Chapter 1: Contents
Watch this space for information on the following chapters, including; the name of the song (title), the name of the character and the fandom they come from.
- Contents. (You are here!)
- 100 Black Coffins -- Blue Jones, Suckerpunch.
- 1, 2, 3, 4 -- Harvey Dent / Two-Face, Batman: The Telltale Series.
- 16 Tons -- Russell Van Pelt, Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle.
- 2 + 2 = 5 -- Vicar Max, Outer Worlds
- 24K Magic -- Phineas Welles, Outer Worlds
- 24-Hour Cinderella -- Father Anthony Burke, The Nun.
- '39 -- Michael de Santa, Grand Theft Auto V. *
- 3 AM Radio -- Ross Humboldt, In the Tall Grass.
- 40' -- Wilfred James, 1922.
- 505 -- Duncan Vizla / The Black Kaiser, Polar.
- 5:32 pm -- Dmitri Desgoffe und Taxis & J G Jopling, The Grand Budapest Hotel.
- 96 Tears -- The Professor, Money Heist.
- 99 Red Balloons -- Helsinki, Money Heist.
- Abracadabra -- The Professor, Money Heist.
- Accidentally in Love -- The Professor, Money Heist.
- According To Plan -- Karl Heisenberg, Resident Evil 8.
- Ace Of Spades -- Daddy Dearest, Friday Night Funkin'.
- Acid Queen -- Bobby, We Happy Few.
- Act Naturally -- Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde, The Mummy (2017).
- Adesso Tu -- Max Renn, Videodrome.
- Adventure of a Lifetime -- Rodney Skinner, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.
- Africa -- Henry Jekyll, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.
- Aftermath -- Henry Jekyll & Rodney Skinner, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.
- Afternoon Delight -- Tanner Grayson, Scrutinised.
- Afternoon Storm -- Tanner Grayson, Scrutinised.
- Again -- Max Renn, Videodrome.
- Aim for the Head -- Max Renn, Videodrome.
- Ain't No Mountain High Enough -- Max Renn, Videodrome.
- AKA ... What a Life -- Jakob Toretto, Fast and Furious 9.
- Alejandro -- Bernard Quatermass, The Quatermass Experiment (2005).
- All Alone Am I -- Danny Quinn, Primeval.
- All Around My Hat -- Soap, Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.
- All Die Young -- Tom & Soap, Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.
- All Eyes On Me -- Henry Jekyll, The Mummy (2017).
- All My Loving -- Tom & Soap, Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.
* Has particularly sensitive subject matter.
(Chapters with ✗ in the title are unfinished and may be expanded upon.)
Chapter 2: 100 Black Coffins
Pairing(s): Blue Jones (Brothel Reality) x FTM!Reader.
"Keep moaning my name like that." Blue pants out against your face, the beautiful fabric of his suit crumpled where your bodies join. Your back presses against the wall behind you, offering at least some stability. His hips jerk against your own as he rocks into you, his cock grinding deliciously against your insides. Bowing his head into the crook of your neck, his lips touch the delicate skin there, leaving a kiss before his mouth opens to bite at a raised tendon. Your back arches as he breathes out a growl against your skin.
"God, Blue..." Snaking a hand between your bodies, he circles your engorged clit with a finger, watching as you throw your head back and gasp.
"... Why'd you say my name twice?" He teases breathlessly with a particularly rough thrust. You barely hear him as he continues to stroke the shaft of your enlarged clit.
Eager to taste him (and to muffle your pitiful whimpers), you grasp the back of his neck and force his mouth against yours, whining into his mouth. Blue indulges you...at least for the moment. His other hand tangles into your hair, nails grazing over your scalp and causing you to gasp against his lips.
When he pulls away, Blue tugs his body away fully, his cock slipping from you as he gets to his knees, hiking one of your legs onto his broad shoulder.
"Now, you be nice and loud for me, sugar." He purrs before pressing his face between your legs, tongue licking a wet stripe right along your core as you shudder. "Mmn... Someone sure is excited." His lips wrap around your overly sensitive clit, tongue flicking under the hood and making you jolt.
"F-Fuck, Blue!" He just chuckles against your skin, hands braced against your hips, keeping you in place. He licks and sucks and bites like his life depends on it, your thighs tightening around his head as you reach down to thread your fingers into his dark, gelled hair.
Soon, one of Blue's hands slips down the length of your leg and you watch him as he wraps his fingers around his cock, shoulders squaring as the movements of his lips and tongue double in passion and speed. He moans against your skin and you arch your back against the wall as you feel the vibrations tingle across your skin. He pulls back, the hand on your hip, descending to spread you open for him with your fingers, wetness drenching his fingers as he licks his lips.
"Oh, baby, look at you..." Blue purrs, glancing up at you with dark, lust-hazed eyes. "You look about ready to burst. Why don't you tell me what you want?" Your cheeks flush but it really doesn't take you long to swallow your pride for him and the promise of release.
"... Want your cock, Blue, please. Want to cum all over your cock." He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, your skin shuddering at the contact. He seems to weigh it up in his head, thinking it over.
"I don't think you've earned that much but I can give you the next best thing."
With the hand he was holding you open with, he presses in two of his fingers, curling them against your inner walls and making you whine, eyes barely leaving his as he resumes touching himself. Instinctively, you dip your hips down, trying to get his fingers deeper but he just quirks a smile at you, gasping when you tighten considerably around the digits, thinking how perfectly your insides would cover him. Twisting his wrist, he thumbs at your clit, only making you tighten up further.
"Cum for me, sugar..." That's all you were waiting for. Falling off the edge, you press your head back against the wall, canting your hips forward to meet Blue's pace. You have your eyes closed so you don't see the way your wetness creates damp patches on his suit jacket. "Good, good." He encourages you as he rides you through your orgasm, his voice shaking as he reaches his end, spilling over his fingers and muffling his strained noises against your thigh.
When the mist clears, Blue's licking his fingers, standing as he tucks himself away and makes himself look presentable.
"Easy does it." He smiles as you stumble on weak knees, grasping your hands. "Come rest in my office, sugar. I'll pour you a glass of somethin' nice."
Chapter 3: 1, 2, 3, 4
Pairing(s): Harvey Dent / Two-Face x FTM!Reader.
Harvey is such a gentleman. He's kind and smart and all different shades of adorable. He's a gentle giant, through and through. Well, on a good day.
The air in the interview room is cool and you sigh as you flip through some papers, sitting across the way from Harv-- Two-Face. The cuffs around his wrists secure him to the table but it seems like he's just going along with it for now. The bruises on his knuckles and the minor injuries scattered around his face and chest tell a story that you're not sure you'll get straight away.
"Where's Harvey?" You ask softly. There's no point in getting angry, it'll just rile him up.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He growls, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips, on his good side. You took a week's holiday and this is what you have to come back to. There's a silence before the man opposite you tilts his head to one side, suddenly looking more pensive than aggressive. "Harvey has thoughts, you know? Red-hot, dirty, disgusting thoughts. About you. He's never told you, he's too scared, but I think you deserve to know the truth." You try not to let any emotions show. Two-Face has always been forward, flirting with you, but it was always possible that Harvey didn't feel the same. An odd feeling of affection wells up in your chest but you have to hide the smile that tries to tug at your lips.
"Why is he scared?" You ask, looking at him over the top of your glasses.
"He's scared you'll think he's a freak." Nodding, you bite the cap of your pen.
"Do you have those thoughts?" At that, Two-Face leans back in his chair and wets his lips, deliberately slowly. You already know the answer.
"Yes. I'd be crazy not to." He barks out a laugh and you try not to flinch but you do.
"Is he thinking about it now?" You ask after another short silence and he runs his fingers over the burnt side of his face.
"When I'm given some breathing room, all he can think of is how he just wants to hold you and tell you everything's okay." Two-Face explains, pensive once again, and you nod.
"And what're you thinking?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to a growl, hands flat on the steel table.
"I'm thinking we could have some fun, right here, right now." You breathe out a sigh and shake your head.
"You know we can't." He snatches your hand, holding it in his. They're so big and warm...and he could easily break your fingers. With this in mind, he runs his fingers over the back of your hand carefully. This is all too familiar territory for the two of you but he never grows tired of it.
"Can't or won't?" Before you can respond, Two-Face releases your hand, bracing his hands on either side of his face. "It's not your time yet... Shut up! I want to talk... You remember what they did to you, Harvey... But he did nothing wrong..." It seems they fight for the chance to speak with you. With a low yelp, Harvey glances up at you, breath coming heavy and fast. "I'm sorry... When you left, I nose-dived a little. Probably didn't help that I got roughed up by a couple of the crazies in here." He curls his hand into a fist, looking at the cut and bruised skin of his knuckles.
"I'm sorry, Harvey, I just needed a break. I didn't think things would go south so quickly." Gently, you lay your fingers over his and the unburnt side of his face flushes with heat. "If you want, I can try and put a solution to the board." If this went through, you'd also be more at ease, seeing as the people here obviously can't be trusted. "I have an idea. It's usually used for more stable patients but I think it would benefit you, okay?"
"What were you thinking?"
Two weeks into his placement with you, you're enjoying it and, more importantly, Harvey seems to be on the mend. He's not quite ready to stroll straight through the centre of Gotham but that's fine. Baby steps. You tend to take him out during the day time, taking him for coffee or to the museum. Just little things to get him out of the house and to take his mind off of revenge or being insane or anything of the like. It seems to be working...but you also haven't addressed the elephant in the room; the fact that you both like each other and he's staying in your apartment.
Standing in front of the stove, you stir the pasta and meatballs, hearing Harvey pad in from the spare room.
"That smells so good." It's a good thing you kept some of your boyfriend's old clothes though they are a little small on him, the shirt's hugging his broad shoulders and surprisingly muscular chest. The sweatpants also don't leave very much to the imagination and you occasionally catch yourself looking at his ass or his crotch.
"Good! I'm glad. Should be ready to dish up soon." He turns and reaches to grab some bowls from the cupboard and you can't help but watch the way his shoulder blades shift under his shirt, your face going a bright red when he turns and nearly catches you. You dish up and turn on a movie as you sit on the couch with him. Some action movie should be fine brainless watching while you're having dinner.
It doesn't take long to finish dinner, especially with Harvey complimenting your food every once in a while.
You're just mopping up the last few specks of sauce with a piece of garlic bread when the scene starts. The giant, muscular male protagonist has been having this barely-developed romance with the petite female protagonist and, you guess, this is the conclusion to that sub-plot. You shrug it off but Harvey can't keep his eyes away from it, watching as the male protagonist slides down the spaghetti strap of the woman's tank top, fully exposing her shoulder. Then the cheesy music kicks in and they take it to the bedroom. It's longer than you realise and, when you look at Harvey, he's damn near about to rip the couch cover off with his white-knuckled grip. When did this suddenly turn into a slow, sensual arthouse movie?! You reach for the remote and switch off the TV, sitting in silence for a long while.
"Sorry." You murmur and Harvey shakes his head.
"Not to worry. You didn't know what was on." He replies just as hastily. Silence falls again. When you turn to him, he's got a pillow over his crotch. Oh God, he's probably not seen any of that kind of thing since he was arrested and brought to Arkham but you can't have him feeling uncomfortable. Gently, you touch his shoulder and he flinches.
"It's natural, Harvey. Really, it's not that big a deal." You assure him but he can't make eye contact with you. Hesitantly, he removes the pillow and you can see how excited it got him. His cock strains against the tight material of the sweatpants, pre-cum already seeping through the fabric at the tip. You want to pry them off him and take it into your mouth.
"Jesus, I'm sorry..." He covers his eyes, like a small child about to be reprimanded by his parents.
"Harvey, it's not a big deal. We're both adults. I'm not going to make fun of you or anything. I hoped you'd think my sense of humour was better than that." You chuckle warmly and he swallows, still not looking at you. When you blink, you feel the warmth of his lips against yours, the burnt half of his face an interesting contrast from the softness of his good side. When you don't pull away or push him off, he lays you back against the couch, placing your plates to one side as his lips press to yours again, this time harder.
Large, warm hands drift down your body, trailing his fingers across your chest before gently parting your thighs and allowing Harvey to slide his hips between yours. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt before he gets the picture and pulls it over his head. Palms pressed against the warmth of his skin, you gently pull him down to kiss you as his hands find your hips, grinding his body against yours, your core temperature skyrocketing. Softly, you push him away and his eyes widen with shock and fear before you wriggle out of your jeans and slide off your underwear, wrapping your legs around his midsection. A large finger trails between your legs, his fingertip dipping shallowly into your core and making you mewl for more.
"Please, Harvey..." You groan and he raises his eyes to yours.
"You're sure? I won't... It's been a long time so I... I might..." He begins but you take his free hand into your own, kissing his wrist before holding his palm to your face.
"I'm sure." Reaching down, Harvey tugs down the waistband of the sweatpants, hearing you gasp when his cock rubs against your hot skin. He's big, bigger than you expected, but all of him is big. He grinds the underside of his cock against your core and you groan every time the cum-slick head brushes against your large, overly sensitive clit.
"You want it that bad? I can feel how wet you are." This confidence... It must be a little of Two-Face shining through, especially as he roughly grabs onto your hips and hilts himself into you all at once.
Your body is wrapped so tight around him and you gasp when you feel the head grind against the ring of your cervix.
"God, Harvey...!" You moan but he's all too lost in the essence of you; bowing his head into the crook of your neck to take in the scent of you, the liquid heat of your body around him, the salt of sweat on your skin. Hands planted either side of your chest, Harvey starts and builds to a relentless pace, breath heavy and hot against your ear, as you wrap your legs around his midsection. "Y-You're so big... Hahh..."
"I'm...cl-close... Mmnn...!" One of his hands tangles his fingers into your own tenderly and the other grabs your wrist so hard you can feel your bones grind together. A sound comes from his throat, a cross between a low chuckle and a whimper. Cum spills, hot and thick, into your body, his cock acting as a kind of plug to keep all the fluid inside. Just feeling Harvey collapse against you fills you with happiness and warmth and you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You press a kiss just below his ear and nuzzle into the nape of his neck.
"... Love you, Harvey." You sigh and he inhales sharply.
"I... We love you too."
Chapter 4: 16 Tons
Pairing(s): Russell Van Pelt x FTM!Reader.
It's been days of trekking through the jungle. Long, sweaty days of following Van Pelt through the sweltering heat. You're thankful to finally stop for a breath of fresh air and a rest. He may be rather insane now but at least he realises that a tired workforce is an unproductive workforce.
You've set yourself up a nice hammock between two large trees. You don't like the claustrophobia that comes along with tents so you prefer to sleep out in the open. Besides, watching the stars at night is nothing to sniff at.
You can see the flicker of the camp proper a few hundred meters off to your side, the fire flickering. The light shines in Van Pelt's eyes, especially the white of his blind eye. You never know when he'll stop looking at that stupid rock. Shaking your head and rolling your eyes, you tuck your hands behind your head and close your eyes... There's the snap of a branch, your eyes flick open as you sit up drawing your pistol. Your eyes dart to the camp where Van Pelt's seat is empty. Your mind rushes between the two realisations but, by the time you figure it out, it's too late.
Van Pelt wraps his belt around your wrists, forcing you to drop your gun, before pulling you back with your hands above your head. You glare up at him but his face is shrouded in shadow, only his outline visible by the light of the moon.
"What do you want?" You grumble and your employer leans down until you can feel his warm breath fanning across your neck.
"I could smell you from a mile away." He purrs, lips barely grazing your collarbone and causing you to choke back a gasp. Pulling away, he pulls off one of his gloves with his teeth, his hand grazing over your stomach before dipping between your legs, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your boxers. You twist your head to avoid his gaze but his other hand grasps your chin, turning you back to face him.
It's hot and humid in the rainforest and you've been working, non-stop, for days so obviously you're going to get a little sweaty and sticky... Of course, it doesn't help that you've been watching the heat take it's toll on Van Pelt too, sweat beading along his broad shoulders and running down his strong arms, turning his shirt and vest translucent.
Gently, Van Pelt's fingers brush along your inner thighs and you buck your hips under him, groaning when he runs his fingertips under the elastic that curves along your legs.
"You're a tease, Boss..." You breathe, pushing your thighs together before unbuckling the tie with your teeth and standing from the hammock. He's taller and broader, body thick with lean, powerful muscle. His blind eye flashes in the starlight and you grab onto his suspenders, forcing him against a large tree. His vest is still stuck to his skin with the humidity so you can see the shadows cast by his physique. He allows you to take control for a while, your hands groping at his chest greedily as he plays along, moaning lewdly as you lean in to brush your lips along the clammy skin of his neck.
"And you call me a tease?" Van Pelt sighs as you nip at the corner of his jaw.
With a sweep of his leg, you're on your knees for Van Pelt, feeling him thread his fingers into your hair and dragging you forward so your face is pressed against the front of his cargo pants.
"How many times do I have to tell you; it's Russell when we're alone..." He smells so musky and delicious; sweat from the heat, smoke from the campfire and lust from...supposedly you. "Are you listening?" He demands, grasping your jaw and breaking you from the spell of his irresistible scent.
"Yes, Russell..." You assure him and his gaze softens.
"Let's hear it; what do you want, sweetheart?" He purrs and you wet your lips, reaching up to cup his thickening cock through his pants. With a growl, Russell slaps your hands away. "What do you want?" He repeats and you suck in a breath. This part never seems to get any easier; ignoring what little self-respect you have left, surrendering yourself to him fully.
"... I want you to fill my pretty boy-pussy, Russell..." You breathe, cheeks bright red, and he bites his bottom lip.
"How can I say no to that?"
Russell lowers you onto all fours, tugging your boxers down your thighs and baring your bottom half to the hot, night air. Leaning down, he grasps the back of your thighs before running his tongue along your slick folds, making you arch your back and clench your fingers into the dirt and dead leaves. His tongue laves over the swell of your clit, swirling around the throbbing, engorged tissue before sucking it between his lips.
"G-God, yes...!" The nails of his bare hand dig into your thigh, only intensifying the sensation and making you cry out.
"Shhh... Or there's no hope for when I fill you up." Russell growls against your skin and you feel it more than hear it. Then his warmth is gone and you're left yearning for his touch but it doesn't take long to figure out what he's doing.
There's the clink of a belt and then the purr of a zipper before a slight rustling. Then, Russell's hands are back on you, the warmth of his cock pulsing heavily against your ass.
"You ready, sweetheart? I'm not gonna go easy on you." He warns and you nod.
"Fill me up, Russell. Go on. I'm ready." His lips quirk up as he pulls his hips back, lines himself up and then hilts himself inside you with a single thrust. The power of it knocks the wind out of you and you choke back a cry, your elbows buckling and forcing you to bury your face in your arms. His strong hands grab at your hips, fingers tight enough to leave bruises, as he starts at a brutal pace. "God, please, Russell..." With that, he grabs your shoulders so your back is pressed against his firm, clammy chest as he continues to buck into you. The larger man buries his face in your neck, breathing hotly over the skin.
"You're so tight...and sensitive too..." Russell captures your earlobe between his teeth, biting down as he pulls you down onto his cock, over and over and over. You can feel him pulsing inside you, his thrusts growing sloppy. "Want me to fill you up, sweetheart...? Make sure I'm dripping all down your thighs for the next few days?" He teases and you nod, your voice barely audible.
"Please, yes..." With a few more thrusts, he buries his cock entirely within you and fills you with his thick, hot cum, breathing heavily against your ear.
You pant, falling back on him as you both lay at the foot of a tree, breathless.
"... Maybe we should stop to rest more often." You offer eventually and Russell chuckles.
Chapter 5: 2 + 2 = 5 ✗
Pairing(s): Vicar Max x Captain (FTM!Reader). (Slight specifics for my Captain, Kalypso).
Note(s): I did French for ten years and I literally can't remember anything about it so I'm sorry if you know the language very well because I probably butchered it. Blame Google Translate.
You pull close to Max, placing a new suit of armour on his bunk. He's quietly reading, as per usual and you're curious. It's Bakonu's book, the journal he sent you to fetch. You only know by the cover, not the words or font. The thawing process scrambled your brain so reading is rather impossible. The words all look like...nonsense. You chance a glance over Max's shoulder. '... issesades kiteþ edwe ssisseðoy hkfaeleþ oke geecpṭe ooy iy mbþïrec vuut...' No, that isn't French. That isn't anything. A stab of pain reaches the back of your skull and you're forced to look away with a gasp of pain.
"Are you alright, Captain? Still struggling with your reading?" Max asks, closing the journal defeatedly and turning to you.
"Yeah. Just wish I could help you more." The vicar nods.
"Indeed but it can't be helped." A silence falls over his room and you sit opposite him, hearing the door slide shut behind you.
You used to be rather good with your linguistics; French, Spanish and even Russian at one point. That's why it's such a shame about your reading capabilities. You finally decide to break the silence.
"I know you aren't really on good terms with French at the moment but it really is a lovely language. It, like many other languages, has words that we can't fully translate into English. 'L'ésprit d'escalier', for example, roughly means 'staircase wit' and it's supposed to communicate the feeling of thinking of a good response to an argument, long after the argument has ended." You explain and Max breathes out a chuckle, gathering his hands in front of him on the table.
"Are there many more?" He asks and you nod.
"There's 'la douleur exquise'. It expresses the pain of loving someone you can't have." You explain and a softness passes over his features. "Or how about 'nostalgie de la boue'? It describes the feeling of being attracted to depravity or sin." The vicar cocks a brow, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he hums thoughtfully.
"Those are rather specific, Captain. I can't help but feel like you cherry-picked those terms for me." Max says, wetting his lips. There's an opportunity here but he's leaving it extremely open-ended, like an animal that is about to willingly step into a trap. You can avoid any awkwardness if you didn't mean it that way and he'd understand but he was right, you'd chosen those for him.
"You caught me, preacher." You lean your chin on your hand, gazing up at him.
Another silence falls over the two of you and he runs his fingertips over the cover of the journal, caressing it, as if it were the skin of a lover. You follow his movements with your eyes as he traces every age-old crease and dip in the leather. You can only imagine those fingers grazing across your lips or trailing down your neck but now you're closer than ever to actually experiencing that.
Slowly, you place your hand over his, stopping its movement, as he looks up to you.
"'Fais moi l'amour, Max... (Make love to me, Max...)" You purr, voice low and tone provocative. Though he won't understand the words, the pairing of your voice and your wanting gaze should clue him in. It does. Max tangles his fingers in yours, bringing your hand up to his lips, kissing each knuckle chastely.
"Why don't we stick to English for now, Captain. It would be a shame to miss any of your sweet words in the moments to come."
Chapter 6: 24K Magic
Pairing(s): Phineas Welles x Captain (FTM!Reader).
You'd told the crew to take it easy when you left the Unreliable in Phineas's landing bay. Felix had a look of mischief in his eyes when he's nodded but you can't worry about that just now, especially not when you hear a voice over the ship's announcement system.
"Ah, the good Captain, always a pleasure to see you drifting through my cargo-bay doors." He greets and you smile to yourself, walking up the stairs towards his lab proper. He's since removed the divider between the two halves of his work space, after he evaluated that you were a friend instead of a foe. His eyes light up when they land on you. "How's your head?" He asks, reaching toward the stitches that extend from below your right ear to above your right eyebrow. Ducking away from him, you laugh.
"It's fine, still having trouble reading though." You admit, shucking off the various weapons that hang from your body.
"Hmm... I suspect it may be permanent, given it's been plaguing you for a good few months." You shrug, hiding your disappointment but he can read you like a book by now. "I'm sure, if you need something read that urgently, you can bring it to me and I'll read it for you, alright?"
When he's concluded his slew of experiments for the day, you cook up a couple cystypig chops while Phineas tells you about his latest work and you share stories of your adventures on Monarch.
"How very lucky of me to have such a relationship with my very own aetherwave hero." He comments as you place the food on the small table and sit down opposite him.
"Shut it, Welles. You're gonna make me blush." He gives you a small grin before picking up his cutlery. Cutting off a piece of meat and forking it into his mouth, the scientist hums.
"An intrepid hero, a fantastic cook and an amazingly virile lover? A man after my own heart." At that, heat rises to your cheeks and you stab at a piece of meat, eyes down-turned to your plate as he chuckles lowly.
More than a little tired after your trip to Monarch, you sit on the edge of Phineas's cot with him standing between your knees, arms wrapped around your chest as he presses his face into your muscular torso.
"It's always such a relief when you return safely." He murmurs and you nod vaguely, affectionately passing a hand through his silvery hair. "You're obviously tired, let me treat you." He kneels between your legs and you settle back as his palms slide up your strong calves, kneading the tired muscle through your thin day clothes. You groan out a breath, watching him down the length of your body, as he focuses on relaxing you. His fingers reach your knees and he gently presses them to make sure nothing's broken before continuing up towards your inner thighs. The warmth of his hands along the sensitive skin, even through your pants, makes you gasp. He drags his finger along the vertical center seam of your pants, feeling the heat of your arousal through the material, as you mewl.
"Don't tease, Phineas..." You sigh and he hums.
"Of course not. If you'd kindly take these off, I'd be more than happy to get down to business." So you wiggle out of your boots, pants and underwear, unbuttoning your shirt because he usually likes to praise your chest at some point while you're over.
Again, Phineas settles between your legs and trails his rough fingertips along your inner thighs, gently pushing them further apart as he leans in. When he softly touches your outer lips, you groan, hips shallowly bucking, as you ache for more.
"Patience, my dear. Patience..." He goes back to concentrating, sliding his fingers between your legs, starting at your perineum before pinching your inner lips and large clit between his fingers. He rubs them together gently before spreading them, displaying your red, swollen core. "As handsome as ever." He murmurs, a note of playfulness to his voice. The flesh glistens in the light as your slick spreads along the skin.
"Fuck... Phineas, please.. " Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head (but you can tell there's no real malice in his actions).
"Very well, then." With that, he leans forward, surrounding the engorged, sensitive flesh of your clit with his mouth and laving over it with his tongue. Your body leaps under his touch and you reach down to card your fingers through his hair, encouraging him to go harder, faster. Occasionally, his tongue dips down to reach into your core, throbbing and slicking around him. Mainly, he focuses on your clit, sucking and licking you into submission. You're growing accustomed to the sensation, bucking up against his face in a rhythm that soon builds your need to climax. That all stops though when he slides two fingers into you, crooking upwards to rub against the spot inside you that makes you scream his name.
"L-Law!" You arch your back, shaking feet on their toes, as you try to scoot away from his merciless pleasuring. You clench down around him as you grow closer and closer to the edge, your thighs tucking in to hold his head in place. Your bitten-down nails rake against his scalp. "Fuckin' Law, *Phineas*!" Your body grows taut, all muscles contracting then going slack as your thighs fall open and the doctor reels back to lick his lips and fingers, now sufficiently drenched with your slick.
Phineas stands and you know what happens now. He unzips his scrubs and leans down over you as he slides his cock inside your overly sensitive body. You breathe shakily against his ear as he gasps, bottoming out inside you. The head of his cock brushes against your cervix and you sigh, tears welling in your eyes at the overstimulation as he begins to move. His cock opens you up, reaching places inside you that make you sob and grab at his hair. He doesn't take too terribly long with you whining and crying in torturous pleasure beneath him. He fills you with a breathless curse, resting his forehead on your own before leaning down to capture your lips with a soft sigh. Phineas pulls out when his cock begins to soften, wiping any excess fluid from between your legs with a clean tissue and letting you curl up on his cot. He soon gets in beside you and you wrap your arms around him.
The bed may be small but, as long as you're holding him, discomfort is the furthest thing from his mind.
Chapter 7: 24-Hour Cinderella
Pairing(s): Father Anthony Burke x FTM!Reader.
Father Burke isn't an easy man to tempt on account of him having been a priest for over twenty-five years but still you try your best.
On the train ride to England, you had borrowed a set of women's habits from the monastery. They're rather tight around your hips and chest, revealing the attractive curve of your ass and the slender lines of your limbs. You watch the Father on the other side of the train compartment, glasses perched on his nose, as he squints at another of his crossword puzzles.
When you first turned up in your current clothes, Burke cleared his throat and moved swiftly on, seemingly not noticing the way you now matched his height. He seems to know better than to cause a scene and become even more flustered.
You were always the more rebellious of your flock though you never actually intended any ill will. You set about being the best disciple you can be so you can get away with doing things like this. Little glimpses of levity to keep one's sanity.
You stand, sure on your feet, even as the carriage sways. Making your way to the sliding door of your compartment, you turn to face the Father.
"I wondered how long it would take until you decided to make trouble." He murmurs, not looking up from his magazine, scribbling down another answer.
"You really are too serious, Father. Too stoic and phlegmatic." Without turning, you lock the door and stalk back toward your seat, placing a hand on his knee. He looks at you over his glasses. "Though, I admire that about you. I like a man with...durability." You tell him, voice dropping to a low purr. You remove your hand from his leg and gather them in your lap, sighing as you glance out of the window, the sky beginning to darken. You still have a few hours left to travel so you may as well keep going.
"Strength, permanence...firmness... They're all very valuable, Father..." Father Burke's dark eyes follow you as you curl your fingers in the front of your habit. Grasping the skirt of the habit, you pull the hem above your ankles, displaying the sheer stockings and high heels you wear beneath. His mouth runs dry and he tries to wet his lips, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Of course, a man of your endurance would never fall to temptation." You place one foot between his legs, resting against the worn leather of the seat. A few inches of your leg are visible and he can't help but stare at the sheer, black stockings that hug your calf. Reaching down, he takes your ankle into his hand, sliding his palm along the underside of your leg, loose material gathering around his wrist. Soon the Father's puzzle is forgotten, laid beside him, on the couch, as his hand continues up your leg. When his fingers touch your thigh, you breathe out a sigh. He reaches the welt of your stocking, his fingertips exploring the intricate lace that adorns it. At the side of your thigh, he feels the warm metal of a clip, connecting your stockings to a garter-belt around your hips. Now his heart is thumping hard in his chest. Standing, you move to sit in his lap, knees either side of his thighs so you're straddling him, grinding down against the bulge that has become rather noticeable beneath you. "A shame I managed to pierce your tenacity, Father, but I will make it worth your while." He turns his head to look at you and you smile playfully.
The Father's weathered hands slide up your thighs, under your habit, to lightly snap the suspenders of your stockings, making you gasp.
"You wish to use this compartment as a temporary confessional, my child? How have you sinned?" His words are soft and his voice low as his breath fans across your neck.
"I have pined for you, Father, had the filthiest thoughts imaginable but I know you could never feel the same way, due to your dedication to the Church." You both know how this song and dance goes, though he doesn't tend to let it get this far in public.
"Tell me, my child. Purge yourself of these wicked desires." He sighs, beginning to press kisses along your jaw and trailing them down your neck.
"I've thought about being on my knees before you, pleasuring you with my mouth. I've thought about finding the marks of your teeth on me where you have claimed me." You can feel his stubble rough against your skin as he moves further down. "I-I've thought about having your fingers buried inside me, defiling my body." You swallow thickly, a hand gently gripped at the back of his neck. "I've thought about your...thick, handsome cock breaching me as I cry out in pleasure." Your words only serve to have his erection thicken under you. He follows the lines of your thighs up, only finding skin and he breathes a sigh of frustration to find no underwear covering you. This was your main goal; to make him fold under the weight of his own desires. His strong fingers grab at the flesh of your backside, hard enough for you to gasp and moan.
"You shameless, filthy heathen." He murmurs against your skin as he palms his way up the small of your back. Pulling back, you lean down to claim his lips, groaning heavily when he bites at your bottom lip, forcing you to open your mouth. One of his hands slides between your thighs, rough fingertips stroking ever so close to where you need him.
"Please, Father..." You whine against his ear and he has to repress a shudder as his other hand tugs you closer to him.
"What do you want? Tell me." Burke purrs and you thread your fingers through his hair, shifting your hips forward to gain friction against your core. Seeing through your plan, he drags his hand away, still on your thigh but not close enough to bring any relief. You groan in disappointment but are soon cut off by his lips as he demands your obedience, grasping your hips hard enough to bruise.
"I want you, Father." You moan and he nods, drawing small circles on your inner thigh with his thumb.
Father Burke soon has you on your knees, between his legs. He's hard enough after the show you put on, you notice as he drags down the zipper of his pants and parts his cassock to bare it to the air. When he slides the foreskin over the head, he lets out a shaky breath. It's obviously been a while since he's shown himself release and it shows. The crown of his cock is a bright red and thick precum beads at the slit. Groaning, you lean forward to take it into your mouth and his breath catches in his throat as the wet heat of your mouth surrounds him. Under heavy lids, you look up at the Father, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue laps at the head of his thick cock. In a moment of true desperation, he pushes off your wimple, burying his fingers in your hair, not pushing or pulling, simply anchoring you in place as you continue to take down more and more of his cock. Your tongue moves against the underside, following the thick vein that runs along the flesh. His strong fingers curl into your hair shakily as he groans, your lips finally touching the base. When you swallow around the tip of his cock, his nails lightly dig into your scalp and his eyes roll back into his head. You begin to bob your head along his length and his whole body shivers beneath you.
"Lord, that feels divine..." Throbbing on your tongue, his cock drools precum down your throat and you can tell he's close. You reach up, gently pushing your hand into his free one and his fingers wrap around yours, holding your hand as you take him closer and closer to the edge. Glancing up, you watch him lean his head back against the leather, his hand tightening around yours as he spills down your throat. "Hahh... Yes, chéri..." His cock continues to twitch on your tongue as you bring him through his orgasm. Groaning, he gently pushes you off as overstimulation begins to set in. Licking your lips, you sit back on your toes, looking up at him as you run your thumb over the back of his hand. "That was perfect..." He breathes when he manages to make eye contact with you.
"Aren't you going to punish me for being a filthy sinner, Father?" You ask with a playful smile and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he laughs.
"Of course, as soon as we get settled in our hostel, chéri."
Chapter 8: '39
Pairing(s): Michael de Santa x FTM!Reader.
Note(s): This one's a little angst-heavy because, oof, I had a bad night. CW for past self-harm and trauma.
As you wander out of the bathroom, a towel around your neck, you spy Michael scrolling through his phone. You slide on a shirt and shuffle next to him. He turns off his phone and sets it on the bedside table. His hand unconsiously lowers to your bare thigh and you both seem to jump at the same time. You usually wear pants, or at least boxers, when the lights are on and you're together so he doesn't see the light scars that litter your legs. Looks like you forgot. Suddenly, the tension is ramped up from 'nonexistant' to 'unimaginably high'.
"What the fuck are these?!" Michael yells and you divert your eyes, staring down at your hands as he sits up and brushes his fingers along the scars. The texture is familiar but he never questioned it before now.
"I had it rough when I was younger, okay?" You reply, trying to choke back tears as anxiety wells uncomfortably in your chest. Michael takes a breath before breathing it out slowly.
"I'm... I'm sorry for yellin'. I'd just...hate if anythin' bad were to happen to you, y'know? I'd...fuckin' kill anyone who laid their hands on you and left marks like that." There's the raised flesh of razor blade cuts and the uneven patches of scar tissue from cigarette burns. Your thighs are a warzone of old wounds, a tapestry of your struggles, an open book of hopelessness long-since burned into your mind. "Tear them limb from limb..." He sighs as he absently traces a finger from one cigarette burn to another, connecting them like a constellation. "And I still will. Anyone makes you feel like doin' this again and I'll make sure they can't hurt you again. Ever. You hear me?" Blinking back tears, you manage to look up at him, nodding, as he slides his hand into yours. He leans down to kiss you, softer than usual. With his free hand, he cradles your head, sighing against your mouth. When he pulls away, he keeps your faces just a few inches apart. "So...what do you wanna do tonight?" He asks and you shake your head.
"I'm not sure. What did you have in mind?" You ask and he runs his knuckles gently along your cheek.
"I mean, I was gonna fuck you senseless but...now I just wanna make sure you know you're perfect, yeah? Just relax." Heat creeps up your neck and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "You're perfect and it's the only fact that matters, yeah?"
Michael smells like expensive cologne, new cars and gun metal.
"Just lay back, alright, baby? I've got you." He shifts to kneel between your legs, leaning down to cage you in, kissing you with a kind of burning passion that makes your heart swell. "I've got you, baby..." He breathes against your lips and you nod, tears finally welling up enough to spill. Throwing your arms around his neck, you sob against his mouth and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. "No-one's gonna hurt you, okay? I'm here. Don't worry." You let your arms descend, wrapping around his chest and pulling him down on top of you. The pudge of his midsection cushions the fall and you hold him close, drawing away to bury your face into the crook of his neck. Running his fingers through your hair, Michael presses kisses to your forehead, closing his eyes as he feels you shudder beneath him. He keeps repeating what he just said, eventually just making it a mantra. Michael's mantra, his promise of protection.
You mumble something against Michael's skin and he smiles. Though the words aren't entirely audible, he can hear the syllables and it's obvious what you said. Pressing another kiss to your head, he takes in a lungful of your scent as he wraps his arms around you tighter.
"I love you too, baby. I'm always gonna be here for you."
Chapter 9: 3 AM Radio
Pairing(s): Ross Humboldt x AFAB!Reader.
You stumble into the clearing on uneasy feet, thick mud tracking from your sneakers all the way up your side from when you fell. It's dry now so God knows how long you've been in here. The rock casts a large shadow in the clearing and you can hear some form of...chanting? Whispering? It sounds like someone welcoming you home after a long journey. Like a mother welcoming you into her open arms. You stare at it. Your mind tells you to run but you can't seem to move your feet.
The grass wants you here.
It sings to you. Calls your name. You can hear your brother screaming in the distance but your eyes continue to face forward. The moonlight accents the rippled, marked texture of the rock, the imposing being that it is. That's what it is; a being. It's not like every other, stupid pebble. This rock is...
"Touch it." The voice comes from directly behind you and all other noises stop, even the wind through the grass... With the clearing being so open, when you turn, you can easily see the man behind you; tall and strong with a mad look in his eye. Is that mud or blood on his shirt? Could it be both?
"What?" He takes a step toward you and you take a step back. "Keep your distance, okay? I've seen enough...shit in this grass." You tell him and he holds up his hands.
"I'm not movin', alright?"
"Why don't you tell me who you are?" You recognise his voice. Has he been screaming along with the rest of the people trapped here?
"Name's Ross Humboldt. I came in here, looking for my family, when they ran in to help some guy yelling." He explains and you nod. The same thing had happened to you and your brother.
"Listen; I know the way out. It takes a bit of practise but you can learn how to get around in the Grass." Ross explains and you cock your head.
"So why aren't you out there?" You ask and he smiles warmly.
"And just leave my wife and son in here to fend for themselves?" You nod understandingly. "Touch the Rock. Trust me. What've you got to lose?" He asks and you think. You've been in this field for -- what? -- days? What have you got to lose by touching this rock? It's just a rock? ... Right?
You turn to face it. This close, it eclipses the moon and you're standing in its looming shadow. You reach your hand out but stop when you feel a hand on your shoulder and a warm body pressing up behind you.
"Just reach out and touch it." Another hand holds your wrist, gently guiding your hand towards the uneven surface of the rock. You can feel his hot breath against your ear and down the side of your neck. There's a hint of wintergreen on his breath but just enough to tell you that he's been in here a lot longer than you and it's beginning to fade. A few more inches and you finally make contact with the stone, Ross placing his hand over yours...
There's a bolt of electricity, of sensation, as clouds dye the heavens a rich, cherry red. The moon is blotted out by the thick clouds that roll by and it casts the world in this deep, crimson colour, every object a shade of red.
"You feel that?" His voice, Ross's voice, sounds ethereal, reverberating through you as your fingers slide across the surface of the rock. "You belong to the Grass now. We're all grass, at the end of the day; we sprout, we grow, we die." His lips trail along the crook of your neck and you shiver, still consumed by the blood-red cloud that surrounds you, that surrounds the grass. "We were chosen by the Grass. It guided you here. I'm not sure why...but it wants us. And I...want you."
When you remove your hand, the world returns to this midnight blue and Ross is pressed fully up against you, lips on the tender skin just behind your ear. You turn to face him and he backs you up against the Rock, your bare neck touching the stone and causing the world to fade back into the crimson hues.
All thoughts are consumed and overwhelmed as he claims your mouth. The Grass sings around you as he places his hands either side of your body. Throwing your arms around his neck, you bring him closer, your kisses growing more urgent, more desperate.
"Don't worry, darlin', I'm here..." Ross breathes against your lips and your whole body relaxes into his touch. You feel like you've known him forever, like this is where you were always meant to be. Every step you've ever taken has led up to this location, this man, this moment. This moment where you give yourself to him and to the Grass.
Ross pulls your shirt over your head and you kick off your jeans. He presses you against the Rock, groaning when you wrap your legs around his hips, allowing him to grind up against you. His lips flutter against your throat then your collarbone as his hands slide up your inner thighs, one stopping to rub against the damp crotch of your underwear. Heat pools in your belly as he raises his head and looks you in the eye. You should be scared or, at least, intimidated somewhat but you feel completely at peace.
"Don't worry, I've got you." Pulling your underwear to one side, he rubs a slow circle along your clit. You cry out as the pleasure from one mere stroke nearly makes you lose it. The clouds swell as they billow past. Softly, he shushes you as he slides down his zipper, his cock bouncing against your crotch, hot and thick and pulsing. You wrap your arms around his strong shoulders and he pulls away slightly, positions himself and then rocks his hips back in.
Birds call as they fly from the tall Grass. You pull Ross closer as he fills you, his body pressed close as your chest flutters. He whispers praise against your ear, kissing here, licking there. He leaves a mark just below your jaw, another below your ear and another on the crook of your neck. Wherever he touches you, your body is set alight. He fits inside you like a jigsaw puzzle, the crown of his cock kissing your cervix in a way you didn't know was possible. You murmur curses as you tangle your fingers in his hair.
"So warm... So perfect... " Sweat breaks out across your neck and he laves across the skin with his tongue, taking in the raw taste of your skin. He begins to move his hips -- or was he always? -- filling you again and again with deep, loving thrusts as he worships your body with his hands and mouth. Everything feels heightened, feels right, feels like it was meant to be.
You're not sure how long you're held in Ross's strong embrace but he reaches his end, breathing heavily against your chest as his movements grow slower and clumsier. With a final buck against your body, he fills you with hot, thick semen and you can feel the great amount of it spill from you even while he's still hilted within you. Clutching at his broad shoulders for purchase, you arch your back, your body screaming for more of him, more of the ecstacy that his body brings you. You whine wordlessly and he pets your hair, shushing you again.
"I'm here, darlin'... Don't you worry..." When your eyes open, you see how the crimson clouds have parted to show the blood-red moon, casting a ruby-red light upon the Grass, upon the Rock and upon your bare skin, now covered with tar-coloured blood. When you pull back to look at Ross, he chuckles, blood spattering his face as he kisses you. There's iron on your tongue and he groans against your lips as he gives you over to redemption.
Chapter 10: 40'
Pairing(s): Wilfred James x AMAB!Reader.
Note(s): This is all to be read in like a Texan accent. (Yo, Mister King, if you ever come across these; I'm very sorry.)
I called by his house again today. His missus was in town and his boy was in school.
I still feel bad about being with a married man...but he swayed me.
We were actually in his house, in his bed today. He said he trusted me enough. Said he didn't want no noises getting out. I agreed. I tend to get quite...vocal, especially with him. With Mister James.
Now, I am a religious man through and through. I know being with him is a sin. Truly, all I've ever done with Mister James has been fooling around. A little physical attention. Holding him, kissing him sometimes, maybe even a little grope between his legs but nothing like what happened today. Today was something new.
He took me into his room and took off his denim working clothes, told me to take off my daisy suit so I started unbuttoning my jacket. I didn't get too far before he started to loosen my tie, pressing me up against the door of a closet as he kissed me. He was so much more eager today. Maybe him and his good lady wife don't get along but he was desperate.
He kissed me like every second was his last. I took off my jacket and my tie and kicked off my shoes. I used his suspenders to hold him to me, keeping him close as he reached down between us to feel at himself. He moaned against my mouth and, I swear, my breath caught in my throat. His skin's so weathered and tanned compared to my own. I guess, he gets a lot more sun than I do, sitting in my office doing my accounting, three days a week. His hands are rough too, like warm sandpaper across my skin. He unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it over my shoulders so my chest was bare. He grabbed every part of me he could get his hands on and I tried to lead him toward the bed.
It didn't take much before I pushed him onto the bed and he wriggled his way out of his shirt and pants and kicked his work boots to the corner. He was so handsome, like he always is; all tanned skin with scars and thick, downy hair that covers his chest. I sat at the head of the bed and he climbed up, on top of me. It was a new one today when he shoved down his undergarments. The skin there was pale and looked soft. He had to tell me multiple times that I was okay to touch it. His thighs and backside were firm but obviously hadn't seen the sun nearly as much as his face or arms or shoulders. I grabbed a handful of flesh and he groaned lowly in my ear. His voice is so gravelly. He's such a man's man. That's one of the reasons I didn't expect to do what I did today.
He kissed me harder as he gripped the front of my pants. I always get hard when he's around, especially when he touches me with those rough, calloused hands of his. His cock was already out and, my, was it handsome. He's uncut. Long and relatively thick with these full, low balls. I reciprocated his gesture and took him in hand. He ran his other hand through his hair as he straightened his back. When he stretched, I could see the outline of his ribcage and the corded muscle of his arms. Then he turned around and I traced the tan lines on his body with my fingers. It made him shudder. Then he leant down and arched his back. His rear-end pointed right at my face and I didn't know what to do.
I grabbed at the pale, soft flesh and he bit his lip. He told me to get the lotion from his wife's side of the bed and pour some along his hole. I did as he asked (it smelled like lavender) and then he asked me to slide a finger in. At that, I was a little taken aback but when he persuaded me and I heard the sounds he made, I couldn't stop. His hole swallowed up my fingers easily. One, two, three even. He felt so warm, so tight, so wet and slippery. He was still in control, giving me a rhythm to go by and telling me if he needed me to go deeper or not. It felt so wrong but the way he groaned and grabbed the sheets made me feel in control and I couldn't leave this job unfinished. The way his body tightened around my fingers felt so good and the way he kept arching his back and telling me I was a "good boy" for him... I just couldn't stop.
Eventually, I think he got sick of my fingers because he turned back round to face me while he palmed at my zipper. Mister James kissed me again and I could feel his cock leaking all over my pants so I stood up and took them off, along with my undergarments. When I stood at the side of the bed, he turned over onto his back and looked up at me. It's the most vulnerable I've ever seen him. He just put his hands on either side of my face and said "I want you to fuck me, boy". Then he got onto his hands and knees again and I lined myself up, just like you'd do with a woman. Then he leaned back...
God, I can't tell you how good it felt when he started working his way down my cock. His body was so tight and hot. Just watching it disappear inside him made my balls throb. He cursed and moaned and I could barely understand some of it. When I got into the swing of it, I grabbed onto his hips and started fucking him for real. It got warm and I started to sweat, so did Mister James, but I pushed through it. I leant down and kissed along his shoulder and his neck and he reached up to run his fingers through my hair, all the while telling me how good I'm making him feel and how I'm going to make him burst.
Soon he was getting so loud that I could tell he was going to lose it. He leant all his weight on one hand and used the other to touch himself. His body got so tight and he started to shake. I couldn't hang on. When he came into his hand, I filled him up and he let out this shaky groan as he shivered. He fell onto his side and I kissed him until he was smiling slightly and basking in the mid-afternoon sun that streamed through the window.
When we heard his lady wife say goodbye to her driver, we hurried to put our clothes on and rush downstairs. I greeted her, told her I was there to tell Mister James about some of the loans we've got up for offer and then took my leave. Before I walked out the front door, I turned back to look at him and gave him a smile. He swallowed, and I watched his adam's apple bob, before he nodded and gave me a tight smile.
Wilfred James may be a man's man but he's this man's man.
Chapter 11: 505
Pairing(s): Duncan Vizla / The Black Kaiser x FTM!Reader.
You're an assassin, just like him.
... Well, maybe not just like him. You're considerably younger and considerably worse at your job but, then again, it's hard to match -- never mind better -- the Black Kaiser.
Vivian had coerced you into following her to the warehouse to end him and you did so begrudgingly.
You'd been in the house when Duncan was being housed and tortured. You tried to help him. You tried to tell Blut to take it easier on him but all that did was give you a nasty scar of your own.
The two stand, face to face, on the level playing field, Duncan staring Vivian down as smoke billows from his lips.
"I'm giving you one chance to walk away, Vivian." He murmurs, voice deep and oaky. You only met him the few times but he always seemed to remember you and you could never forget him.
"You've gone soft, Duncan. Sentimental." She replies and he takes another drag on his cigarette before placing it delicately on the hood of his car. His only remaining eye flicks to you and your brows quirk up in a mixture of fear and apology. You don't even know if he really sees you but you try your best to get your message across in the brief moment he scans the group of armed men approaching him as Vivian turns and begins to saunter away.
There's a beep somewhere and then gunfire. Lots of it. You back away, instinctively falling to the floor to escape the line of fire. In a blaze of fire and bullets, every body around you eventually collapses to the floor, even Vivian isn't spared. He finishes off any stragglers with a swift bullet to the head and Vivian nearly begs for her life before Duncan finishes her off. When he wanders over to you, you hide your face.
"I'm sorry! I tried to get them to stop! When Mister Blut brought you in, I told him to let you and the girl go... I'm sorry. I just... I just wanted to leave you and her alone, Mister Vizla." He grabs your forearm and you cry out in shock as well as pain, stumbling back until you hit the hood of one of the cars. He doesn't make any advancements toward you, after all he didn't grab you that hard so you shouldn't have made a noise that loud.
"... Did they hurt you?" He asks after a moment and you swallow thickly, shrugging off your coat to display the many burns Blut planted on your skin. Cigars, cigarettes, matches, even gasoline at one point. The fact that you defended a man that wounded his pride in such away was apparently a cardinal sin and you were to be taught a lesson. The wounds still ooze with blood and pus, obviously becoming infected as you hadn't had them treated for some days. His eye follows the burns that creep up your left arm and up onto your shoulder. The raw, pink flesh makes him wince. He knows how badly third-degree burns scar. "Come on, you need to get those looked at."
Six months on and you're feeling a lot better. Blut's out of the picture and Duncan had kind of adopted Camille as the daughter he never had, still living in the cabin close to hers -- after having it fixed up, of course. Really the only change to his life, from before the whole fiasco surrounding his retirement, was the loss of an eye and the addition of yourself. After the collapse of Damocles, you had nowhere left to run and, after your sacrifice, Duncan welcomed you with open arms. And that...pretty much leads you to now.
With your head on Duncan's chest, you lazily trace the scars that litter his skin, the low light only adding to the softness of the scene. One of his strong arms is wrapped around your shoulder and you sigh, nuzzling into his side. He's so warm and soft, especially as he presses a sleepy kiss to the top of your head. His heart thumps steadily in his chest, a soothing rhythm as you slowly begin to wake up. Silvery hair mainly covers his eyes. He tends to take his eye patch off during the night, it's more comfortable. You run your hand over the middle of his chest, petting the thick hair scattered there, before trailing your hands down the pale, straight scar down his stomach. Blut left hundreds of these small, pock-like scars. They cover Duncan's hands, his arms, his chest, this thighs; everywhere.
Sitting up, you press kisses to each scar, slowly sliding your palm beneath the covers to stroke his inner thigh. He stirs slightly, his large, warm hand placed on your head to thread into your hair. Still moving down with your lips, your fingers trace a way up to his perineum and he lets out this sweet sigh. You trail your fingertips over his low, heavy balls and he gasps before they trail up the underside of his growing, thickening length. Duncan's breath stutters and you smile, shifting down and slowly pulling the covers down his thighs. His cock is so big; uncut, long and ungodly thick. You grasp it fully before pulling the foreskin over the head and baring it to the air. He arches his back slightly, bucking his hips up against your hand, as he breathes out a soft groan. You kiss your way down to his cock before placing your lips just over the tip, tonguing at the slit and feeling precum spill into your mouth. His free hand curls into the sheets as the other stays in your hair, fingers tightening. You take him further down, feeling him pulse against your tongue as you hilt him inside your mouth and, by extension, your throat. You swallow around his cock and he gasps in a breath, his eyes fluttering open and searching for your face. When he glances down the length of his body to find you fucking your mouth on his cock, he can't help but groan in approval and gratitude. Gently, the hand in your hair goes to your neck, beginning to slowly work your mouth up and down his cock. Duncan hisses out a curse as you swipe your tongue along the head of his cock again.
"You like waking me up like this, hm?" He says, more of a statement than a question, but you nod and hum in agreement. This is a great way to start the day, feeling your boyfriend's cock throbbing in your mouth as you inch him toward release.
Eventually, when he's broken into a sweat and his breath is coming fast, he tugs you off his cock and you gulp down air, panting heavily.
"Good boy." Taking your arm, he helps you straddle his hips, his cock jutting between your bodies. His balls feel so full and tight now. With his hands on your hips, he helps you raise your body up before he lines himself up and you lower yourself back down. His cock fills you to the brim and you groan as he hilts himself inside your tight, hot body. You reach for his hand and he takes it, pulling you down so you can cup his face, feeling his stubble against your palm. It's such a soft gesture as he bucks up into you. The light has brightened so you can see the fierceness of his face softened into that perfectly placid and loving look he directs at you. You kiss him, groaning into his mouth as he continues to drive into you, fast and hard. The contrast is night and day, his rough hand against your face as he kisses you gently and his pelvis crushing up against yours at an astounding rate, probably bruising your insides. "Good boy, good boy..." He breathes when you part for air. Thankfully, he doesn't tend to have too much stamina in the morning so when his thrusts begin to slow, you can tell he's about to cum. When he cums, he fills you completely, burying his face into your neck as he lets out a low groan. More of a growl, really. You sigh as you feel his hot cum spill from your overstuffed insides and you collapse on top of his muscular body.
"... Good morning." You pant out and he chuckles.
"Good morning, love."
Chapter 12: 5:32 pm
Pairing(s): Dmitri Desgoffe und Taxis x Unnamed Male Prostitute x J G Jopling.
The Count had taken his time with this one, cajoling him with promises of safety and pleasure before indulging himself wholly.
The figure on the bed is little more than a writhing mass of flesh, when Dmitri is almost finished. He strokes it, coos at it, kisses the dark bruises he's left on it's pale, perfect skin. It's limbs tremble when the Count touches them. The flesh is bare, no clothes to be seen, but Dmitri remains in his wholly black suit, if not slightly askew. The tall, imposing figure of the Count's guard stands in the corner of the room, regularly taking sips of whiskey from the flask in his trenchcoat. Dmitri manages to shape the flesh back together, forming the shaking body of a young man, maybe in his early twenties. He's beautiful, of course, covered in dark bite-marks and handprints from where the older man had struck him. He's still yet a boy compared to Dmitri's fourty-one and especially Jopling's fifty-nine.
The Count turns the young man onto his front, tucking his knees under him so his pert backside is perfectly on display. Running his palm along the canvas of the young man's spine, he arches his back and Dmitri smiles devilishly, shifting to take full advantage of the view. The puckered hole of the Count's plaything trembles, especially when he runs a cold, thin finger over it. The boy is obviously trying to keep what's left of his self-respect before tumbling endlessly into the void of becoming the Count's eternal slave. He utters some form of soothing words and the young man relaxes, his hole slackening as semen gushes from it. Dmitri offers a word of gratitude and pride as he slides two fingers past the young man's aching rim and pries it open. His insides, red and pulsing, are ruined from the Count's rough treatment, a great amount of ejaculate accumulating in the depths of his organs. If the poor boy were a virgin before this, heavens, he isn't now. A predatory smile creeps across Dmitri's lips before he pulls away.
The young man's light brown hair is ruffled and messy from their tumble in the sheets and Jopling watches, vaguely interested, as the Count tugs the young man to standing on shaky legs, pulling him close and kissing him hard. His marble-like skin is littered with bruises and shining with a mixture of saliva and semen. The small, pale figure shivers like a leaf against the Count's body until he lets go, leaning down to whisper something in the young man's ear. It's some hushed promise of affection though Jopling is uncertain of the potency of these words.
When Dmitri is satisfied, he sits the young man on the bed and straightens his own clothes before turning to look at his guard. There are no words but Jopling knows what he means. The Count wanders over to the desk and picks up a book, opening it as he turns to a folded page.
The tall, dark visage of Jopling stands over the bed and the young man seems to tremble with fear and exhaustion. Without hesitation, Jopling attacks, turning the boy onto his front and pressing his face into the mattress. He would learn that Dmitri's touch was like velvet compared to his own. The slaps and bites mere strokes and kisses compared to his own violent nature. The young man yelps when the assassin grabs a handful of his mousey hair and pulls his head back roughly. Dmitri glances up from his book, watching Jopling defile what's left of the boy and smirking. Bites are left along his shoulders, teeth breaking the skin and causing the young man to gasp and whine like a wounded dog.
With calloused fingers, Jopling presses two digits into the boy's mouth, playing with his wet, squirming tongue as he lavishes the strong fingers in slick saliva. He pushes further, his fingertips touching the very back of his tongue, barely touching the opening of his throat and causing the pretty thing to gag. Each retch causes his body to jerk and Jopling relishes the wet sounds that come from him. With a single, growled word of encouragement and ownership, he removes his wet fingers from the young man's lips and slides them into his pulsing, aching rim, making him cry out in surprise. Dmitri places the book down, having forgotten about it as he watches the brutish way Jopling treats the boy, crossing his legs and sitting back in his chair languidly. The assassin roughly scissors his fingers, stretching the young man's rim, opening him up for the large, cruel size of his own cock, still needy and wanting even in his old age. With every push, more and more of the Count's hot, thick semen gushes over his perineum, dampening the sheets beneath them. The boy sucks in a breath and babbles incoherently, begging for mercy, as Jopling presses forward. The Count watches from the desk, fingers fidgeting as he watches his trusted assassin ruin the young man before them, leaving bloody bite-marks along his neck and red stripes down his back with the nails of his free hand.
Without mercy, Jopling had moved away his trenchcoat and hitched down his pants, revealing the brutish thickness of his cock. Ploughing his hips forward, he bottoms out inside the young man, groaning lowly when the boy shudders and screams beneath him. He isn't as long as the Count but he makes up for it with his girth. The tight, warm body beneath him throbs and the assassin chuckles lowly, strong hands holding a vice-like grip on the boy's hips. With little effort, Jopling begins to fuck the young body before him, watching him once again crumble into just a writhing pile of flesh. It's insides coil, hot and tight, around the older man's cock, holding him tight as he continues at his merciless pace. Tears trickle down the thing's face but Jopling is barely paying attention anymore, hiking his leg up on the bed to reach deeper. There's a sting in the air, the scent of blood or the prickling of a cold, nervous sweat against skin. Either could be possible. Either or both.
The assassin can go for a lot longer than most -- his stamina is rather extraordinary -- but now is not the time to display that.
Dmitri clears his throat and Jopling is torn from the moment. He knows what that sound means; 'finish up and let's get going'. He catches a side-glance of the Count, his own cheeks rosy with lust as he watches his older trustee destroy the body on the bed. Jopling nods, fingers only tightening on the tender flesh of the body's hips as he bucks into it, quick and reckless. The hole becomes accustomed to fitting his cock and that only makes his job easier. Quick, long, devastating thrusts ruin the insides of the body, like a battering ram against a glass door. It squeals and whines and cries but Jopling just takes it in stride, holding the body still as he fucks it in earnest. When the body goes limp and still, he finishes with a low, ragged groan, emptying himself into the young flesh before him. With a tortured whine, the flesh takes his offering. A lewd pop sees Jopling's already softening cock free of the body's hot, tempting insides, a mixture of his and the Count's thick semen spilling from his abused hole.
It doesn't take too terribly long for the assassin to clean himself up and tuck himself away, becoming the stoic vigil he always is. Dmitri tugs on his overcoat and runs a hand through his wild, raven hair.
"Next week then." He calls behind him as he walks through the door, Jopling hot on his heels.
Chapter 13: 96 Tears
Pairing(s): Professor x Nagasaki / Dmitri Delgado (OC).
Note(s): This fandom confuses me with how little content there is for it, especially x Reader stuff which seems to be like non-existent. I guess, I'm here to fill in the blanks again.
No personal relationships. You remember the rule as you slide your hand down your side to settle against the black lace between your legs.
You can't help it, thinking of the way his warm, soft hands would skim down your sides, fingers trailing up your thighs as you wriggled beneath him.
'Nagasaki.' He would whisper, barely audible. His voice, his accent, his everything. From behind black-framed glasses, he'd study each and every inch of your body as he put you in your place, torturing you with every moment of skin-to-skin contact. Whenever you made a noise, he'd cock his head and brush his thumb along your bottom lip. You'd have to be quiet and he'd have to establish his power over you before giving you what you wanted. You'd understand, covering your mouth with your hands, before watching him lean down. Warm breath would fan across your chest and, at such proximity, you'd be able to smell him; balsam and old books. He'd place his mouth over the patch of lace that covered one of your nipples, pebbled and hard. He wouldn't move the lace, more than happy for his saliva to soak into the delicate fabric as his tongue flicked over the hardened nub. A moan would bubble up in your throat but you'd swallow it back down, gasping behind your hands as you'd feel him thickening against your body.
You arch your back, fingers inching into your underwear as you continue through your fantasy. Your fingers frame your swollen, engorged clit, giving it a quick tug before beginning a slow, steady pace, rubbing it in tight circles.
Large, warm hands would follow down the length of your body as he teases you through your lace underwear. You'd have already soaked through the material, already so sensitive to his feather-like touch. He'd switch sides with his mouth, wrapping his lips around the other nipple as his fingers explored your lower body.
'Professor...' He'd let you say his name, especially as you breathed heavy and bucked against his body.
'Focus on my touch, yes?' It would be difficult not to, getting lost in his scent, his sound, his sensation. Gently, he'd graze his teeth over your nipple and you'd struggle not to cry out.
Sighing, you reach into your suitcase to grab the toy you brought with you, sliding it against your entrance before tugging the lace out of the way and pushing the blunt head into your aching core. It fills you perfectly, your body stretched around the girth, as you roll up a shirt and stuff it into your mouth to stifle your noises.
He'd get you to straddle him. You'd be a sweating, panting mess as he'd slide the pulsing head of his cock through the slickness of your aching pussy.
'Good boy, you're so eager for me, aren't you?' He'd coo as you'd shakily work your way down his cock. He'd be thick and perfect, hands anchored on your hips, as your hips greeted his.
'Professor...' He'd let you bury your hands in his feathery hair, sighing beautifully as your fingernails would scratch against his scalp. 'Sir, please...' He'd help you, setting a quick pace as one of his hands would trace the light scars on your chest. You'd be able to feel his cock pulse within you. He wouldn't have done this in a long while so he'd already be bursting at the seams.
You prop up your thighs as your free hand moves to stroke at your clit again. You're close, eyes closing as your fantasy comes to a close.
He'd reach between your bodies, fingertips touching your swollen clit. You'd notice he's close, sweat beading along his forehead, temples and neck as his pace quickens.
'Cum for me, sweet thing.' He'd sigh against your ear and it'd just push you over the edge. You'd cum on his cock, body tightening impossibly around him. The feeling of your tight grip on him would claim him too, forcing an orgasm to tear through him. He'd lean his head back against the headboard of your bed as you'd lean forward to kiss him, fierce and passionate. He'd fill you with thick, hot cum, dripping out of you as his softening cock would slip from your body.
Your toes curl as your legs shake, ecstacy rippling through every, single muscle in your body. The toy would fill you again and again and you grow breathless as you spray all over the sheets.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." You fall, bonelessly, against the mattress, sighing as exhaustion grips you.
Chapter 14: 99 Red Balloons ✗
Pairing(s): Helsinki x Nagasaki / Dmitri Delgado (OC).
Sniffling, you curl up in bed. It's been a few days since you got a cold and you feel like death warmed up. You're coughing and sneezing and your throat feels dry as all Hell. There's a knock on your door and you turn over, wiping your eyes and nose as you face the door.
"Who is it?" You ask and you're surprised as to the voice you hear on the other side.
"Helsinki." Your eyes widen.
"... Come in." The door opens and he pokes his head around it. You almost laugh when you have to wave him in. "Hey."
"Hey. I brought you some hot chocolate and a sandwich. You've not been eating." He explains, setting both on your bedside table before sitting on the edge of your bed. The mattress sinks drastically where he sits with him being heavy-set. You blush, visible even through the flush of your fever.
"That's...very sweet of you. Thanks." You don't really talk to Helsinki, especially not to warrant this random act of kindness. Maybe someone finally told him you have a crush on him? Oh, God. He nods and stands but you catch his wrist and he turns. "Would you stay? I've not had company in days."
Helsinki's large, clothed body is curled up behind your own, strong arms wrapped around your lithe frame as he spoons you. He's so warm and soft and you back into the heat of his body, finding comfort in the way he snuggles against your back. You'd expect any guy to pop a boner with your body so close, especially with your ass against his crotch but he doesn't get one, even with his crotch pressed firmly against your ass. Maybe he didn't find you attractive?
Chapter 15: Abracadabra ✗
Pairing(s): Professor x Nagasaki / Dmitri Delgado (OC).
You sigh as everyone leaves, giving Nairobi a smile as she passes you. Soon, you and the Professor are the only two left in the debriefing room.
"I'm guessing you stayed behind for a reason?" He asks but it's more of a statement, sitting behind his desk and leaning back in his chair. You look down at your notes, though you're staring through them instead of reading them.
"Yes." You stand and straighten your clothes, your striped, cropped button-up and your jet black jeans. You pull your hair out of its ponytail it falls around your shoulders, the very longest strands reaching your lower back as you walk toward him. As you reach his desk, he looks at you over the top of his glasses, watching and waiting for your next move. You round the desk, army boots thumping heavily on the floor. You drag your fingers through his dark hair, pulling him up as you pull in close to kiss him but he won't fold so easily, if he folds at all.
He winces when your nails scratch across his scalp but it soon turns to a lustful stare, this is a challenge and one he's more than happy to fight for. With one hand on your shoulder and the other braced against your throat, the Professor presses you up against the blackboard, kissing you with tongue and teeth. You tangle a hand in his tie, fighting him for dominance as he tightens his grip around the base of your trachea. Shuddering as your breath comes quick and harsh, you press a knee between his legs and he sighs into your mouth, bucking against your body as you choke. Loosening his grip, you gasp and he groans as he pulls close to whisper against your ear.
"You never think before you leap, do you, mio cariño?"
Chapter 16: Accidentally in Love ✗
Pairing(s): Professor x Nagasaki / Dmitri Delgado (OC).
Without curtains, moonlight streams into your room, bathing you in a dusty, pale blue haze. Putting your headphones on, you turn on some music to give you a rhythm before you start. You lay back in bed, running your hand down the length of your body as the other slips between your thighs. The touch on your skin feels more than good. You've needed release, seeing as you've been looking at him all day and he's occasionally looked back. The Professor glanced at you over the rim of his glasses and you had to pretend like you hadn't been watching the way he had been running his hands along the edge of his desk. He always looks so perfectly innocent -- dorky, even -- but you and the rest of the team know better. There could be any number of things going on behind those dark brown eyes. Maybe he thought you were concentrating and you shouldn't read any more into it... Then again, what if he was thinking of how good you would look with your lips wrapped around his cock? Or maybe he was thinking of a way to kill you, should things go south? He doesn't seem like the type to use something as impersonal as a gun so maybe he would wrap those large, warm hands of his around your neck and choke you to death? The hand running up and down your abdomen comes up to press against your eyes as your other hand pinches your swollen clit between your fingers, having pushed aside the tight black lace. You ramp up the volume of the music as your hand continues it's ministrations between your legs.
"Oh, God..." Would he like your sleepwear, all these black, silk straps and lace coverings? Would he run a hand along the length of your leg before hitching it over his shoulder, allowing him to take you into his mouth? Or would he simply remove it, piece by piece, until you were totally bare before him? Would he even be that forward? His level-headedness may not extend to the bedroom. Maybe he would become a stuttering wreck under your touch? Your clit throbs at the thought of him finding you laid out across his bed in your late-night uniform, crawling over the sheets, like a panther ready to pounce. You replace the hand over your eyes. Professor? Sir? Master? Or would he tell you his name so you could whimper it as he made you cum, over and over and over? In your excitement, you neglect to keep tabs on your volume but you don't care, especially when two fingers slide into your body, scissoring you open. You cry and moan and sob, legs shaking as your thighs fall further and further apart.
The Professor climbs the stairs as quietly as he can, a glass of water in hand. The stairs creak every so often but nothing can be done about that. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he makes his way down the hall, coming to a stop before his bedroom door. Just before his fingers touch the doorknob, he hears a noise. Someone's awake. At two in the morning? Another noise, then another. He turns, back-tracking towards whichever bedroom the sounds are coming from... Here. Another sigh and then a hushed curse. Gently, he pushes open the door, eyes widening when he notices your moonlit figure, writhing on the bed. Your lithe frame all laid out for him as you play with yourself, slick sounds coming from between your legs and gorgeous moans falling from your lips. The Professor takes in a shaky breath, noticing the wire plugged into your phone. You hadn't heard him. Surely, he could just close the door and forget this ever happened. After all, it's still night time, maybe he could convince himself it's just a dream. Still, he couldn't just leave without telling you he's been staring for a minute, getting increasingly more aroused by the way your body shivers and trembles under the pressure of your impending orgasm.
The song isn't over when the music stops. Frustrated, you huff out a sigh of exhaustion and uncover your eyes. Much to your shock and dismay, you lay in the Professor's shadow and scramble to get out of his field of vision. You'd had fantasies about him walking in on you and other such things but this? This was something out of a nightmare. You manage to cover yourself up and he keeps his eyes averted.
"S-Sorry, Professor... You -- uhh... -- want something?" He shakes his head, opening his mouth before closing it again. You don't know what would be worse; him just leaving or standing in the window, silent, like he is. Neither of you know what to say.
"It's late. We've got class early tomorrow and I don't want you to be tired." He murmurs and you nod.
"Yeah, sorry." Awkwardness falls between you again and he turns to face you. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it but he's sporting a rather large bulge in his pyjama pants, it makes you exhale a shuddering breath. He can't make eye contact with you. "Professor, I..." You start but he swallows thickly, running a hand across his bearded jaw.
"It's completely natural. If I knew you were doing it, I...wouldn't have interrupted but I don't think I could've slept soundly without letting you know what I saw." You're confused by the gesture but thankful for his honesty. At least you'd both know why it would be awkward between you until the end of time and you wouldn't be left wondering.
"You-- Uhh..." Your eyes are glued between his legs and you can't look away however hard you try.
"Forgive me. It was very...cinematic, the way you were framed. Like a shot from a film." The Professor explains hastily, trying to ignore the fact that he knows you're staring directly at his cock, only a breath away from touching it with your lips. You rise to your feet, your bodies close together thanks to the limited space at your bedside. In the moonlight, you dare to run a finger along the curve of his neck, making him sigh heavily. This would be against the rules but sex doesn't mean feelings. Sex just means sex and you've not had any affectionate feelings for him... Right...?
You couldn't be more different; you, in your lace lingerie, and him, in his prudish button-up pyjama set. Your finger trails up his neck, stopping at the soft skin just behind his ear. You can feel his quickened pulse under your fingertips and he wets his lips, his large, warm hands landing on your sides, pulling you closer as he leans down to claim your lips. The Professor kisses you, just chastely, at first, running a hand through your long, black hair. No touching below the waist for now. He takes it slow, sighing when one of your hands begins to slowly unbutton his pyjama shirt. When that sliver of skin is bare, you run a palm along it, feeling his breath quicken.
Chapter 17: According To Plan ✗
Pairing(s): Karl Heisenberg x FTM!Reader.
Note(s): I barely know anything about RE8 but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Sorry if this is a little OOC.
You had asked to help Mother Miranda and her Lords. You explained you knew much of the outside world and could easily return with supplies to keep her and her family fully stocked. She had agreed and her leverage was your family. She had promised to capture them should you disobey. Then she would find you and turn you into a Vârcolac, a mindless beast, and you would slay your own family. You understood.
For years, you've been helping to supply the family with different kinds of supplies, hauling them up the mountain range and delivering them to their respective Lord. Mother Miranda always compliments your loyalty and congratulates you on a job well done. After one trip, she decided she needed to put you in the care of one of her Lords. Moreau was too lenient on you, you were too fearful of Beneviento (and would be unproductive) and Dimitrescu was unwilling to take you under her wing. That only left Heisenberg, whom you had grown attached to.
It's been a year or so since you were put into Heisenberg's care. You've always been on good terms, allowing him privacy and cleaning up after him whenever he needs it but today he has a stranger request for you, calling from his workbench as you organise his metal bits and bobs. Again.
"C'mere." He calls and you nod, wiping your hands on your pants and rushing to his side. Even sitting down, he's so large, as tall as you while sat down. It probably doesn't help that you're so short. He turns in his chair, a gloved hand grasping your jaw and twisting your head so he can get a good look at you. After a few moments, he nods and grunts before patting his workbench, a space cleared for something.
Chapter 18: Ace of Spades
Pairing(s): Daddy Dearest x FTM!Reader.
Note(s): Tried using different terminology. See how it goes?
You can feel the speakers pulsing against your back as 'Daddy Dearest' presses you to the side of one. His open jacket dares you to palm at his chest, lavender skin hot to the touch. The taut muscles beneath the skin have you marvelling at his strength, especially when your fingertips touch the downy, silver hair at the centre of his built chest. You swear you hear him rumble out a low groan as he pulls away, red pupils growing brighter with his lust. Your other hand rises to cup his strong jaw, feeling his rough stubble under your palm.
Ferociously, Daddy claims your lips, pressing you flush against the side of the speaker ad he grasps your wrist, sliding the hand on his chest down toward his belt buckle. Your fingers brush along his abdomen, more soft, downy hair tickling your fingertips before they meet with cold metal. As he continues to kiss you, you taste rich, smoky liquor with an aftertaste of iron. He easily gains access to your mouth, one large hand tangling in your hair as the other slips into your jeans. Swallowing thickly, you whimper against his mouth as steady, talented fingers capture your throbbing cock. Cursing, you buck against his hand as your thighs squeeze shut, trying to both gain more friction while staving off the wave of overstimulation from your sensitive, little cock.
When he breaks the kiss, you gulp down air and he licks a trail up the shell of your ear, groaning as his fingers get drenched with your slick. He whispers something but the music is too loud to hear it. Suddenly, his long fingers are inside you, curling expertly against your insides and seeing you grasping the lapels of his jacket as you gasp against his ear. Groping around his crotch, your fingers find the outline of his cock, thickening in his tight, leather pants. He's long and thick and you can feel the heat of it through his clothes. As you run the heel of your palm along it, he purrs and nips at your ear with his teeth, fingers slipping from inside you to pinch at your throbbing cock again.
When Daddy eventually pulls his hand out of your pants again, he lends you his hand, silently ordering you to clean his fingers which are now covered in your slick. You accept them into your mouth and he watches your every move as you lick and suckle at his fingers. You taste sweet on his skin, his other hand covering your own on his crotch, guiding your hand to tease him in a way that has him biting his lip and groaning lowly. You want him inside you, filling you up and staring into you with those intense black and red eyes. He leans back against your neck, sighing as he unbuckles his pants and encourages you to slip your hand inside. The silvery hair down his abdomen tickles your hand as your fingers touch the very base of his cock, feeling it throb against your fingertips.
He doesn't really need to push you down to your knees because they buckle all on their own when you pull out his cock. It throbs in your palm, the head a deep purple colour as pre-cum spills over your fingers. Easily, Daddy pushes you back against the speaker so your head rests on the wood panel finish. Your eyes flick up to his as he rests the hot, violet crown on your bottom lip with a silent command. You open your mouth and he slides his cock in, inch by inch. Soon enough, he fills your mouth and you aren't even halfway down his huge length. With his large, warm hands braced against the back of your skull, you feel him simultaneously drag your head forward while bucking his hips to meet you halfway, burying his cock fully in your throat. He lets loose this low growl, staring down at you with a hungry grin as you gag and cough around the hot flesh. Your neck bulges to accommodate for his girth, muscles contracting around him and making him inhale sharply, digging his fingertips into your scalp. When you fully relax, on the verge of passing out, he pulls out, slapping you across the face to keep you conscious. His cock looks so slick and wet under the neons and you groan as more, thick pre-cum drips from the head. With lidded eyes, you look up at him, taking in a ragged breath, before he rests his cock on your tongue again, inching it down your throat. He buries his length in your throat again, beginning to slide in and out at a steady pace. He purrs and it sounds like praise but your pulse is pounding too loudly in your ears as oxygen grows scarce. Your eyes begin to water and spit begins to spill from the corners of your mouth as his movements grow rougher and less co-ordinated. His built chest heaves as he begins to properly fuck your throat, growling lowly as he loses himself in the tight heat of your throat. Fingers grip the hair at the back of your neck before your lips are shoved right to the base, your nose pressed against his abdomen as he spills gallons of cum straight into your stomach. You stay there for -- what feels like -- eternity until he finally releases you and you fall back against the pounding speaker, spit, pre-cum and tears painting your flushed face...but Daddy doesn't look like he's finished just yet.
He joins you on the floor, a hand palms at the crotch of your pants, feeling how wet you are. Daddy wets his lips, slowly dragging down the zipper of your jeans before shimmying them down your hips and then completely off you. Then your underwear, soaked through from his rough treatment. He drags them down your legs before holding them up to his face, groaning lowly when he takes in the sweet yet earthy, musky scent of your arousal. You're so wet for him, so ready to be claimed by him, as your thighs fall open even further, offering him a place between them. Quickly, Daddy takes you up on the offer, pulling you toward him and rutting his cock between your legs. Between your slick and drool, he pushes in easily and you arch your back, feeling his huge cock stretch you out, the crown pressing against your cervix as he inches inside. Soon, you can see the outline of his cock bulging against your abdomen from the inside. He's so big that he's distending your insides to accommodate for his size. Caging you in with his arms, Daddy towers over you, hips bucking forward and back as he tries to bring you to completion. You're a moaning, writhing mess, eyes bleary and head spinning. He fucks you like a jackhammer; hands on your hips as he drives his cock into you over and over, bruising your insides thanks yo the sheer size of him. A hand descends between you, his long, talented fingers pinching and circling your little, overly engorged cock. Each movement on it sets your skin alight but you can't quite cum as is, his cock filling you to overstimulation. Noticing this, he pulls out, solely working on your swollen cock with his fingers until you're seeing stars. As you're riding through your orgasm, Daddy slams his cock back in, feeling his second climax about to tear through him. You whine distantly as he cums inside you, his massive amount of cum filling you, distending your belly and then spilling from your loose hole when your body refuses to take anymore.
Leaning back on his heels, Daddy glances over you with a proud glint in his eyes, a large, warm hand resting on your sweaty thigh as you attempt to bring yourself back to the present. You're unsuccessful in your efforts but he easily cleans you up, dresses you and hauls you over his shoulder. You'll be able to sleep this off (and do it all over again) back at home.
Chapter 19: Acid Queen ✗
Pairing(s): Bobby x Reader.
There's a knock at your door and you gasp, spinning round. Paranoia and anxiety have set in after you've neglected to take your Joy for a few days. You've literally been too busy but then the world started to crumble and fall away so you hid in your home, huddled in a corner. When you lumber up to the door, you can see the leering mask of a Bobby just outside. You're full of fear but open the door.
"Good evenin', sir. Could I come in for just a moment?" This is the last thing you needed.
Nodding slowly, you step out of the way, allowing him to step inside. He's so very tall, long legs and broad shoulders. "Nice place you've got 'ere, sir." You glance around. It's awful; there's rips and tears in the wallpaper, smashed remains of teacups, broken toys. He must sense your lack of enthusiasm because he turns to you and holds up one of the yellow and brown, vanilla Joy pills. "Your neighbour's been a bit concerned, y'see. She says you've not been taking any Joy as of late. Now..." He takes a seat at the dining table, long legs crossed. "I'm not arresting you right now because Missus Heathersworth doesn't think you're a Downer. She just suspects that you've forgotten to take your Joy and we can't have that, can we?" He raises his mask just enough to reveal his mouth, smiling, plush lips as he pops the Joy on his tongue. Then he does something you really don't expect; he grabs your shoulders and pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours and slipping the Joy into your mouth. Sighing, you melt into the kiss, allowing him to take control. When he pulls away, you notice that the Joy is gone, slipping down your throat, as your vision becomes more vibrant. Once again, your living room is neat and tidy and perfect.
Chapter 20: Act Naturally
Pairing(s): Henry Jekyll x FTM!Reader, Edward Hyde x FTM!Reader.
Note(s): Not for nothing but the 2017 version of The Mummy was kinda fun. Like it wasn't high art or anything and you really have to dumb yourself down to make all the plot holes go away but I dunno. It was fun. Probably didn't help that I'm a sucker for Jekyll and Hyde and Russell Crowe played them as well as could be expected from this movie.
At your desk, you begin searching through the inventory of the good Doctor's collection. Since the founding of Prodigium, Jekyll has become somewhat of a hoarder to show evidence of his endeavours against evil. That being said, the worst still dwells within him; his own curse, by the name of Edward Hyde. Both sides of his personality, Jekyll and Hyde, they're both him. They're both your loving and devoted husband. He belongs in this facility as much as any of his other specimens. Sighing, you scan through the inventory and print it off, setting off in the direction of the collection, to perform the monthly inventory check. Just as you're about to leave your office, you hear an alarm sound. It's blaring and echoes throughout the facility. You drop the inventory list on your desk and rush to Jekyll's office.
You unlock the bolted door with your handprint, slipping into his office and locking the door behind you.
"I'm sorry, my love. I must've...misplaced my serum." Jekyll stands behind his desk, sweat beading along his brow as discoloured veins snake along his face. You rush over to him and take his hand. The bones of his fingers click and lengthen in your palm as his body twists and deforms into that of Hyde.
"No, no, no. Shhh, Henry... You haven't turned yet, this month. You need this." Without regular breakouts, Hyde continuously begins to pressure Henry and eventually he reveals himself anyway. You've noticed he's been uncharacteristically on edge lately. He needs this catharsis. At least, after a brief stint as Hyde, it should be a weight off his shoulders and he should be able to fully decompress. He nods, gripping your hand tightly as his eyes glaze over and Hyde begins to take over. His grip becomes tighter and tighter until your knuckles are grinding together and you snatch your hand away.
"'Ello, my darlin'. Sorry, I always forget how fragile you are." Hyde smiles, sitting back in Jekyll's chair and sighing. "It's always so nice to see you when I manage to crawl outta that God-forsaken cage." He pats the edge of the desk, offering it to you. You take his offer and sit on the desk, your legs hanging between his thighs.
The sex with either of them is always very good. Hyde tends to be rougher, using his strength to ruin you, inside and out. Jekyll, still able to see his actions when Hyde is in control, treats you like a bone china doll, almost to apologise for Hyde's treatment of you. Hyde leaves you with scratches, bite marks and bruises. Jekyll leaves you with a tingling sensation, his taste on your tongue and a kiss on the forehead. Both of them love you dearly, as you do them.
One of Hyde's large, brutish hands rests on your thigh, sliding up as his nails scrape along the seam along your inner thigh. Your breath catches in your throat and you hear him chuckle darkly.
"Got you antsy, have I, darlin'? Been a while, hasn't it?" You can feel yourself growing wetter as his fingers reach between your legs. Warmth radiates from your core and he can feel it because he grins up at you, dark eyes narrowing menacingly. "Mmn... I can smell you from here, darlin', all wet and ready for me." You lean down and capture his lips, grinding against his hand as he rubs rough circles between your legs. Groaning into his mouth, you unbutton your dress pants and shove them down to your knees, allowing them to fall off completely. He stands, a hand still between your legs, as you feel his hot breath on your face. "No underwear? Aren't you bein' a naughty boy...?" Truth is, they were all in the wash. You didn't have this *in mind*. It's more of a...happy accident. Hyde's fingers trail along the outer lips of your core, teasing you as you grab onto his broad shoulders. "Can't be gettin' impatient already, we've barely started."
With your legs thrown over Edward's shoulders, you watch him eat you out through lidded eyes. He licks long, languid stripes between your legs, sucking your swollen clit between his teeth as you grab onto his hair. You moan and curse but he just chuckles against your skin before continuing. You grow wetter and wetter against his mouth, eventually dripping onto the desk as he slides a finger of his bare hand inside you, his gloved hand resting on your thigh.
"You're so ready for my cock, aren't you, darlin'? I could knock you up, you're so eager." Hyde laughs lowly and you groan at just the *thought* of him filling you with his thick, hot cum. You try to stammer out a plea but it just comes out as a jumble of sounds. "C'mon, tell me what you want..." He purrs and you can feel his lips move just barely against your sensitive flesh.
"F...Fuck me, Eddie. Pl-Please. I need it..." He removes the finger inside you and licks it clean with a satisfied hum.
"How could I say no to that?"
Back in his chair, Hyde pulls you into his lap, his now bared cock resting against your abdomen. As always, his size intimidates you. He's thicker than Jekyll but, by God, does it feel heavenly when it's in. It throbs against you and heat pools in your gut.
"What did you want again, darlin'?" He teases and you grind against his cock, your slick wetting the very base of his cock along with his full, heavy balls.
"Fuck me, Eddie. Get your cock inside me." You're desperate now and he must be able to tell because he doesn't say anything before he lifts you up and drops you down, onto his cock. The crown presses against the ring of your cervix, threatening to pry it open with the sheer force. "F-Fuck, Eddie... You're so deep..."
"And you're so hot and tight. Need me to break through more often, darlin'?" He teases, grinding up into you. His hands grab your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, as he rocks up into you. You thread your fingers into his hair, thick pre-cum mixing with your slick. Replacing his hands on your hips, he drags you down over and over, spearing you on his cock again and again.
"Keep screamin' for me, pretty boy." The older man purrs as he bruises your insides with each deep, rough thrust. With a few more bucks up against you, his breath grows ragged and he buries his face into your neck. "Gonna cum, my darlin'... I wanna feel you take every last drop." With one particularly hard thrust, he buries himself in as far as he can go, the blunt tip of his cock driving into your cervix, almost pushing through.
"Fuck, Eddie! You're gonna knock me up...!" You manage as he completely cuts loose, spilling into your body, biting a bright mark onto the crook of your neck as he pants against your skin. As he fills you, you reach your own climax, groaning and digging your fingertips into his shoulders, nails biting into his skin. You tighten around his cock and Hyde chuckles breathlessly.
"Cum all over my cock, darlin'... Hahh... Yeah..."
Sitting back in his chair, Hyde gives your ass a pat and you struggle to get off him, thick cum leaking from between your legs and running down the inside of your thighs.
"Pretty as a picture." He sighs before glancing down at his softening cock. "Made a real mess of this suit, darlin'." Tucking himself away, he makes himself look as presentable as he can, reaching for the serum in his drawer. You pick up your discarded clothes and slip back into them, uncomfortable after being so sweaty. Leaning down, you kiss him as he injects himself. "Love you, darlin'." You sit with him until Henry fully returns before getting him a spare pair of pants.
Chapter 21: Adesso Tu ✗
Pairing(s): Max Renn x Random Unnamed Intern??
He's an intern. A young, pretty thing with these beautiful green eyes that seem to glow, even in the shadows...not that Max is really paying that much attention, his eyes glued to the screen and the intern's lips glued to the base of his cock. He sits back on his couch, shirtless and with his jeans unbuttoned, now damp from his intern's saliva as it pools on his pelvis.
"Christ..." The intern eases up, leaning back on his toes as he falls back, blocking the TV screen. When he blocks the picture, Max gets up to look over his shoulder, slowly pushing him out of the way so he can kneel and watch. Videodrome: the horrible, the grotesque, the beautiful. The intern kneels behind him, hands travelling down Max's sides as his fingers touch the top hem of his jeans, gently pushing them down and tracing the crests of his hip bones.
"Do you like to hurt, Max? ... Or do you like to be hurt?" Max thinks; he experimented with Debbie but he did the hurting. What would it be like if the roles were reversed?
A scream can be heard on-screen as Max groans, the harsh leather of a belt coming down across his shoulder blades.
"God, fuck..." Red stripes appear across his back. Another. Then another. Slowly, the younger man works his way down Max's back, breaking the skin with a couple of strokes. Blood beads along the skin and the intern drags his tongue along the broken skin, groaning as he drops the belt and focuses on working Max's jeans down his thighs. Before Videodrome, being with another man would've been unthinkable, strange or out of character. Now, he moans like a whore when the belt is whipped across the tender flesh of his ass and he grips the carpet with white-knuckled enthusiasm.
Dropping the belt, the intern kisses along the red welts the belt left across his backside. It all feels quite soft and sweet until sharp nails dig into the skin of Max's thighs and drag down, raising the skin with harsh, bitten-down fingernails.
"H-Hahh..." A fingertip works slowly, trailing on the crease of the older man's ass, over his hole and then his perineum. Max gasps then groans lowly when the intern wraps a couple of fingers around his balls, tugging them down and stretching them. What now? Max goes to look behind him but a shudder claims him when he feels something slick and warm against his hole. The intern tongues away at his rim, slowly stretching the older man open with the tip of his tongue. Discomfort swells in Max's abdomen and he grows breathless as he's told to relax. Thankfully, he hasn't been eating much recently so this first time should go relatively smoothly, assuming -- of course -- that is what they're doing.
"Breathe, Max." The intern has to remind him before slicking up a finger and slowly working in the tip.
Chapter 22: Adventure of a Lifetime
Pairing(s): Rodney Skinner x Merman!Reader.
The air on the Nautilus has felt different recently. Cooler with these short draughts that leave me wondering. A slight breeze in the hallway or a slight gust in my quarters. Then, all in an instant, I know it's deliberate.
"Good morning, Captain." I smile as I reach the control room.
"Oh! Good morning. How are you?" Nemo asks and I cock my head, idly scratching at the blue-frilled gills on the side of my neck.
"Umm... Nervous, I guess." I sigh, staying at the back of the control room.
"There's no need..." I hear him trail off as I gasp softly, a finger brushing along my shoulder.
"Good mornin', princess." He whispers but when I turn, there's no-one there. A warm hand touches my jaw.
"...the Nautilus, you see?"
"O-Oh, yeah." I nod uncertainly, backing up against the door. "I'll -- umm... -- see you in a bit, Cap." I back out of the room but, without any guards watching over me, I'm forced to the wall, a broad, invisible hand ghosting over my chest.
"You seem spooked, my darlin'." His words are breathy and I lick my lips. It all makes sense. His free hand trails down over my wet shirt and to my water-logged shorts, gripping the flesh encased within the heavy fabric. "Surprised?" He whispers and I can feel his breath on my cheek, scotch and lust on his tongue.
"Not especially, Skinner." I reply levelly but ironically I'm sure he sees right through me. His hands on me curl tighter.
"Seems like the little mermaid's not so little after all." He quips as a blue blush rises on my high cheek bones. In a flurry, I push him off me and rush back to my quarters, locking the door and submerging myself in the intricately carved pewter tank, tugging off my limiting clothes.
Skinner and I have more in common than I care to admit. We're both playful, we're both night owls and we both appreciate the freedom of a lack of clothing. Still, when I'm near him, my slow pulse beats like a hummingbird's. I've shown weakness and have to get him back if I wish to regain my respect and my upper hand. But, first, I must wait.
The ocean outside the porthole is just as dark as night, despite the fact that it's noon and the sun should be high in the sky. I slip into his quarters, without a sound, my supplies in my pocket. My gills flutter as I see his bed sheets risen but without a body beneath them. He's there under them, sleeping soundly. I aim to change that. With a quick movement, I tie his wrists it the headboard, watching him thrash around wildly in shock. When he realises it's me, he stops, having kicked off the sheets so he's completely bare and invisible to me.
"'Ello, not-so-little mermaid..." He breathes heavy, tugging at the strong rope I bound his wrists with. Even with him bare, I can't study so many things about his status at this moment and it would spoil the tone I'm going for if I just asked. "You took off so fast earlier. You're sure your elders were sharks and not tuna?" He chuckles lowly as I grasp my next tools from behind my back, placing the excess on the dresser. "We goin' for a nice dinner, luv'?" I roll my eyes as I light the long, red candle.
"You talk too much." The scent of a lit match is a fleetingly pleasant smell as I watch wax pool at the bottom of the wick. I watch the sheets shift under his wriggling body. I hold the candle over what I believe to be the center of his chest, red wax dripping and solidifying on his invisible skin. I hear him hiss deliciously.
"Damn..." He sighs as a few more drops land on his increasingly visible skin. I take a step up and the wax drips over his collar bones. His breaths grow shallow and quick. Back down, wax drips over his sides and his hip bones. The top of his thigh is soon dappled with red wax as he murmurs curses under his breath. It drips down the inside of his thighs and he gasps.
His body is outlined in red wax, his most intimate areas left for more tactile discovery.
"I can see you now." I state with a satisfied grin. When he tugs at his restraints again and groans out, I crack into a fiendish grin. The wax on his hip bones lifts as he rolls his hips up.
"You coulda...just used the paint..." He groans breathlessly as I blow out the candle and touch his lips lightly.
"That wouldn't have been as fun, though." I purr, leaning down to claim his lips in a swift motion. His lips press, hot and needy, against my own as I set the candle to one side. I catch a thin lip between my teeth and bite down, earning myself a petulant whine from him. I hitch down my wet shorts and shirt before straddling his wax-dappled shoulders. "Seeing as I can't see all of you, I guess I'll have to make up for it; letting you see all of me." I can't see the invisible man mouth a curse as I slather my fingers in saliva and push them into my ass.
"That's a good show, darlin'..." He breathes and I feel my heart racing in my chest. I push in a second finger, scissoring them in and out, stretching myself open for him. This is what he wanted, isn't it? Me? On a silver platter? He got it. I hear the bindings resisting against his tug of war. "I'm so gettin' you back for this, sweetheart..." Then its four fingers, two of each hand pushing into me and pulling me open, pulling me loose.
"Ohhh, fuck..." I groan as I pull my fingers apart, pulling my body open for his viewing pleasure.
"Holy mother of... Turn round, I wanna see that pretty face of yours." He growls out, hungry and aggressive, and I pull my fingers out, biting my lip at the sensation. I dismount and he takes a deep breath.
"I can do better than that."
I straddle his pelvis and position his cock at my entrance. He's been...blessed so this may be more of a stretch than I previously anticipated.
"C'mon, pretty boy, before you get all comfy, you mind untying my wrists? I think I've lost circulation in them." He complains. A lame excuse and an obvious lie. I tug the knots free and his broad hands plant themselves on my hips. He sits up, pressing his wax-speckled chest to my own and slaking his tongue up my sternum. I lower my hips, feeling his cock breach me, his size filling me to bursting.
"Fuck-- God-- Shit-- I can't--" I'm cut off every time as a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest.
"Watch your mouth, sweetheart." He growls against my collar as I bottom out on his cock. He's hot and pressing inside me, fingers digging bruises into my hips as my hand goes to the back of his neck. I lick my way into his mouth, panting out his name as he rolls his hips. "The way you say my name, darlin'." His voice is genuine and he sounds so damn tempted.
"Skinner..." I purr against his ear and he has to suppress a shudder. He rolls his hips again, starting a pace that I can follow. I brace a hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, sharp claws digging into his skin, scoring his invisible flesh. His cock feels like it'll burst out of me, the blunt head pushing into my hot, wet body over and over as Skinner presses his lips and tongue to my chest hungrily. Bites and licks make my skin ache as he drives his way into me, his hips lifting off the mattress and ploughing his flesh into me.
"... I've wanted this...since I first saw...you, you invisible bastard..." I pant out, hearing him heave out his breaths. "Won't last long..."
"Have to build up your stamina...then, won't we?" He laughs breathlessly as he curls a warm palm around my own, painfully hard erection. A few good pumps is all it takes before the scent of scotch, grease paint and sweaty sex makes my head spin and my body shiver.
"I'm gonna... Skinner, I'm--" I spill into his palm but he keeps going, his cock pushing into me, his hands pleasuring me, his tongue teasing me until my flesh leaps under his ministrations.
"I'm not far behind..." He breathes against my chest and I let him chase his own climax. With a low growl and a curse, he spends himself inside me.
It's a few moments before his tight grip on my hips eases up and I can shakily get to my feet. I watch my come drip from his invisible fingers, outlining his palm in a watery white. I avert my eyes, blushing as I hear him licking it from his fingers.
"... Who ordered the shark fin soup?" He quips and I punch his shoulder.
"Not funny." He chuckles at my reaction.
"Would you do it again though?" He asks and I turn back towards him.
"I mean... I have to let you get your own back, right?"
Chapter 23: Africa
Pairing(s): Henry Jekyll x AMAB!Reader.
Curled up in bed, I wake up to the sound of voices. Well, one voice. Jekyll's. It sounds like he's struggling with Hyde again. He sounds...desperate. I stumble out of bed, pulling on a vest and some underwear before leaving my room and knocking on the door next to my own. Jekyll looks to be on the verge of tears. He looks thankful that I knocked and welcomes me in after a brief moment.
"A-Are you alright?" He asks me and I nod.
"Yes. I just heard you were having some trouble getting to sleep. I wanted to find out what was wrong." I explain and he smiles weakly.
"Yes, I-- No! Shut up!" He whisper-yells and my gaze softens on him. It's the early hours of the morning and his suit is still done up, yet now it's wrinkled from him pulling at it constantly.
"What's he saying?" I ask and he looks at me like a deer in headlights.
"H-He was just saying...that I should... Umm..." His eyes dart around the room, looking for anything to focus on. Anything but me. I take a step toward him and he flinches.
"Don't worry. I don't bite." I soothe and he lets me touch him, reaching for his hand, studying the scars there. As I roll my thumb over the back of his palm, he swallows and averts his eyes, his cheeks set alight. My eyes trail from our hands, up his arm, over his shoulder, the dip of his neck before finding his eyes.
"Leave. Please, leave." He blurts out and my eyes widen.
"Why?" I ask and he shakes his head. "I'm helping you through this, Jekyll. He doesn't control you. You're stronger than h--" I'm cut off as Jekyll's lips claim my own in a chaste kiss. It lasts less than a moment and, when he pulls back, he's as red as a beet.
"I-I-I'm sorry..." He stammers, slinking away from me in shame. Before he can get too far away, I grasp his wrist and he gasps.
"Henry." I pull him back, cupping his cheeks and searching his frightened, green eyes. "Did you enjoy that?" I ask honestly and he nods slowly. I smile warmly and lean in, placing my lips on his and letting my tongue dance along his bottom lip. His eyes hesitantly flutter shut and he leans into the kiss, my fingers tangling into his deep chestnut-brown hair. He trembles like a leaf, his hands gripping at my shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. I lick my way into his mouth and he whines as his knees touch the bed, shock making them buckle under him. He falls to the bed, fingertips feeling at his lips.
"That tongue of yours...is lethal." He breathes and I grin, straddling his hips and leaning down, my fingers making quick work of his tie and shirt collar, pulling it out of the way.
"Just relax." My lips find his ear, sucking the lobe into my mouth and hearing him whine and gasp beneath me. My lips move down his jawline and down his throat. A kiss here and a suck there and he's panting. Three, red marks are left down the side of his neck and I kiss each one before moving to dip my tongue into the hollow of his throat. A shuddering moan leaves him and I move to his collarbone, taking a chunk of flesh between my teeth and sucking it in, out, in, out. He groans and tangles his fingers in my hair but I carry on, leaving angry, red marks all down his throat. Nimble fingers take care of his waistcoat and shirt, spreading them out so I can work, quickly and easily, down his body. His flesh is rampant with the sweetest taste of innocence. My lips flutter over his sternum and he bites at his lips, brows knitting in concentration, as he watches me work my way down. The marks I leave on his skin are dark and his breaths come in sharp gasps as I suck marks along his hip bones. Before uncovering his chest completely, I return to his face, nuzzling against his throat and whispering into his ear as I roll my hips against his.
"That's... Oh, gosh..." He manages as I run my fingers through his hair, I claim his lips again but, this time, he kisses back, shaky hands clasping my body above his, holding the small of my back and cradling the back of my head.
"Henry..." I breathe against his lips as I feel his tongue gingerly slip into my mouth. His hand moves from the small of my back, skimming over my night clothes and cupping my arousal through the pale linen. The low whine that escapes me just spurs him on more.
We change position; I sit at the head of his bed and he lays on his belly between my legs, my long nightshirt pulled up to reveal the sensitive flesh beneath. He rests his cheek against my thigh as I give myself a few, rough pumps.
"Henry, you're sure about this?" I ask and he nods, taking me in hands and swallowing me d-- "Henry, you're...bloody good at that..!" I yelp out, stroking his hair as he bobs up and down, the flat of his tongue dipping against the head. I watch his hips rut against the sheets, his trousers still cruelly restricting him. The hand not in his hair goes to curl at the curve of his shoulder blade, my fingernails scoring red lines as he sucks his cheeks in and brings his hand into play, softly massaging my balls. I hide my face in my hands, watching through my fingers as his forest green eyes glance up. His lips are wet and swollen and everything feels so damn good. He moans around my cock as I cup his cheek, watching him suck like his life depends on it. "Such a pretty, little whore, aren't you? Where'd you learn to suck cock like that or are you just that eager?" I ask breathlessly and he groans as I pet his hair. "Maybe I should call for Dorian and we could work you over, make sure both of your hungry holes are filled up." I watch a shudder rattle down his spine as he pulls off, saliva dripping from his swollen lips. I grab his chin and drag him to me, our lips clashing and my tongue roaming his mouth. He kneels between my legs, painfully hard in his dress pants. I hook my fingers into his belt loops and he stumbles on his knees, my wet cock grinding against his clothed erection with such delicious friction but I know what I need to do.
We switch places and he lies down as I tug his dress pants and undergarments off. He shudders as I take in his form in full, fingertips tracing along the constellations of marks I left in my wake. He squirms beneath me, a palm curling around my wrist and pushing it down to his cock, the head an angry red, leaking precome down the shaft.
"Please... I need you inside me..." He whines and who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth. He hands me a jar of oil, letting me dip my fingers in and coat my cock with it. I start with a couple fingers first though, watching his back arch off the bed. A thin sheen of sweat has beaded on his skin, making him glitter under the candlelight.
"Henry, ease up." I sigh, leaning down to kiss him. Both hands curl into my hair as he licks his way into my mouth, biting at my bottom lip, whining into my open mouth. I twist my fingers and drag them inside him, searching for the spot inside him that'll make him see stars. I begin to scissor my fingers in and out, crooking my fingers up. Then, he digs his fingers into my skin, releasing my lips to cry out in pleasure.
"So good...! Please... I want you inside me, please!" He whines and I place a kiss to his clammy chest.
"Alright, Henry." I grin against his flesh and be nods eagerly.
I spread his legs a little further and tilt his hips up. The head slides in and Henry sucks in a shaky breath.
"Maybe next time, we get Skinner in and he can show us what those theiving hands are good for." I state and Jekyll wraps his legs around my hips, pulling me in to the root. When I bottom out in his hot, tight body, he bites his lip and curls his fingers into the sheets.
"Wh-Who said there'd be a next time?" Jekyll whimpers and I smirk.
"Oh. Are you not enjoying this?" I ask with faux disappointment as I roll my pelvis against his, bucking back into him roughly. His breathless yelp answers my question.
"Yes! Oh, God, please don't stop!" He whines and I start a sloppy but aggressive pace, loving the feeling of his hot, tight, wet body around my cock. I drive my cock into him at my relentless pace, his hips bucking against the air. My palm curls around his cock and he whines.
"How about we get the boy in here? He can murmur sweet, American nothings in your ear before we teach him how to properly take a cock?" Henry bites his lips, matching my pace beat for beat now. "Or how about all of the above? Four people is enough to make sure you're satisfied, isn't it, Henry?" Breathlessly, I lean down, sucking dark marks against the crook of his neck and he cries out.
"Y-Yes! Faster, please!" He whines against my ear and how can I deny him; his lips swollen and red, his body shivering and covered in red welts, his insides so tightly coiled and inviting.
"Yes, doctor..." I groan, bracing my arms either side of his chest. More reckless, more violent. My thrusts into his hot body become a fast cantering of my hips, his palm curled around his cock, jerking it in time with my quick thrusts.
"I can't hold on...!" He bites his lips red raw as I drive myself into him a few more times.
"Yeah... Cum for me, Henry..." I whisper breathlessly as I release myself deep inside him. He spends himself into his palm, cum dripping through his fingers and oozing over his abdomen. I collapse on top of him, our chests heaving in unison as my softening cock slips out of him.
"I...needed that." Henry pants out as I pepper gentle kisses up his chest and on his lips.
"Any time, Henry, any time." I whisper, burying my face into the crook of his neck.
Chapter 24: Aftermath ✗
Pairing(s): Henry Jekyll x AMAB!Reader x Rodney Skinner.
Note(s): Set before anyone suspects there's a mole on-board the Nautilus.
Handcuffed to the ceiling beam in my quarters, aboard the Nautilus, I have to stand on the balls of my feet to keep myself supported. I glance down at my body. He'd pilfered one of Jekyll's spare suits so I find myself in a tight waistcoat with a black tie tucked into it. The door sounds and my brows knit. His leather trench coat and leather gloves outline his transparent body, the white grease paint just a mask over his face. His eyes are empty as he pours a glass of scotch and gulps it down. I watch the amber liquid make its way down his esophagus as he places the glass down and lets out a satisfied sigh.
"Now, what have we here?" He wanders toward me, his boots heavy on the decking. "Never thought we'd have a spy on our little journey. Never mind for it to be you." I struggle to stay on my toes but his empty stare is unwavering. "I was starting to like you. Serves me right for going against my trust issues, ay?" He smiles venemously and I only now realise how dangerous this man can be. "So, you know the drill; I'm gonna ask you who you work for and I have a number of cruel methods of making you talk. You tell me, I let you go, you don't tell me, you find out what these devious hands of mine can do. What'll it be, darlin'?" He asks, brows risen as I deliberate. I have to remember that this is just a scene, even if he can be genuinely intimidating.
"I'll never talk, pig." I hiss, spitting in his face. The grease paint seems to melt under my saliva and he wipes it off with the back of his hand, leaving an empty space on his cheek.
"Hard way it is, then." He wipes off the remainder of the paint, kicks off his boots and shucks off his coat.
Now just a pair of floating gloves, Skinner trails a finger over my chest, slowly making its way down. I press my thighs together, trying to keep my premature arousal a closely guarded secret. He unbuttons the waistcoat and his hands dive beneath the material, fingertips tracing the seams up and down my sides.
"You're a pretty, little thing, aren't you?" He breathes and I avert my gaze. "Couldn't possibly be a spy. You're too pretty for that." He teases. A blush rises to my cheeks as he runs his flat palm down the centre of my chest. I'd give anything to have his bare hands on me. He pulls the tie loose and tosses it over his shoulder, popping the buttons on the shirt to expose my heaving chest. Leather-clad fingertips brush over my throat and collarbone, my pulse racing beneath the skin. His fingers brush over my chest and over my abdomen before staying at the waistline of my trousers. A soft whine is pulled from my throat and I don't have to be able to see him to know he's grinning from ear to ear. "Pretty, little thing can barely contain himself." He purrs against my ear.
"I'll never talk, you English pig-dog." I snarl back and he chuckles.
"That'll just make it all the more fun, darlin', and I get the feeling you'll want more than just me so I brought one of my most trusted colleagues. Doctor?"
"What's say we bring in a third party, hm?" Skinner had asked when we began talking about roleplay.
"Alright. Who're you thinking of?" I sipped at my wine, eyes glinting curiously.
"How about the good doctor?" He'd obviously thought about it a lot. Mina had crossed my mind, unwelcome along side the images of my invisible partner and I in various, compromising positions.
"I'm...not into women, Skinner, I thought you--"
"No, of course not, sweetheart. You know women aren't quite my type either." He chuckled into his tumbler. "I'm suggesting the good doctor Jekyll. I reckon he'd be gagging for a piece of your sweet ass." He leant against the table between us, a transparent hand placed, rough and warm over mine.
"You think he'd play along?" I asked, cupping his cheek softly, the grease paint slightly sticky under my palm.
"I'd like to hope so. And doesn't the prospect of being trapped between two, extremely attractive men entice you, darlin'?" He placed a filthy, open-mouthed kiss to my lips and I'd shivered into his touch, moaning at the thought of things to come.
In the present day, Jekyll enters, his dark eyes narrowed. His nervous and concerned persona seems to have been masked by the ruse of roleplay.
"I have to admit, you had me going as well. I thought you were too innocent, too charming to be harmful to us." He steps up to me, standing a head above me, discounting my arms over my head. "I suppose I was mistaken." He murmurs, brushing flesh and blood fingers over my ribs. I shudder violently as his full lips are positioned less than an inch from my own. His breath is warm as it washes over my face, clinically clean with a hint of Skinner on his tongue.
"You're lucky it's us that caught you, princess. We have fun ways of getting that information out of you." The waistcoat and shirt are torn from my body so my torso and back are completely bare. I can feel Skinner pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder blades, pulling my hips back to press his erection against my clothed ass.
"We're going to reduce you to a moaning pile of-- Of--" Jekyll freezes as silence and stillness settles over the room. I can feel Skinner look over my shoulder at the good doctor. "I-I'm sorry. I-- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" Jekyll looks ready to run for the door.
"Don't worry, darlin'. Everything'll be fine. We can keep going if you want." Skinner's feet pad across the decking, stopping in front of Jekyll.
"You shouldn't leave now though, Jekyll, old boy. There's so much to do and so little time to do it in." From my position, I watch Henry's trousers pop open to reveal his strained white briefs. He gasps and bites at his lip, watching as Skinner tugs him from his underclothes. "My, my, my... Is that a side effect of the serum or have you always been a grower?" He chuckles lowly. Skinner's having too much fun with this. I watch as Jekyll moans, Skinner wrapping his lips around his cock and swallowing it to the root, despite it's size.
"Please, that's-- Oh, God..." My own body aches with need, watching Skinner go down on Henry with such enthusiasm. The scientist folds in on himself like so much crushed velvet, shivering and moaning helplessly. Managing to trip the safety switches on the handcuffs I make my way over, surveying the scene.
By the sounds of things, Skinner is sucking at him like a man possessed.
"Henry." I purr, grasping his chin and turning his head toward me. His eyes are foggy with lust, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "Are you enjoying yourself?" I lean in to claim his lips as he holds himself limply to me. His quiet, needy moans and whines are mine to swallow as I run my fingertips over the back of Skinner's neck, making him shiver deliciously. My palm cast over his sideburns, I kiss him, biting at his lips and his tongue, making him whine. An obscene pop sounds from beneath us as Skinner pulls his mouth off the visible man, groaning and smacking his lips.
"Lets take this to the bed, fellas."
We all make our way to the bed but Skinner's hands must be all too excited because he's grabbed me and pressed my hand to his engorged cock.
"Christ, the two of you are gonna give me a heart attack." He pants out, holding the back of my neck and groaning as I run my palm up and down his cock. "Mmmnn... I could let you do that all day, sweetheart." He rests his forehead against mine and breathes out short growls of approval as I continue to feel his hot flesh in my hand.
"Mind if I join you?" Comes a smaller voice and I look to my side. Jekyll's cheeks are a bright pink, his hands fluttering and unsure, like pinned butterflies.
"You don't have to ask." I whisper as my spare hand cups the back of Henry's neck, bringing him in for a kiss. Henry and I kiss, sloppy and wet, as I continue my ministrations on Skinner. His breaths are heavy as he leans his head against my shoulder, his tongue licking up my neck and making me shudder. When I release my grip on the both of them, I sigh, trying to get my head not to spin quite as much. "C'mon. Lets start the real show." I pull away from the both of them, unbuttoning my trousers and leaving them on the floor.
"You want the front or back? Visitor's choice." Skinner asks and Henry looks confused.
"What?" He asks sheepishly as I return to them. I tuck behind Henry, pressing my chest to his back and feeling him flinch. Pulling close to his ear, I take the lobe into my mouth and draw my teeth across it.
"He means, do you want my mouth..." I whisper breathily, my fingers trailing over his lips softly. "Or my ass..." My other palm slides over his lower back to cup the taut flesh of his behind, squeezing it roughly. He gasps as I press a kiss to his throat, just above his collar. He turns in my arms, shakily reaching up to gently run his thumb against my lips.
"... I want your mouth." He breathes, hot and breathless.
"Then, lets get to it." Skinner announces, slapping my ass on his way by.
Chapter 25: Afternoon Delight
Pairing(s): Tanner Grayton x FTM!Reader.
The man had tied you up earlier in the evening, handcuffs thrown over the poster of your headboard to keep you in place. You glance over at the clock, it's nearly midnight. When you look back up at him, he holds a large tupperware box, full of a black liquid. When he holds it under the light, you can see that it's just a very deep red...and you know what that means.
"You would look so gorgeous painted with their blood." Your ex, he has been harassing you for some time so you're glad he's gone but he didn't deserve to die. The man in a lab coat pops off the lid and raises the container to his face, taking in a long inhale before groaning in satisfaction. Reaching down, he slides up your shirt to reveal your chest, gently pushing it all the way up, under your chin. "I did you a favour, sweet thing. Savour it with me." With that, he pours a generous amount of the thick, red liquid down your torso. It stinks of iron and death and it's still warm. You wriggle and gasp in disgust and horror as the blood inches across your skin.
A gentle fingertip trails through the thick puddle of blood on your torso, tracking a line of crimson along your sternum, before the suited man softly grabs your face. You try to stay calm but your heart is still racing.
"Wh-Who are you...?" You manage and his dark eyes widen before he smiles twistedly.
"I've been keeping an eye on you for a while now. The world can be a scary place, you know? My name is Tanner and, I guess, I'm your guardian angel." He's mad... You can't help when tears well up in your eyes, spilling over onto your cheeks. "Shhh... Don't cry, I'm here now. I'll take care of you."
It's been a few minutes since he drenched you with warm blood. He uses his hands to collect it and spread it along your skin, turning it a bright crimson as it clots and turns sticky. The only spot left untouched are the streaks of tears down your cheeks where the blood has been washed away.
"He won't be bothering you again, I promise. I'll protect you." He coos softly before standing back. "You look perfect, sweet thing. I suppose this is all he was ever good for."
"... Tanner, please..." His eyes widen again and he smiles widely.
"You said my name. Say it again. Please." He whispers, laying a cheek against your blood-stained chest.
"Yes, sweet thing?" He asks, his cheek sticking to your body thanks to the drying blood.
"Why? Because I love you."
Reaching into the box, Tanner slicks his fingers with more blood before sliding his hand between your legs, his long, talented fingers gently pinching at your enlarged clit and rubbing it in tight circles. Sobbing, you arch your back, trying to squeeze your thighs together as he stimulates you, his fingers lubricated by your ex's still-warm blood.
"You're getting excited, sweet thing, why're you fighting it?" He asks, flicking your clit under the hood and making you yelp as even more tears stream down your face. "Maybe you hate being covered in him, after all he did to you? That would make sense. Stay right here." He states, as if you can move anywhere. He comes back with a bowl of warm water and a flannel. "I just thought you'd be glad to know he's dead." He explains off-handedly as he softly scrubs congealing blood from your torso. You have to admit, the feeling of the water on your skin eases your nerves some, until he reaches below your waist, cleaning your inner thighs and then running the flannel along your core, sticky with blood. The rough texture against your clit has you whining lowly. "There, all clean. Sorry, I got a little carried away. I've always dreamed of being able to touch you just like this." He wipes off his hands before placing the bowl of bloody water to one side.
Tanner trails a fingertip over the scars beneath your pectorals before leaning down to lavish them with kisses. He's acting like this is your first time together as a couple but you've never seen him before. Still, he's touching you in all the right ways, in all the right places. Unbuttoning his coat and shrugging out of it, Tanner lays on his stomach between your legs and you press your thighs together to keep some of your pride.
"Don't worry, sweet thing. You're so handsome." He manages to pry your legs apart -- he's deceptively strong -- to take in the sight of you. "Mmnnn... I can't wait to taste you." He moans lowly, taking in the scent of you, before diving in to take your clit into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. Your knees buckle, your body caught between pushing him away and anchoring him between your legs. You try your best to stifle your noises but, without anything to cover your mouth, they fall from your lips. Dark, lustful eyes rise to meet your own as Tanner continues eating you out. When he pulls away, your slick coats his lips and he licks away all he can. "You taste lovely, sweet thing... Let's see how far I can take you."
Chapter 26: Afternoon Storm
Pairing(s): Tanner Grayton x FTM!Reader.
Note(s): NGL I don't know what half this shit is. It's like 2 am and I have work tomorrow.
You've since fallen prey to his charm. You're his darling, his pet, his sweet thing.
"If you want me to beg, then I'll beg for you." You groan as he cups your hip, kissing your shoulder. Your limbs are stiff from sleeping in your bonds, hands cuffed behind your back and feet bound to the end of the bed.
"Now, now, there's no need for that. Just a little patience is all I ask for." You want to touch him, have him hold you as he surrounds you with his unconditional love.
"Please, Tanner..." The lock clicks on the cuffs and he slides them off. Turning over, you roll your shoulders. They feel like they've been dislocated from how you've been sleeping but you soon forget about all that as Tanner pulls you back down, peppering your face with kisses and holding your naked body flush to his. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as his hands find your waist. In the early morning light, you look so perfect and he nuzzles into your neck, planting kisses along the crook of your neck. Each kiss has you purring softly, eager for more of his euphoric touch.
Slowly, Tanner turns onto his back, pulling you on top of him, straddling his hips as you sit up. Your clit is pulsing against his crotch and your slick is already dampening his skin. He knows you're desperate, he can smell it on you.
"You want it inside you, sweet thing? You think you deserve a treat for being so good, last night?" He teases, rocking his hips against the tight curve of your ass.
"Please, Tanner..." You repeat and he smiles.
"Tell me what you want then."
"I want you to fuck me, Tanner. Fuck me and fill me until you knock me up." You groan, leaning back to feel the heat of his cock against your skin.
"Good boy, I've taught you well."
Tanner lifts your hips so he can angle his cock into you before slamming you down onto his body. His cock fills you as your body wraps tight around his cock.
"Mmnnn... Sweet thing, you're so wet for me, aren't you?" He reaches down to play with your swollen clit, making you cry out, digging your fingers into his hips.
"H-Hahh... Tanner, yes..." The head of his cock reaches the tight ring of your cervix, loosening to allow his semen to easily spill into your womb to impregnate you. You'd be such a handsome father, bloated as his child developed within you.
"I'm going to get you nice and full, sweet thing." He groans, bucking up into your body as he brings you down, hard and fast, onto his cock. You look so beautiful in the early morning light, mewling softly as he fills you again and again and again. He watches your hair flutter as you bounce in his lap, the pace dictated by Tanner. "Ngh... I'm...nearly there..." You look down at him and smile, eyes full of love and want.
His body tenses as he cums, seeping through his fingers and onto the floor. Tanner has to muffle a curse as his back hits the tree trunk and he leans back, watching you pull your pyjama top over your head.
One day. One day, he'd make you his and his alone.
Chapter 27: Again
Pairing(s): Max Renn x Stephen Wulf (OC).
Note(s): WARNING: THIS ONE GETS WEIRD.
God, this feels so wrong... Max's shoulder blades press against his skin as he arches his back.
"Ohh, fuckin'... H-Hahh..." Bead by bead, the pearled sound slides into his urethra, each bigger than the last. Stephen's thumb gently runs along the underside of his cock, feeling the movement of the rod inside his boss's cock. "Can you... Can you feel it?" He asks breathily and Stephen nods, leaning down to run his tongue along the underside, feeling the way the rod attempts to slide out as more pre-cum seeps around the largest bead. Slowly, the intern begins to pull the rod out, easing it out, bead by bead. With each bead, he gasps until the entire thing is out and he collapses back on the sofa, chest heaving and sweaty. "Fuck, that felt good..." The slit in the head is red and puckered, gaping slightly, when Stephen takes a look.
"You could take a lot bigger than that, if you wanted." The younger man adds before taking Max's cock into his mouth and lapping at the overly sensitive head.
"G-God, I'm still--" He can barely talk, bolting upright, as Stephen takes him further and further into his mouth. He soothes the slit in the head with his tongue, long, slow strokes with his tongue easing him, little by little. With a lewd pop, Stephen lets Max's cock fall from his mouth and looks up at him. The older man shuffles to the edge of the sofa and tangles his hand in the intern's hair, groaning as he leans down to kiss him. It's fierce, the kind of kiss that would curl your toes. A palm wraps around Max's cock again and he flinches, moaning lowly into Stephen's mouth.
"Fuck... What now?"
The rod slides in again, beads slipping into the narrow passage of his urethra, stretching and widening it.
"This stays in now." Stephen murmurs, the largest bead resting on top of Max's slit as it oozes pre-cum. Sliding into his boss's lap, the intern slicks up his ass, allowing Max's cock to grind against his hole, tight and inviting. The younger man starts by peppering kisses all along Max's face and jaw, eventually groaning quietly against his ear, causing him to shudder and buck up against Stephen's body. Then longer, open-mouthed kisses where Max can just about feel the points of his intern's canines. They wont leave a mark but it gives Max an idea of where this is going. The first bite is just below his prominent adam's apple so Stephen can feel when he groans or swallows. His adam's apple bobs as he grabs two handfuls of the intern's ass, rutting between the cheeks. A hand makes its way down Max's chest as it heaves when he moans in response to Stephen's bites, growing harsher and rougher. Fingers inch down his sternum, fingertips teasing, barely there. Eventually, he touches the top of the open scar, the wound in his stomach that opened up, not out of necessity this time, out of desire. Stephen pulls back to look at the grotesque opening in Max's body and he expects the worst, trying his best not to bury his face in his hands. Thankfully, his intern is more fascinated than anything else. "Hell, Max. What is this?" He asks and Max shrugs, shaking his head.
"I-- Uhh... I don't know." He replies quickly and Stephen runs a fingertip over one lip of the opening, causing his boss to shiver in pleasure. He slides a single finger inside, feeling around in Max's guts. "F-Fuck! God, Steph..."
"Is that...good?" He asks and Max nods, breathless with pleasure as he slides in another finger, beginning to stretch his opening more and more, wanting to feel deeper and deeper inside this man. His organs pulse and throb around Stephen's fingers, eagerly attempting to pull them deeper into the cavity, trying to swallow his hand up to his wrist.
"God, yeah... Deeper..." The intern allows his hand to be swallowed into the dark abyss of Max's insides. Tangling his hand in Stephen's hair, his boss pulls him forward again, claiming his lips. The fingers inside this new cavity explore his insides, wet and pulsing. Max arches his back, sobbing against Stephen's lips, as he feels another orgasm beginning to work it's way up to his brain. Hot, tight, wet; his boss's guts feel...odd, unlike anything he's ever felt before -- not that he often goes around sticking his hands in peoples' stomachs. It feels...strangely arousing, having Max's organs coiling eagerly around his fingers but the sounds he's making more than top it off. "Fuck, yeah... Gonna-- Oh, fuck, gonna cum...!" Between kisses, Max manages to pant out this warning, groaning hotly as Stephen twists his wrist inside him. Climax hits him like a freight train, slamming through his body with the force of an earthquake. He throws his head back, displaying the few dark bite marks across his neck as his insides curl around Stephen's hand. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" There's a quiet metallic clanking sound as the beaded rod is forced from his cock, cum bursting from the head. He shakes and shivers, a kind of unidentifiable plasma-like liquid swelling around his hand and out of the opening in his abdomen. He tightens inside, forcing Stephen's hand out, slathered in this thick, translucent slick. When he's finished, Max collapses back against the couch, sweat beading along his skin as he breathes heavily. His hair is mussed, his pupils blown wide as his body attempts to recover from the brutal fucking he just received. Stephen grabs his cock, rubbing slowly, the slide eased by the slickness of the liquid from his scar-- It's gone?
"Max, what...?" Still trying to catch his breath, Max shakes his head.
"Don't worry about it..."
Chapter 28: Aim for the Head ✗
Pairing(s): Max Renn x Stephen Wulf (OC).
Note(s): Tried to get a little more into Stephen's character here.
As far as everyone else is concerned, Max and Stephen are just co-workers; a director and an intern. Young Stephen was put in a tight spot when his folks kicked him out and, thankfully, Max was there to take him under his wing. Their relationship seems innocent enough...until you peek behind the curtain.
"God, Max..." Stephen watches as his boss's eyes begin to water, pink lips wrapped tight around his cock. Long fingers tangle into the older man's soft, brown hair, nails digging into the skin of his scalp, dragging a low moan from his throat. Grasping the back of his neck, Stephen slides Max's mouth down to the base, his cockhead being desperately swallowed around as his boss recoils from the shock. Wide, brown eyes roll back into his head as he gags, chest shuddering as he tries to breathe. When he lets go, Max pulls off completely, coughing hoarsely as he lands back on his ass in front of the TV set. His thighs fall open and, in his tight suit pants, Stephen can see how riled up his rough treatment has gotten Max.
"Nearly choked me on the damn thing!" Max complains between heavy breaths
"Fine, fine, fine. I'll let you get your own back."
The plug inside Max buzzes against his prostate as he lubes up his cock, sliding the head against Stephen's hole. The intern leans against the couch to support himself, watching Max shiver and shake in the reflection of a darkened window. Speaking of Max, he's already a moaning, breathless mess. He pushes into the younger man's hot, tight body and Stephen cries out as he's stretched open, once again, to fit Max's girth. The older man bottoms out inside, chest heaving as he feels himself flanked on both sides. He's burning up, shaky hands grabbing onto Stephen's hips as he finally begins to move.
"You feel so good inside, Steph..." He grabs a handful of the intern's ass before giving it a hard slap, earning himself a whine.
"You can get rougher, Max. I like it." Stephen purrs and Max grins lazily, placing a palm between the younger man's shoulder blades. Bitten-down nails dig into the flesh as the older man rakes his fingers down his intern's spine, sharp edges breaking the skin and causing the younger man to gasp in pain and pleasure. Max snaps his hips forward, shuddering as he sees pin-pricks of blood rise to the surface. Leaning down, he runs his tongue along the line of Stephen's back, following the trails of iron blossoming along his skin. It stings -- God, does it sting -- but the way Max moans in his ear makes it all worth it. Between the stimulation from the plug as well as being buried in Stephen's hot, wet body, he doesn't sound like he'll be long. With the taste of blood on his tongue, Max spends, bottoming out inside the younger man's body again as he spills everything he has.
"God...damn." When he pulls out, he smiles at the way Stephen's hole gapes slightly from his constant abuse.
In a few minutes time, after the two have a smoke and stop for a drink, it's Max's turn to get on all fours, Stephen crouched behind him, running his hands up and down his bare thighs.
Chapter 29: Ain't No Mountain High Enough ✗
Pairing(s): Max Renn x FTM!Reader.
Note(s): Self-insert time because apparently I can't stop thinking about this dumb idiot and his weird stomach-vagina. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Hands, warm and clumsy, slide down your sides, fingers curling around all the flesh they can. Breath comes, hot and heavy, against your ear as Max Renn holds you against the door of his apartment.
You'd noticed something odd in his behaviour recently and had simply come to check on him. You didn't know it would end like this.
He plants kisses down your neck, groaning as his hands slide beneath your shirt, palms touching your clammy skin as you sigh.
"Shh. Shh, shh... Don't talk." A hand slides down between you as he grope between your thighs, feeling the heat pooling in your groin. You buck against his hand, heat rising to your cheeks as you realise your boss is rutting up against you like a horny mutt. You'd tried to talk some sense into him but he's in overdrive; paranoia sky-high and libido off the charts. He's not thinking straight, he's not his usual sardonic, money-grabbing self. He's obsessed. With what? You're not entirely sure.
"Max, please." You push him away gently and he stumbles back. His suit is disheveled and his hair is mussed.
"You don't..." He runs his hands through his hair, chest heaving as he looks up at you with wide eyes. "You -- uhh... -- don't wanna...?"
"I...I do but something's wrong, Max. You're not yourself." He laughs humourlessly and shakes his head.
"Nonononono, I'm not myself... Let me show you who I am."
Yelps and screams can be heard from the speakers of his television set, crackly and distorted. The girl on-screen is being whipped to within an inch of her life, men (presumably) in black garb occasionally wandering into view to slap her across the face, just to keep her conscious. You can feel the vibrations through the sofa as Max jiggles his leg, biting his knuckle as his eyes stay glued to the screen. It's disgusting, it's horrible, it's raw, it's deplorable...so why are you enjoying it? Eventually, Max can't help himself, reaching down to palm himself through his wrinkled suit pants, sighing hotly as he watches the figure on-screen as she screams and moans in pain and pleasure. They treat her with such hostility, such unimaginable hatred. You can't tear your eyes away, much to your own shame.
"Max... What is this...?" You ask and he chuckles breathlessly.
"This is Videodrome. It woke something in me that-- That I didn't even know existed." When the girl grows too loud, one of the men steps up to her, grabs onto her hair and jams his fingers down her throat. She goes quiet, choking and gagging on the digits until he dry heaves, her ribs visible through her skin. When they let her go, she coughs and gulps down air, beginning to sob again. "Fuck... Aren't you seeing this?" This show... It's... It's awful and deranged and terrible and...beautiful, in an odd way. Now, you can understand his obsession.
"You wish you were her...don't you, Max?" You manage to drag your eyes away and he meets your stare with a lidded gaze. He's been caught and, Hell, if he isn't excited. You place a hand on his thigh, feeling the heat radiate through his pants. You'd be lying if you said you weren't turned on by this whole sequence of events.
"What? Being tied up, whipped, bitten, scratched? Fuck, yes." He trails a hand down his chest, following the trail of buttons down his shirt, before his fingers find the button of his fly. Your eyes darken and you lick your lips, sucking in a breath as he pops the button. He knows you're on the same wavelength now. "You wanna hurt me, baby? C'mon, show me what you've got."
On the floor, in front of the TV set, you wriggle out of your jeans and slip off your boxers, a damp patch where your arousal has become apparent. You shove him to the floor, laying him on his back, as you catch glimpses of Videodrome out of the corner of your eye. A hand over his neck as his heavy breaths turn even more laboured. The woman's cries and screams become a kind of morbid backing track as you stuff your underwear into his mouth, your scent and taste overwhelming his senses as he moans shamelessly around the makeshift gag. From there, you prop his legs up and nudge his thighs apart, allowing you access to the thick bulge between his legs. A damp patch of pre-cum stains the front of his slacks and he nearly cries when you gently rub the front of his pants. Unable to wait any longer, you pull off his pants and his briefs, watching as his overly engorged cock bounces into view. The head is nearly purple, a steady stream of pre-cum already leaking from the tip. He tries to mutter something around the fabric but it doesn't quite get out. His ass is puckering, red and swollen, as if begging to be filled. You slide your fingers into yourself, slicking up your fingers just by how turned on you are. Easily, you push your wet fingers into his ass and his toes curl. He looks at you down the length of his body, dark eyes pleading silently. His idle hands play with his nipples, pebbling them as he pinches at them. You crook your fingers, feeling around inside him. Your fingertips curl against his prostate and Max nearly cums on the spot, chest heaving as he presses his hips down to take more of you into his body. Max moans and tries to curse around the gag but it ends as a muffled mess. Propping yourself up on your knees, you lean down to take one of his hardened nipples into your mouth, nipping at it with your teeth. After a tentative nibble, you bite down, hearing him gasp before a shuddering moan follows. As you continue to abuse his prostate, he wraps his arms around your neck, bucking against your hand as pre-cum paints his stomach and thighs. Max is actively sucking on your underwear now, trying to draw every last hint of your essence from the fabric. He's a panting, moaning, sweating mess and you love to see him writhe.
Chapter 30: AKA ... What a Life
Pairing(s): Jakob Toretto x FTM!Reader.
Note(s): Apologies for any typos. It's 6:32 am and my eyes won't stay open.
It's difficult, having a life outside his work, but you make it work. He needs this. He needs you. Why? Because you give him the one thing he's wanted since he was seventeen; a home.
Sometimes he leaves for weeks at a time, barely saying a word to you, and then he'll turn up on your doorstep to give you one of the best nights of your life. This is one of those nights.
It's been about a month since Jakob last showed his face around these parts but you're used to it by now. You're brushing your teeth, holding your damp towel around your body, getting ready for bed. A knock comes at the door and you poke your head out, behind the chain latch, toothbrush still in your mouth. Jakob's tall, broad, imposing frame stands on the front step and you smile, opening up the door to see him in all his glory. He's wearing the navy-blue suit, silver crucifix hanging just under the collar of his black shirt. His eyes are dark in the dim light that radiates from your house. He smiles, his huge, warm hands grasping your shoulders.
"You wanna go finish up? I'll grab a glass of bourbon. Anything for you?" He asks and you nod, removing your toothbrush for a moment, words lisped as you try not to get toothpaste everywhere.
Within ten minutes, you're sat on your bed, still draped in a towel. Jakob's left his deep blue blazer unbuttoned so his tight shirt accentuates the muscular features of his physique. You find it difficult to look away, only tearing your eyes away when he catches you staring with a knowing smirk.
"C'mon, sweetheart, it's nothing you haven't seen before." A finger trails up your bare arm and you shiver, goosebumps raising on your skin.
"Just been a while, Jakob." He takes another sip of his bourbon before placing the glass on the nightstand.
"Don't worry, I've got you." Gently, he lays you back so he's leaning over you and peels the towel from your body, smiling when he sees the stiff peaks of your nipples. "Your body never forgets me, does it?" He teases, leaning down to capture your mouth. His lips are a bit chapped but you barely notice it as he seems insistent on licking his way into your mouth.
"Implying that I do?" You laugh, heat rising to your cheeks as he reveals the remainder of your body. Jakob kisses you again and again and again, groaning into your mouth as you thread a hand into his hair. Sure enough, your body reacts strongly to his actions, large hands palming down your body until his fingers land between your legs, slowly parting your outer lips.
"Mmn... You're so ready for me, baby." Gently, he slides your engorged clit between his fingers and you gasp, pulling him back down so you can feel his hot breath on your face.
"Jakob... Fuck, don't tease me." He chuckles before pressing a kiss to your lips as he picks you up.
Jakob holds you against the door, hands tight on your hips as you stare into him. You're probably making a mess on the front of his tight, black slacks but you really don't care, especially when he takes off his blazer and pops the first few buttons on his shirt, revealing a few more inches of tanned flesh. You dive in, kissing along the strong line of his jaw as he runs his fingers through your hair. Groaning, Jakob rocks his body against yours, the thick bulge in his pants grinding against your core and making your insides ache. You attack his shirt buttons, tearing open the black material (careful of his crucifix) until his tanned, muscular, marble-like body glows in the low light. Your hands dance along his heated flesh, feeling his heart thud in his chest.
"Please, Jakob..." You groan against his ear and he sighs fondly, reaching down to unzip his pants and tug out his cock.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Hang on." Moaning in excitement, you wrap your arms around his strong neck as he lowers you onto his cock.
You swear you've never had bigger, he's thick and long and, God, it churns up your guts perfectly. It stretches you open and you can feel him throbbing inside you.
"Jakob...! Oh, God..." A hot groan ghosts across your face when he fully bottoms out, the crown of his cock jamming against the tight ring of your cervix, threatening to progress even further.
"Christ, you're so warm..." Jakob growls, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck. His hips cant back...then snap forward and you cry out, calling his name as he fills you again. "Strap in, sweetheart." He anchors your hips against the door before he begins fucking you mercilessly, driving his cock into your body as he gasps and groans. He sucks in a mouthful of flesh and bites down, chest heaving against yours as he fucks you into oblivion and marks you as his.
"Jakob, holy fuck!" Your body tightens impossibly around his cock and he swears he can feel himself sinking further and further into you. Reaching down, he starts pinching and rubbing at your clit, forcing tears from your eyes as overstimulation makes your body begin to tighten around him again, muscles contracting in short spasms. Your body shakes and shivers around him and you feel his cock throb within you. One hand crushes your hip while the other holds your jaw, guiding your face as he kisses you, hot and passionate. He groans into your mouth, stilling his movements as he pumps in load after load of thick cum into you.
"Oh, God..." Another load, then another and his eyes are closing as exhaustion sets in.
When Jakob steps back and lets you fall to the floor, his cum leaks down your inner thighs and he smiles warmly, leaning down to kiss you.
"C'mon, big guy, I need some sleep." You sigh, taking one of his huge hands in yours and dragging him back to bed.
Chapter 31: Alejandro ✗
Pairing(s): Bernard Quatermass x FTM!Reader.
Pacing around the (nearly) empty examination room, you're certain; you want to go. You want to be up there. You *need* to be up there.
"Quatermass, I have to go up there. I need to be with them." It's been a good thirty-six hours since you slept but this problem just won't leave you alone.
"No, you're the best engineer we have on the ground. We need you down here." He explains, running a hand through his reddish-brown hair.
"No, they need me up there! I'm their only hope of helping them if something goes wrong in the ship." You argue, stepping closer to him.
"We've talked about this a hundred times. No, you won't go up." He's beginning to lose his patience now.
"What? Why? You don't think I'm capable? You don't trust my judgeme--"
"I don't want to lose you!" He rarely raises his voice but now he's looking straight into you with those deep, crystal-blue eyes. Your gaze softens. "... I can't lose you." He breathes, hands grasping your shoulders hesitantly. His rolled up sleeves, his high-waisted pants, his suspenders... It's not as if you'd let him go if the situation was reversed. A large, warm hand cups your cheek and he takes a step closer, leaning down slightly to look at you. "I need to know you're safe." Without a word, you grab his tie and pull him down, claiming his mouth roughly as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. His arms tighten around you, like he'll never let you go (and you wouldn't be complaining if that was the case).
Wandering backward, you jump up onto a counter, tall enough that Quatermass's hips slide between your legs when he pulls in close. He's already thickening in his pants, groaning when you reach down to grope between his legs. Slipping your fingers around his suspenders, you pull him closer again. His large hands find their place on their hips, his thumbs gently tracing the ridges of your hip bones, as you slide your tongue into his mouth. When you bite down on his bottom lip, he gasps and moans into your mouth, kissing you even more fervently.
"I love you, Bernard..." You breathe between kisses and he stops for a moment. Quatermass is a mathematician. He's used to everything being explained through equations and formulae, predictions made through figures, but there's one thing that can't be explained through numbers; human behaviour. The fact that there's such uncontrollable, unpredictable chaos within all humans, it scares him but it also allures him. The more he knows, the more he tries to rationalise but soon he has to realise that people can't be *solved*. Your sudden confession has him stopping in his tracks, full lips slightly parted as he looks at you. It's so unpredictable, so sudden, and it attracts him -- like an insect to a light.
"I...love you too."
Nuzzling against Quatermass's throat, you press kisses along his skin, gently biting here and there, drawing soft moans from his mouth. Long fingers thread into your hair keeping your mouth against his skin as he begins to grind himself against you. One of his large hands skim down your front, down your belly and between your legs, fingertips pressed against the warmth of your crotch.
"I want..." Quatermass's other hand cups your cheek but he can't make eye contact. "I want to..." You cup his face in your hands and force him to look at you.
"What's wrong?" You ask and his cheeks darken with colour.
"I-- Umm... I want to...make love to you." He confesses, voice barely above a whisper.
"We have before."
"But not...after saying we love each other."
Chapter 32: All Alone Am I ✗
Pairing(s): Danny Quinn x FTM!Reader.
Note(s): Sorry if the characterisation is a bit off. I haven't seen Primeval yet. (NO, IM NOT HYPERFIXATING ON JASON FLEMYNG CHARACTERS. (ﾉω･､))
Danny doesn't like interrogations. He was made to work in the field, not drag confessions from snot-nosed, little brats like you.
"There has to have been some mistake. I wouldn't steal--"
"You were in a juvenile detention centre for three years, right?" Danny presses, glancing down at his paperwork.
"Yeah..." You're old enough now so, if you do get caught, there's no safety net of the kids' prison system. Soon, you'd be getting the award for 'softest mouth' in some dingy hole. "I-I did it for my family. Constable, we're starving. I'm sorry." He taps his pen against his clipboard before writing something down. There was his confession. Game over.
"Have a nice day." Danny smiles sarcastically.
"Wait! Constable, there has to be something I can do to...change your mind?" You manage and he stops in his tracks. This is where the fun begins.
"Are you trying to bribe me with your body? You realise that can put another mark against your name, don't you?" He points out and you flinch.
"I-- Well-- Uhh--" He throws his clipboard back onto the desk before rounding the table to stand behind you.
"Or are you just asking me to fuck you?" He whispers and a shiver runs up your spine. "Do you want me to fuck you just for the Hell of it? Bend you over this table and show you just how much you screwed up? Stand up for me then, pretty boy."
Danny presses you to the dining room table in your apartment, cuffed hands pressed flat to the surface. God, you feel so ready for him. He's so dominant and his dirty talk is spot on. The older man shoves your shirt up over your head to pool at your wrists. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you back so he can grind against you while pressing sloppy kisses down your back. The warmth of your boyfriend's body is so inviting but you have to stave off moaning for him, just for now, just to get him riled. When his kisses reach the waistband of your jeans, he quickly unbuttons them and pushes down them and your boxer-briefs.
"Mmnn... Pretty boy, pretty boy, look at you." Danny grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing roughly. Another hand slides down your abdomen, settling between your legs as he gently rubs tight circles around your enlarged clit. You arch your back as your body tries its best to buck against his hand.
"Oh, God... Fuck, Danny..."
"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll give you something a lot better than my fingers in a minute.
Sat on the table, you let Danny open your legs, revealing just how wet and hot he got you.
"Christ..." He sighs, letting his facade slip for just a moment. "I don't want to hear you holding back any more. I want to hear you screaming for me. Understand?" He asks and you nod as he peppers kisses to the back of your thighs, his large, warm hands still slowly pushing your legs further and further apart. Then he licks a wet stripe up your sex, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time, dark eyes watching you gasp and squirm with your wrists resting on your stomach. You so want to grab onto his hair and have him buried between your legs but he's in charge right now so you have to go at his torturously slow pace. He seals his lips over the throbbing swell of your clit, groaning headily when you begin to drip onto the table below you.
"Danny!" He slides two fingers into you and you clench around them, arching your back. When he pulls back, you can see the devious grin on his face as he curls his fingertips inside you.
"You look so good... Fuck, I love you." With that, Danny dives back in, lapping at your core like his life depends on it. Your fingers thread into his hair, gently pulling at it, and he growls low in his throat, biting at the tender skin.
Chapter 33: All Around My Hat
Pairing(s): Soap x Reader.
The smell of booze is thick on his breath from a Friday night drink with the lads. He was supposed to be back at nine but you hear the clock sound eleven times as you pin his hips to the edge of the kitchenette counter. Breathing heavy against your ear, your boyfriend knows the rules all too well. You suck and bite along the line of Soap's popped collar, pulling at his loose tie, as he braces himself against the counter. Heat rises to his cheeks as you bite down on his adam's apple, voice wavering as he moans. He's already hard in his slacks, already so eager to unload all he has into you. He's going to have a long wait though.
Low curses fall from Soap's full, pretty lips as you bite another mark just below his jawline, watching the skin blush a purpleish red. You slide a hand down his body, closing your palm around the bulge in his pants.
"Listen, love; I-I'm sorry. You don't gotta--"
"I have to teach you a lesson...otherwise you'll never learn." Your hand tightens around his cock, almost painfully so, and a low, ragged groan is pulled from his chest. You pull off his tie and unbutton his shirt with your spare hand, exposing what you can of his soft, ivory skin. You move down to his collarbone, taking a mouthful of skin into your mouth and huffing out a breath as you suck it between your teeth.
"Ahh, fuck, darlin'..." When a large, purple bruise blooms across his collar, you pull back and give it a satisfactory kiss. All the while, your hand is teasing the underside of his clothed cock.
"Gonna make sure the boys know who you belong to." You breath against him before leaning in to bite into a patch of skin just beside his nipple. His dark, lidded eyes watch you as his chest heaves, hands aching to touch you. Against his better judgement, his fingers thread into your hair, short nails digging into your scalp as you sink your teeth in. Hoarse groans fall from his throat as you begin to pull off, suction only increasing as you pull back.
"H-Hahh! Fuckin' Hell, love!" When you pull away, a pleasingly reddish-blue mark is left behind, his nipples hardening from the close stimulation. With a digit, you trace the trail you've left down his body, the vibrant, bruising bites that track down the left side of his body. Soap looks ready to burst, eyes watering when you run a knuckle along the underside of his cock. "God fuckin' damn, darlin'..." Standing to your full height, you claim his lips hungrily, one hand pulling at his collar and the other stroking along the zipper of his pants. He's aching for you, fucking bursting at the seams.
"C'mon, let's go upstairs."
He's up like a shot, pulling off his shoes and socks as he climbs the stairs. In the bedroom, Soap shrugs off his shirt and tie and undoes his pants. Then he stops, needing to touch himself but all too in love with the idea of you bringing him to his knees. When you wander through the door, you purr, pushing him back onto he bed and kneeling between his feet, brushing your lips down his side until you reach the subtle curve of his hipbone. You sigh against his skin before biting into it again, sucking another vibrant mark into it. He curls his fingers into the sheets, groaning headily as you run your finger along the front of his briefs, paying close attention to the damp patch at the head. His head is spinning, getting dizzy, as you leave another wine-hued mark on his hip. He knows where the next one is going to go. Torturously slowly, you drag down his slacks and run your palms along the inside of his thighs. Soap bites his lips as you brush your own across his clothed erection, making it twitch, another spurt of pre-cum painting the inside of his briefs. Your mouth ends up on the skin just off the hem of his briefs, on his inner thigh, where the tendons are shivering with tension.
"Fuckin'...God, please..." You lick the skin there first and he sucks in a breath. "Fuck, darlin'... You're gonna fuckin' kill me, y'know that?" You seal your lips around the flesh and suck, sinking your teeth into the tender tissue, the hardest one yet. Soap whines and cusses and tears well in his eyes as the blood vessels in his thighs are put under such pressure that they burst and create this beautiful, watercolour masterpiece of violet and crimson hues. When you let go, he runs his shaky fingers through your hair, dark eyes now wide with lust.
"You want to fill me, sweetheart?" You ask innocently and he inhales.
"... Fuck, yes."
Before you know it, you're bare to the air, watching Soap lube up a plug and slide it inside himself with a sob as it nudges his prostate. He drops his briefs crawls toward you with such urgency that he nearly falls over. With the excess lube on his hands, he slicks up his overly engorged and sensitive cock before rubbing it against your rim. He knows he can't hold on so he hilts himself in you, caging you in with his arms as sweat beads along his brow. You can feel his thumping pulse inside you, beating along your insides as he tries to hold himself back. You slip your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, so he can rest his forehead against yours. He bucks his hips against yours, breath ragged and short. Tilting your head up, you kiss him again, licking your way into his mouth and wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling him deeper. With a flick of your heel, you press the plug flush against his prostate again and he comes undone.
"Ahh! God! Fuck!" With a loud cry, Soap buries himself within you one last time, pumping you full of hot, thick cum as he presses his forehead to yours. You pet his hair affectionately as he comes down from his high, collapsing beside you in a sweaty, exhausted heap, still breathing hard from the exertion.
"I don't know...why you expect me to come home early when I get this if I'm late." Soap teases, lighting a cigarette as he leans his back against the headboard.
"I won't tease you much if you come home when you say. But you're right. Maybe a better plan would be to just milk you for for as many times as possible." You laugh as he passes you the cigarette. You take a draw and exhale, watching the smoke curl up into the air. "Have you crying on the bed until two in the morning covered in sweat and cum." Soap chuckles, snatching back the cigarette.
"Hmm. It's something we'll have to try one night."
Chapter 34: All Die Young
Pairing(s): Tom x Reader x Soap.
Tom is the entrepreneurial type. Between him and Nick the Greek, there's not much they can't get their hands on. Soap is a sweetheart with a dark past. He's just happy to have stayed out of anything illegal for so long, especially given the people he associates with. You are Plush, a friend of the two -- as well as Bacon and Eddy -- that runs one of the only gay clubs in this part of London. Plush doesn't only refer to the state of your lovely lips, it also refers to the state of your lovely, lovely bank account. The reason I mention Tom and Soap? You're shared between the two of them.
"Take a look at this beauty." Tom smiles, handing you a suit protector. "Managed to pick this up off Nick. Wasn't a steal but, fuck, when I thought about you wearin' it..." Rolling your eyes and smiling, you hang the suit protector on the door frame into your bedroom, unzipping it to reveal the outfit inside. A sleek, grey blazer with matching, slim-fitted pants. It comes with a thin, turtleneck sweater and a pair of neat, black flatform boots. "Oh, and don't forget this." Tom holds up a brown paper bag and you look inside. A solid silver crucifix, about the length of your pinkie, on a long silver chain.
"Fuckin' Hell, Tom." You smile before your smile turns wry. "This to get back at Soap for the sizzlin' duck last week, innit?" The week before, Soap had cooked you the most amazing and succulent sizzling duck. Their weekly rivalry was something you also take pleasure in but none of you take it too seriously, besides you're all into each other anyway. Nothing is going to change that.
"Maybe... But, most importantly, I want to see you in the beautiful, fuckin' suit. If we get home and I haven't fucked you six ways 'til Sunday, I'll consider that a win."
At JD's bar, Bacon, Eddy and Soap are already sat, nursing over their pints and chatting about something or other. When Tom steps in and holds the door open for you, Soap turns round to look, eyes widening as he sees the two of you strutting to their table. Your hair is perfectly slicked, a touch of makeup accentuating your features. Fuck, he's going to have to step up his game. When you sit at their table, you slowly remove your cat-eye sunglasses, playing it up for all it's worth and, to Soap, it's worth a damn lot. Tom looks smug as all Hell, a hand in your back pocket, occasionally squeezing your ass.
"Why are you wearin' sunglasses at ten o'clock at night?" Bacon asks and you roll your eyes, breaking the character of gorgeous stranger for Soap at the moment.
"Called 'fashion', innit, Bacon. Not somethin' I'd expect you to know anythin' about." You state with a teasing grin and he shrugs, taking another gulp of his stout. You turn your attention back to Soap, smiling provocatively as he glances down at the silver crucifix glinting on your sternum. "A'right, Soap? Seem a bit quiet." He swallows thickly. He can't deny you look fucking perfect and it's taking all his willpower not to drag you to the toilets and fuck you against the sinks.
"Very nice, Tom, but I hope you didn't pay much for it. Somethin' tells me it won't be leavin' this establishment unscathed." Eddy comments offhandedly and Tom and Soap exchange a look.
You drink, you talk, you laugh. People seem to forget about how overdressed you are as the usual banter returns; stupid get-rich-quick schemes, talks about the state of the game at the moment and customary discussions about dildos. The usual stuff.
"I think you'd be one of those jelly dildos, Eddy. Probably a bright blue one that's just firm enough to be useful but with a bit of give to it." Eddy shrugs and nods.
"Nice to get an opinion from an expert." He jokes.
"Bacon... I think you'd be one of those stainless steel ones that you could bludgeon someone to death with." You comment, picking up your pint and taking a drink.
"Tom-- Hmm... I feel like you'd be one of those thick, fuck-off double-ended ones. The kind of ones you see dykes using together to fuck themselves on." That earns you a tight squeeze to your ass and a wink. "Soap...I get the feelin' you'd be a glass one; classy an' pretty but real good for action...if you know what I mean." Soap sucks in a breath as you gaze at him through dark, lidded eyes. He bolts to the toilets and the whole table roars with half-drunken laughter.
"Gotta stop teasin' 'im like that, Plush." Tom chuckles and you stand.
"I'm gonna take a quick powder, if you don't mind, fellas." You state and Tom gets up as well.
"A'right. Can't have just anyone swoopin' in to pick you up when you're prancin' around in that."
When you step into the toilets, there's a stifled gasp and it doesn't take a genius to figure out who it is. Tom locks the door before he presses you against it, lips all over yours as his talented hands find the button-fly of your suit pants.
"Fuck, you look gorgeous." Tom breathes, just loud enough for anyone in the bathroom to hear.
"And you were scoldin' me for teasin' 'im?" You whisper under your breath with a smirk as he slides a slim leg between yours, thigh coming up to grind against your thickening cock.
"I'm just ready to 'ear 'im jerkin' off to the sound o' me fuckin' you, my darlin'." Tom replies, placing a kiss at the corner of your lips.
Tom sits you on the counter between two sinks, palming between your legs as you arch your back and whine. Dark eyes glance up at you hungrily as the older man grabs you through your pants.
"You like bein' my pret'y, lit'l' thing?" Tom asks, wetting his lips quickly.
"Depends. Do you like paradin' me around like some millionaire's trophy wife?" He grins, popping the button on your pants.
"Course, I do." He tugs your cock out, taking it in hand, as he grabs the lapel of your blazer, pulling you down to kiss him as he begins to work your cock. Soon the whole bathroom is echoing with the wet, sloppy sounds of kissing and the heady groans that fall between your mouths. You keep an ear out for Soap though, moaning quietly in the last stall on the right as he listens in on your little show. "C'mon, lemme get these off."
Bracing yourself against the counter, you feel Tom tug down your pants in one swift motion, hearing him hum gratefully as his eyes fall on the beautiful sight of your pert ass in a tight, little, black jockstrap.
"Now you're just beggin' me to fuck you." You can feel his breath over the tender skin of your backside. Easily, Tom bares your tight rim, licking his lips as he watches it pucker under his searing gaze. A hot, slick tongue slides over your hole and you arch your back, leaning into the sensation as your cock leaks into your jockstrap, a damp patch appearing at the tip.
"Christ, Tom...!" Your fingers curl against the countertop as he laps at your rim.
"Fuck, you've been beggin' for it all night, haven't you? Beggin' for me to fuck this tight, little hole o' yours." He murmurs before going back to sliding his tongue across your ass.
"Goddamn, Tom..." Soon, he slides in the tip of his tongue, breaching you so he can fuck you with it. "Fuck, yeah..." His tongue feels so good, sliding into you, so warm and wet. There's a hushed groan behind you and you catch sight of Soap in the mirror, peeking out from the last stall, eyes roaming all over the scene before him; you, bent over the sinks, and Tom, hard in his pants and happily rimming you like it's his fucking pleasure. When you're slicked and stretched enough, Tom pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Right, let's get this show on the road."
Tom shoves his pants and boxer-shorts down his thighs, groaning as he grinds the underside of his cock against your hole. Soap has caught you looking at him in the mirror and you occasionally glance at him to bite or wet your lips.
"Tell me 'ow much you want my fuckin' cock then." Tom breathes heavily and you lock eyes with Soap to lean back against Tom and groan.
"Christ, Tom, I want your cock so fuckin' much... I want you to bruise up my insides. Ram it in me and show me how hard and fast you can go. Fill me up until I'm coughin' up your fuckin' spunk, Tom." You purr and he grins.
"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He laughs lowly, slowly pushing the head into you.
"Nah, but I'll kiss you with it." In a single stroke, Tom fills you, his thick, hard cock pressing against all the best parts of your insides. Your eyes roll back into your head and, when you open them again, you can see Soap's forehead gleaming with sweat as he furiously rubs away at his cock. "Fuckin' Christ!" Tom develops a death grip on your hips, driving himself forward again and again, fucking you as hard as he possibly can while you become less and less coherent.
"Got me goin' fuckin' feral over here, Plush. I'm not gonna last long." You slide a hand down to palm at your cock, now slick from the amount of pre-cum it's been dripping. You pull down the jockstrap and wrap your fingers around it, whining when it finally gets some attention.
"Fuckin' ruin me, Tom." And that's that. He's hunched over your body, breathing hot down your neck, as his thrusts grow clumsy and uncoordinated. Soap looks like he's about on the edge too, brows cocked as he tries to stave off his orgasm, trying to save himself for when Tom fills you. A white-hot knot ties itself in your gut as you feel the temperature in your body beginning to rise.
"Hahh... God... G-Gonna cum...!" You manage to give Soap a final glance before Tom unloads himself into you, wave after wave of thick cum scalding your insides as he rides out his climax. Soap groans lowly as he cums, splattering across the edge of the stall door. You don't take long afterward, spending into your hand as Tom's thick, hot cum spills down your thighs.
"You made...a proper mess in there, Soap?" Tom manages, pulling out so he can watch his cum drip out of you as he wipes himself down with a couple of paper towels. Soap is unfazed, wandering out already, with nothing more than a sticky palm and a light sweat. He washes his hands and dries them with another paper towel. You turn to see where he'd been. Viscous fluid drips from the bottom of the door and creates a small puddle of white on the lino. Soap grasps your chin and turns your head to look at him.
"Do us a favour and lick that up for us, sweetheart."
Chapter 35: All Eyes On Me
Pairing(s): Henry Jekyll x FTM!Reader.
You wake to your cell-like bedroom once more. Henry warned you about what it would be like if you decided to sleep with him instead of going home but if this stops him from being so afraid of his own shadow, that's something at least. The room is completely dark, save for a body clock lamp that brightens, acting as an artificial sun. By the look of things, it must be about eight o'clock. His cotton button-up pyjamas are slightly ruffled from sleep, exposing a sliver of his chest. You press a kiss to his sternum as the radio switches on.
'Good morning, London. It's eight o'clock on Saturday and I--'
"Goodness, I hate that host..." Jekyll yawns as he turns off the radio, now awake if only slightly so. You chuckle and nuzzle into the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers into his. He turns his head to press a kiss to your forehead. "Good morning, my love."
"Good morning, Henry." You move to kiss his lips, gently passing a hand through his hair. One kiss turns to five, turns to twenty, Henry becoming more and more awake and aroused with each passing moment. A low groan eases from his throat as you straddle his hips, his blanketed erection grinding against your own bared one. You lean down to lavish his chest in soft kisses and gentle strokes. Tired eyes land on the plethora of dark marks left on your neck and shoulder.
"Are you hurt? Was he too rough with you?" He begins to fuss, taking your face in his hands.
"I keep telling you, Henry; it's fine. Really! I like it." You sigh, leaning in to kiss him, threading your fingers into his slightly mussed hair.
You kiss him until he's breathless, having to push you away so he can catch his breath. You reach down to slowly unbutton his striped pyjama shirt, exposing more and more of his body to the cool, morning air. He used to be fit, stocky even, but he's grown a little soft in the middle now. To be fair, he is in his early fifties so you're sure you can forgive him. Besides, there's something quite endearing about his broad chest, firm stomach and the dark silver hair that trails down them. You palm your way down his side before rubbing his belly affectionately as you kiss along the line of his jaw. Henry's arm curls around your shoulders, groaning softly as you nuzzle into his neck.
"You look so handsome this morning, my love." He sighs, turning so that he can press a kiss to your forehead.
"As do you." You reply with a smile, claiming his lips gently as your hand slips beneath the covers to palm at the front of his pyjama bottoms. He gasps against your mouth, groaning as your fingers curl around his clothed cock.
"Now, now..." Henry breathes. "Don't tease." To satisfy him, you sit up and pull back the covers, peeling back his pyjama pants to reveal his cock, the slender but lengthy, elegant thing that it is. You slide out of your own pyjamas.
Straddling Henry's hips, you grind yourself against him, threatening to let his cock inside you.
"Don't...tease, my love." You know what happens when you tease, Eddie comes out to play and forces you to stop teasing. You'll be rewarded with bright bite marks and bruised insides. Wanting to just make love to Henry this morning and take it slow, you impale yourself on his cock and he gasps as you surround him in your tight, wet heat. "H-Hahh..." Tangling his fingers in your own, Henry smiles up at you as you begin to bounce on his cock, feeling him fill you over and over and over again. With hid other hand, he wets his fingers and then rubs at your engorged clit, making you throw your head back and moan. You tighten up around him, slick pooling at the base of his cock. Sitting up, Henry presses kisses to your collarbone and neck, breathing heavy when you begin to roll your hips against his at a rather quick pace. His warm hands find your hips, bringing you down at a slower pace, dictating the tempo. "Slower... Yes, that's it." The whole time, he keeps rubbing tight circles across your clit.
"Henry, please. I need faster." You plead and he shakes his head.
"No, no, no, my love. You can cum like this for me." He's breathless, sweat breaking out across his skin as he brings you down on his cock, slow and deep. Gently, he pulls your attention to him again, leaning up to capture your lips. His soft and tender gestures have you mewling for him, heat pooling in your belly.
"H-Henry, please..." You sigh when you part from him, his lips only an inch from your own. "Can I cum please, daddy?" Two magic words. Henry stiffens and his grip on your hips tightens.
"Sometimes I'm convinced...you're an incubus, my love..." He breathes, bringing you down on his cock hard and fast. You're losing yourself, dizzy and light-headed, as he drives himself into you. "Cum for me, my darling." That's all you need. You tighten around him, your body begging for him to fill you.
"God, Henry... Fuck...!" He tenses as orgasm claims him and he spills deep within you.
Chapter 36: All My Loving ✗
Pairing(s): Tom x Reader x Soap.
You feel like there's something Soap and Tom aren't telling you, especially as the former slides your cock into his mouth like a bloody pornstar. There's no time to think because Tom leans down and kisses you until you're breathless, hands in your hair as he pushes his tongue past your lips. Goddamn. When Tom pulls back, he's grinning like an idiot, one hand grasping your face.
"Open up, darlin'." He states and you do as you're told, opening your mouth for him. Without a second thought, he spits into your mouth and you groan at the absolute filth of it. When you're all ready, he takes a step back, lets your head fall back, off the edge of the bed, and works in his cock, slowly at first. Speaking of filthy, Soap is grabbing your hips so he can properly fuck his face on your cock. His mouth feels perfect; wet and hot and-- Oh fuck, he hollows his cheeks and you can feel his tongue flicking across the sensitive underside of the crown. You'd be cursing if you didn't have your mouth full of Tom's sizable cock. He works himself in, deeper and deeper, groaning lowly when the tip of his cock reaches the back of your throat. Fingers slide around your neck as Tom begins to fuck your throat, full balls pressed against your nose with every thrust. The lack of oxygen is fine, especially when Soap cups your balls, heavy and full, and gently kneads them. You make a low sound in the back of your throat and Tom smirks as he gasps in a breath. "F-Fuck, yes..." Your hands flutter on the mattress either side of you, gripping at the sheets as Soap lets go of your cock and moves down to tongue at your balls, sucking one into his mouth, and he moans like a fucking whore. Above you, Tom bottoms out in your throat fully, holding there until you gag, throat pulsing around his cock. "Mmnn... Good boy."
When Tom pulls out, you cough, sitting up so you can see Soap diligently sucking away at your cock and balls. He glances up at you, dark eyes glinting with the kind of insatiable lust that you only expect to encounter in cheap pornos. Threading your fingers into his hair, you gently pull him off, eagerly claiming his lips to taste yourself on his tongue. Soap's hands land on your shoulders before creeping up your neck. Meanwhile, you feel the mattress move behind you before Tom's hands are on your upper arms and his lips are on the crook of your neck. You moan headily as Soap's hand inches down to curl around your slicked cock, slowly working it.
"Wanna have a go with his mouth? God, 'e feels good." Tom breathes, biting and sucking a purpleish mark onto the crook of your neck. "It's only fair he return the favour." More marks that Tom kisses before moving onto another. Soap is eagerly licking into your mouth, his plush lips growing red and swollen from you biting and abusing them. When he pulls away, his wide eyes flick to Tom before going back to you.
You tuck your knees under you as Soap grabs onto your hair, holding your head up so you can get a good look at his painfully hard, leaking cock. Slicked enough from your throat, Tom's cock slides against your rim and your breath catches in your chest.
"Gonna fill you up nice an' good." He sighs and you arch your back to press against him. A breathy chuckle leaves him as he finally begins to push in, the swollen head breaching you. Soap watches as you bite your lip, eyes rolling back as Tom fills you. With a tug on your hair, your jaw falls open so he can work his cock into your mouth. Eagerly, you close your lips around him, groaning as the two fill you. Tom bottoms out inside you, sighing heavily as he drags his fingertips up the back of your thighs. "Ohh, fuck... 'E's tight." With rapt attention, Soap watches as Tom pulls back. nearly all the way, before slamming forward and making you whine loudly.
"Christ...!" Desperately, you suck at Soap's cock, occasionally moaning around the hot flesh. "He's likin' that, Tom." The older man grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing affectionately.
"Course, he is. He's a fuckin' filthy slut, aren't you?" You hum in agreement, leaning back onto his cock.