The first time you leave your house in days is to get some ice cream from 7/11 at 1:34am. You need something sweet to finally wash the taste of pennies out of your mouth.
You try and ignore the gas station's other occupants posted up by the slushy machines, but they certainly aren't ignoring you. The moment you walk in the door, the two men's gaze is locked onto your face like a heat-seeking missile as they wordlessly demolish some nachos. You slink back to the freezers and spend what feels like a painfully long time staring at the frosty glass, trying to find a Ben and Jerry's flavor without chunks.
"want me t' bump off your man then?"
He asks like he's offering you a cigâtilting his head just so. Staring into you as he crunches away at another chip dripping with molten chili cheese, black N95 bunched at the bridge of his crooked nose. At that, Mohawk perks up immediately, a grin swiping away the foul look he'd been sporting as he rips open what looks to be their third or fourth package of tortilla chips.
(The swelling has gone down, but you have a huge, blotchy bruise, approximately the shape of Florida, crawling down your jaw because you got your wisdom teeth taken out 4 days ago.)
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i've got about 2k words on the slimeknight fix-it fic down and am like maybe only a quarter, or not even that, into what i want to get written down.
i'll give a lil snippet below the read-more as a teaser tho :3c
___________
Carrying the plate with a couple of pieces of pizza on it, Avery walked back to his room and took a seat at his desk. Staring down at the closed laptop with unease plucking at the back of his mind. Gaze shifting over to his phone, Avery reached to pick that up instead of the computer for the time being. Thankfully, his phone still had at least 40% charge, so he could open up his messages to glance through them. Nothing unusual at first glance- Wait. Pausing mid-chew, Avery squinted at the little circle near the 'message request' section of his messaging app, showing he had a new message from someone.
Sure, that wasn't typically too suspicious. Could be someone sending him something from a random server he's in, or it could be just a spam message or something. But right now? Seeing that message notification bubble had alarm bells going off in his head.
ButâŚ
Even though it'd been proven multiple times that curiosity could have higher consequences than thought beforeâŚ
Avery tapped on the notification after a few more moments of hesitation. Once everything loaded up, it took a few moments for what he was looking at to register properly in his mind. He knew that username. He knew that username-
Tags: threesome, mommy kink, daddy kink, nipple sucking/nursing, soft sex, subspace, big ghoul sandwich, anal fingering. mommy and daddy taking care of their baby boy <3.
Words: 1116
Notes: if it's one thing mallory and i can't shut up about, it's baby boy dewdrop being taken care of by daddy aether and mommy cumulus <3 so this is a little present for them cause they've had a hard time lately. love u @askingforthesun x
Summary:
It's a treat for all of them, really; Dew drops so deep that no thoughtsâdistressing or otherwiseâcan stick in his fuzzy head, and Cumulus and Aether get to reap the benefits of a sweet, moldable little ghoul who knows all of his manners.
Read the rest on AO3 or under the cut:
"Tastes so good, doesn't she?" Aether combs through Dew's hair, pulling it away from his blissed-out face. He's rewarded with a groan, his small body quivering between them. "Just what you needed, hm?"
Dew mumbles around Cumulus' nipple, saliva dripping from his tongue to land on her dusky skin.
"Oh, make sure we can hear your words, baby," she says softly, cupping Dew's cheek and gently pulling him away from her breast. "Say it again?"
Dew's mouth hangs open like his tongue is too big for it, eyes heavy with pupils blown. "Yes, daddy," he answers. "Needed it. Bad." Dew presses back into Aether's body, keening when the quintessence ghoul purrs and pets at his sides.
"Such a good boy," he praises. "You can let mommy have your mouth again."
"Mmkay." Dew all but drops his face back onto her chest, suckling until Cumulus' nipple slips back between his wanting lips. He moans, a whiny, needy sound that ripples through his body from horn to tail. His hips twitch, and the way his wet cock slides against Cumulus' cunt has them all groaning.
"Fuck, he's always so sweet," Aether breathes. He drags his own cock through Dew's cheeks, and even those are wet and slick and warm, he almost can't take it.
Cumulus hums happily, still brushing her thumb across Dew's rosy face. "The sweetest," she agrees. "How did we get so lucky to have such a pretty baby to take care of?"
"Gods, I don't know."
It's a treat for all of them, really; Dew drops so deep that no thoughtsâdistressing or otherwiseâcan stick in his fuzzy head, and Cumulus and Aether get to reap the benefits of a sweet, moldable little ghoul who knows all of his manners.
"He really could stay here forever, couldn't he?" Cumulus muses.
Aether leans forward to barely brush his lips against hers. "That's because mommy has the most gorgeous, soft, pretty tits," he rumbles against her smiling mouth. "And our good boy would never stop worshiping them unless we told him so."
"Mm-hm," Dew agrees breezily.
"Maybe daddy should take a turn then," Cumulus whispers conspiratorially. "There are two, aren't there?"
Aether growls and kisses her hard, one hand behind her neck and the other curled under her thigh so her leg hikes up and wraps around him and Dew both. "Later," he promises. "We have someone to spoil right now, don't we, baby boy?"
Dew trills curiously, tail flicking across the sheets.
"Yes, you," Cumulus coos. "Wouldn't be anyone else, sweet thing."
Aether pulls back from her, smoothing his hands along Dew's back as he straightens up. The fire ghoul's spine curves to follow Aether's hands, arching into the touch as it goes down, down, down. Tail popping up as those thick fingers spread his cheeks and expose his hole. Dew whines, and the pink rim flutters around nothing.
"Baby," Aether groans. "You want daddy to fill you up?"
"Please." Dew pulls off Cumulus' nipple with a pop, turning his head to lay on her breast like a pillow. "Wanna be full." He turns his heavy gaze to Aether, batting his lashes as he looks back.
Whether it's intentional or not, it makes Aether's cock throb all the same.
"Daddy's been waiting to hear you say that," Cumulus says. "You hear how much he loves when you ask for his cock?"
Dew hums and wiggles his ass lazily side to side. "Sounds nice," he says dreamily. "Like a biiig cat."
"He is big, isn't he?" Cumulus throws a wink over Dew's head.
"Mommy's so naughty," Aether groans, tapping his cock against Dew's hole. "Wants to turn me into mush just like you, baby boy."
"Mn."
Dew gasps, eyes falling shut as Aether makes like he's going to push his cock inside. He can't, not without prepping him, but the promise is there. The very tip of it pushes past Dew's rim, and Aether squeezes himself until precum wells up and seeps inside that hot little body. It's just on the side of too much, excess coating the inside of his hole when Aether pulls back again.
Dew chases his cock with his backside, trying to regain the thick pressure. "Nooo," he whines. "C'm back."
Cumulus tsks. Her tail gives him a light quip on the calf. "Now, baby, that's not how you ask, is it?"
Dew's ears droop, blush deepening the color of his cheeks. " . . . No, mommy." It's remorseful, hardly above a whisper.
"Let's try again, hm?" Cumulus cradles his face, gently guiding him up to her face for a kiss. He all but melts when their lips meet, and Cumulus smiles at how easily he softens just for her. "Tell us what you want, baby."
"Want . . ." Dew licks his lips, eyes fixed squarely on Cumulus' mouth. "Wanna feel it kiss me. Inside." He shudders, head dipping down as he momentarily curls into himself. Dew's cock twitches over Cumulus' stomach. "Oh. Can I put it in too, mommy?"
Cumulus' mouth drops open in a soft oh as Aether groans behind Dew's curved spine.
"Baby boy, you can have whatever you want if you ask like that," he says in a strained voice. "Lift up a little then. That's it, there's a lad."
Dew spreads his legs and drops his belly. It's enough space to let Aether slip a finger in, but not so much that his stiff cock is any more than a few inches away from Cumulus' pretty pubic feathers. The fire ghoul sucks in a breath through his nose as that thick digit goes in, letting it out in a quiet moan when Aether grazes against the sensitive spot he's looking for.
"There," he sighs. "Oh, there, daddyâ"
"So soft down there, isn't he?" Cumulus muses. "Just like here." She smooths her thumb along Dew's bottom lip, and he opens up for her as easy as ever. Her thumb slips in, sliding to the middle of his tongue before his mouth closes around it with a quiet trill.
Aether presses his finger down and the trill turns into a stifled moan. Dew's eyes roll to the back of his head and the air turns cinnamon sweet.
"There you go, baby." Cumulus arches up, kissing her mound against the underside of Dew's cock.
"Oh mm fuuhâ" Dew jerks between them, like his body doesn't know what touch to lean into. A slurred string of 'please please please's falls from his mouth, and the restraint he exhibits against thrusting straight inside Cumulus' body is palpable and trembling.
Aether hushes him and strokes his side with his free hand. "Soon baby," he soothes. "Don't have to fight anything. Just let us take care of you."
...Yay I made another set of headcanons! To be clear here, I initially made these during the summer last year and unfortunately didn't finish these until fall :(
I was also very motivated after seeing some amazing art by @lesbiananya (psst, check her stuff out, she makes great art and amazing fics)
Just like the times you run with her, she takes charge of prepping. Depending on how long both of you want to stayâŚItâs actually not that overbearing!
Itâs actually super helpful, especially if youâre prone to sunburns and keep forgetting to get sunscreen...
She will take every opportunity to complement your attire! Whether itâs a sundress like hers, or swim trunks, even a wetsuit, she loves it (Because she loves you!)
I imagine sheâs not a fan of crowded beaches. Ideally, youâd find a more secluded beach. More sand, sun and sea for the two of you!
Would take several pictures of the area, shells, maybe a few creatures that are around you (Or just youâŚ), with her camera, to keep the memories of the day.
Honestly, she admires you whenever she can!
PICNIC! PICNIC! BEACH PICNIC!
At some point, during the late hours when the sun is setting, sheâll step close to the water, waves lapping at her ankles, and justâŚStare at the horizon, at peace and living in the moment.
Crackfic Superhero au where Phil, Tommy and Wilbur are all villains and suddenly Wilbur starts kidnapping people. Everyone is terrified, Techno is a hero sent to put a stop to it. When he too is eventually kidnapped by the villain, he believes that he will be tortured when he wakes up tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth in what seemed to be an abandoned warehouses.
Wilbur enters holding a speaker and laptop and forces Techno to listen to his music and tell him what he thinks afterwards. Phil enters and simply sighs, very infuriated that Wilbur keeps kidnapping people and terrorising everyone over his angsty teenage garage band songs. Tommy finds this hilarious. Techno has to remain kidnapped now as they know that he is a hero and will definitely share this with others. Wilbur finds it very convenient to have a new music reviewer on hand at all times.
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Someone is watching her, and that's the least of her problems. No matter. He will provide.
WARNINGS: NSFW, MDNI, stalking, possessive behavior, kidnapping, religious psychosis, smut
A/N: Baby's first Tumblr fic (on this blog). This is cross-posted on AO3 as well :)
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3
Dex goes to prison on a Monday afternoon. Itâs sunny and warm in the city. The DA rushed his trial, putting him on the stand as soon as he was out of the hospital, eager to make an example of him. Fisk gets to go back to his mansion, gets to pin everything on Agent Nadeem, gets to live, and Dex gets to rot in a cell. Bullseye, they call him now. The man who doesnât miss.Â
The first few months, she thinks it might kill her. To be that close to divinity and have it ripped away. Sheâs not even allowed to visit. No one is, itâs like theyâre trying to wipe his very existence from the collective memory. His slaughter at the newspaper, in particular, hangs over the city like a fog. Thereâs no understanding, no sympathy for him, but how could there be? She and Fisk are the only people that know what it took to push him that far and neither of them can exactly come forward with it. Sheâs not even assured heâll let her live now that Dex is indisposed. He doesnât like loose ends. If she pulled the thread his entire organization could crumble, though she doubts her testimony would make it to a judge before she found herself in a terrible âaccident.âÂ
So sheâs on her best behavior. She goes to work, she comes home, she stays in her lane. She gets a cat just to have something to care for. She buys a handgun and keeps it in her nightstand. She goes to church on Sundays, unfulfilling as it has become. She takes low-profile targets, and she goes after them much less frequently than she used to. She doesnât talk about Fisk. She doesnât talk about Dex. She barely sleeps, tortured with nightmares of Fiskâs masked, faceless men kidnapping her, killing her. Sheâs reeling, drowning, but thereâs nothing she can do. She is entirely, absolutely out of control. Her kills get messier, more violent. It scares her sometimes, the haze she goes into only to come out covered in blood.Â
Tonight is one of those nights. Her target is almost unrecognizable. His intestines spilled out onto her feet, his skull crushed into fragments, crimson blood spattered on every surface in his room. She wipes some of it out of her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Her breathing evens out slowly, her muscles burning from the exertion. The relief this provides her gets less and less every day. Her job grates on her, speaking to these criminals like nothingâs wrong, and now she doesnât even have the consolation prize of making real change. She doesnât feel powerful, helpful, like a savior. She feels nothing.Â
She trudges into the manâs bathroom, leaving bloody footprints in her wake. The faucet lets out a pathetic trickle, making her sigh. As best she can, she splashes the cool water on her face, watching it run pink down the drain as she rinses off the evidence of her slaughter. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Damn. She looks rough. Heavy purple bags hang under her dead eyes. Her skin is tinged almost gray, pallid and sweaty. A shell, a ghost maybe. Wracked with loss until all the life has drained out of her. Sheâs almost glad Dex isnât here to see her like this.
She creeps back home, riding the shadows to keep her concealed. Her cat greets her at the door, yowling her head off.Â
âHey, Esther,â she murmurs, leaving down to scratch her head. Esther preens, rubbing her head into her hand. Unwittingly, sheâs become very fond of the animal. She only got her so she wouldnât be rattling around her apartment alone.Â
âHello, doctor.â
She leaps back, scrabbling for her sword. Her heart races, adrenaline pouring into her veins like a flood.Â
Vanessa Fisk stands in her kitchen. She recognizes her from news articles and TV segments. A practiced air of elegance hangs around her, the picture of a criminal first lady.Â
She re-adjusts her grip on the blade, subconsciously scans the room for any other exits, tries and fails not to look scared.
âWhat are you doing here?â she demands, wishing her voice sounded a little stronger. Vanessa smiles like sheâs just told her a joke.
âI came here for your professional services.â Vanessa nods at the sword. âI see youâve been busy.â
âYou know.â Not a question. Of course she does, Fiskâs probably had eyes on her since Dex let her out of that cell. Her extracurriculars are pretty attention-drawing.Â
âYes,â Vanessa answers anyway. âIâm not here to hurt you, doctor. If I was, I wouldnât be here at all, Iâd send someone else. Iâm here for your counsel.â
âCounsel?â she asks, sarcasm dripping from the word. Vanessaâs pleasant smile doesnât even flicker.Â
âI need a job done. I plan to release Agent Poindexter from prison.â
That gets her attention. Her eyes must be wide as dinner plates, her fingers twitching. A hot ball of anger begins to burn in her stomach. How dare she come here, swank around her apartment like she owns the place, and dangle Dex in front of her like live bait?
âYour husband agreed to this?â she grits out. Dex took a shot at him and he hit harder than most do. She canât imagine a world where Fisk lets that slide.Â
Vanessa finally falters, a small frown passing across her face. âI havenât seen my husband in a while,â she says. âIâm here for your opinion.â
âOn what? If heâll go for it, do your dirty work for you?â she spits. âKill someone, I assume?â
âYes,â Vanessa says again. Simple. Even. âIâm aware of the⌠nature of your relationship with him. You partake in the same activities.â She gestures vaguely at the sword. âYour job is to understand sickened minds, I imagine youâre familiar with his.â
âHeâs not sick,â she shoots back too quickly. Vanessa smiles again, entertained by her defense.Â
âOf course. I apologize.â She rounds the counter, moving in closer, settling on the couch. âWill you answer my questions?â
âWhy shouldnât I just kill you right here?â She flips the sword in her hands. Itching to do it. âYou said your husband is out of the picture anyway. Who would stop me?â
Vanessa goes serious but no fear is evident on her face. âBecause if you kill me, you will never see your Agent Poindexter again. He will live and die in a cell, and you will live and die separated from him.â She cocks her head. âIs that something you can live with?âÂ
She has her and they both know it.
âWhat do you want to know?â
Vanessa grins, more predatory than pleasant this time. Just like that, sheâs sold her soul. Tentatively, she sets down her sword, shucks off her bloodstained boots, and takes a seat on the couch opposite Vanessa, stiff and as far away as she can be.Â
âI want your assessment of his⌠stability,â Vanessa says carefully. âHe is the very best at what I require, but I need to know the consequences before I unleash him on the city.â Her phrasing is sickening, like heâs some sort of beast that needs to be contained.Â
âHeâs not crazy,â she answers quietly. âHeâs⌠confused. He gets turned around.â Fiskâs words in the cell flash through her mind. âHe needs direction.â
âAnd would he accept direction from me?â Vanessa asks.
âIf youâre smart,â she shrugs. Truth be told, she has no idea what Dexâs mental state is right now, how prison is affecting him. Maybe heâll leap across the table and choke the life out of Vanessa as soon as she shows her face. That wouldnât be so bad, honestly.Â
Vanessa studies her, eyes scanning her face. âAlright,â she says finally. She stands up, grabs her purse. Thatâs it. No pleasantries. Two simple questions and sheâs ready to weigh a manâs life and the safety of a city in her hands.Â
âVanessa?â she says right as the woman reaches the door. âIf anything happens to him, I will kill you. I donât care if your husband is here or not. Iâll kill you.â
Vanessa smiles again. âGood night, doctor.â She slips out the door, her heels clicking down the hallway and out of earshot.Â
Itâs quiet for two days after that. Every time she comes home she half-expects to find someone else in her apartment, Vanessa or Fisk himself or one of their minions doing their bidding. It puts her on edge like you would not believe, jumping out of her skin every time the cat knocks something over. Thereâs a small fiery hope, though, underneath the anxiety, that one day it will be Dex. He promised he would come back to her and he doesnât seem the type to break an oath. It doesnât quell her fear though. Every little sound sends her flying for the pistol in her nightstand.Â
The sound of wind whistling through her apartment wakes her from a restless sleep on the third day. She sits bolt upright, pushing the blanket off her legs. It sounds like a window open, something sheâs positive was not the case when she laid down. Painstakingly slowly, she slides the drawer of her nightstand open, wincing when her bed frame creaks under the motion, and grabs the gun. Itâs cold in her hands and she tries to let it steady her. Whoever opened her window, whoeverâs in her living room right now, they probably arenât expecting her to come out shooting. She can survive this. Hopefully.Â
Padding across the floor silently, she eases her bedroom door open, handgun raised in front of her. She steels herself and steps out, giving her a view of the kitchen and living room.Â
A dark figure is hunched over by her couch. She squints, canât quite understand the scene. Heâs petting her cat. Kneeling on the ground, completely at ease, petting her damn cat. She cocks the gun, the click echoing through the apartment. The figure straightens slightly but doesnât turn around.Â
âWho the hell are you?â she demands. He doesnât answer, doesnât even move.Â
âAnswer me or Iâll shoot you right here and let the police identify your body.âÂ
He does respond to that one. He stands up, turns to face her. The meager rays of moonlight catch his face. His exceedingly, devastatingly handsome face.
âDex?â It comes out a whisper. Itâs unbelievable, unreal, impossible. Sheâs been pining for him, dying for him all this time and here he is sitting on her floor petting her cat.Â
âHey, baby.â A slow smirk spreads across his face. Cocky in a way she hasnât seen from him before. She steps towards him, slowly lowering the gun.Â
âYou broke into my apartment,â she says shakily.Â
He shrugs. âDoor was locked.â Right. Obviously thatâs the next course of action, breaking and entering.Â
âYou left.â Her voice cracks, tears threatening to spill over. âYou left me alone.â She was so consumed with missing him she didnât realize until now how much anger sheâs been holding, how much grief. His face falls.
âI know, baby, Iâm sorry.â He goes to her, slips the gun out of her hand, tosses it on the couch without a glance. It lands square in the center of the cushions. With the imminent threat out of the way he wraps his arms around her. Pulls her into his chest, combs his fingers through her hair. She breathes him in greedily, the thrill of his hands on her running through her like electricity.Â
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry.â A mantra murmured into her skin. His lips run across her forehead, on her cheekbone, down her neck. The action sends a pang of heat between her thighs. She feels her resolve crumbling already, her pathetic display of resistance being melted away by the feel of his lips as he kisses over her throat. Heâs barely touched her and sheâs practically panting, lips falling open slightly. He mouths back up to her jaw, pauses over her mouth. They breathe in each otherâs air, centimeters apart, eyes locked onto each other. Thereâs a sanctity to it, being this close, the religion they pass back and forth with each shaking breath.Â
âCan I make it up to you?â It sounds like a genuine question. âIâll make you feel good, please baby, let me make you feel good, let me make it up.â A string of pleas into her mouth. She whines at the sound of him, at the thought of what heâs proposing, a low noise ripping out of her throat. Dex fucking loves it. He grins and presses forward, catching her lips. Kissing him is better than she remembers somehow. She opens like a flower, letting him in with no fight. He runs his tongue along her lower lip, stoking the fire building in her core. Another soft noise escapes her and she tangles her fingers in his soft hair. Pinning him where he stands, refusing to let him pull away.Â
âDex,â she whispers. She doesnât even know what sheâs asking for, what she wants. Just⌠more. More of whatever heâll give her.
âTell me,â he answers. âAnything you want.â He studies her face like scripture.Â
âMake it up to me.â
He lets out a crazed, delighted laugh and moves so quickly it takes her brain a second to catch up. He grabs her thighs, scoops her up effortlessly, slides one hand under her ass and the other around her waist to hold her up as she wraps her legs around him. A man on a mission, he carries her directly back to her bedroom and deposits her on the bed, gentle, like sheâs some priceless artifact. Her head tips back on the pillows and heâs on her again, grabbing at her hips and kissing her breathless. All she can do is react to him, too addled to do much of anything on her own accord. He pulls at the hem of her shirt, prompting her to sit up just enough for him to slip it over her head.Â
He freezes. Eyes locked onto her body. She shifts a little under his gaze, but she canât bring herself to be self-conscious when the look in his eyes is comparable to a disciple. He lifts his hand tentatively to cup one of her tits. Brushes his thumb over her nipple and she keens, arching into his touch desperately.Â
âDex, please,â she gasps. That seems to snap him out of it, his eyes flicking back up to her face. Whatever he sees spurs him on even more.Â
âYeah,â he breathes, pulling wildly at his own shirt, tearing it over his head. âYeah, Iâll take care of you, baby. So pretty when you say my name like that.â The words alone are enough to make her moan, but the sight of him shirtless above her makes her want to scream. Prison has done wonders for him. Heâs more filled out, less lean muscle and more bulk. She wishes she could sculpt, wants to study every inch of him and chisel it into granite. It feels like a sin that she canât just look at him forever.Â
Every one of those thoughts is wiped out of her mind when he shuffles down the bed and starts tugging at her waistband, hooking his finger in both her shorts and panties and sliding them down her legs. He tracks her face the whole time, maybe watching for any sign of dissent, but he finds none as he slips them off her ankles and, adorably, folds them neatly and sets them on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he runs his hands back up her legs, leaving goosebumps in his wake, sucking in a deep breath when he digs his fingers into the plush of her thighs. The way he holds them makes it impossible for her to close her legs, hide from him. Not that she wants to. This is the most turned on sheâs ever been in her life. Sheâs soaking wet, she knows, and all she wants is for him to fucking touch her.Â
He must read her mind because without warning, he leans in and licks a stripe up her pussy, curling the tip of his tongue over her clit. She moans like a dying animal, her hands shooting out to tug at his hair. He echoes her with a groan that vibrates against her sensitive skin and her hips buck up wildly of their own accord at the sensation. Then he starts licking into her for real and sheâs barely touching the bed at all, her entire lower back arched up against his face. He momentarily releases his hold on her thighs just to clasp his hands over her hips instead, slamming her back down onto the mattress and pinning her there. Now unable to get away, sheâs subject to the relentless onslaught of his tongue overwhelming every bit of her body. Itâs heavenly, in a very real sense of the word. The man who doesnât miss, she thinks to herself. Seems an increasingly more fitting title as he latches onto her clit with an accuracy that makes her head spin.Â
âHoly shit, Dex,â she gasps out, fingers tightening in his hair. He glows under the praise, a drunken smile crossing his face as he laps at her. Maintaining his hold on her with one hand, he dips the other down and deftly slips two fingers inside her. A flush of heat explodes across her body. When he crooks them slightly and hits his target on the first try (that damn accuracy), she feels like she might actually combust.Â
âHowâs that, baby?â he mumbles against her, still working her with his mouth as he hooks his fingers into her over and over again.Â
âGood, sâ so good, Dex, please,â she babbles. A few tears roll down her cheeks from the pure pleasure heâs giving her. Sheâs careening uncontrollably towards her orgasm, chasing it desperately while Dex moans and whines into her pussy like this is the best day of his life. He picks up the pace with his fingers, fucking into her hard and fast, and sheâs done for. Her entire body seizes up, every muscle taut like a live wire as she cums, twitching in his grasp. Itâs more intense than anything sheâs ever experienced. She might be sobbing. She might be screaming. The only thing sheâs truly aware of is Dex, his fingers, his mouth. He only pulls away when her body relaxes fully and her thighs start twitching on either side of his head.Â
He looks beautiful. Still poised between her legs, the entire bottom half of his face glinting with evidence of her orgasm, his eyes bright and unfocused. She sits up shakily and grabs his face in both hands, hauling him up the bed. He comes eagerly and meets her in the middle where she kisses him, hard and fast and messy. She tastes herself on him. The thought makes her whimper and she bites down on his bottom lip. Coppery blood hits her tongue, she broke skin. Sheâs about to apologize when Dex groans wantonly and she realizes that he liked it, likes spilling blood for her. She licks it all off him, laves her tongue over the cut. There she is, coated in the smell of sex and sweat, lapping up his blood like a dog. Itâs sick and itâs twisted and itâs perfect and she wants to fuck him until he canât see straight.
So she does.
She scrabbles at his pants, clumsily undoing the button and shoving them down his hips. He picks up on her urgency and helps her, standing up at the foot of the bed and pulling them the rest of the way down to his ankles. His boxers are next. He doesnât fold his own clothes, either too far gone to care or maybe he just cares about hers more. It doesnât really matter because now he stands in front of her fully exposed, his cock thick and throbbing with want. He wastes no time getting back on top of her, the warm weight of him pressing her down deliciously into the pillows. His eyes stay fixed on hers as he lines himself up, studying every little reaction.Â
He presses into her a bit at a time, savoring the feel of her opening up for him. The first contact makes them both moan, hers drawn out longer as the stretch of him seems to go on forever. She digs her nails into his back to steady herself. When he finally bottoms out he drops his head into the crook of her neck, sucking in deep breaths that sound almost pained. For the first time they are fully connected, they know each other inside and out in every way imaginable. This is religion. Nothing sheâs every felt before can come close, not church, not a kill, not God himself. Sheâd burn in hell for eternity just for one more second of this.Â
âYouâre so perfect,â Dex grits out like itâs taking every ounce of his strength. âSo fucking perfect, youâre like an angel, like youâre made for me.âÂ
If she wasnât desperate before, she certainly is now.
âDex,â she pleads. âMove.â
And he does. God help her, he does. The first snap of his hips hits like a freight train, a blast of pleasure going off in her stomach. Then he finds his tempo, quick, rough movements that have her biting into his shoulder to keep from screaming.Â
âSo. Fucking. Perfect,â he repeats, accentuating every word with a deep thrust. His voice, gruff with exertion and lust, goes straight to her core.
âKeep talking,â she begs. Such a simple request, heâd give her the air in his lungs if she asked right now.
âKnew it from the moment I saw you,â he mumbles into her hair, lips just barely brushing her ear. âSo beautiful, so lost, I knew you would understand, knew you would need me. You need me, huh? Say it.â It sounds like an order but itâs undercut with a tone of pleading for her, for reassurance that sheâs just as sick about him as he is about her.
âI need you,â she gasps out as he keeps pounding her into the mattress. âI need you. I need you.âÂ
And itâs true. He worked his way into the cavern of her soul and made a home there, occupying her body like a vessel, turning her into a patron saint of desire and stray dogs. But she had tamed him, hadnât she? Took him in off the street and turned him docile, a lover that hung off her words like gospel.Â
Sheâs rapidly approaching another orgasm, her body fighting through overstimulation and turning it to pleasure. He sees it, feels it maybe, and speeds up impossibly faster, playing her body like an instrument to bring her right to the edge.Â
âGive it to me,â he demands before catching her in another searing kiss. And she does. Her hips buck wildly against him as she cums, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. He keeps kissing her, licking and biting at her lips, his thrusts getting sloppy and untamed as he follows her to his own orgasm. She can feel him throbbing inside her as he finishes and the sensation makes her shiver. He just manages to roll to the side as he collapses so he doesnât crush her, not even bothering to pull out of her. He lays still for only a moment before heâs reaching for her again, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her into his chest. Theyâre both sticky and warm and panting as they catch their breath. He dips his head down and kisses her again, gentle, soft lips sliding on hers and nothing more. When he pulls away, she looks up into his eyes, sparkling with adoration.
âDonât ever leave me again, you understand?â she says quietly. He nods, brushing her hair out of her face with the reverence of a priest.Â
âI promise,â he murmurs, tucking her head back down into his chest.
Imagine playing a Visual Novel with Cove and you both REALLY get into it and obssesivly play it together for hours... But when you have to decide what love interest to go for, you both have vastly different opinions??
When you ask each other why they like this certain love interest, somehow you both answer, at the same time:
"Because it reminds me of you"
LIKE LIKE LIKE
If you're younger or not dating yet it would be SO FRICKIN CUTE AND YOU TWO WOULD BE ALL BLUSHY AND NOT KNOW WHAT TO SAY
If you're together, you two would still blush and laugh about how silly you are... Then probably fight about which route you should go through first lol