wet with tears, and he mumbled, “I-I remember something.”

“What is it?” you sniffled, and you hurried to wipe your cheeks dry. “What do you remember, honey?”

“I remember you sittin’ here, crying,” Percy started. “I don’t remember what about, but I was standin’ over there—” Percy gestured across the house, next to the bed, “And I was just… Bein’ plum awful to you. Callin’ ya names, accusing’ ya of being with other men… Jesus, I’m sorry. I don’t ever wanna make you feel bad like this again. I hate seein’ ya cry, baby, can you give me a smile?” His hands smoothed up your leg, pushing your skirt and petticoats just a little high to expose your knee, and he gently kissed your knee, covered by your cotton stocking. “What do I gotta do to see that smile?”

You were afraid to ask. Typically, that sort of request got you a laugh and a drunken “Fuckin’ do it yourself, slut”, and your heart hurt at the idea that this new Percy would react the same way as he used to. But you knew he wouldn’t, there was no way he could. “Will you…” you started, and you shook your head. It was too intimidating to even ask, even though he was your husband.

“Will I what, baby?” Percy asked. “What do you want? I’ll do anything to see your smile.”

“Just give me a kiss,” you said, even though that’s nowhere close to what you really wanted from him. “That’s all I want.”

Percy rose to his knees to reach your face, and his big, warm hands cupped your cheeks. Without a word of complaint, Percy leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, and you threw your arms around him and kissed back. It had been so long since Percy had just kissed you, and the feeling of his warm mouth was a better feeling that you could have ever remembered. Your dear husband was there, and he wasn’t ever going to leave. It warmed your heart, and you sniffled as you pulled away from his kiss. “Thank you, Percy,” you whispered, and you gently touched his face, smoothing your thumb down his cheek.

“When’s the last time I made love to you?” Percy asked. His hands lightly touched your knees and almost threatened to go higher, his forefinger and thumb capturing the edge of your dress.

“I think it was the night before you were taken,” you said. “You were drunk, and we fought, and we always made up by fuckin’.”

“No, no,” Percy said, shaking his head. “Proper made love to you? All nice and shit, the way you deserve to be treated. When was that?”

You had to think. You and Percy had been married for about a year, and you couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t drunk while you had sex. “Never, I think,” you said. “You were always drunk.”

“Always?” Percy repeated, and you nodded. “But not the first time, though, right?”

“Even the first time,” you said through your nod, and Percy looked off to the side. He obviously was holding back words, no doubt at his state as a husband, and he finally sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he told you firmly. “Ya hear me? I am sorry for the shit I’ve done to you, and I will be better for you. I’ve gotta be, what sorta man am I if I don't love you right? I promise you that I’ll do better.”

Percy’s fingers still played with your dress, and you leaned forward to meet him in a kiss again. He did more this time, though, his arms going around you and lifting you up to embrace him. He broke the kiss to bury his face in your neck, and he laid quick, hurried kisses to the skin that peaked above your collar. You could tell that he wanted to right all of his wrongs, this one included, and you carefully pushed him away in order to see his pretty face. Percy truly was beautiful, his high cheekbones and plump mouth all so inviting, and you whispered, “Percy, will you make love to me?”

Percy smiled, his blinking slow and pleased, and he said, “I was waiting for you to ask, darlin’.” He captured you in his arms again, and he pulled you back to him to kiss him. The kiss this time was messy and unbridled, your husband’s brutish animal side coming through. His arms were nice and tight around you as his tongue sneaked between your lips, and you couldn’t help but break the kiss to smile and giggle. “What’s so funny, darlin’?” Percy asked, setting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“You haven’t kissed me like this in a long time,” you told him, and Percy’s muddy green eyes twinkled as he lifted you up into his grip. He carried you nicely to the bed, just big enough for the two of you on the nights that Percy actually came home to sleep.

He set you down, the springs of the bed creaking underneath you, and he said, “All the more reason to do it, then.” Percy kissed you again, his warm hands sliding up your legs, and he began to roll down your stockings from your leg. His kisses moved from your mouth to your neck, and he abandoned your stockings to undo the buttons on your dress. His teeth nipped at your neck as he worked to unclothe you, and you helped him when his fingers struggled with the small buttons. Percy smiled into your neck, and he said, “I remember something.”

You gasped, and pulled his head from your neck, and you quickly asked, “What? What do you remember?”

“I remember…” Percy began, and he settled his face back in your neck, and he began to make little grunts and sniffles into your neck, biting and swiping his nose against your skin. He was doing his snuffling routine that always made you laugh and, just like before, you giggled and batted at his head playfully. “I remember ya liked that.”

“I do,” you told him. “It’s just funny.”

“Ya like it when I kiss your neck?” Percy asked, and his playful snuffles turned into nice kisses, his mouth open and his tongue laving your warm skin. A soft moan slipped from your mouth and you carded your fingers through Percy’s long hair and tugged as his teeth joined. You knew he was making little marks on your neck as he bit at you, but you just couldn’t tell him to stop.

Percy resumed his job of undressing you, working quickly to expose your bare skin to him, and your fingers rejoined his. Soon, your dress was loose enough to shuck down your body, and Percy kissed your skin the whole way down, every inch of flesh exposed to him being lavished by his tongue. “You taste good…” Percy mumbled against your breasts, and he carefully took your nipple between his front teeth. The sting of it made you gasp, but he soothed the sting with his warm tongue, and you moaned. “Sound good, too.”

You went to his clothes, unbuttoning his vest and shirt and pants, and you hurried to get him naked. Every inch of Percy was beautiful, and you hooked your legs around his waist once he was finally bare to you. His cock was hard, a sight for your sore, aroused eyes, and you dragged him into a messy and hurried kiss, all teeth and tongue. Your husband didn’t stop his hungry hands from feeling all over you, and you finally cried out when his fingers brushed your wet cunt. Your skin throbbed at his touch, and Percy smiled into your mouth.

“Ya miss me that much?” Percy chuckled. “All wet from the sight’a me, what a good little wife.”

You could tell that Percy was in no mood to take his time, and neither were you, so you were glad when Percy quickly pulled your legs open and spit down onto your cunt. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Gonna take my cock, sweet thing.”

“Percy,” you whimpered. Your hands touched his chest, feeling the sparse hair he had there, and you whined out, “Fuck me, Percy, please.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” Percy chuckled, and you smiled. Each passing second, he was becoming more and more like his old self, but the version of him that you liked, the version that brought you flowers and held you as you slept and cracked jokes. You remembered the old Percy loving it when you cursed, and it seemed that the new Percy liked it as well.

Percy held his cock in his hand and guided himself between your slick folds, and the stretch of your body around his thick, heavy cock had you moaning and letting your head fall back. Percy fixated on your neck again, kissing your skin and sinking his teeth into your flesh, and he slowly filled you with his cock. Every inch made you feel more lightheaded, and you grabbed at every part of him you could reach to urge him further in. Your fingers greedily claimed his hips and his shoulders and you kissed him the whole time. Your fingernails dug into his taut ass, his muscles flexing as he started to fuck into you, and he hissed through his teeth at the pain. You began to pull away, but Percy’s big hand grabbed you by the throat. “I didn’t tell ya to quit,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I-I thought it hurt,” you mumbled, and Percy’s hand squeezed your throat just enough for you to gasp. The feeling of your blood pulsing in your ears heightened the throbbing of your slick walls, and you could suddenly feel every inch of Percy’s rigid cock, splitting you open.

“It did,” he said. “But I ain’t say stop. Scratch me up all you want, little darlin’; I marked up your neck enough, you can do that.”

“Oh, God,” you groaned, and your hands flew up to your neck. You could already feel the tender skin bruising from his teeth and lips, and you added, “Your father’s gonna see that.”

“Fuck him,” Percy whispered. Swiftly, he situated a hand under your thighs, and he lifted your legs up, opening you up completely to him. “Been wantin’ to do this to ya for ages.”

“Do what?” you asked.

“Give you my baby,” Percy whispered on an exhale, grunting as he fucked you hard. The bed hit the wall with every aggravated thrust, and you dug your fingernails into his shoulders and back as you moaned. “Fuck, darlin’, comin’ home and seeing ya all big with my baby… Been waitin’ for me, making dinner, greetin’ me with a big kiss, lettin’ me feel him kick inside ya… I remember dreamin’ ‘bout this.”

“Oh, Percy,” you cooed. “You remembered something else!”

“It’s funny,” Percy began. “The longer I’m inside you, the more I’m rememberin’. Like, I remember wanting to have a son.”

“A son,” you echoed, and you pulled him into a gentle kiss. “I wanna give you a son, Percy. I’d love to do that.”

That seemed to renew some of Percy’s vigour, because his thrusts grew quicker and his grip tighter on your thighs. “M’gonna fuck ya so good,” Percy mumbled lowly, almost to himself. “And nine months from now, you’ll gimme that son we want.”

“I’ll give you everything you want,” you whispered to him, breathless from you nearing orgasm.

“I ain’t need everything,” Percy told you. You felt his cock throbbing inside you, threatening to spill at any moment, and you felt that familiar tingle in your own belly and legs. “I only need you, darlin’.”

“Percy, I’m gonna cum,” you whispered frantically, scratching down his back. Your husband groaned at the pain and hung his head, and you pushed his hair from his eyes as his thrusts became sloppy and uneven, each second growing closer and closer to his release. “Percy—”

“Come on, girl,” he huffed. “You can do it, fuckin’ cum for me. Cum for your husband.”

Your hands fell from his marked back and onto the bed, and you gripped the bedsheets for dear life as Percy fucked you. You didn’t feel like you were in control of your own body as your back arched up, and the hot fire in your belly dissipated as you came. It felt like heaven, and you felt Percy’s warm hand capture your face before he kissed you. The kiss was soft, not greedy or wanting anymore, and Percy gave a high, strangled moan into your mouth as he too finished. He stilled for just a moment, letting the feeling of it wash over him, and you felt his pulse heighten, his cock throbbing inside you.

After a moment’s respite, Percy began to weakly fuck into you, and the wet sound of it made your face burn in shame and a latent arousal. “Gotta make sure it takes,” he whispered against your lips, and he kissed you again. He hissed at the overstimulation on his cock, and you shushed him gently as you pulled him down to you, helping him lay down. Still inside you, he let his full weight settle on top of you, and you brushed back his hair and kissed the side of his face.

“Thank you, Perce,” you whispered. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I remember something else,” Percy whispered in your ear.

“Oh yeah?” you asked. “What is it?”

“I love you,” he told you. “I’ve never been good at showin’ it, and I’m not sure if I’ll get better, but I love you. The story you told me, how I used to pull your hair and your momma said it was because I liked you…” Playfully, he took a few tendrils of your hair and tugged at them, and you laughed. “She was right. I’ve loved you since before I knew what love was. Please don’t you go forgettin’ that.”

“I won’t, baby,” you told him. “I never could.”

#percy dolarhyde #percy dolarhyde x reader #percy dolarhyde smut #paul dano #paul dano x reader #paul dano smut #cowboys and aliens #truly an abysmal movie #but one of the best paul looks

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

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𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐮𝐩 🎀 louis ives x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🎀 taking out the shy boy from the opera takes an unexpected turn, in the best possible way

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 🎀 9.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 🎀 smut (18+ only; penetration, oral sex m receiving), crossdressing/genderbending, louis uses primarily he/him pronouns but is still a genderqueer icon, reader is also gnc (and implied bi), feminization kink, praise kink, shy insecure babby louis is babby, slight d/s dynamic (with subby!louis and dom!reader, obviously)

Louis sighed as he leaned back against the wall, resting the back of his head on the ornate wallpaper with his hands stuffed into his suit pockets.

It was only his first time at the opera, but he liked it much more than he thought he would; so much so that he was a bit anxious for intermission to end so he could get back to it.

Waiting for Henry to finish in the men’s room was, obviously, pretty boring. Louis resorted to people-watching in the lobby to pass the time— mostly it was much older people… in fact it was exclusively much older people. He liked the way they were dressed though: tuxedos, evening gowns, silk shawls and gloves.

His posture straightened when he saw you, for a number of reasons (three, exactly). One, you were significantly closer to his age than anyone else here. Two, you were a pretty girl, in his personal opinion. And three, you were wearing a tailored three-piece suit and tie. Not the overly-curvy cut of a woman’s suit, not a blazer and slacks, this was a straight, slim, two-button jacket and the whole ordeal; even black leather oxford flats of a clearly masculine variety. He’d never seen a girl in a suit like that, he had to squint to look at your face and make sure he hadn’t just mistaken a more feminine man for a woman— but no, the makeup on your face and the feminine curve of your body (which couldn’t even be suppressed by men’s clothing) made it pretty clear you were at least some amount of female. He was impressed; he was intrigued… he was even a little intimidated.

And in a way he hadn’t expected at all, he was attracted to you. Not that being attracted to pretty girls was some kind of massive undertaking, but this was more than that. He was used to the natural draw to a good-looking woman, and to the odd jealousy he felt when he saw a woman wearing something that he wished he could. This was obviously more the reverse: he could wear suits, he was wearing one now, and somehow you seemed a lot more comfortable in yours than he felt in his. In the least perverted way possible, he imagined what kind of undergarments you might have on under that— a lacy bra, pink panties, nylons? Maybe something more practical? What a dream it would be to have something like those on under his suit…

You suddenly glanced his way, and he was so mesmerized by your eyes that he forgot to look away just a few seconds too late. Staring intently down at the floor as if there was anything to look at there, his heart started to beat a little faster as he saw you approaching in his peripheral.

His attempts to act nonchalant, even ignorant, to your presence were… pitiful. He started up and off to the side, as if the corner of the ceiling bore anything of note. You stopped just in front of him, giving him an expectant smirk as he, finally, met your gaze— acting as if he just now noticed you.

“Hey,” you greeted. “What were you staring for?”

“Oh—” he choked, “well, uh—”

“Don’t be scared,” you soothed, “I don’t bite, except when asked nicely.”

“Um,” he stalled, thrown by your slight innuendo. At least, he thought it might be an innuendo based on the sparkle in your eyes, but he was only tangential aware that biting could be a sexual reference. Do people really do that? Does she really do that? “Why are you wearing a suit?” he finally found the courage to ask aloud.

“Do you have a problem with me wearing a suit?” you returned.

“N-no, but, I just can’t see why you’d want to,” he explained. “They’re not especially comfortable. A dress seems more… breathable.”

“For the legs, sure, if it’s a ballgown— but the torso? Way too tight,” you grimaced, “you can feel it on you all the time. Makes it hard to relax.”

He took a mental note of that for later, a detail to help him accurately imagine how it would feel to wear one. You can feel it on you all the time… like a hug! That would be so nice…

“Suits are more fun,” you announced. “I think I look good in them.”

I think you look beautiful in them. “Do people look at you differently when you wear that?” he asked.

“Yeah, I pretend not to notice the rude ones,” you shrugged. “And every once in a while I get the attention of somebody cute, who may or may not stare at me from across the room creepily.”

Louis cleared his throat when he realized you were talking about him. You called him cute! That’s what that was, right? But you also called him creepy. So he wasn’t sure what to think. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered out, but he was smiling a bit from the compliment, which he worried made his apology less sincere.

“It’s alright, I didn’t mind,” you offered, and just as the conversation was really getting interesting, Henry suddenly appeared from the washroom; Louis tried not to show his disappointment so obviously on his face.

“Oh!” Henry smiled as he looked between you and Louis standing in front of each other. “I see you’ve met a lesbian,” he said to Louis.

Louis’ eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to chide Henry for his inappropriateness, but you jumped in first. “I’m not a lesbian, actually,” you corrected, “just progressive.”

Henry spitefully crossed his arms. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I like dick,” you explained; Louis was a little stunned by your bluntness, but amused by the way it threw Henry off of his game. “Maybe not exclusively, but…”

“Hmph!” Henry coughed disbelievingly.

“In fact, I was just about to ask your friend out for a coffee sometime,” you informed him, making Louis’ throat suddenly dry.

“I was… just about to do the same,” he bluffed.

Henry rolled his eyes and started to leave, mumbling a few gripes about ‘what’s this world come to?’ and ‘women don’t even wear women’s clothing anymore’, before turning back and looking at Louis with a furrowed brow— like he’d expected the young gentleman to follow him without question. “Come along, Louis,” he instructed.

“I… I’ll join you when I’m finished with my conversation,” Louis replied, puffing his chest up just a bit. Henry was obviously frustrated by Louis standing up to him, and Louis hated that all of this was happening in front of you. A tense silence passed, and when Louis didn’t relent, Henry scoffed and continued on— finally. “I’m… sorry about him,” Louis sighed, looking at you again. “He’s a bit old-fashioned.”

“I get the impression that you are, too,” you noticed, and he was impressed by your perception.

“Well, I suppose that I am, yes,” he agreed, “but more just aesthetically. He can be irritatingly conservative, even concerningly reductive at times. I’m sorry that he called you a lesbian.”

“Oh, it’s not insulting to me,” you assured, “and I’ve been accused of much less accurate things. And, I mean, basically everybody’s parents are irritatingly conservative.”

Louis was confused by the non-sequitur until he realized the nature of your assumption. “Oh! Henry isn’t my father, actually,” he corrected, “my parents, um… they’ve actually passed away.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you sighed.

“It’s alright, that was a long time ago,” he shrugged. “Anyway, Henry is just my roommate. And maybe a bit of a mentor— he’s taking me to the opera, I’d never been to one before.”

“What do you think?” you asked.

“It’s amazing,” he beamed. “The performances and the atmosphere— and I don’t know if getting asked out by pretty girls during intermission is normal, but… I like that part, too.”

You smiled and, right on cue, the lights dimmed and brightened a few times.

“Guess we should go back to our seats,” Louis decided, looking up at the chandeliers for a moment until they’d returned to normal.

“Not before I get your phone number,” you reminded him.

“Right, uh—” he stammered, not sure how to transfer this information until you simply handed him your cellphone with the ‘new contact’ screen open. Yes, that seems like a good way to go about this…

His thumbs were a little shaky as he tried to select the numbers on the tiny keyboard, and he had to go back more than a few times to correct mistakes. However, thankfully, he managed to get it in eventually and hand the device back to you with a smile.

“Alright, I’ll call you later,” you smiled, glancing down at the screen for a second, “Louis.”

Oh goodness, you’d just learned his name from the contact— he’d been so flustered, he forgot to introduce himself. And he didn’t know your name, either. But he didn’t need to; he returned to his seat for the second act feeling like he was floating on a cloud because you were going to call him. And you were going to ask him out for coffee, apparently. This night couldn’t get any better.

He was probably overdressed for a coffee date. But you’d called him cute last time he wore a suit, so he was wearing a suit again if just to chase that high.

He’d arrived unreasonably early and already gotten through a latte— he was probably going to drink too much coffee and end up all jumpy and anxious. Actually, he was pretty jumpy and anxious without any coffee at all. So, more coffee couldn’t hurt too much.

Fifteen minutes before you were due to arrive, he was already looking at the door every time the bell chimed, watching business people come in with briefcases and laptops, couples and friends laughing together. He thought maybe he should go to the bathroom before you got here, but then, what if you came in while he was in the bathroom and didn’t see him so you simply left? Yes, perhaps best to just wait.

Ten minutes before, and he was trying not to bounce his leg while he sat, but he kept doing it without noticing and then suddenly noticing and having to stop himself. He stirred his coffee for no good reason.

Five minutes before, he looked at the door when the bell chimed, like he always did, even though he knew it wasn’t you— and then it was you, finally. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you: you were wearing a dress, a green one with buttons down the front. He was amazed, and envious, that you could look so good in men’s or women’s clothing. Not only that, but the dress had a vintage sort of look to it, and he could just imagine how good the two of you would look together. People on the street and in this cafe were going to see you with him and know that you were on a date… it was thrilling to picture.

He stood up, catching your attention as you smiled at him. Nodding, he grabbed your chair and pulled it out for you until you were close enough to sit down. “Thank you,” you smiled as he pushed it in for you as well before returning to his own seat, “so chivalrous.”

“Well, I try,” he hummed.

Over your first cup of coffee and his third, he learned so much more about you— your family and what it was like to grow up with them, what brought you to New York and what you hoped to accomplish here, your favorite pastimes, your pet peeves…

He tried not to overshare about himself, even though you pressed to know more. I’m just not as interesting as you, he insisted, but you weren’t so easily dissuaded. Really, he was just afraid that if he started talking too much about himself, he’d say too much and say the wrong thing and you’d look at him in that way people did when he said the wrong thing. Really, Louis didn’t like opening up to people very much at all. Maybe part of the reason he got along with Henry so well is that Henry was far too self-absorbed to ask anything too personal about Louis, preventing Louis from sharing the wrong secret and getting that dreaded glare.

When the coffees were depleted, Louis wondered if it was time to go back to his apartment. He didn’t want this to ever end, but he also didn’t want to keep you here longer than you wanted, which were two obviously-opposing goals.

“Maybe I should get back home soon,” he announced aloud, hoping that that ‘maybe’ would leave room for you to say he could stay longer. But he also braced for the possibility that you would tell him he should go, and that this would be the end of your first date. Instead, you said something he didn’t expect.

“Do you mind if I walk with you?” you asked.

He felt his face warming slightly, and hoped you couldn’t see it if he was getting flushed. “I should be the one walking you home,” he noticed.

“Don’t overthink it,” you winked, and he decided that for possibly the first time in his life, he was going to take that advice and not overthink it. Or at least, he was going to try not to.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Louis followed by your side as the two of you strolled along. The conversation continued, though it drifted away from personal matters and onto books and stories; you seemed impressed that he was a former assistant professor of English, not focusing too much on the former part like most people did. (He was just relieved that you didn’t ask why he’d been let go.)

This was normally a rather long walk, but talking with you made it go by in a blink— in fact, he was even a bit disappointed when he realized you were standing right in front of his building.

"This is me," he informed you as he gestured to the aging brownstone.

"Oh," you smiled, craning your neck to look up at the building.

"That's my window," he pointed upwards.

"Seems like you have a nice view," you noticed.

"Not as nice as the view I have now," he offered as he looked at you, and you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Wow, that's cheesy," you grinned. "Embarrassingly effective, but cheesy. Can I come up?"

It took him a second to realize you were asking to be invited into his apartment. Slightly overwhelmed but not quite stupid enough to let this opportunity pass, he nodded and you followed him to the steps as he opened the front door for you.

A sizable stair-climb later, he guided you into Henry's foyer.

"It's a bit cluttered, but, that's all my roommate's stuff," Louis explained as you stepped inside and looked around.

"He has an eclectic taste," you stated the obvious.

“I sleep in this little spare room here,” he continued, opening the door to it, only to find he’d left it in total disarray with a pair of boxers crumpled on the floor; he made a dash to throw everything out of the way and half-make-up his bed, but you appeared behind him and snorted out a little laugh. “I, uh, didn’t know you were going to come up,” he defended himself.

“But were you hoping that I would?” you asked, and honestly, he hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

“Yes,” he lied. Not that he hadn’t hoped you’d come into the apartment someday; it was just that he was really just trying to survive one thing at a time, and a coffee date was challenge enough for him. Now you were here and he’d barely managed to make his room presentable and—

He felt your hand on the back of his neck, and when he turned to look at you, you were already moving in to kiss him. Even though he was flustered by your forwardness, he gladly met you halfway and kissed you back. You tasted like spearmint chapstick and root beer— and most of all you tasted like you, and he heard himself just barely hum under his breath as he moved his lips with yours. It was sudden, and unexpected, but still perfect, even though he’d wished he had the confidence to kiss you first. He wanted to be romantic about it, and gentlemanly, so he planned to not even try to kiss you on the lips until the end of the second date; the plan for tonight was just a kiss on the cheek after he dropped you off at your door. This was… not the plan. Not that he was complaining. But he was a little confused.

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you breathed slowly through the kiss, tilting your head slightly. He knew it was weird, but he kept opening his eyes to look at you. You just looked so beautiful like this, so up-close with your eyes shut gently while you kissed him. He realized that his hands were still hovering around you, and he hesitantly lowered them to rest on your waist— though he still kept the pressure incredibly light, in case grabbing you too hard would be inappropriate. He heard you let out the smallest sigh and it made his heart swell.

Carefully, your tongue started to prod at his lips, and his heart started to race as he let you deepen the kiss and move your tongue alongside his.

As your hands started to move, slowly, down his chest through his blazer, he felt his own grip on your waist tighten. The fabric of your dress was so soft and delicate— so were your lips, and your tongue was gentle and sweet and exploring his mouth in a way that made his knees a little weak.

The kiss was suddenly a little hungrier, a little rougher, a little more desperate; both of you were breathing heavily, and when he instinctively pulled you closer, he heard (and felt) you moan. “Louis,” you gasped into the air between his mouth and yours, and he couldn’t help but let out a small whimper at how perfect his name sounded when you said it like that.

His heartbeat raced even faster as he felt his trousers getting tighter. The realization that he was getting hard made him instantly anxious— maybe it was okay to get a boner right now, maybe that was where this was going… and yet, that idea somehow made it even worse. All at once, the self-hating fears flooded his mind. What if I can’t do it right? I don’t know how to do this— I can’t do this. She’s going to know something’s wrong with me, something is so horribly wrong with me…

Breaking the kiss, he stumbled back suddenly. You started to follow him for a second, but stopped. “Are you okay?” you asked.

“I think I should walk you back to your apartment,” he decided suddenly, and you looked at him with confusion.

“Okay…” you agreed awkwardly. “Did I do something to upset you? I’m sorry if I did, I promise that I didn’t mean to.”

“I just,” he began, starting over again. “It’s not you. It’s just that— I don’t know how far you wanted this to go, but Henry says I’m not allowed to have sex in the apartment,” he explained, twisting his fingers in his hands.

“Your landlord decides if you're permitted to have sex?” you asked incredulously, raising your eyebrows.

“He is also my roommate, so, he has some say in it…”

“Listen, Louis— if the first date is too soon for you, that’s fine,” you assured.

“Well, that’s part of it,” he admitted. “I don’t want to take things too fast. I’m… trying to be a gentleman.”

You smiled slightly, stepping closer to him. “Oh, Louis, you don’t have to worry about that,” you purred. “You’ve been so sweet and respectful, it’s been wonderful… but to be entirely honest—”

He swallowed thickly as you got close enough to rest your hand on his lapel, looking up at him through your lashes. You were so pretty he didn’t know what to do with himself, and the look you were giving him could only be described as ravenous.

“— ever since I saw you, looking at me from across the ballroom, dressed up in your suit looking like the perfect gentleman,” you continued, clutching his jacket suddenly, “I’ve been thinking about all the very disrespectful things you could do to me.”

His eyes went wide. He was certainly out of his depth now— if you were looking for a dominant man, someone to ravish you, he was going to be totally useless. Of course he couldn’t give you what you wanted, he should’ve known better, he should’ve never even agreed to go out with you when it would only end in disappointment for both of you. You wanted a real man and he was just—

“Hey,” you soothed, apparently noticing the panic on his face, “don’t freak out. Nothing has to happen tonight. But, I’m sort of out on a limb here…”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “it’s not that I’m not attracted to you. It’s just that I want this to be perfect— you deserve nothing less. You deserve flowers, and candles, and not this tiny awful apartment when Henry could come back at any moment— or come back after and make some horrible comment about how it smells in here…"

You laughed, and he stopped his ramble to sigh slightly.

“I just think it might be better if we get to know each other a little better first,” he concluded. I just think I should give you a chance to realize I’m not what you think I am, so you can save yourself the trouble, he wished he could say honestly.

“Wow,” you nodded, “I know I pegged you as a little conservative but… this is new.”

“Please, don’t take it personally,” he began, but you shook your head reassuringly.

“No, I mean, it’s kinda nice,” you clarified. “I think there should be more guys like you out there— you know, traditional. You’re a dying breed.”

Guys like me, huh? Louis thought to himself, resisting the urge to laugh. If only you knew.

But you didn’t know, which was how he wanted things to stay— he didn’t want anyone to know.

In the last month, Louis had made two Herculean accomplishments: one, he’d managed to survive four more dates with you, with such success that each ended with the promise of another; two, he’d managed to keep your libido at bay in a month of dating. You never seemed disappointed, and by now you’d made it clear that you were waiting for him to make the first move when he felt he was ready. The problem was, he couldn’t imagine how he was ever going to be ready for you to see him without all his clothes, his image, his pretense. He had this strange feeling that if you saw him naked, you’d see right through him, see everything about himself that he locked deep down and far away. And he’d rather just keep making out than go further and lose you for good.

“I’m seriously gonna run out of vases, Lou,” you sighed with a smile once you’d opened your door, finding him waiting to pick you up with yet-another small bouquet of flowers. “And my house is turning into a plant mausoleum!”

“Next time, I’ll just bring you a new vase, then,” Louis offered, and you laughed; he loved your laugh, and when he was around, he heard it surprisingly often. You told him before that girls laugh at a guy’s jokes if they’re attracted to him, whether or not he’s funny; Louis didn’t care if you really thought he was funny, or just thought he was attractive— both were higher praise than he ever expected from someone as both as you.

“I’m not ready to go yet, sorry,” you apologized, walking quickly around the apartment as he followed you into your bedroom. “I can’t decide what to wear.”

“You look good in anything,” he insisted, sitting down on the side of your bed.

“Well, I wanna feel good too, and it’s so cold out,” you explained. “You can wait out here and I’ll be dressed in a second, alright?”

He nodded, and you smiled as you disappeared into your walk-in closet and shut the door.

Twiddling his thumbs, Louis entertained himself by looking around your bedroom; he’d been in here before, so he recognized some familiar objects and noticed the new trinkets lying around. There was a necklace on your bedside table, and a lone sock on the floor—

His breath caught slightly when he saw some clothes strewn over the corner of the bed, some you must have been trying on earlier while trying to pick what to wear. Of course, it wasn’t just momentarily-worn clothes that got his attention… it was the bra. Purple lace, thin straps, and a little silver heart charm dangling from between the cups; Louis was all but salivating looking at it, imagining how nice it would be to wear…

“How’s it going in there?” Louis asked you through the door. “No rush or anything, our reservation isn’t until 7…”

“This dress has, like, a billion buttons,” you replied, “it’ll be a while, sorry… I can get you some water or something?”

“No no, it’s fine,” he assured, and he felt his heart begin to race as he wondered if he would have enough time just to hold it for a moment and see how it felt.

Glancing from the garment to your closet door and back a few times, he gave in— he hopped from the side of the bed over to the end, glancing over his shoulder at the closet door one more time before picking up the bra. He sighed slightly as soon as he touched it, feeling the details of the lace under his fingertips. There was a long vanity mirror propped up against the wall, and he chewed his lip nervously as he looked into it. He was there in the reflection, in his suit with his hair slicked back, and he had one of those moments where he was surprised to see himself. He wasn’t ever sure what he expected to see in these moments, but it wasn’t the young gentleman he was looking at now.

He held up the bra to his chest, over his jacket and shirt, but it wasn’t really doing much for him with all these clothes in the way. He longed to see that lavender lace on his bare skin, he wanted to feel it under his shirt, he wanted to be pretty… pretty like you.

You’d look amazing in a bra like this, he was sure. He’d had thoughts of that nature late at night, staving off his physical interest in you in order to keep chaste lest you see the confusion he was hiding under his clothes. He’d imagined looking at you, touching you, being with you in a way his instability made impossible for the time being. In that moment, he couldn’t decide if he’d rather see you in something like this, or ditch you entirely and wear it himself.

See, that was exactly why he felt he wasn’t ready to take things further with you. He barely had any idea who he was, let alone how to be the person you wanted. The man you wanted. Louis was pretty sure he was a man— at least, most of the time— but he clearly wasn’t much of one, sitting here now with your bra held up to his chest.

He dropped it into his lap with a sigh. This little adventure hadn’t been very satisfying like he thought it would; he just needed a little more…

Before he even really had the thought, he watched himself in the mirror as a shaky hand started to reach up and unbutton his shirt. As he wondered if he was really going to do this, he slipped off his jacket and set it aside and before he knew it, his shirt was off too.

She said her dress had a billion buttons— I’ll be quick, I’ll only wear it for a second— he told himself, rushing to get this over with quickly. Maybe this would be enough to hold him over for a while; maybe he could do this, get it out of his system, and take you out tonight feeling much more normal and much less tempted to look at your clothes as you sat across the dinner table from him and wonder if he could wear them as well as you do.

Shirtless, he tried not to linger his gaze too long on his body— he didn’t care for it much, too lean to be masculine and too straight to be feminine— as he slipped the straps of the bra up to his shoulders. It was awkward, reaching around to try to clasp the back, but he eventually figured out how to do it and managed to get all three hooks latched (though, unbeknownst to him, one was latched on a different row than the others).

Adjusting it again now that it was clasped, he sighed and looked at his reflection again. It looked good— it felt good— but it didn’t look or feel quite… right. There were cups that he had nothing to fill, and the straps crossed over his broad and bony shoulders that were nothing like your smooth and delicate ones; the only part he really liked was the silver heart charm that dangled over his sternum… he toyed with it between a finger and thumb and smiled to himself, thinking that it was sort of like wearing a bra and jewelry at the same time.

No, it wasn’t perfect, but it was still nice, and he reached up to tuck a longer strand of his hair behind his ear— it wasn’t quite long enough, so it fell forward into his face again, but he had already forgotten that again as he turned slightly to try to see how it looked in the back.

It was right about then that the door behind him opened, and in that reflection he saw you staring out at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

He whipped around, blood pumping and eyes already starting to water as he fought to try to get off the bra, but obviously it was far too late. “Oh! I was just— I wasn’t— this isn’t—” he began and restarted several explanations, never settling on one for long.

“Louis,” you breathed, “it’s… it’s alright.”

“I didn’t mean to— wait,” he choked. “Alright?”

“Yes,” you agreed, stepping into the room with all the hesitance of one approaching a startled deer or something, “you can slow down, and just… tell me what’s going on.”

“I… I don’t know that I can,” he sighed, arms shaking a little where they self-consciously crossed his bra-clad chest. “I can’t explain it.”

“Well, maybe you can just start by telling me if you’re gay,” you suggested, “and that’s fine, I wouldn’t have a problem with that— except that, well, the problem that we probably couldn’t date anymore. But I would understand, of course. I’d be a little hurt if I was always just your beard, but—”

“I’m… not gay,” he interrupted. “I don’t have an interest in men… I like women, I’m fascinated by women, it’s just…”

“Sometimes you want to be one?” you wondered, finishing for him. “Are you, maybe, one?”

He glanced away. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

"You just wanna look like one?"

"Something like that," he breathed. "You're just so pretty and— I wish I was pretty. Soft, and smooth, like you."

“Louis,” you cooed sympathetically, reaching up to touch his face, “you are pretty. And soft. I love that about you— I think it’s sexy.”

“Oh, uh—” he choked, but thankfully you interrupted him because he’d started talking before he knew what to say.

“Did you… start seeing me, because you wanted to wear my clothes?” you asked nervously.

“No! No, this has nothing to do with how I feel about you,” he assured. “This is just about how I feel about myself.”

“And how do you feel, now?” you pressed.

“Well, a little terrified,” he admitted, “and… and sort of pretty…”

“You are,” you agreed, and he started blinking rapidly, reaching up to cover the side of his face with his hand.

“Oh… really?” he mumbled.

“Yes, of course,” you insisted. “It’s just, I wish you would’ve asked first, because— well, you’re sort of stretching it out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, starting to try to peel your bra off hastily.

“No no,” you cooed, stepping up and stopping him with hands delicately placed on his shoulders. You reached around his back and undid the clasp for him, and he reached forward to let you slide the straps down his arms. “Now we can go find you one that fits.”

He sighed and let his eyes fall shut as you lightly swiped the brush over his cheek; it turned a little more peachy with each go of it, and you moved to the other when the color threatened to overpower his skin tone.

“What’s next after this?” he asked.

“Mascara,” you replied, voice sort of lilted as you focused on your work.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable to put on?”

“Well, you get used to it,” you shrugged.

“I think I will,” he agreed with a little smile.

“Your lashes are already really long,” you noticed, “this is really just to make them a little darker.”

“Right, okay…”

He managed to get through the mascara without his eyes squinting or watering, so his lashes stayed intact as you moved on to the finishing touch. Already you could see that he was getting excited, even quietly confident if still characteristically shy. Your heart hurt to imagine that he’d been hiding this from you for so long, apparently thinking you might actually reject him over something so trivial.

“Alright, which color do you want?” you asked as you held up three different lip glosses for him to choose from. You could tell just in the way that his eyes moved quickly over the tubes that he was hesitating. He lifted his hand but stopped for a second. “Whichever one you’d like,” you encouraged softly.

That seemed to give him the courage to reach up and tap his fingertip on the baby pink one with the gold glitter; you smiled and set the other two down before unscrewing the cap.

“Hold your mouth open just a bit,” you encouraged, making the expression you wanted him to so he could copy it. When he relaxed his lips just right, you ran the doefoot applicator over the bottom one first. “Oh, this color’s pretty on you,” you noticed, and you saw him struggle not to smile since he knew he was supposed to stay still while you applied the gloss. It was rather sheer, but with just enough color to really bring the whole thing together, especially with the blush which matched it well. “Okay, go like this,” you instructed as you pressed your lips together, and he copied you again. You moved the product around on his top lip just to make sure it covered all the right places, and finally you sighed as you felt your work was done.

You stood up and stepped back, and his eyes went a little wide as he straightened up; you could imagine he felt kind of strange and vulnerable being examined like this. He hadn’t even seen himself yet and here you were staring at him, but it was only because you were feeling rather proud of yourself. You kept the look subtle, not wanting to make him look gaudy or dramatic— he had so much natural beauty already, you just wanted to accentuate it slightly. He didn’t need foundation at all with such even skin, so you’d just put a little concealer under his eyes to brighten them up; and then it was just brown eyeliner and a clear gel for the brows (maybe someday you could talk him into tweezing them a bit but you knew that was a hard sell) before the finishing touches.

“Louis, you look great,” you beamed. “Not to brag or anything, but I’m sort of a genius.”

“Can I see?” he asked nervously, and you grabbed a hand mirror to give him as you sat by his side on the bed again. He found the angle to examine his face, and for a second or two you really couldn’t tell what he thought because his expression stayed blank. You could tell, finally, that he was happy by the way his fingers traced over the edge of the mirror while he gazed at himself.

“How do you feel?” you asked him softly, leaning in a little closer so you could see his reflection over his shoulder.

“Um, well,” he mumbled, “I think you did a nice job.”

“That’s not what I asked,” you noticed.

“I feel… beautiful,” he decided.

“You are beautiful,” you assured, and you caught his stare moving to your face before he set the mirror aside and looked down into his lap. “How do you feel in your new outfit?”

“I wouldn’t call it an outfit,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I mean, I couldn’t wear this out…”

Well, no, that isn’t the point of a lace bralette-and-panty set. “You could wear it under something,” you suggested, “and nobody would know. Except for you and I, if you told me.”

“Oh…” he breathed, and you spared a glance down to his panties and noticed them a little more… full, than usual, and couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The conversations you’d had about this with him had left it somewhat ambiguous if the desire to crossdress was sexual for Louis. It seemed like it was something that could be a bit of both, which made sense considering you absolutely had days where you hoped to dress in a way that would attract sexual attention, and other days where you wanted to look nice for much more personal reasons. Really, it seemed as normal to you as anything, even if Louis was so fearful of it. Maybe it was conquering his fear and quenching his desire all at once that was arousing him.

“Can I ask you an important, personal question?” you asked, and Louis nodded. “Are you a boy, or a girl? Right now, specifically. Neither or both are also acceptable answers, of course…”

“I’m… a boy,” he decided, “still. I just feel nice being a boy that sort of looks like a girl.”

“You should feel nice,” you agreed with a proud hum. “You’re a very pretty boy.”

He cleared his throat and you could see him getting flushed even with the blusher on.

“You’re gorgeous,” you continued.

“Oh, well, I don’t know about that…” he trailed off.

“I do,” you insisted. “You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen… and this brassiere looks so nice on you!” Trailing your hand down over his neck and collarbone, you traced the tip of your finger around the lace crossing his chest. “Do you know what this is for, Lou?”

He shook his head. You lowered your voice.

“It’s to cover your tits,” you explained, and you could see the shiver run up his spine. You smiled proudly, moving to trace your fingers over the hardening nipples just barely obscured by the pink lace. “Are your tits sensitive?”

“Y-yes,” he stammered, sighing and letting his head fall back slightly; his lips, parted for a whimpered moan, looked so delicious with that gloss on them.

“Then say it,” you encouraged.

“My… my tits,” he gasped it out, “are so sensitive… touch them more, please…”

You took your hands and splayed them out to grab handfuls of his chest, and he moaned out loud, finally. “Good boy,” you breathed, “make all those pretty noises for me, it’s supposed to feel good.”

“Feels really good,” he agreed in a sigh. “It feels really good when you play with them like that…”

“You want me to do it some more?”

He nodded, and you chuckled.

“Mm, you know you need to be a good boy and say it out loud,” you purred.

“Play with my tits more,” he panted, “please? And… and maybe you could kiss me?”

You were getting desperate, too; all you could do was nod breathlessly as you used your free hand to hold his face and kiss him— and he’d never kissed you like this before, it was always so innocent and chaste before (at least at the start). And that was sexy in its own way, but this? Whining into it, opening his mouth wide right away and letting you push your tongue between his lips? Sticky and sweet from the lip gloss, hungry and sloppy? It was fucking perfect.

He chased you for more when you pulled back, you had to hold his shoulders to keep him from following you (even though you wouldn’t have minded kissing him longer, especially when you saw how gorgeous he looked wearing that heavy-lidded, open-mouthed stare).

“Oops,” you grinned as you saw the way the lip gloss had smeared. “I messed up your makeup… but you look even prettier like this. You look so needy and cute… and a little slutty.”

He swallowed thickly and glanced down, and when you followed his gaze, you saw why.

“Your cock doesn’t fit in your panties anymore,” you noticed with a prideful smirk. His erection had burst right out of it and was red and leaking at the tip, flexing independently against his stomach. “Do you want me to touch it, Lou?”

He blurted it out before you’d even really finished your question: “Please.”

A choked moan fell from his lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock and began to stroke slowly— he started to buck up into your palm already, desperate for more. You’d imagined Louis would be the eager type, but this was better than you ever could’ve hoped for.

“O-oh, wow,” he breathed, watching your hand move over his cock, “your hand feels nice…”

“Mhm?” you encouraged, focusing for a second on the tip to spread the precum there. “Oh, you’re getting a little wet, honey…”

“Hng,” he groaned, eyes falling shut as he leaned his head back, “keep going, please, please—”

“Shh, I’m gonna keep going, don’t worry,” you cooed, guiding him to lay back on the bed; damn, he looked good spread out on your sheets, just like you’d wanted him since you first saw him.

Leaning in, you kissed down his neck, making a detour along his chest to pull the bralette aside and tease his nipple with the tip of your tongue. He moaned loudly when you did that, squirming underneath you.

"That's my good boy," you praised, "make those pretty noises for me while I suck your tits. You need to teach me how to make you feel good, so tell me when you like what I'm doing."

You wrapped your lips around his nipple and suckled harder, carefully letting your teeth graze over the delicate bud.

"Ohh, like that," he blurted out, "I like that— please don't stop."

You smiled and did it again, feeling him shiver and rock his hips up into your hand again. Moving across his chest to the other nipple, you teased it through the lace for just a second before pulling the fabric out of the way and sucking again; you soaked in the sound of his panting turning into whines, and even bit down just ever-so-slightly harder until he yelped for a second. You soothed him with a wide lick over the dusty-pink nipple, starting to slowly kiss your way down his stomach.

He lifted his head up to watch you go down, but it must’ve been realizing what you were doing that made him drop his head back down with a groan. “Oh,” he sighed, and you smiled as you kept going.

When you (finally) sucked his cock, he moaned louder than you'd ever heard him do anything before, and you just had to stop to tease him. "You like the way I eat you out?" you noticed, and he whined at the way you described what you were doing to him.

“Yes— don’t stop, please, p-put it in your mouth again…” he begged. You met his gaze as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, bobbing your head and hand together until you found your rhythm.

You wouldn’t mind doing this all night if he kept making such lovely noises, but as they grew louder and louder, you realized he probably couldn’t take much more; you noticed him gripping your sheets in his fists and wondered if he was already trying to hold himself back.

Releasing your mouth off of him with a pop!, you sat up straight and started to get your own clothes off. “Oh,” he sighed as he watched you, and you smiled a bit as you watched his eyes trail over every inch of skin as you exposed it.

“Were you thinking about this?” you wondered. “Those nights you kissed me for a while and then left because you’re a gentleman— did you go home and think about this?”

Breathing quickly through his mouth, eyes following your body, he nodded.

“Did you touch yourself?”

He nodded again.

“You did? I did too,” you purred proudly, stripped to nothing and suddenly straddling his hips. “And— be honest— after you did that, did you feel bad? You wondered if something was wrong with you, thought you might be a pervert or something?”

After swallowing thickly, he nodded one more time.

You leaned down and brushed some hair aside that had fallen into his face. “Sweetie,” you cooed, “you don’t need to feel bad. You’re not bad, and there’s nothing wrong with you. Actually, you’re so good.”

“Really?” he breathed, and this time, you nodded. You gave him a quick, soft kiss on the lips, and then another on his cheek.

"If you'll let me, I'd like to make love to you," you whispered into his ear, seeing him sigh shakily and nod. "Say it out loud so I know for sure."

"Please make love to me," he whispered.

Sitting up straight again, you looked down at him proudly. He looked like he was wondering what he should do, if this was alright, and you did your best to soothe him. "Just lay back, baby, I'm gonna do all the work," you grinned. "You can be my pillow princess."

You chuckled as his cock flexed in your hand.

"Is that what you are, you're my princess? You look like one with your pretty pink bra on,” you winked. “Pull it down for me, show me your little tits…”

His whole face was turning pink enough to match the bralette as he hooked a finger into each triangle of lace and pulled it aside to put his chest on display for you.

“Good boy,” you sighed as you guided his cock to your entrance and slowly sank down.

The shock of the feeling made him let go of his bra and grab tight onto your hips, holding you still for a second, as if he couldn’t take it yet if you moved at all; that thought was so wonderfully filthy that you felt your insides flex of their own accord.

"Oh my god, Louis," you gasped, "you feel so good inside me… your cock feels so good."

He simply whined through his teeth, gripping your hips tighter. The mascara-coated lashes were especially obvious when he shut his eyes tight, which he did for just a second before his face went slack when you finally started to move, a louder groan falling from candy-pink lips. He whispered your name, tinted with awe, and you grinned proudly.

"You're so deep," you groaned. "Do you feel how deep you are? Oh fuck, I can barely take it…"

"I-I'm not hurting you, right?" he breathed, and you smiled as he opened his eyes to look at you with gentle concern.

"Oh, sweet boy," you cooed as you stroked his cheek for a moment, "no— you're making me feel so good… you're so good, Louis."

He sighed, like he enjoyed hearing that, but like he also finally believed you.

"Tell me how you like it, Louis," you encouraged, "tell me how to move to make you feel good."

He hesitated for just a second before he grabbed your hips and started to guide them in slow circles, making you both moan lowly. "Like this," he breathed.

"Fuck, it feels good for me, too," you smiled. "Will you come if I keep doing this?"

"Yeah," he sighed, and you moved your hips just a little bit faster. "Yeah, I… I'll come…"

Leaning down and resting your arms at either side of his shoulders, you kissed his neck as you rode him, loving how desperate his moans became as you did it. From then on it was all about trying to make him louder and louder, doing whatever you could to hear that sweet voice break as he cried out from pleasure. He was so beautifully sensitive…

His eyes rolled back when you teased his nipples while he was inside you. "Oh, my god," he moaned.

"Does that feel good, baby?" you hummed. "It feels good to have your little titties played with while I ride your cock?"

"F-fuck," he grunted.

"I asked you a question, princess."

"Yes! Yes it feels good," he sobbed. "It feels so good, please don't stop— fuck!"

“You’re close, huh, baby?” you noticed in a quiet voice, and he bit his lip as he nodded. “Are you trying not to come right now?” He nodded again; poor thing.

“I— I don’t want it to be over,” he explained shakily.

“Mm, I know,” you cooed sympathetically, “but I wanna feel you come, okay? I wanna see how pretty you are when you come.”

He hissed in a breath through his teeth, eyes shut tight, fingers digging into your hips again.

“Can you do that for me?” you pressed. “Can you be my good princess and come for me?”

He nodded, and you smiled.

"Come inside me, Louis," you encouraged, "it's okay, go ahead."

Instantly, he made a choked sort of noise and you felt his hips move up to bury himself completely inside you; his mouth fell open and you felt his cock pulsing, pumps of come filling you. With a contented sigh, you relaxed a bit on top of him. You admired how good he looked with his makeup a bit disturbed from the sweat he’d worked up, panting as he blinked his eyes open and stared up at the ceiling, each rise and fall of his chest making the bralette shift slightly over his skin.

Eventually, you rolled off of him, and you smiled when a slightly-sweaty hand reached out to hold yours. “Was it dressing like this and wearing the makeup that turned you on?” you wondered aloud.

“Well, that was part of it,” he admitted, without looking back at you, which you figured made it easier to respond honestly, “but really it was just all the attention you were giving me…”

You smiled and bit your lip slightly. “Baby, you don’t need to wear a bra and put on makeup to get my attention… you’re always pretty, dressed up or not.”

He met your gaze then, and smiled back at you bashfully.

“See, that’s the prettiest thing you can wear: that smile,” you cooed, and he looked away as he smiled even wider.

“Stop,” he whined, but in that cutesy way that just made you want to compliment him more. You held his face so he couldn’t squirm away when you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Come on, you’re gonna wanna wash that makeup off so it doesn’t get on the pillowcases— or break you out,” you explained, sitting up, “and we could both use a shower after that…”

But you ended up electing for a bath, rather than a shower, which you found more comfortable to share. You washed his face with a washcloth, then helped him lean back into the water to wet his hair so you could lather some shampoo into it. He looked so relaxed as you massaged his scalp and carefully poured the water over his head; he even laid his head on your chest at one point and nearly dozed off, until you reminded him the water was getting cool and you’d need to get out and dry off soon.

You didn’t remember deciding to go to sleep, you just woke up the next morning with Louis in your bed, cuddled up close to you even while fast asleep. You smiled as you examined his peaceful expression, realizing how exhausting it must’ve been for him to try to always play the part of a ‘normal’ guy. This was the first time you saw him truly relaxed— he was always thinking when you were with him, you’d been trying to get him to loosen up and act natural, and he’d tell you that he was being natural, but he was lying. You knew there was more under the surface… of course, you hadn’t known it was this, specifically. But you felt pretty lucky because of all the things it could be, it ended up being so innocuous— and, if you were being totally honest, you thought it was sort of hot, too. Not in a fetishizing sort of way, because it wasn’t specifically Louis’ complicated gender discovery that turned you on in itself… it was seeing him accept something about himself, seeing him more comfortable and more open, seeing him give in to desire even when you knew he was more than a little fearful of being different.

And he really did look good in the makeup; you could only take so much credit for that.

He had no idea this was an option: that he could find someone who accepted and embraced the things about himself he still didn't understand entirely; that you could take on a more dominant role with such gentleness, and relieve him of that pressure to be the perfect gentleman.

He still got to play the part, though; he picked you up from your apartment in his suit, with flowers for you, and you smiled and kissed him on the cheek. He held your hand and gave you his jacket if you got chilly. But when he needed it most, you took charge and he simply followed your lead.

After a while, he became brave enough to kiss you first much more, to touch you without asking explicit permission, even to ask you to help him put on makeup or pick out something new to wear. He learned to accept being a little spoiled by you, and stopped getting worried that you were doing too much of the work— because you insisted that you enjoyed it.

Over time, he came to appreciate that feeling beautiful actually had a lot less to do with women’s underwear and getting made up with your borrowed cosmetics. He felt most beautiful when he wasn’t wearing anything and you just told him that you thought he was perfect (which he still couldn’t quite believe, but he was trying); it wasn’t a matter of the way he looked anymore— it was the way you looked at him.

So, yes, he could still wear a suit out into the city and not feel horribly out of place; he could put on pretty underwear with you and not worry if he was a woman or a man or neither or both. Most impressively, he could be with you and not convince himself that any day now, you would figure out what he ‘really’ was and leave him. You did so much more than see him, you discovered him, and you always seemed to like what you found. Crazy enough, Louis himself was starting to like it, too.

#louis ives x reader #louis ives smut #paul dano smut #the extra man #well... this happened

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gar6agef1r3 · 2 years

Text

𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐃𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You get a call in the middle of the night from Brian. He needs to see you after a hard shift at work.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Brian Wilcox ( fast food nation ) x fem!reader

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: NSFW 18+ content, underaged, choking, unprotected, spitting, car sex, fem being dominated. Greaseball Brian being DIRTY! Enjoy!

Rolling over sleepily in bed you picked up your ringing phone accepting the call. “H-hello…” your sleep-ridden voice spoke out while your left hand reached up to rub your eye. “Hey. I’ll be there in 15.” the voice on the other side said hastily the jingling of car keys berating the phone. “Brian, it’s like midnight I’ve got school tomorrow,” you said sitting up in bed knowing that no matter what you said he was going to have his way. “Can you just be ready when I get there, I really need to see you…” the tone in his voice dropping slightly at the end, pulling at your heart. Sighing out you swung your legs over the side of your bed “Yeah, yeah alright Bry I’ll see you soon.” hanging up the phone you yawned reaching over to turn on your bedside lamp.

Standing up you waddled to your dresser pulling out a pair of biker shorts, quickly sliding them on. You didn’t change out of the oversized tie-dye shirt you slept in. After pulling on some socks you moved to the bathroom brushing your teeth and combing out your hair. Your phone chimed and you didn’t need to read it to know what it said. Sliding on a pair of Adidas you very quietly made your way down the stairs and out the back door.

In the rain, it only took a quick glance around for you to spot the older beat black honda civic. Making a beeline you quickly ran to the car pulling on the handle to no avail. You smacked the glass window “Brian open the damn door I’m getting soaked!” you yelled, pulling the handle again, finally slipping into the car. Your shirt clung to your bare chest as you shivered from the A/C. Brian laughed as you settled into the passenger seat turning the fans off. Reaching over you smacked his arm hissing “Asshole…” under your breath. “It’s good to see you too,” he said looking over at your soaked figure. He bit his bottom lip as he looked at your body, the coolness making your nipples harden and poke out of the fabric.

“So, what’s up, why did you call me out here so late?” you asked your cheeks turning a light pink shade when you noticed his wandering eyes. Brian inhaled sharply recalling the rough shift he had at work. Being in fast food was no easy task and normally Brian didn’t mind making the food as he was able to defile it before sending it out. Tonight he had to take care of the cash register. He hated having to deal with people, sucking up to them because “The customers are always right. Fuck that man if you come up to the counter screaming at me because you ordered the wrong thing and then spit in my face like it was my fault you deserve to rot in hell.” he said anger riddling his voice as his face turned a bright red with frustration. His hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly as he spoke and while you tried hard to pay attention you liked when he got this way.

You reached a hand across to him brushing his long dark hair away from his face and cupping it. Your thumb gently ran over his cheek as you sighed sympathetically. “Oh Bry I’m sorry, I hope she gets what's coming to her for treating you like that. Is there anything I can do to help?” you said as he leaned into your hand slightly releasing his grip on the wheel. Brian’s gaze met yours once more grinning deviously. “There is… something you could do for me.” his voice coming across to you with more lustful intent. He reached under his seat pulling the lever up letting his seat slide as far back as it could go. Patting his lap he smiled over at you insinuating for you to move.

It was hard resisting him, it seemed as though Brian always knew just how to get what he wanted. You laughed as you crawled over the console feeling Brian’s hands meet your waist to assist you. Practically falling into his lap your hands pressed firmly against his chest, your face dangerously close to his. His body was warm beneath your own, his warm hands slowly moving up against your damp torso. Grinning he ran his thumbs across your hardened nipples over your shirt causing an involuntary moan to escape your mouth. You balled your hands into fists, his shirt being held tightly.

Brian let out a slight laugh at your reaction letting his hands slide back down coming to the hem. He grazed his warm fingers across the skin on your torso. Slowly he peeled the wet shirt off of your body, setting it in the passenger's seat. “Mmm~” he hummed, looking over at your glistening skin shuddering with goosebumps. You rolled your eyes slightly, hitting his chest “Perv.” you retaliated before he reached up quickly wrapping his right hand around your throat.

Squeezing tightly Brian pulled your face close to his, “What was that, brat?” His voice was deep and commanding. The restriction of your airflow made you choke a bit, your cunt getting slick as your half-lidded eyes looked at him. “Look at you, crumbling in my hand.” he cocked his head looking over your pleasure-ridden face. Losing his grip on your throat he pushed your head to the side, licking from the crook at your shoulder up to your jawline. Letting go of your throat you slouched a bit in his lap, your cheeks on fire embarrassed with how easily he made you so weak.

Inhaling deeply he pushed you down against his hardened bulge. You leaned forward moving your hands from his chest to his face. Cupping it you pressed your lips hard against his grinding your hips down hard as you did. Brian let out a groan he had held deep in his throat, the friction making his toes curl. He swiftly pulled you off his lap, setting you in the back seat of his car. Your eyes roamed his body as he quickly pulled his shirt off. Climbing into the back Brian looked down at you moving his way between your legs.

You bit your bottom lip, Brian’s fingertips grazed over the hem of your shorts. Hooking both his index fingers under the waistband of the shorts and your panties he slowly pulled them down over your thighs disregarding them in the front passenger seat. His warm breath on your chest made you shiver as the pad of his tongue brushed over one of your exposed nipples. You let your right hand come up to his head, his dark hair sliding in between your fingers as he began to suck on your nipple. Arching your back a slight moan escaped your lips. Brian's left hand trailed down your torso running over the skin with just the tips of his fingers. Feeling his fingers slide over your slick cunt made you inhale sharply.

He pulled away from your breast looking up at you, a dastardly grin adorned his lips while he pushed your folds open feeling how wet you were. “Jesus look at you, sopping and I’ve hardly even touched you.” Brian’s voice came out with a slight growl beneath it. His eyes locked on your face as he began to rub small circles on your clit. Bright pink nipped at your cheeks while he touched you, his index and middle slowly pushing inside of you. “Mmmm~” you hummed out as your cunt tensed tightly around his fingers. “Damn you are so tight for me.” he curled his fingers up pulling them down along the inside of you.

Covering your mouth with one hand your eyes rolled in the back of your head as he began to finger you slowly at first. Brian sat up a bit more moving his free hand to graze along your jawline. His pace quickened before he aggressively grabbed your throat hard pushing your neck down against the seat. Choking you looked up at him while he thrusted his fingers in your tight cunt quickly. The mix of pleasure from the pressure around your airway and the curl of his fingers against your g spot made your climax almost impossible to hold down. The feeling grew, getting stronger with each curl as Brian watched your face contort. You were almost at your peak, the tingle in your hands and toes getting more intense. Then he quickly pulled out of you the feeling dissipating. You let out a groan of frustration as he removed his hand from your throat.

Brian set his slicked fingers in his mouth letting his tongue lick away your taste. He hovered over you, taking his fingers from his mouth. His hand gripped your face squeezing your jaw until you opened your mouth. Holding out your tongue for him he spit onto it watching as your mouth close. You swallowed watching his face. “Good girl~” he hummed, leaning down to kiss you gently. The tender embrace didn’t last long as he quickly wrapped his arm around your waist flipping you around. Brian tugged at your hips keeping them up while he pushed your head into the seat. Unbuckling his pants he pushed them down over his thighs, his boxers following as his hard member bounced slightly from its restraint. He spits into his hand slicking his throbbing cock with it.

Gently he rubbed his tip up and down your cunt teasing you with his head. Brian pushed into your loosened slit groaning as he slowly filled you. Your walls tightened around his cock making you moan out his name. “God f-fuck…. you’re still so tight,” he grunted, feeling you. Once he was fully inside with his hips firmly pressed against your raised ass Brian gripped your hips pushing them back against him. He throbbed inside of you earning a whimper. Slowly he started to thrust, nice shallow movements. “Faster Brian please,” you begged him as your hands balled into fists. Brian picked up the pace a bit thrusting into you slightly faster as he held onto your hips pushing you back hard against his own with each movement.

Reaching up Brian grabbed a fist full of your hair yanking it to bring you up on your hands. The sting on your scalp from the hair being pulled made you tighten around Brian causing him to groan out. He started to thrust faster pulling your hair back each time he pushed further into you. That familiar feeling started to build again coming from the pit of your stomach. “Mmm Brian I’m going to cum~” you moaned out as he continued to thrust hard and fast into you. His breathing gradually got heavier and the throbbing in his cock became more apparent. The pressure built to an unbearable tenseness and without control spilled over quickly washing your body in a wave of pleasure. “Ah, f-fuck!” Brian said under his breath from your sudden tightness still pushing into you through your orgasm.

Slick rolled down your inner thigh as your legs started to shake ever so slightly the high tingling all over your body. Pulling your head back even further he slowed down and thrust hard and deep inside of you a few times. Quickly pulling out he stroked himself grunting as he coated your back with cum. Panting he sat back against the seat, sweat causing his hair to stick slightly to his forehead. He reached between the seats pulling a shirt out of the small pile that had accumulated. Gently he wiped the sticky mess from your skin casting the dirty thing aside. You sat up letting out a deep content sigh after. Brian grinned at you pulling your naked body into his lap, holding you close. You wrapped your arms around him pulling him close to your chest, his face resting against your bare breasts. “I needed that…” he said, closing his eyes and pressing against you, the rain still padding down hard against the car. “Rough day,” you said softly, petting his head and receiving a nod in agreement.

#paul dano nation #fast food nation #fast food nation brian #brian fast food nation #brian wilcox #paul dano x you #paul dano is hot #paul dano fanfic #paul dano x reader #paul dano smut #paul dano

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