#BHF writing

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Bexxx my darling. We’ve had the conversation, are horny for the concept so I’m pounding this into the ask box even harder than they’re gonna pound the damn reader.

AU!Billy, Stu, Mickey and Ethan x reader. All alive or as Ghosts whichever is best. All of them going full blown slut on the reader, Stu in the mouth, Billy in the cunt, Mickey in the ass and Ethan in the hand (until he’s not *wink*) . We’ve discussed a lot of it already so GIRL, I know how you’re going to go with this. In advance, poor, sweet Ethan, slutty teasing Billy, supportive icon Stu and Mickey with the GUIDING. I’m going to burst into flames.

I LOVE YOU DUDE!

BITCH, I LOVE YOU! I wrote this all tonight in one sitting, I hope you all enjoy this! Billy AND Stu AND Mickey AND Ethan?! I mean, say fucking less, that is a dream I need to experience. Multi-May continues! I hope you all love this straight-up nasty smut in the afterlife.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 1.2K. Poly!Ghostface. Billy Loomis/Stu Macher/Mickey Altieri/Ethan Landry/AFAB! Dead Victim Reader! She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Five-Some. Orgy. Hair Pulling. Gagging. Group Sex. Hand Job. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Triple Penetration. Vaginal Sex. Throat Fucking. Anal Sex. Pre-Mature Ejactualation. Sloppy Seconds. Multiple Orgasms.

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"Four In One."

You have never been so fucking full. It was taken right out of your most depraved and wild fantasies, an impossibility and yet here you were, mouth, cunt, ass and one of your hands full.

In the vague haze of your mind, you are reminded of a phrase for being in this exact situation, that being “completely airtight”. 

Some people might think that sex in the afterlife is not a thing, however it was one of the most beloved pass times, you have no physical limitations and nothing but time, it only makes sense. 

You being a victim that had fallen to Ghostface most would assume you’d hate them. You did at one point. Eternity is a long fucking time, though. 

So you got involved with the man who killed you and a few other previous Ghostface’s? It was your business, you were dead, you didn’t care if any other victims or whoever judged you, especially when it felt this fucking good. 

They had managed to get you into a good position, and with all of them helping, you didn’t need to worry about holding yourself up, which is good because you were fucking boneless. 

Billy was buried in your cunt, Stu was in your mouth, Mickey was in your ass, and you had a firm grip on Ethan. The smell was heady, the chorus of moans and skin on skin was obscene, and you were unable to stay still, being pushed and pulled in multiple directions, covered in sweat and thankful for the fact you didn’t have to worry about breathing. 

Stu was pulling your hair, dragging you nearer, your nose pressed to coarse hair, his head tipping back with a moan, “Fuck yes, when you swallow around the head it feels fucking fantastic-” He pulled harder, and you gagged, you didn’t really, but you knew Stu liked when you did, so you mimic it, you feel him throb on your tongue and Billy groans. 

“When she gags she clenches beautifully, man.” He breathed and Mickey agreed, “God yeah, she feels fucking perfect tonight.” 

You are soaking up the praise, pleasure sinking into the very marrow of your bones, you manage to open your eyes, curious why Ethan was being so quiet, and he is staring right at you and oh no. The poor boy. His curls are sweat soaked, bottom lip tugged by his teeth, face flushed, and it is spreading down to his chest, when your eyes lock he moans, he is pulsing in your hand and Stu notices the moment you, and he were sharing. 

“You alright there, Eth?” Stu asked, and the response came out strained, “Feels so good, too fuckin’ good, sh-she looks and God, how she sounds, I-I dunno if I can make it-”

Billy cuts in, his hips slowing, “Oh hey man, you gotta wait till you get in one of her holes at least.” 

You nod as much as you are able to with Stu’s hand in your hair and his dick down your throat, you wanted that, you desperately wanted Ethan to cum in one of your holes, Hell you wanted all of them to cum either in you or on you, it was a deep and clawing craving that was refusing to leave. 

Mickey’s pace was getting sloppy, he was thrusting harder and harder, faster and being totally selfish in the way only he can be when he is close, fully worried with chasing his own release, you say a silent prayer, happy that your ass could take the punishment he was doling out. “Fuck, fuck, you won’t have to wait long, Ethan.”

Mickey thrusts inside you three more times and then holds deep as he unloads inside of you with an utterance of your name. The rush of heat makes you choke and moan on Stu’s shaft with a shudder. 

You stop stroking Ethan, worried that he is going to cum, your hand grips the base of his shaft tightly to ensure he wouldn’t spill over quite yet.

Mickey stays in you for a moment, barely grinding his hips, milking the aftershocks and every ounce of pleasure out of his orgasm. You feel his head tip, his forehead rests on your shoulder, you feel the press of his lips, a kiss, sweet, before he pulls out with a groan, and spreads you, he can see your wrecked looking hole, slowly leaking his cum. 

Mickey looks over your body still being rocked between Billy and Stu, and he says easily, “Get over here, Ethan.” 

You let go of him, and he practically scrambles to get behind you, almost falling over the tangle of the other boys limbs on the way. Stu and Billy laugh, Mickey shaking his head, “Bless him.”

“So cute.” Stu confirms. 

Billy holds still and motions for Stu to do the same, “Ease up while he gets in there.” 

The blonde complies and they all watch, Ethan’s hands rest on your ass, and he looks adorably nervous, he is practically shaking, breathing erratic, he looks painfully hard and is leaking so much pre-cum. It’s like he is almost rooted to the spot, staring down at your slowly leaking hole. You push on Stu’s hip, and he allows it, pulls out of your mouth, and you look over your shoulder at him, you clear your throat before saying, “C’mon Ethan, please?”

He curses quietly, and then you watch Mickey come up behind him, one hand on Ethan’s hip and the other reaches around him, grips the base of his cock and says, “Lemme help you out.” 

Ethan almost jumps out of his skin, tenses but gives a single nod once, consenting with more than the action, he begs, “Please, yes, I-I want to so bad but, I can’t-.” 

“I know man, it’s alright, I got you.” Mickey soothed, and he pushes forward on Ethan’s hip, his other hand guiding Ethan’s cock, the blunt head presses to your nearly raw and well lubed hole. When the tip breaches Ethan comes back to himself, fingers dig into ample flesh, and he pushes, you moan and encourage him, “Fuck yes, please-”

Mickey lets go, his grin is positively wolfish as he watches the show unfold. 

Ethan curses again, and he shoves in roughly, about halfway before pulling out, the poor guy only gets less than ten pumps in, not even fully inserted, before he is cumming with a strangled cry, body a quaking, sweat slicked mess. He is apologizing over and over, gasping for breath, “M’ sorry, fuck, sorry, sorry, felt too fuckin’ good, couldn’t stop it-”

“S’ okay.” You reassure as he pulls out, “You’ll last longer next time.” 

Billy is laughing and starting to thrust into you again, “Fuckin’ pathetic, man.”

Stu shoved Billy’s shoulder and said, “Oh lay off, you didn’t last much longer first time you got in that ass.” 

You giggled, “He’s right, you know.” Stu taps your cheek and says, “Open up.”

Mouth falling open in compliance, he re-inserts, you still had to get the last two off and were eager to do so. You can hear Ethan trying to defend himself to Mickey, “I could feel Billy in her pussy when I was in there, and it was too much!”

“The extra friction will get you, it’s true.” Mickey sympathizes, and you suppress a laugh, trying to focus on sucking the dick in your mouth and moving your hips in time with Billy’s thrusts. 

[joz-yyh]

Some previews of my @ddzine2023 submissions 🕯️✨ (Part 2 -> HERE!!)

[iaus]

For director's commentary: picking a snippet from i'll crawl home (to you) because. While dd2 never quite ended up grabbing me the same way the first game did, this fic took me in its claws and never let go. I'm such a sucker for memories-from-past-timelines stories, and the implication of Tardif having an inhuman element was so fascinating too, thus my selection:

“I am offering my services to those who need an extra hand along the road,” the bounty hunter says flatly, the image of professionalism if he did not clutch one of the flagellant’s hands in his. “It is a long, lonely road filled with horrors. Sometimes a hunter at your back is the best solution to dealing with the shadowy beasts.”

“And how do we know you are not a shadowy beast, following to devour us all?”

The bounty hunter barks a harsh laugh that draws the rest of the party’s attention. The sound fills the rickety walls. The inn goes silent. The hearth light flickers.

“Suppose you don’t really.”

oh I see the revenge I do. AUGH.

I still have such a huge soft spot for this fic and kind of regret not expanding on it. And tbh even though I put hours and hours (derogatory) into DD2 I still have so many bitter complicated feelings about it.

So, I definitely get it.

BUT that's not what we're here to talk about.

We're here to talk about this ^

I wanna preface this with saying that I still do love that they made it so Tardif is just not an actual character (much like DD1, ah, I miss her).

But that's also the driving force of why I wrote this fic. Like. We keep seeing this guy, we can hire him and keep him on for this small part of his journey he takes CANDLES which is a currency that seems to have no worth so what's his fucking deal.

(Tardif thought of the century let's be real here.)

First off this fic was SO HARD to write because I wanted to purposefully avoid using names even though we already know their names. We are intimate with these two (we know they are too), but DD2 despite expanding on pasts always felt... distancing to me.

Like I cared more about my silly little DD1 characters without backstories than I ever did the DD2 characters. I literally stopped playing for like a week when my original "Damian" sacrificed himself to stop Vvulf from destroying the Hamlet. (Feu you get to live on in my d&d campaign as an absolute menace.)

But, so we keep with that separation in this fic with the flagellant and the bounty hunter (not even proper nouns)... until the very end but that's not what we're looking at right now.

Now, I had to go back and read this fic in its entirety just to make sure to get all the Context of this scene (which you picked the one I adore because otherworldly Tardif sets off a Pavlovian response in me).

Which, this line of dialogue:

“It is a long, lonely road filled with horrors. Sometimes a hunter at your back is the best solution to dealing with the shadowy beasts.”

I see this version of Tardif as both this marauder spirit almost... but also a Tardif who's stuck in his past. In my fics, Damian forces Tardif to grow just as much as Tardif forces Damian to grow so in this moment he is both a Tardif who has never had Damian and the Tardif who has experienced Damian... but can't quite get that emotional connection there. BUT his body language that led into the dialogue has an implication that he misses it:

...the bounty hunter says flatly, the image of professionalism if he did not clutch one of the flagellant’s hands in his.

I've never really seen Tardif as the one initiating contact in my mind's eye. I've always seen these two as Damian pursuing Tardif to the point of discomfort if only to get a reaction (any attention is good attention, even getting clocked or called a freak). But in this fic-- in this scene-- Tardif is initiating. He sees this rotting corpse of a man and he recognizes him. What memories is he drawing on? Is he like Damian (currently) and seeing past lives in the wainwright? Is he seeing the memories of their "domesticity" in the Hamlet? At this point, it's not really clear but he wants something from Damian.

He's not just offering himself as a guard dog (Tardif will insist if pressed that THAT is all he's offering, nothing else, nothing more). This is more than original Tardif ever did. Original Tardif incited Damian to chase him and then reacted, but he didn't force the interactions.

So, he's changed. Somehow.

“And how do we know you are not a shadowy beast, following to devour us all?”

And then we get our beloved Tardif-Damian bantering where Damian immediately, out of reflex, pecks at Tardif.

Flirts with him. This is flirting.

This is easily something Damian might have said at the Hamlet given the right circumstances and Tardif probably would have responded physically. Fist fight or something more intimate.

But instead, we get another glimpse into how Tardif has changed. His reaction is involuntary:

The bounty hunter barks a harsh laugh that draws the rest of the party’s attention. The sound fills the rickety walls. The inn goes silent. The hearth light flickers.

He laughs and the very atmosphere around him changes. We as readers can now understand the extent that Tardif has changed without/with Damian.

So when I wrote this I definitely pictured a monstrous Tardif beneath the hood. Think a mix of the Collector and Thing From the Stars. Faceless and terrible, a being corrupted by forces that none of them understand.

I had envisioned someone who could match Damian's new, horrifying form. That would easily withstand Damian's new blighted abilities without even having to realize the danger.

He was made for Damian because Damian changed. So the universe decided that Tardif must change too. But. Even when things change, things stay the same because Tardif is almost playful when responding to Damian:

“Suppose you don’t really.”

Flirting back a bit, honestly.

Like that's the only way he knows how to respond to Damian.

[persephoneflouwers]

-

[elvhensinner]

Which group do you fantasize about cucking the most? Is it the same as your most biased groups?

Could you list top 10 individual idols that melt your brain if they are involved with cucking?

I'm not sure if its pretty much the same as my biased groups/soloists. Really, my basis for it largely depends on the question "Will they cheat on their significant other?" if the answer is no then I am just drooling 😋

I made this list from the get go. I still stand by my statement about whoever I find hottest at a specific night trumps over whoever's below my top 3 girls of all time. Literally, if this was asked to me on a different day, I bet I'd have different answers

Top 11 idols that melt my brain if cucking/cheating is involved:

11. Jeon Somi

She looks like the perfect recipient of hate sex. There's also something about this girl that screams "Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my night with your girl. But not because I like her, I just really wanted to try her out".

10. Kim Chaewon

I seriously do love all my IZ*ONE girlies, but asides from her body and cute personality, Kim Chaewon is just not on my radar. (In all honesty, idk why). Soooo many people love her so much, its insane. But hey, at least whenever I see people fawn over this angel, it makes my brain instantly jump to how I'd take her from them. Hehe.

9. Jihyo

Big tits. Motherly love. Officially confirmed that she has a boyfriend. Beloved by many. Need I say more?

8. Ahn Yujin/Jang Wonyoung

Being a WIZ*ONE, in my eyes, these two are my forever maknaes. I just can't deny value whenever I'm hankering for a "younger sister"-esque style of cucking.

7. Kim Sejeong

I've always seen this girl as the big sister type. Despite her tig ol biddies, I rarely lewd her, but my innards twist in every which way whenever I see someone gooning the fuck out of her. Its always equal parts "N-no... she's my big sister... sTOP LEWDING HER!" and ".....C-Can you maybe tell me more?..." 🤣

6. Lee Chaeryeong

As my #1 girl's sister, this girl has starred in many of my "shhh your sister doesn't have to know"-themed nights. That, plus girly doesn't just look like the epitome of wholesome, she also looks like she's a great target for dubcon. I bet this naive baby girl would believe something as stupid as...

"My penis has a genie inside of it"

"Really?"

"Only if you rub it hard enough"

5. Momo

Body made for sex. Hands down, she takes the crown for my BHF 'making me have a random hardon and fapping like there's no tomorrow' title. I've also cucked so many people using this girl, so at this point I can't not associate her with cucking/cheating.

4. Irene

This one is a mighty curve ball, courtesy of my recent Taeyeon prompt + @planetaryupscaled's cucking smut. That signature man-hater glare of hers is just begging to be forced into a dubcon scenario. Seriously, imagine those eyes staring up at you, hating your guts, as her lips wrap around your shaft. Add the fact that she's totally of age to be in a committed, loving relationship 🤤

3. Kim Dahyun

There's a reason this girl starred in my debut story. She's so pure. So light. So wholesome. She is love. I just know she's the type to fight tooth and nail to have the most romantic, traditional relationship known to man. And that's the very reason my brain goes cuckoo about all the nasty ways she can be used as a means for cucking.

2. Kwon Eunbi

This woman is just BUILT to be in RPs/smuts. There are so many avenues to her. Subby. Dommy. Mommy. Baby. Wholesome. You name it, she fits into it. The fact that I've already thought of a prompt for her while I'm writing this already speaks levels to her writeability: Imagine her bf being the one who first encouraged her to go wild in waterbomb 2023. At the moment, BF pats himself in the back for being the one responsible for Kwon Eunbi's spike in popularity, but these days? He's forced to turn a blind eye at Eunbi's multiple meetings with different investors, promoters, brands, etc. all of which always leads to Eunbi going home late at night. "I got the gig!" the BF hears every night, with her outfit an inch away from being undone.

1. Lee Chaeyeon

Last but not least is my #1 girl. As someone who is head over heels for this woman, I can say with full confidence that my brain will —and ALWAYS WILL— melt at the thought of Lee Chaeyeon being used in a cucking scenario. Hell, the small matter of her (rarely) being posted on lewding sites is enough to make me rockhard. 🤤

[lacnunga]

Not me writing regency fic about sedition and treason and then finding this at bhf

(+the rest of the book haul)

[carbkaiju]

Ive hit a wall with my bhf fics, so think I will pivot to my old Reymas ideas to zap my brain outta the writing funk

[ahz-associates]

Degree in Cardiovascular Sciences from Top UK Universities!

Cardiological Sciences

There are obligatory teaching and research components to the curriculum. Teaching of basic research skills such as writing for a scientific audience, critical literature evaluation, presenting, and a research toolkit module covering basic experimental methodologies are among the components that are taught. You will also study a specific module on cardiovascular science to ensure that you have a firm foundation in all areas of the field and to present the subjects and research challenges that will form the basis of your project.

Cardiovascular disease is predicted to be the leading cause of death for the next 20 years, leading to severe impairment and a reduction in life quality. The goal of this curriculum is to teach cardiovascular biology and science with an emphasis on the clinical, molecular, and genetic aspects that underlie cardiovascular illnesses and the medications used to treat them.

Motives behind pursuing an MSc in Cardiovascular Sciences in the UK

Discover the functions and causes of cardiovascular disease, as well as the cellular and molecular processes that precede the start of the condition. You should also study the anatomy and physiology of the heart. Collaborate on a study with an experienced cardiovascular researcher. These are tailored to the students' interests and level of understanding. The Cardiovascular Science degree program offers a modular curriculum that consists of taught content, tutorials, critical review sessions, and practicals. Cardiovascular science research is given priority funding because there is a pressing need for new and improved treatments, which can only be found by better understanding the pathophysiology of the disease.

The MSc in Cardiovascular Sciences from UK has received funding for its research from a number of institutions, including the European Commission, BBSRC, MRC, BHF, and Welcome Trust. Learn about and use a range of cutting-edge approaches for conducting research in clinical cardiovascular medicine, including: gene therapy; genomic, genetic, and proteomic studies; innovative imaging techniques; and risk factor measures.

The UK offers a BSc in Cardiovascular Sciences curriculum

The BSc in Cardiovascular Sciences curriculum offers a thorough understanding of the scientific foundations of cardiovascular disease and how they relate to diagnosis and treatment. Cardiovascular disease is one of the course's main areas of translational concentration. Topics covered include:

The state of the heart and circulatory system are the underlying causes of some diseases.

What effects do these have on certain patients as well as groups?

the scientific basis for therapies that are both novel and traditional. an explanation of the foundations of imaging diagnostics, epidemiology, and treatment modalities in relation to cardiovascular disease.

The program's objective is to produce academics and medical professionals who can comprehend best practices, challenge received wisdom, and increase medical knowledge. It also provides students with a strong foundation in scientific methodology and analytical skills, which will help them become competent clinical researchers and clinicians who may go on to pursue postgraduate research degrees.

The framework of the BSc in Cardiovascular Sciences program

The curriculum will feature a 12-week teaching block (Module 1) in which students will study skills and knowledge particular to their area of specialization, in addition to your research training in core research knowledge and abilities. Following that, there is a five-week period of independent study during which the focus is on analyzing clinical case studies and literature. That's followed by a 14-week study project.

UK's top institutions offering programs in cardiovascular sciences

Glasgow University

Glasgow University is well-known worldwide for its proficiency in cardiovascular science research and teaching. The PhD program at Glasgow University offers alternatives.

The specially constructed Western Infirmary, Western Infirmary, Royal Infirmary, and British Heart Foundation Glasgow Cardiovascular Research Centre are home to their research teams. Our ability to focus on a comprehensive research program is made possible by modern facilities.

University of Glasgow Positions:

The 84th-ranked university in the world

Ranked 26th among Europe's Best Global Universities

Rank 8th among UK's Best Global Universities

Birmingham University

Based on an understanding of key pathological events, such as coronary artery plaque rupture and thrombosis or the vicious regulatory loops causing heart failure, and on a subsequent rigorous evaluation of novel therapeutic interventions in large controlled clinical trials, students will acquire the knowledge and skills necessary to contribute to research in clinical cardiovascular medicine.

University of Birmingham Rankings:

The 91st Best Global Universities

Ranked 31st among Europe's Best Global Universities

Ranked ninth among UK's Best Global Universities

Leicester University

Their remarkable contributions to cardiovascular science, spanning from bench to bedside, have earned them recognition on a global scale. Their work has had a major impact on patient care both nationally and worldwide. The National Institute for Health Research designated them as a Biomedical Research Center with a focus on cardiovascular disease, demonstrating their strong affiliation with the NHS.

They take great satisfaction in their record of student training and their receipt of the Athena SWAN Silver Award.

University of Leicester Rankings:

212th among the world's best universities

88th among Europe's Best Global Universities

Ranked 24th out of the best global universities in the UK

Bristol University

The program will appeal to a wide range of students, including doctors, allied health professionals, and biological scientists. You have the option of studying full- or part-time (full-time) remotely or on campus. There will be tutorials, lectures, homework, and exam assessments for every unit. Living on campus, students take part in field trips to clinical settings, journal clubs, tutorials, lectures, and practicals.

Distance learners will have access to online lecture materials, and part-time students may attend optional workshops in Bristol for up to five days year, while full-time students may attend workshops for ten days annually. Tutorials, journal clubs, practical sessions, and field trips to clinical settings are all planned components of these programs.

University of Bristol Rankings:

92nd among all universities worldwide

Europe's 32nd-ranked Best Global Universities

Ranked tenth among the best global universities in the UK

Sheffield University

Situated in the north of England, the esteemed University of Sheffield is one of the earliest "red brick" universities and a part of the elite Russell Group. Established in 1905 through the merger of three schools, the University of Sheffield now enrolls 28,000 students from over 120 countries and is listed among the top 100 universities worldwide by the QS World University Rankings.

Sheffield students voted their university to have the best overall student experience in a Times poll. The University of Sheffield has given out five Nobel Prizes and six Queen's Anniversary Prizes. In a global network of research universities, it is currently the top university for systems engineering, smart materials, and stem cell technology due to its technical prowess, which cultivates strong linkages with business in many courses and departments. Major investors include Rolls-Royce, Boeing, and The Welcome Trust.

University of Sheffield Positions

Ranked 135th among world's best universities

Ranked 51st among Europe's Best Global Universities

14th place on the UK's list of the best global universities

University of Newcastle

Newcastle University, a distinguished institution with a reputation for academic success around the world, was founded in 1834. Newcastle University was a founding member of the Russell Group, a consortium of 24 elite research-focused universities in the United Kingdom. The University's outstanding research reputation, first-rate teaching, and exceptional student support have made it one of the most popular universities in the UK.

More than 28,000 students attend Newcastle University, including more than 5,400 international students from more than 115 nations. It's situated in the heart of one of the UK's busiest student populations. The university emphasizes internationalization heavily and has significant partnerships with academic institutions around the globe, including Siemens, PwC, and IBM, as well as Indian institutes IIT Delhi, IIT Bombay, and IISc Bangalore.

Newcastle University Rankings:

156th place among world's best universities

Ranked 59th among Europe's Best Global Universities

19th in the UK's list of the best global universities

Manchester University

One of the largest universities in the UK is the University of Manchester, which now enrolls 10,000 staff members and 9,000 overseas students. It is situated in England's north. The university is well known for its academic and research abilities and is a member of the Russell Group.

The University of Manchester has employed 25 Nobel Prize winners in the past or present, and 91% of its recent graduates either go on to work or further their studies. According to the prestigious Shanghai Jiao Tong Academic Ranking of World Universities, the University of Manchester is ranked sixth in the United Kingdom and 33rd overall.

University of Manchester Rankings:

58th place among world's best universities

16th place among Europe's Best Global Universities

7th in the UK's list of the best global universities

Prerequisites for UK entry into the MSc program in cardiovascular sciences

With GCSEs or other level 2 equivalents, you could enter healthcare science at the associate or assistant level. There are sporadic apprenticeships in the subject of heath science. After obtaining a validated BSc degree in healthcare science, you will need two or three A-levels*, two or three of which must be in science, together with a reasonable diversity of GCSEs at grades A-C in order to be admitted to the NHS Practitioner Training Program (PTP) as a healthcare science practitioner.

Applying for a post in the graduate-entry NHS Scientist Training Program with a cardiac science concentration is possible. You must hold an integrated master's degree or an undergraduate honors degree with a 1st or 2.1 in a pure or applied science subject linked to the specialization you are pursuing. You will also be taken into consideration if you have a 2.2 honours degree or above in any discipline and a higher degree that is relevant to the specialism for which you are seeking.

The Cardiovascular Sciences salary range in the United Kingdom

A cardiovascular technologist in the UK typically earns approximately 103,000 pounds annually. 47,200 pounds is the lowest wage and 163,000 pounds is the highest. This is the average yearly salary after housing, utilities, and other benefits. Cardiovascular technologists' pay ranges might vary significantly depending on experience, abilities, gender, location, and other considerations. Below is a comprehensive analysis based on a number of variables.

In summary

Cardiovascular disease is predicted to be the leading cause of death for the next 20 years, leading to severe impairment and a reduction in life quality. The goal of this curriculum is to teach cardiovascular science with an emphasis on the clinical, molecular, and genetic aspects that underlie cardiovascular illnesses and the medications used to treat them.

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Here it is! The long-awaited Bex and Ace collab! @bisexual-horror-fan​ and I have talked working on a fic together for over a month now, and now we’ve finally done it! A big, sexy-as-hell smutfic involving our favorite burnt bastard getting absolutely wrecked.

This was an absolute blast to work on. We had so much fun and fed off of each other so well. Bex is fucking incredible, one of the loveliest, sweetest, most enthusiastic and fun people I’ve ever met. I loved every second of throwing ideas back and forth, writing, reading, spitballing, and screaming at each other. Go give her all the love in the world!

But let’s not delay anymore - let’s fucking get into it. Hope you all enjoy the ride!

~

I Never Pegged You As the Type

AO3 Link: Here

Pairing: Freddy Krueger x Fem!AFAB Reader

Rating: NSFW, Explicit

Word count: 10,543

Content warnings: Rough sex, pegging, vibe usage, edging, denial, ruined orgasms, multiple orgasms, squirting, cum-eating, degradation, dirty talk, fingering, bondage, choking, grinding, overstimulation, begging, crying, Reader is a bitch, Freddy is a brat

Teasing was one thing – you could handle teasing. Hell, you had to, or your strange little arrangement with the dead pervert of a dream demon wouldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes. If anything, you probably would’ve been dead within the first two.

And with how much of a fucking ass he was being, you might’ve preferred that.

Freddy had long since passed the threshold of “teasing”. “Teasing” was the light mocking words and fond insults, the dangerous mixture of degradation and praise he purred against your skin. “Teasing” was his free hand skimming along your body and the scant, barely-there touches never quite where you wanted him most. “Teasing” was the blades of that glove leaving curved indents but never splitting the skin open and spilling warm blood.

This, though? What he’d been doing relentlessly for… what, nearly a month now, almost every single night? This wasn’t “teasing”. This was the cruelest, most torturous edging you’d ever endured.

Every single time, he’d absolutely fucking ruin you. Bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you at a punishing pace, shove your face into the mattress with your ass up and your legs spread and everything on display, pull you on top of him and dig his fingers and blades into your thighs until you bled as he thrust up into you. Overwhelm you with pain and pleasure till you were bleeding and sobbing and begging for release, begging for him to let you cum.

Because he got to cum – as many times as he liked. In you, on you, down your throat. But you?

Freddy was having far too much fun denying what you desperately begged him for. Right as you were on the edge, right as you were about to tip over, he’d snatch his hand away or still his hips and clamp you down so you couldn’t move. Or even worse, he would let you cum, and he’d instantly ruin it with a painful slap to your clit that made you shriek in surprise and pain. He’d laugh and not bother to act contrite as tears of frustration and desperation slid down your cheeks. If anything, he’d even act innocent, all wide eyes and smiles. “Awww, princess, you said you wanted to cum. And ya did! I think that was real nice of me, don’t you?” Anytime you tried to complain, tried to say he’d ruined it, it didn’t count, it wasn’t fair, he’d tsk and waggle a talon at you and say, “Don’t get greedy on me.”

It was all part of the game for him.

And you loved the game. You loved him, more than you’d like to admit.

But you also fucking hated him.

He was the bane of your fucking existence. And more than anything else, you fucking wished he could have a taste of his own bitter medicine.

The longer you ruminate on that idea the better and better it sounded. After another far too long and brutal night spent with him, one that left you shaking and slick with sweat, sheets plastered to your skin when you woke? You decided that thinking and wishing was no longer enough. It was time for action.

How could you possibly accomplish that though? You'd become all too aware of the power he wielded and knew that taking it from him would not be an easy task. He sure as shit wasn't going to give it over willingly. 

You pull the sheets away from your body and force yourself into a half sitting position, it’s barely light out as you are reaching over to your nightstand and picking up your phone. You bring it up and turn it on, the bright light makes you wince and your fingers are still a little shaky as you fumble to hit the icon to get onto your preferred web browser. Your other hand comes up, you decide two hands might make this task easier, you type in the only thing you could think of that might help you achieve what you want. Two words: Lucid. Dreaming.

It was going to take time, work, commitment, but you wanted to do this so much that any hurdle was not going to stop you. It just took effort, specific intent. You had an old notebook lying around that had a ton of blank pages, you kept it in the drawer of your nightstand. Every time you wake up, eyes still bleary with sleep, pen in your hand, you'd recall and write out what you dreamt of last night. Meditation was said to help, you’d carve out time whenever you could, mindfulness was important as well as instilling little reality checks. 

The biggest thing to help to aid in lucid dreaming was being aware when you were dreaming and thankfully, when your murderous fuck buddy only comes by in your dreams it becomes painfully clear whenever you are. You still figure some out for the few times you dream without him but he has been refusing to leave you alone so those were rare, few and far between but important all the same. 

He wasn’t letting up and you were desperate to get back at him. Each night you awoke still frustrated, still leaking down your thighs and trembling only served to strengthen your resolve and push you harder to achieve what you wanted. 

You tested the limits gently, carefully, seeing what you could get away with while in a dream with him. Small things, subtle things, things that thankfully he wound up being too preoccupied to notice. Your hard work was starting to pay off. 

After another truly awful night, one where he edged you for around two hours and then promised to make you cum only to ruin you, three times in a row. The last ruin was so intense it made you cry, clenching on nothing so hard it was painful and even gushing as the pleasure dissipated into nothing. 

A ruined orgasm accompanied by squirting was something new, something awful, and something you frankly didn’t want to experience again. He thought it was so fucking funny, laughing as he slung an arm around your shoulders, non-gloved hand sliding between your legs, fingers swiping roughly through your folds, over your oversensitive clit and making you sob even harder. He leans in, taunting low right in your ear, “Awe, that looked like a BIG one, musta felt so good.”

He brought his fingers up and sucked them clean, humming in satisfaction from the taste of your pure unfiltered frustration, listening to the music of your sobs, feeling quite pleased with himself. His hand slid down again, scooping up more and bringing them up to your face, fingers prodded at your lips, “It’s delicious. Here, taste.” 

You shake your head weakly, keeping your lips closed, your eyes pleading as they meet his gaze. You feel that glove on your throat, sharp blades pressing into sensitive skin as he says, “I wasn’t asking.”

Your lips part and he shoves them in roughly, almost making you gag, choking you on the taste of your own cunt as more tears spill forth and that is the moment you know that tomorrow is the night. 

Tomorrow he is going to get it and you are going to make him regret how he has treated you lately. 

You wake that night, sheets sticky and messy, tears dried on your face and feeling ready to make him pay. 

Your eagerness made the following day crawl by. Every minute felt like an hour. Every hour felt like an eternity. Your eagerness didn’t fade, though. If anything, the anticipation just energised you more as you had time to plan out what you would do and play it on repeat, rolling the thoughts around your head until they were perfect. Sculpting them, adding to them, adjusting them.

By the time the sun sank past the horizon and the sky faded to pitch-black, you were practically vibrating with energy. God you were so close. So fucking close to the moment you’d waited for.

As you went about your evening routine, you couldn’t help the pang of uncertainty.

What if, even after all your research and practice… what if it didn’t work? What if you got overconfident and slipped up? What if the power of lucid dreaming turned out to be nothing compared to what Freddy could do? He was a demon, after all. And in the end, you were just human.

He probably wouldn’t be happy if he realised what you were trying to do. You weren’t afraid of him hurting you, but you knew that he would use it as an opportunity to be extra cruel. Any chance of cumming you might’ve had would burn away in an instant. Who knew how long the edging and ruined orgasms would go on.

Freddy could be petty like that.

You shoved the thoughts down, smothering them until they were silent.

You wouldn’t slip up. You were smart. You could do this.

Through sheer force of will if nothing else.

When you finally lay down, curling the bedsheets around yourself, an odd sense of calm swept through you. A sense of finality, perhaps.

This was it.

You’d made your bed - now there was nothing to do but lie in it.

Considering how you’d been practically trembling with eagerness and anticipation, sleep came quickly. And rather suddenly, actually.

The heat of the boiler room hit you instantly, as if you’d opened an oven door. Your bedroom melted, shifted into familiar concrete and rusted pipes and scrap metal.

You took a steadying breath. “Fre-”

A hand snapped around your mouth. An instinctive yelp left you, albeit muffled, as you were spun around and immediately backed against a wall. Freddy’s hands were on you, touching and groping and pulling on your night clothes with a tangible sense of urgency. Your body reacted to him on instinct, and you let yourself melt in his grasp. You let your eyes flutter shut as he brushed his nose against your throat. As a single blade of his glove slipped under the waistband of your pants. As he pressed a thigh between your legs. As he purred, “Heya sweets.”

Admittedly, you weren’t faking the stuttering breath that left you. You were so fucking weak for him.

He knew it.

And you were counting on him knowing it.

“Freddyyyyyy.” You slipped your arms around him, curling your fingers into the matted fuzz of his sweater. You tipped your head back to grant him more access to your neck. A soft little noise left you when he flicked his tongue out and licked up your throat. Fuck.

“Eager tonight, are we?” His voice skittered along your bones.

You have no idea.  You nodded slightly, tugging him closer. Not that he could get much closer. He had you trapped between the wall and his body, and if he got any closer he’d be inside you. In more ways than one.

“You miss ole Freddy that much?” he teased.

“Soooo much.” You hoped you sounded appropriately needy. You were pretty certain you did. But you could ham it up a bit more. “I was thinking about you all day.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Oh?” He nipped at your pulse, and his free hand slid under your shirt. His touch was scalding hot and rough with scars against your skin.

While he was busy feeling you up, you slid your gaze away from him. There were always loose chains dangling from the ceiling of this place… for some reason. You could hear them rattling and clicking in the distance.

The idea washes over you as easily and quickly as arousal usually does when his hands are on you. This was too good, perfect honestly. He’d never see it coming. 

You need to make this convincing, not like it is that difficult, he has such a profound effect on you but still this is crucial. You close your eyes and make yourself take a deep shuddering breath, your hands tugging on his sweater before bringing your face back down, you breathe his name in a way that has him looking up at you.

You need to really sell this, you answer him, your eyes catching his again, “Yeah. I-I was at work and my mind was practically screaming at me-” You choose then to kiss him, as if you need it more than air, like you HAD to in that moment. 

It certainly does its part to help sell how needy you are. He groans into it, returning your affection in that classic way of his, rough and all consuming, you never tire of the unique taste of him. Your mouth breaks away from his as you rush out on a single breath, “-just thinking about you, and this and fuck, I was so worked up, so fucking wet.”

You made sure to put emphasis on that last word, a hushed moan, another tug on his clothes and that time he kissed you as if he needed it just as you had. 

His tongue is in your mouth and you arch up into him, your tongue brushing his, moaning into his mouth, your eyes fluttering closed. You had to keep composure, you needed to do this without getting so caught up, this was about distracting him after all. One of your arms loops around his neck, making sure to keep him close, your other hand slides down his body, you palm him through his pants, unsurprisingly he is already hard for you. His hips press forward, grinding his clothed shaft into your palm. You pull back, hand closing tighter around him, a firm squeeze as you say, “M’ so needy lately and s’ all your fault Freddy.”

He chuckled, “Mmm, yeah? Is it all my fault?” His own voice was clearly showing how hot and bothered he was getting, rough with arousal as he mocked you.

You gave him your best pleading look. Tried to look as pathetic and needy as possible - there was little that got him harder than your desperation for him. And he was already plenty hard.

As you ground your palm against his bulge and earned a throaty groan from him, you gave the dream itself an experimental tug. While he was distracted, he was lost in arousal and his own building pleasure and wouldn’t notice. You pulled on the dream. Pulled it towards you, around you.

The chains clinked in the distance.

Freddy paused.

Fuck.

You made sure your words were just as needy and saccharine as before. “I thought about touching myself while at work.”

Now that definitely got his attention. His gaze snapped up to meet yours, sharp and burning and utterly ravenous. The blades of his glove were ice-cold as they bit into your hip, his grasp just shy of bruising as the metal pressed against your skin. You shivered. His other hand came up to grab your jaw as he said, “Wouldn’t surprise me, considering what a desperate little whore you are.” Despite the words, he rolled his hips, thrusting his still-clothed cock into your grasp.

God, you needed to move soon, or else you were going to just fucking give in and let him do whatever the hell he wanted.

“Whatever the hell he wanted” probably included not letting you cum.

You tugged on the dream again, pulling the chains down and towards you. When you cast another quick glance away from Freddy, the chains were slithering across the floor as if alive, slowly and silently creeping towards the both of you.

“But I am surprised you lasted this long,” Freddy said. Ripping filled the air as he flicked his claws up your body and shredded your shirt in a single motion. He took in the lacy lingerie you wore underneath. “For me? You shouldn’t have.”

The chains were just inches from his boots now. Your heart thundered in your chest.

The dream shifted. The wall fell away from behind you, and your back hit a mattress, Freddy already on top of you, pressing you down, eyes blazing with lust and self-satisfaction.

You met his gaze. “I didn’t.”

And you yanked on the dream, as hard and as quickly as you could. The chains jangled as they shot forward. You grabbed Freddy by the shoulders, and you only glimpsed the look of complete shock on his face as you forced him off and rolled on top of him. You clamped your hands around his arms, shoving him down with your entire weight. He thrashed on instinct.

FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK - 

The chains coiled around his arms and waist. They forced his arms up, wrapping around his wrists and pinning them to the wrought metal headboard while another chain slithered around his waist and latched onto the bed frame. Then you were shoving down on him again, straddling him and pinning him to the bed with your hands on his chest. He writhed still, but it’s not like he could go anywhere. The most he could do was thrash his head, arch his back, and helplessly kick his legs behind you. Anything else had him straining against rattling metal chains with virtually no give.

When he realised this, it seemed to hit him with the force of a punch. He stopped suddenly and stared up at you, chest heaving, eyes comically wide, a beautiful mix of utter shock and fury blended across his face.

He was completely vulnerable and at your mercy.

You’d done it.

You’d fucking done it.

An uncontrollable grin split across your face. “HA! I fucking got you, BITCH!”

You took a deep breath as you looked down at him, taking in this victory, you did it. You actually managed to pin down and chain up the murderous dream demon himself and have him underneath you, spread out and ripe for the taking. You wished you had a camera to capture this but you know it is ultimately unnecessary, that this image is going to be burned into your mind forever. 

His expression shifted, less taken back and more anger and annoyance. “Yeah, you sure as shit did. You proved whatever little point you were tryna make, now let me up.”

It was your turn to laugh, a shake of your head before saying, “Hmm no. I don’t think I will.” 

You stared down at him, hands on his chest still, drumming your fingers and letting silence overtake for a moment just the pair of you staring at each other. 

You could see the gears turning in his head, wondering how long you were going to keep this up. It hasn’t hit him yet just how fucked he is, your cheeks almost hurt from smiling, this is so great. He waits. You don’t relent or give him an inch, you say nothing. 

 He rolls his eyes and says, “Real fuckin’ funny now cut the shit-” 

You half snorted and reached out, you snatched his hat off of his head and brought it up, inspecting it for a moment, turning it over in your hands before looking down at him, “Yeah I agree it IS real fuckin’ funny but I don’t think I will.”

You put his hat on, adjusting it by the brim as you said, “I’d be a total idiot to pass up this golden opportunity, especially when I’ve been working so hard for it.” 

He did not look amused at all as he asked, “Working so hard for what?”

“Oooh so glad you asked Freddy.” You sighed, you moved your hips, sliding back to find him still hard as you ground on him. You noticed the flicker of lust in his gaze and were sure he was fighting the urge to try and grind back up into you. “See I got just so fucking tired of how you were treating me. Just constant teasing with no relief in sight so I thought maybe you should get a taste of your own medicine.”

This was the part you were most excited for, to see if it would work, you could conjure it in dreams without him after all. You hoped with him chained down and helpless and you calling the shots you could and so you moved down. “Maybe I should be in charge for a change-”

Sliding back until you weren’t straddling him but were between his legs, your hand pushed his sweater up and your mouth and tongue tracing down. You were teasing him for once, chest passing over his clothed erection on your way making his breath catch audibly when you pressed closer into him. The egotistical fucker thought you were about to give him head, if only he knew what was in store. 

“-and just maybe I could-” 

It works. You feel it then, the straps secured over your hips, the weight of it heavy between your legs, just what you were looking for. Your eyes were trained on his face, he was watching you, so close to pressing your mouth to him through the layer of his pants. Instead you sit up on your knees between his thighs suddenly, showing off your little surprise and finishing your sentence at the same time.

“-take you down a peg.” You say the last part loudly and proudly with another grin. Your fingers hooked in the straps of tonight’s main implement of torture, tugging it up just a little, making the weighty silicone dildo jutting out from between your legs bob from the movement. 

And there was that shocked look on his face again. Priceless. 

Again, you could see him struggling to believe what he was seeing. As if the possibility was too ludicrous to consider, so outside of anything he would’ve expected from you.  It just had you grinning even wider.

He flicked his gaze from your face, down to the strap, to your face again, then the chains holding him in place. Then back to the strap and then your face. You fought the urge to laugh. “You’ve gotta be fuckin with me,” he muttered.

“That’s the plan.” You wiggled your hips, making the green-and-red striped dildo bob again for emphasis.

He yanked on the chains, rattling them and the headboard, but they offered no give. He bared his teeth at you. “Think you’re so fuckin clever, huh?”

“I do, actually.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

The look on his face became furious again. Not furious at what you were doing, not at the prospect of what you were going to do - but furious at the prospect of his pride being so severely wounded. How could you, a powerless human, possibly have him, a literal demon and the thing of nightmares, at your mercy? It was ridiculous. It was almost insulting.

That was the whole idea.

“Let’s get to it then, huh?” You gave the dildo a gentle pat. Freddy scoffed - until your hands went to his waist and started unbuckling his pants. He started thrashing again. Or as much as he could with the chain around his waist. He was squirming at best. A string of muttered curses and insults left his mouth, along with a few colourful little threats that had you rolling your eyes. Yes, yes, you’re very scary and intimidating, especially all tied up like this, soooo scary.

You hooked your fingers into his waistband and tugged down, pulling the pants down his thighs. “Stop fucking kicking, you’re just drawing this out.”

As if you didn’t intend to draw this out as long as possible…

Somehow, eventually, you managed to get his pants off entirely. You took in the sight - Freddy chained by the wrists and waist to the bed, sweater shoved up his stomach, scarred skin and achingly hard cock on display, his expression twisted in fury and pride.

Oh yeah, you were definitely going to enjoy this.

You purse your lips in thought. “I don’t suppose I can get you to suck this bad boy, can I?”

“Try it, and I’ll fuckin bite it off.”

“Grumpy.” You waggled a finger at him. He practically hissed at you. God, you were relishing this. No wonder he took so much joy in mocking you and teasing you and denying you. It was delicious.

“Alright then. How about you summon up some lube for us?”

“Awww, so you really do care? I’m touched.” His voice practically dripped with sarcasm. Of course, the sarcasm was nowhere to be found when you leaned over him, caging him in and letting the head of the dildo brush up his abdomen. He went rigid, eyes widening as he stared up at you. As if he hadn’t quite been expecting that.

“Of course I care,” you said sweetly. “I want this to last for a goooood long while. Not to mention I don’t actually want to hurt you with this. Quite the opposite.” You paused. “And I don’t have a death wish trying to get this thing in your ass dry. So. The lube?”

He grinned up at you. “Can’t summon it yourself, toots?”

“Hey, this is a collaborative effort. You should get to contribute, too.” You grinned at him just as he had. Tit for tat, and all that.

A long moment passed. He stared up at you. You stared down at him. A silent little battle of wills to see who would give in first.

Freddy’s mouth twisted.

And then a bottle of lube popped into existence, perfectly balanced on the edge of the headboard. You beamed at him. “See? I knew you could do it!”

“Rub it in, bitch. See where it gets you.”

He was making this so fucking easy… “Don’t worry, baby, that’s not the only thing I’ll be rubbing in tonight.” You waved the lube at him as you said it. The look on his face suggested that he was finally starting to realise what it was like to be around him.

You dramatically popped the lid on the tube open, and the little noise echoed around the space. Your hand holding the bottle tipped it forward, your other hand a few inches below it, catching the stream of lube that began to pour out. Once satisfied with the amount you put the bottle upright, clicking it closed one handed as your thumb rubbed over the pads of your fingers, spreading the cool lube around. 

You set the bottle aside but still in reach, one hand hooking under his knee and bringing up one of his legs as you put it over your thigh. Lube slicked fingers moved down between your bodies and that had him jerking under you, he barked out, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

You laughed lightly before saying, “Prepping you? Or should I just slam it in as is?” 

Him still wiggling, as little as he could, was not a deterrent and didn’t stop you as two fingers found just what you were looking for and circled his hole. That had all movement from him stop, he was tense as you rubbed, you kept your eyes trained on his face, taking in every reaction. 

You were so excited it was a little hard not to rush but you made yourself take some time for this part. Soon enough though your first finger slowly pushed forward, breached him with relative ease, he felt hot, so damn hot. It was shocking because he normally ran really hot, skin felt almost blazing but now that part of you was inside of him, and damn was that an exciting thought, it made his skin seem almost cold in comparison. You were used to him feeling so rough wherever you touched him, scarred skin seemingly went on for miles and stretched everywhere but inside, he felt so smooth. 

You also couldn’t help commenting, “Holy shit you’re tight.” 

His expression was previously tense but you saying that had his face changing to a mix of mild confusion and indignation, “You sound so shocked.” 

“I am a little bit to be honest.” You admitted with a half shrug and a smile as you slide your finger in deeper, he pushed, “Why’s that exactly?”

“I dunno, just didn’t think-wait.” You paused. Eyebrows raised excitement clear in your eyes, “Are you saying that I shouldn’t be shocked?”

You were staring at each other for a moment until he caught onto where you were going and he started to protest, “No, no don’t you-”

“Oh my God, the dream demon supreme Freddy fucking Krueger has bottomed before! Of fucking course! How did I never realise?” You were grinning now, curling your finger inside of him in such a way that had his head falling back onto the pillow, eyes up to the ceiling as he groaned out, clearly annoyed, “Fuuuuuuck yooooou.”

“Patience, patience.” You sing-songed out. “We’ll get there, I promise.”

You choose that as your moment to add the second finger, slipping it in along with the first and you get rewarded for your sense of timing and boldness with a curse from him. You really settle in then. Working your lubed fingers in and out over and over, curling them on occasion, scissoring them to make sure you were actually stretching him in a way that would make the false cock affixed to you easier for him to take. 

You could not stop looking at him. The way his eyes weren’t as focused, the change in his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest and how you’d occasionally feel him tense. A lot of the bite was taken out of him at the moment, he was oddly quiet, so unlike him but not necessarily unwelcome. You’d have him screaming for you soon enough. 

“You alright there Fred?” You asked in a rather teasing tone that had him scowling. As if you speaking broke the spell and reminded him of what was really happening and the events leading up to it, reminding him that YOU were the one doing it to him. 

“I’m fucking fine.” He snapped and you bit back a laugh. “Yeah you seem great. What do you think, time for a third finger?”

You didn’t wait for a response as you did just as you said, working in a third digit, making him inhale sharply, “Fuck!” 

“Mmm too much?” You asked and he bit back, “No way, s’ nothing.” 

Nothing. Sure sounded like nothing when his tone was so sharp and he responded so quickly. Your eyes broke away from his, looking down at his achingly hard cock currently dribbling a mess of pre-cum onto his stomach before your eyes flicked back up to his, smile still playing at your lips. He opened his mouth to respond verbally but you moved your finger in and out harder and that made any words stop short. He chose the way to get across his feelings by throwing up both middle fingers on his hands still chained to the headboard and that got the biggest laugh of the night so far from you.

He was still being so defiant. This was so fun. You could hardly wait to really wreck him. 

It seemed like he was ready and it was time for you to move on. You slipped your fingers out which had him letting out what might be mistaken for a small gasp if he didn’t smother it as quickly as he did. Your other hand picked up the bottle, snapping it open the same way you had before, pouring a generous amount into your open palm. Your hand wrapped around the shaft of your fake cock and jerked it slowly, spreading the mess as your eyes peek to steal a glance at his face. He seemed to be fully aware this was really happening now and the look on his face was fucking fantastic. 

You were satisfied with the amount of lube on the strap but you brought your hand back down, fingers between his cheeks. Your fingers were still very coated and you spread as much as you could over him, wanting to make this as smooth a ride as possible. 

“You ready for the ride of your life?” You asked confidently and he scoffed, “Yeah I’m real sure it’s going to be life changing.”

He didn’t sound convinced and you asked, “Don’t you mean AFTERlife changing?”

“I fucking hate you.” He deadpanned. 

“Awe, no. You love me. Especially after what I am about to do to you.” Your hand brought his other leg over your other thigh, one hand on his hip to help hold him steady as you gripped the base of the toy. 

You needed a second. Really take in the fact that well, you were about to take him. 

He was spread out like a fucking meal below you and you were about to fuck him. After countless nights of him touching and fucking you stupid you were about to give him a taste of what it was like to be on the receiving end. 

You needed to savour this because there was a good chance that once he got out of these chains he would make it so you could never do anything even close to this again, if he let you live. 

No more wasting time, you gripped his hip a little harder and moved your hips forward and he spoke up. 

“This is your last chance.” Your eyes met his. “If you give this up now I might go easy on you.”

You considered it for maybe half a second but you knew he was bullshitting and if you let him out now who knows what he would do to you. A soft smile on your face as you shake your head and say simply, “Nah, I’m good.”

You push forward hard and slip the head of the dildo inside him in one fluid motion that has his fists clenching. “Shit-”

“Thanks though.’ You said sincerely as you slowly sank more of yourself, of the strapon inside of him. You needed to commit all of this to memory. Him attempting to arch, lips parted, eyes wide and his thighs tensing over yours, God, this was getting to him already.

You got about halfway when your hand let go of the base of the shaft, coming to your hip you adjusted the pull tab and tightened hot it was sitting on you and then it was time for your breath to catch. 

You’d thought so carefully about choosing just the right kind of strap on. This one had something on the inside just for you, something to help increase your enjoyment of this act even more as well as ensure your own satisfaction.  A small vibrator that lined up just right to stimulate your clitoris beautifully. Even better still was the fact that it was pressure and touch sensitive. It doesn’t go off unless it is touching skin and the more pressure applied, the harder the vibration, it was just like one of your most beloved vibrators in real life tucked away in your nightstand. It’s the kind of toy that makes you feel thankful to live in the times we do, the kind that makes you wanna bow down and thank fuck that technology has gotten to this point. 

Bless mechanically enhanced orgasms. 

When you tightened that tab before, it pulled the strap close enough to finally set off that wonderful piece of silicone pressed to you and it felt good. You were already so excited from the earlier make out and groping but mostly from the rest. From the shift in power, seeing him laid out like this, feeling inside of him, you were more than ready. 

You bit your bottom lip, hand on his outer thigh as you pushed in deeper, doing so making the toy press more flush as you took it deeper, the vibration increased and you moaned softly. “Mmmf yesss-”

Your eyes were still glued to his face, watching the expression shift as you made him take more still. You got in about halfway before pulling back out, leaving just the head in, it made the vibration calm down on the pull out, more of a tease before your hips bucked forward increasing it again. Fuck was it a good feeling. You fucked him slowly, easy pace, with just the first half of the dildo, enjoying the easy ebb and flow of the vibration, working on finding your rhythm. 

“Is this all you got?” He asked and your eyes hardened as you responded. “Not by a long shot but I was being nice, easing you into it.”

“Please, I’m not gonna fuckin’ break.” You took that as a challenge. 

“Oh is that so?” You asked and he affirmed with a nod far too confident for someone in his position to have, he said “Yup.” 

He popped the ‘p’ as he did so before he continued on, “I don’t think you got it in you to be able to hurt me.” 

God, he was asking for it. 

“The night is young. I can make you eat those words.” The hardest snap of your hips so far that made his body jerk under you, his cock slapping lightly against his stomach and something akin to a groan slipped out from between his lips. 

This was too much fun.

You ramped it up then. That hard thrust felt really fucking good. You gripped him, one hand on his hip, the other still on his thigh, nails biting into scarred flesh as you rocked into him, sliding in and out harder, making him take almost the whole length of your false cock.

His breathing was laboured, his body moving on the sheets below as much as it could, which definitely was not much at all, a thought that made you clench around nothing and buck your hips harder. Every forward thrust increased your pleasure, the vibration increased and you were starting to allow the pleasure to show, moaning out, head tipping back as you focused on the feelings washing through you. 

“You’re getting off on this pretty fuckin’ hard.” His rough voice cut through the relative silence other than the sound of skin on skin, the bedsprings and breathing as well as the wet squelch of lube and you working in and out of him. 

“Yeah, s’ good.” You pant lightly, really good. 

“Too good. No way you just, fuck-” A hard thrust making his sentence break off before he took a deep breath and pressed forward, “-just like the view this much.” 

You huffed out a laugh, “Dunno, pretty good view from where I am.” 

A particularly good thrust has you moaning louder, a spike in pleasure shooting up your spine, your thighs felt sticky already from how much you were leaking. “But there is somethin’ else.” 

You admitted, he hummed questioning, his eyes were half lidded, you fucked with the angle and pulled a groan he clearly hadn’t wanted to escape from him, it makes you smile. “Maybe there’s something on the other side just for me.”

He catches on quickly.

The vibrator is powerful but it’s also whisper quiet, you aren’t surprised he couldn’t hear it. 

“Well didn’t you think of everything.” 

You moaned again, “I did.” You were only a few minutes into this but you could feel the pleasure building, rising. It has been God knows how long since your last proper, full orgasm, one that wasn’t denied or ruined cruelly by the monster below you. 

Your body was begging for it, alight with pleasure and feeling, hungry for release. You were so turned on, you were getting off on all of it. How he looked, the shift in power, the entire situation as well as the actual sensation between your thighs as well. 

He knew your tells all too well by this point. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare bitch.” He sounded harsh, serious, but not as much as usual, how hard he was breathing and the strain to his voice cutting through his tone. 

You bite your bottom lip again, “Don-don’t what?” you asked playing dumb.

“Don’t you fucking cum.” He said more firmly, trying to inject more venom into his tone and for once, failing. 

It makes you throb, pushes you further. “Why not?” You question. You snap your hips harder again, you hold all the way inside of him and grind, it feels heavenly. “And what, ohhh, what are you gonna do to stop me?”

The real answer was nothing. There was nothing he could do to stop you at this moment. He still was going to try though. He started with the threats. “If you cum tonight it’ll be the last time you ever do.”

You almost wanted to roll your eyes at that, “Mmm I’m so sure.” You were getting dangerously close now, almost totally out of breath, nearly there. 

“I mean it, don’t you do it slut! Listen to me-” He was fighting back again, attempting to thrash below you but you weren’t going to let him throw your rhythm off now, not when that ultimate pleasure was in your reach. Your hands grip his sides, they slide up and push hard on his chest, holding him down, putting all your energy into keeping your hips moving, keeping this feeling coming.

The pace and pressure were toe curling perfect, each full slam inside allowed a big burst of strong vibration and each pull out easing up enough to create a wave, up down, up down and on it goes as you go in out, in out. 

“M’ real scared.” You breathed out, eyes half lidded, lips parted and you weren’t listening anymore. 

You register him saying something else but you don’t know what and you don’t care. You cut him off, eyes falling closed as you grit out, “Fuck you Krueger.” 

And finally, dear lord, finally, blissfully, you cum. 

It had been well over a month, closer to two in the making and it is so strong, so delicious it is honestly nearly worth the wait. It starts low, begins in your clit and makes you clench around nothing, warmth and pleasure radiating out, making your thighs tremble and your nails dig into his chest. It steals your breath and makes your brows furrow, a sharp gasp as the first big wave of it crests and you hold still, as deep as you can in him. It’s practically too much but also just right, just enough, intense but not overly so and you need more. Your hips move, short, shallow thrusts, barely moving, more grinding against him as you ride it out. Lips still parted an open mouthed smile breaks out, a half-laugh and half-moan ringing out as if you were in disbelief over how fucking good it felt to have this, to let go, cum uninterrupted. 

Freddy watched you in complete, utter silence, his gaze burning against your skin as you let yourself simmer in the pleasure. Once it had faded, died down to a few remaining sparks and embers, you shifted your attention back to him. And gave him the biggest, cheeriest grin you could summon.

“Having fun yet?” You gave one of his thighs a gentle pat. He jerked under you, jangling the chains and straining. You snapped your hips, slamming back into him with no warning. His body arced so hard you thought his spine might snap, and his cock twitched and spilled more precum onto his stomach. The hem of his sweater was getting messy. And God, what a fucking sight that was.

You pressed down on his hips to leverage yourself over him, aligning yourself just so as you set a new, freshly punishing pace. The vibe reactivated, low but persistent, perfect after the first mind-breaking orgasm in such a long time. You moaned. Freddy, on the other hand, seemed desperate not to make a single damn sound. Teeth clenched, staring up at the ceiling, hands curled into fists and chest heaving.

Well, you could change that.

You kept one hand on his hips. With the other, you grabbed him by the cock and stroked, hard and forceful and painful. Something between a choke and a moan burst out from him. His head fell back, and you pumped him harshly a few times as you thrust into him before snatching your hand away completely.

As if on instinct, his hips thrust up into empty air. Or, at least, they tried to. With you shoving down on his hips and the chain around his waist, all he managed was a slight wiggle.

His head snapped back up, eyes blazing.

“Having trouble?” you mocked.

You thrust hard, and the vibration spiked, almost making you falter because fuck it was so fucking good.

“What the fuck are you-?”

“Come on, Freddy, it’s not that hard to figure out. I’m denying you. You know? Denying? Not letting you have what you want? You do it to me alllll the time.” You grabbed one of his legs, feeling him tensing under you, and manoeuvred him so the false cock would hit deeper.

And you were rewarded with another involuntary noise before he caught himself and promptly shut up. Though he was obviously struggling.

Your own pleasure was steadily increasing, building back up again and getting closer to a second release with each thrust. You grabbed him by the sweater and yanked him down at the same moment you rolled your hips. A bolt of pleasure had you gasping. He squirmed relentlessly, either trying to get away or grind further down, you couldn’t tell. Not that you cared. Not when this was about you, when it felt this good, when your thighs were slick and trembling again as you neared the edge.

“Ready for round two?” You sounded a little winded as you said it.

Freddy stared at you in disbelief. “Already?”

“Yes, already. It feels so good, so fucking good.” You preened a little as you said it, letting a breathy moan escape you and letting him see just how much you were enjoying this.

You slammed into him mercilessly. And once again, he writhed as if it would be any different this time, as if he’d be able to move a little more and get away or do anything. His breath was coming in short, stuttered gasps. It was a beautiful sound, one you were sure to commit to memory.

“Ooooooo I’m gonna cum again,” you moaned. So close so close so close - 

“Fucking-!”

You grabbed his cock again and squeezed. And he yelped, full-on yelped, as you nearly bottomed out and hit your breaking point. For a second time, pleasure burst through you. It was almost better than the first. You threw your head back, moaning aloud, stilling for a moment before moving again. You rode it this time, each thrust enhancing the pleasure more and more, building it and adding an extra, perfect edge that almost had you whimpering from how good it felt.

It felt so good after having been denied so much for so long. There may have been a demon pinned and writhing and panting beneath you, but you might as well have been in heaven.

You didn’t stop as you came down from the high, the vibration allowing a constant pleasure to hum along your veins. A beautiful contrast to the past months.

And Freddy knew it, too.

“Enjoying it, slut?” he hissed.

“Aw, feeling jealous?” You rubbed your thumb along the head of his cock, rubbed the tip, and that had Freddy’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, you know. You did this yourself.”

“Please.”

You knew he meant it in dismissal, but you couldn’t help but grab onto the opportunity. “Oh? Begging, are we?”

“Keep dreaming,” he snapped.

You pulled your hand away from his cock, and he tried - rather pathetically - to thrust up into nothingness.

You grabbed the lube bottle again. “How about we make a deal?” you said. He eyed you suspiciously as you pulled out of him completely to lube the false cock back up. “You beg. You beg like your life fucking depends on it, and maybe, maybe, I’ll let you cum.”

The glare he shot you was sharper than any blade he’d pressed into your skin.

“I don’t beg for anyone.”

You shrugged and set the lube aside again. “Your loss. How about we go for a third then?”

He snapped his mouth open as if to retort, but you pressed back in with a single harsh thrust. And instead of a retort, a stuttering moan escaped instead.

You did intend to get yourself a third orgasm, but you were determined to make him desperate this time. Make him moan, get him close, and then cruelly deny him what he’d denied you. Until he had no choice but to start begging.

A shift of your hips, a shift of his hips, and this time when you thrust, his entire body jolted and strained, eyes screwing shut with a groan. Ahhh yeah, right there. Perfect. You slid your grasp to his thighs and used them as leverage as you rocked into him, making sure to hit that spot over and over again, making sure he felt every inch dragging in and out.

And as you ruthlessly fucked him, Freddy started to shudder underneath you.

It sent satisfaction and a punch of lust curling through your core. He may have been resisting as much as he could, he may have been hurling insults and being the brattiest bottom you’d ever encountered. But he was starting to break.

You just had to push him a little more.

One hand went to his cock again. You made sure your grip was tight and almost painful as you jerked him off. He was panting, sucking air between his teeth as he bit into his bottom lip in an attempt to keep from making noise. Desperate. Desperately trying to resist.

You let go of his cock. Then shifted, leaned over him, and grabbed him by the throat.

His eyes flew open and he instantly started writhing as you choked him. His hips rolled, and you weren’t sure whether he was trying to thrust up or grind down. You quickly shifted again, hand going from his throat to his cock as you slammed against that spot inside of him.

The hoarse cry that left him had you shuddering with pleasure.

God, yes, now we were getting somewhere.

Any time he would try to clamp down, try to stay quiet, you’d grab his throat and squeeze until he was wheezing and gasping for air, mouth forced open, then hit him extra hard and force another delicious cry from him. He sounded so good like this, desperate and needy and unable to stop himself.

A third orgasm was building up faster than you thought.

But between the vibrations and the noises he was making, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

You picked up the pace. His body jerked like a ragdoll with each thrust, and each pant had become dangerously close to a moan. Every time you stroked his dick without warning, you earned the most viscerally satisfying noise from him.

You were fucking close. “How you doing there, Fred? Close?” You punctuated the word with another thrust. Whatever response he was going to make was lost in an incomprehensible sound of pained pleasure. Heat pulsed through you. “You gonna start begging?”

“NO!” he shouted, the word torn from him with another harsh roll of your hips. Still refusing to beg, even with how obviously close he was, how he was steadily teetering towards the edge while your own release hurtled towards you.

Fuck, God, you were going to - 

“That’s a fucking shame.” You came with a last thrust, yanking your hand away from his cock and stilling so he got nothing while you stole a third orgasm. He practically screamed in frustration, desperately gyrating his hips for any hint of friction. You clamped your hands down on his hips and pinned him in place while heat simmered and sparked through you.

Denying him while indulging yourself.

It was perfect.

His muscles were tense and coiled beneath you, trembling uncontrollably as he watched your ecstasy. He was furious, nearly spitting in rage. And yet there was an edge to it, something you’d never seen before, something helpless and frustrated and bizarre to see on him.

For a split second, you thought he was about to start crying.

Freddy fucking Krueger. The Springwood Slasher, the dream demon, the vengeful ghost, the urban legend, the thing that went bump in the night.

Had nearly been reduced to tears of frustration because of you.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he snarled.

He wanted to be a bitch? Fine. Then you could be a bitch right fucking back.

You bared your own teeth at him, shifting to lean over him again. You curled your fingers around his throat and applied just the slightest bit of pressure, not enough to cut off his air supply but enough to make his breath catch.

“You don’t get to fucking bitch and whine when I told you exactly what you needed to do,” you hissed. “Beg, and you get to cum. Don’t beg, and I leave you high and dry. It’s a simple fucking instruction, Krueger. And I’m not fucking letting you cum until you fucking beg me to.”

His eyes were wide as saucers. A pretty silvery-blue look of utter shock.

And for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved. There was only the sound of your mutual heavy breathing.

And then, softly, so softly you thought you might’ve imagined it - 

“Please.”

You tilted your head. “What was that?”

Freddy grit his teeth and cringed, lip curling as if it physically pained him to say it. “Please,” he muttered. He somehow managed to sound both pathetically desperate and half-hearted at the same time.

You slid your hand up from his neck to his chin, tilting his face up to look at you. Much in the same way he would do to you with that glove. “I think you can do better than that.”

You could see him have to fight the urge to roll his eyes and he muttered something, probably a curse under his breath aimed at you before he speaks again and the words are devoid of the proper emotion. He doesn’t sound contrite. It is like he is just saying the words hoping that would be good enough. “Please let me cum.” 

It would be impressive the way he managed it other than his still laboured breathing but you wanted all of it. Him just saying the fucking words was not good enough. 

You sighed, “C’mon Fred. Where is your passion?” You asked, hands clutching his shoulders and pushing him down as you thrust forward, another directed him to his prostate that pulled a loud moan from him. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting it. 

“Make me believe you want it, let me feel your frustration.” You prompted with another hard roll of your hips causing him to almost yelp out, “Please!”

Better. Definitely better. 

“Mmm not quite there. Let’s try and get you where I want.” You lean forward, you are tempted to kiss him but think he might bite you still so you hold back. You pull him down again, another thrust and how much closer you were pressed his cock between your body and his, providing some very much needed extra stimulation to hopefully get the result you wanted. 

“Shi-please?” He sounded breathless, and you were eating it up. You shake your head and cluck your tongue sympathetically, “Nope.”

You popping the ‘P’ like he had earlier, mocking him was too much fun especially when he couldn’t retaliate in any serious way. 

You pick this as the moment to get what you want. You are craving another orgasm yourself honestly. You sit up, hands dragging down his chest, his sides, until they are gripping his hips firmly once more and you set a steady pace. 

Each thrust is purposeful, sure, very confident as the pleasure spiked in yourself. 

It only took a few more short minutes and some verbal encouragement from you for his entire body to be tense as could be and him chanting out, “Please, fuck, please, lemme cum-” in time with your thrusts. 

He was sounding needy, much better than he did previously, eyes were squeezed shut and nearly drooling, you never thought you would see him like this and you were loving it holy shit. You were so sensitive, extremely worked up, clit was so sensitive and thighs were drenched and the view and obscene sounds of skin on skin and his begging was aiding you, pulling you closer to the edge so fast. 

You spit into your hand and wrapped it around his shaft tightly. You jerked him off in time with the rhythm of your hips, you were short of breath as you asked, “You wanna cum?”

His eyes cracked open, pleading as he looked up at you, “Yes, shit, yes okay? Fuck-Please-please-”

His voice sounded so rough, so perfect. You wouldn’t be long.

“Yeah? M’ getting close, gonna cum together. Yes, yes, get ready-” You taunted, your hand that wasn’t jacking him off was under his thigh, hauling his leg up, letting yourself really assault his prostate and he gasped. A nod, “Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop-”

You wanted to hear that on repeat. Freddy panting out “don’t stop”, it might be the hottest thing you’d ever heard. The climb was quick for you. 

While he knew your tells, you’d been paying attention the whole time you’d been seeing him, his own end was obvious, you could see it coming. 

Which meant that you were able to time this next part perfectly. 

“Close, close, fuck, Freddy, gonna cum-” You moaned and you knew he was far gone when he matched and mirrored the moan in passion and nearly in pitch. 

This was going to be too fun.

A few more hard thrusts and you feel his cock throb in your palm and you knew it was now. You dropped his leg, your hand let him go, letting his cock slap against his stomach hard as you pulled out suddenly. He went wide eyed, mouth fell open, you watched the shift in his expression, the way he seemingly couldn’t process what you’d just done to him.

Next your hand was wrapping around the toy, so quick, no time wasted, jerking it off, keeping the vibration going for yourself, ensuring your pleasure while denying his. You came to the best sight of the night. Freddy still chained down and barely able to move, trying to thrash, cursing up a storm as he came. 

Or well tried to. 

He ruined and he ruined hard. Hole empty, fists clenched and his cock leaking out his load of cum pathetically all over his own stomach and the edge of his sweater. “You stu-stupid fuckin’ cunt! How could you-you bitch!”

You came so hard listening to him losing his mind at what you’d just done to him. All the pleasure that he could have, lost, gone in an instant, cum spilled and cock still hard he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. 

You almost thought maybe this was too mean. But that didn’t last long. You remember all those nights you were in his shoes and he deserved worse than just one night of this. You wished you could subject him to as much denial and pain that he put you through. 

One thing at a time though.

Once you stopped shaking, once your orgasm had risen and fell and honestly felt incredible, matched the others so far beautifully, catching your breath you reached out again. 

Your hand wrapped around his cock that had just stopped leaking cum, your other hand guided your strap and you slammed back into him, balls deep, all the way making him let out a half scream. His eyes had been closed and they flew open upon you doing this, your hand still on his shaft began to work. 

Your thumb and middle finger pinching the space where head meets shaft and your pointer finger is flicking up and down between frenulum and tip, his own cum serving as lube, focusing on literally the most sensitive part of his dick post ruin. 

The response was immediate. 

He sobbed. 

He actually fucking sobbed. He sounded, wrecked, hands pulled weakly at the chains making them barely creek, a shaky inhale in, trying to rein in his reaction and failing. His breathing is erratic, his feels are digging into the mattress behind you, he is going to buck away from your hand. You let the strap rest in him and your hand doesn’t ease up. 

Your finger moving with purpose, flicking up and down, up and down, before you ask in a tone of mock concern, “You alright there Freddy?”

You then bring it home, swirling your finger right over his tip several times with a single rock of your hips that you know drags against his prostate. 

He chokes out a painful sounding “No!” It tears from his throat and makes your cunt clench, causes you to leak more. 

“No?” You ask softly and sweetly, finger back to flicking up and down, thumb and middle finger slipping and sliding from all the cum, running along the sensitive ridge of the head of his cock. 

Your eyes were down, looking at your slippery hand toying with him when you felt it. His whole body is shaking and you look up to his face at hearing the hiccupping breath.

You did it.

He was crying. Actual tears, overstimulation and pain too much to bear and you simply say his name, “Freddy-”

And it all comes pouring out of him.  

“I’m sorry! I-I’m fuckin’ sorry okay?! Shit, stop it, stop it, s’ too much! I can’t take it-” Another sob before he continues babbling, “-it hurts, it really fuckin’ hurts, let go, please, please, I’ll do anything-”

There it was.

Your hand paused. Smile curling over your face, “Anything?” You repeated sounding utterly delighted.

“Yes, yes, anything-” He was so far gone he didn’t know what he was saying now. 

You had him right where you wanted. But what were you going to do with him?

“Mmm, you sound really sorry.” You hummed out and he agreed, a sniff and another furious nod and you took his hat off. Holding it with one hand the other wiping over your forehead, it was sweaty work breaking him like this. 

“So I think I just might take pity on you.” 

“Really?” He asked, still breathless and you placed his hat back on, your hand coming up, tasting some of his cum off of your fingers, sucking lightly as you paused for dramatic effect before affirming, “Really.”

He sighed in relief, body sagging below you, eyes falling closed. He didn’t see you grin.

Didn’t see your hand slowly reaching back to his half hard cock. 

You always kept your promises. You really were going to stop. 

In another five minutes or so. 

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 17th. Choking. "Stay." Vincent Sinclair X GN! AFAB! Reader.

Hey, hey, hey! Another day, another fic! I hope you like this one, it's one of my faves from this event, I did some good changes and hope it hits with you all. On we go re-doing Kinky December.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 1.2K (Old Length. 1.1K.) Warnings. Slight Dub-Con. Restraints. Masturbation. Teasing. Voyeurism. Jealousy. Manhandling. Cunnilingus. Choking. Rough Sex. Vaginal Sex. Possessive Behaviour. Dirty Signing. 

—

It hadn’t always been this way, you had more freedom before, but after a particular incident with some people visiting Ambrose, that had swiftly ended. A new group of people rolled through, and they tried to take you with them. You were supposed to hide when anyone other than Vincent, Lester and Bo were in town, but you stumbled into the group by mistake. You tried to fight, tried to tell them you were fine, they weren’t having it, a strong hand around your wrist, pulling you along as it was insisted that you must get out. It did not end well for them. 

He deemed it better if he could keep you in his sights, he wanted you close enough to always be able to see you and know exactly where you were at all times, and it wasn’t like you could say no or stop him.

That is how the vast majority of most of your days were now spent, on his bed in his workshop. Laying or sitting there as he worked, sometimes you watched him or read books he would bring you or sleep or not much of anything in particular. 

Today you were feeling restless and bored. You watched him on and off as he worked, making himself busy with more sculpture work. You allowed your mind to wander as you watched how he worked with his hands. Thoughts about what those hands were capable of, and what they had done to you, recalling memories of his bruising grip and how easily he could crush you if he really wanted to. 

You decided you had enough of being alone on the bed, you figured out exactly how today could better be spent. You adjusted, your legs were strapped down to the bed still, restraints on your ankles, legs spread, able to use your hands, your wrists free as they were usually unless you had done something bad enough that he saw fit to restrain them too. Deciding to take it slowly, your hand on your inner thigh and sliding up, slowly, you kept your eyes on him, he was still very preoccupied. Your fingers found the edge of your panties, and you started in nice and easy, it felt good, sliding over yourself, you had the thought wondering when the last time you had done this to yourself. Seemed like you never got the chance to, you had kind of missed it, you got into it much quicker than you had expected to initially. 

You could feel the fabric getting damp under your touch, fingers increasing pressure as you rolled them over your clit, the familiar feeling of easy pleasure warm and low inside of you. Up and down, wetness starting to coat your fingers, dragging them up and rubbing over yourself, you let yourself start to vocalize how good it felt, not loud but not doing much of anything to quiet yourself either. It felt surprisingly good, but not nearly enough, you were hoping to entice him soon.

You needed more. You needed him. It wasn’t long until he noticed. He had his back to the mattress where you were, his hands slowed, and he turned, it seems that he had finally heard you and was now watching you. 

A hard swallow when you noticed his gaze on you as you were continuing to touch yourself, a little more tentative for a moment before growing more bold. 

First thing you said in hours, mouth dry and voice a little rough as you uttered his name, “Vincent.”

You touched yourself harder, writhing against the sheets, he turned back around, and you were sad for a moment, thinking you had failed, but then he got up. Hands on the workbench as he did, chair almost falling over, he turned back to you. He continued to watch you, leaning against the bench for a moment, you kept going, your eyes must have been pleading by this point. Finally, he seemed to sigh and reach up, he removed his mask and set it aside, he seemed to search the table for a moment and quickly found what he was looking for. You watched as he started to come over to you, heavy footsteps as he gathered his hair and put it up, and that made your heart nearly stop. 

You spoke again, softer, questioning, “Vinny?”

What did he have in mind that he needed his hair up in a bun like that, out of his way? He fell to his knees at the end of the mattress, and he grabbed your ankles and yanked you down, you yelped, knees bent, and he had pulled you much closer to him. He reached up and ripped the thin and soaked fabric from your aching core easily, tearing it quickly and tossing it aside. His arms locked around your thighs and his mouth was on you, you groaned, it felt good, but he was being so rough. It was intense, boarding on painful, this wasn’t about pleasing you, this was about getting you ready, you were simply along for the ride, you had to endure it. 

Crying out, your back arching and your eyes shut tightly, “Vin! Fuc-”

You managed to adjust, breathing becoming ragged as he worked you over, you actually might cum from this if he kept it up. You tensed and were tempted to reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, but you resisted the urge and moaned for him instead. Your fingers in the sheets, and you could feel that pleasure building, and all too suddenly it stopped. 

Before you could even think to move or question it he was on top of you, his hand on your throat, it made you gasp, eyes flying open, looking up at him. He had one hand on your throat, his other one pulling himself free of his clothes. He was on top of you, weight heavy as he lined up and sunk inside of you in one long stroke making you gasp, even with the prep it was so much to take, stretching you quickly. 

His other hand free now that he grabbed and had both of your wrists in his grip and pinned above your head easily. You struggled, and his hand tightened on your throat, a warning to not put up too much fight, that look, fuck he seemed less than pleased. Then you remembered, part of why you didn’t touch yourself often, he didn’t like it. He wanted to be the only one touching you like this, he is possessive over every fucking part of you, wanted to be the only one making you feel like that. 

His grip tightened on your throat further, and it made you clench down on him, he pulled out halfway and his hips snapped forward, hard, and it made you moan out his name. He took you just like that, rushed, gripping your wrists so tightly as he fucked into you, choking you firmly, looking down at you, your body jerking with the force of his thrusts. You were a mess under him, moans and gasps, almost sobbing in pleasure, all much more strained as you struggled to breath, thighs on either side of his hips.

His hand slipped down from your wrists, down your chest, and you feel his hand push your shirt up, his hips slow, and you feel his fingers tracing a familiar pattern into your skin, one you’d come to know intimately. With one hand still locked on your throat, burying his thick cock in you over and over, writing one word into your sweat slick flesh over and over again that one word that was punctuating each drawn out thrust, was of course, “Mine.”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Better Story, Improved Effects." Mickey Altieri X Reader.

Soooo I was re-watching Scream 2 last week while sick in bed and something finally clicked in my brain and I realized oh fuck, I love Mickey. So shit, here we are, his first smut! I dunno where this all came from but maybe it was just lying dormant under the surface and now it’s all out here to play and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Big shout out to @eggsandbeer for the title, beta reading and to her and ALSO @ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds for the help on his character and all the hyping up since this was my first time writing him.

---

Part two now here.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.3K. Mickey Altieri X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: Drinking. Cheating. You Are Randy’s Girlfriend. Shit Talking. Rude Behaviour. Manipulation. Making Out. Grinding. Dirty Talk. Vaginal Fingering. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Eating Pussy. Teasing. Banter. Orgasm Denial. Extreme Frustration. Bad Mouthing Randy. Filming. Sex Caught On Tape. Dub-Con. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Spanking. Masturbation. Cuckolding. Vaginal Sex. Squirting. Cream Pie. 

—

The last way you wanted to spend your Friday night was attending a party solo and thoroughly annoyed with your boyfriend, and yet here you were.

You had been looking forward to unwinding from a hectic week with Randy, some drinks, getting a little messy, perhaps a bit publicly indecent. Then that turning from a kind of foreplay of its own to hastily finding a dark corner secluded enough to hook up with a minimal, (but still a very exciting and arousing), risk of getting caught. 

But no, sadly, instead of getting to do any of that you were walking up to the party already well underway totally alone and all because Randy had other plans he didn’t bother making you aware of until about an hour ago. He bought a ticket to go see some movie he had already seen a hundred times, a fact you pointed out quickly that had him replying with equal speed, saying, “But I’ve never seen it on the big screen!”

As if that makes it all okay and would quell your negative emotions and upsetness about him leaving you behind and kicking off his weekend without you. He made some over the top, big and grand promises about making it up to you tomorrow and you rolled your eyes with an unconfident, “Uh-huh”.

It left your lips before he proceeded to try and smooth his departure with a few kisses that you barely returned and on top of that didn’t do much of anything to smooth down your ruffled feathers. He left in short order and you finished getting ready for your night out in a huff. Did you pour some extra effort into looking good so he would feel extra bad and stupid for ditching you for some lame movie? Yes. Was that just a touch petty? Also yes but who could blame you?

Soon as you pushed your way through the bothersome cluster of assholes that were all hanging out and talking in the doorway, for some fucking reason, seriously, who does that? Your first order of business was getting a drink. 

The first one went down too quickly and quietly, you didn’t leave the drink station in the kitchen and certainly didn’t talk to anyone yet. One of your hands on the countertop as you gulped down the sticky sweet mixture. You made a second drink after the first and then decided to venture out and seek something out to make you forget about Randy, at least for a little while, the living room that was filled with music and people seemed like as good a place as any to start. 

He was hoping he might see you here tonight but seeing you here alone was an unexpected treat. He’d caught sight of you the second you walked in although you did not spot him right off the hop. 

He’d been keeping his eyes on you for a while and if Meeks was here there was no way he would have gone this long without latching himself onto you, he is many things, loud, opinionated, and fucking clingy. He doesn’t think there is a single time he had seen you two together where Randy hadn’t been hanging off of you, like he needed to touch you in some way at all times or he would be in physical pain otherwise. To be fair he isn’t sure he would be much better if you were his. None of your other friends were about and your expression told him you were upset, about what he didn’t know, and would he be a good friend if he didn’t walk over and check in on you? 

You on an average day was already a treat for the eyes but on a night out like this, when you poured in that extra effort was truly something to behold. He made his way over to you, sliding up beside you, a hand tapping you on the shoulder as he asked, “What’s with the frown?”

Your head snapped up, looking to see Mickey right beside you, hand hovering over your shoulder and smile on his lips but eyes concerned. “Is my bad mood so obvious you clocked it from across the room?” You follow the question up by taking a healthy sip from your drink.

A raise of his eyebrows as he brought up his own cup, he’d crouched slightly when greeting you but standing back up to full height and with a half shrug as he said, “Well it is kinda hard to miss when blue is very much not your colour.”

You stifle a laugh into your cup before saying, “Cute, very cute.”

A grin breaks out on his face, he already got you laughing less than a minute into him walking up, this was a great sign. “Soooo what’s up?”

“Ahhhh-” A dismissive wave of your hand as you raise your cup for another sip, and he laughs, a shake of his head as he points to you, “No, no ‘ahhhh’, something is up so spill!”

“I don’t wanna bring down your night.” You say honestly.

He scoffs, “Doubt that you could do that, and what are friends for if not to listen to whatever is eating you?” 

He made a good point. Maybe if you vented and got it all off your chest you would feel better? So you give in much easier than you probably should have. A heavy sigh and you take his hand with the one that wasn’t currently holding your drink, urging him as you say, “Okay, c’mon.”

Mickey brightens at the contact that you initiated as he lets you drag him off through the glass sliding doors leading to the backyard. 

Sitting on the back patio you proceed to spill your guts, the thump of the music lessened now that you were outside, much easier to hear each other and talk properly. When you finished filling him in he was less than impressed to learn of the reason for your bad mood, what kind of idiot was Randy to ditch you like this? He was of course, nothing but sympathetic to your plight and your pain but also that not so small and sick part inside of him saw this as a golden opportunity, a perfect way to hopefully do what he had been dying to for months. He just had to play it right. 

He started easy, saying, “Wow, no wonder you are so upset.” 

You exhaled with a nod as you leaned back in your chair and that led to him following up with, “I mean I knew Meeks was a fucking idiot but this might be one of the dumber things he has ever done.” 

A small shocked laugh spilled out and it emboldens him, he wants to lean closer to you but doesn’t want to push, not yet so instead he is continuing further before you could hope to respond, “Like does carrot top have any brains at all to rather pass up a party with you for a fuckin’ movie? I bet if I cracked his skull open all I’d find is some loose un-popped corn kernels and a pool of that artificial butter schlock they serve at the theatre he is at right now.”

“Damn Mickey, tell me how you really feel.” You responded before you giggled and he said with a sure nod, “I will! Randy fuckin’ Meeks is totally fucking brain dead for doing this and you should be pissed up at him.”

“Yeah?” You ask, fingers circling the rim of your cup and he said loudly, arms outstretched, “Yes! I mean Christ! What, you don’t think he deserves just a little bit of your ire for pulling this stunt?”

He makes a compelling argument. 

He had you smiling, had you laughing and more importantly, he validated your feelings. The more you both talked, the more he decried Randy’s actions and backed you up as your second drink was finished, you felt it. The annoyance, the anger, the unfairness, you ended up telling him a few more things, disagreements and issues minor in nature that Randy had done to upset you, things you think you would be over but when a bit tipsy and upset, venting, it all comes bubbling up to the surface. 

It really couldn’t have gone better, you giving him those few more insights gave him more chances to plant further unrest between you and him. 

You felt insanely heard and listened to, and maybe it was your overall mood, maybe it was a bit of the drink, but everything he was saying made sense, perhaps Randy wasn’t that great a boyfriend, this movie thing might be indicative of a bigger problem in your whole relationship. Your head felt confused but that was lessening, the longer you chat, the more he insists Randy’s behavior is fucked up, you find it harder and harder to deny that it held weight and made sense.

All and all the conversation was around a half hour before he was encouraging you to get up, saying, “Enough about that asshole, it’s Friday night and look around, it’s a party! He’s out having fun and you should be too.”

He was right again and you told him as such, feeling less burdened, lighter and overall excited to have fun and put those awful feelings aside for the time being. “Yeah! No more moping, fuck him, it’s his loss.”

“Hell yeah it is.” You get up and the pair of you end up marching back into the party. Another drink, talking about not as heavy topics, snacks, sitting in on a card game or two, watching part of a movie that was playing on the tv, and a few hours later you were sitting almost shoulder to shoulder watching a very spirited game of beer pong. 

You’d switched to water for a reprieve and during a small lull you said to him, “Hey Mickey?”

A questioning hum that had him turning his head to look at you, “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say thanks for this. I was feeling really fucked up earlier and if you hadn’t stepped in I woulda had a totally shit time tonight but you completely salvaged it. So uhm, thanks.” 

He smiles, a shrug before he says, “Least I can do, I sure as shit wasn’t about to let you sit around all dramatic and morose.” 

You laugh before trying to defend yourself, “Dramatic and morose, huh? I don’t know if it was that bad.”

His silence speaks volumes. 

You speak his name in a questioning and warning tone and he holds up his hand, a wishy washy and wavering hand motion as he said, “Ehhh-” 

A scoff of mock offence bracketed with a laugh and you playfully punch him in the shoulder, “You dick! I thought you were saving me from my shitty boyfriend for the night! I didn’t know I was just trading one asshole for another.” 

He plays up the impact, rubbing his shoulder as if it actually hurt and he says, “I’m just being honest, I thought you liked me when I was honest.”

“Honest or mean?” You fire back with a grin and he says, “There’s a difference?” 

“For the average person, yes.” 

All the back and forth was very fond and fun. You were feeling much better than you had been earlier by now and you suggested, “Wanna get out of here? Go for a walk?”

“Sounds good to me.” 

You had no destination in mind. Just fresh night air and more conversation. As you meander about the topic, unsurprisingly considering you were talking with Mickey, the talking turns to movies. 

“What do you mean you haven’t seen Stab?” He asked dramatically aghast, way too loud and head up towards the sky as if God themself would have the answer he seeked and you laughed, “I just haven’t!”

“Well we can fix that, no, we should fix that.” He insisted, a wave of his hand encouraging you to follow as he changed course, you turn to follow, a small jog to catch up to him, “What is it that good?”

“God no! It’s garbage.” He said with a look over his shoulder towards you as if you were nuts for even suggesting it was good. You laughed, “Right, so it’s garbage and so I have to see it?”

“Naturally.” He said with a confident nod, hands sliding into his pockets as you fell in step beside him and you say, “Isn’t it not out of theatres yet? I doubt a show is gonna be happening past midnight.”

“No worries about that, I got a bootleg.” He assured and you asked incredulously, “A bootleg of this garbage movie that you don’t like?” 

“Do you not own bootlegs of movies you hate?” He asks and you say, “No because I’m not a fucking psycho unlike my present company apparently.” 

He laughs the comment off and soon you are at his place, you had never actually been here before. It was late but you weren’t in a rush to go back to your own abode alone, leading you to step into the door he was holding wide open. Wasn’t a bad place at all and you had it to yourselves, it was slightly cluttered but clean and no off putting smells or gross dishes or garbage so hey, a big win and a leg up on many other college living spaces you’d seen in your time here. 

Your eyes wander over the space, posters littering the walls, books scattered around and other items as he puts the tape in before coming to flop down beside you with a smile, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” 

The couch wasn't half bad, there was more than enough room on it for you and him and yet you didn’t stay far apart for long. As you watched and talked, Mickey pointing out flaws and inaccuracies, jokes and riffing you and he scooted nearer, until this moment right there, where you were just about shoulder to shoulder. One of his hands was on his own knee, the other one gesturing to the tv screen as he said, “I mean have you ever seen organs look faker? The colour is totally off, the blood spray should have been bigger and this is supposed to be outside! Where’s the steam?! The inside of a freshly ripped into body should be hot.”

It wasn’t like horror was your favourite genre and you are sure it isn’t his but you could appreciate the passion he held for the craft, for authenticity of film making, you keep the mood light tease, “Oh yeah because you know just what a murder scene looks like, right?”

He laughs, hardly managing to stifle it before he says, “You don’t know everything I’ve done, I could have all sorts of life experiences you are unaware of but besides that it doesn’t take a killer to know that based off the body's internal temperature if sliced into like that-” Another point to the screen, the mangled torso with the mess of red and innards on display, “-it would steam up in the fall evening air.” 

You hum with a nod and then a line read on screen was so bad he started up again with another joke that had you laughing in a way that made it hard to breathe. He was piling on, you leaning into him fully now and then that is when his hand makes contact, again only after you touch him first. 

A simple move from his own knee to yours, both cracking up and as you come down his hand doesn’t move, instead a simple squeeze as his gaze shifts from screen to you and back again. He is wearing that sideways grin that before tonight sure made your own stare linger a bit longer than it should for a person with a boyfriend, but now? It was having a different effect. 

You’d thought about it, mostly before you got with Randy, but Mickey was a really attractive guy, you got along absurdly well and tonight he treated you amazingly, was here for you in a big way when you needed him. You weren’t even tipsy any longer, you can’t blame the feelings he was giving you on the alcohol. You were only human and him encouraging you to feel your emotions, validating them, the close proximity and clear chemistry you both had wasn’t helping this either. You were positive he was into you. 

Were you seriously considering this?

He interrupted your thoughts, “You having a good time?”

The question startled you. Not just because he spoke but what he said, Mickey was a pretty self assured guy, the question might sound insecure in nature but it wasn’t spoken in a tone that lended to that. You play along and respond, “Yeah, yeah I am. Why do you ask?”

“Oh just know that what we got up to tonight probably wasn’t what you were initially planning to.” He responded with ease, not insecure, just concerned and you sighed, he was a really good guy wasn’t he? 

“Yeah it wasn’t but that isn’t your fault it’s Randy’s for ditching, besides what we did almost all of what he and I would have anyway plus some extra stuff.”

You gesture to the screen and the movie you certainly wouldn’t have seen were it not for him. He asks next, “Well glad I could help give you a good Friday night but that almost all has me curious, what exactly did you miss out on?”

You were painfully aware of the fact that his hand was still on your knee, your eyes drew down slightly at the maintained contact, your shoulders still pressed together, your thighs touching, you leaning into him has created multiple points of contact that you were only just paying attention to now. His body was warm, he smelt good and the question he asked made your mind run back to your intentions at the start of the night, of that semi public risky fuck you wanted to have with Randy. 

A subdued shrug, so small that if his eyes weren’t locked onto you and your shoulder on his he might have missed it, “Nothing two college kids in a relationship wouldn’t normally get up to post-party.”

“Ahhh.” 

The silence that followed was heavy and tension filled and he said, his eyes moving over you in a way that could be read as more than just ‘friendly’, “Shame I can’t help you out with that.”

Fuck it.

“Couldn’t you?” The question was spoken with your gaze raised, gaging his reaction, the slight raise of his eyebrows and confusion on his features meets the small uptick of the sides of his mouth, “What about Randy?”

“What about him?”  You bite back with a casual shrug.

This was too perfect for him but he still had to play this right. An amused exhale before he reminds you, “He’s your boyfriend?” 

“And yet I am here with you, alone in your place and on your couch with him nowhere in sight.” And any remaining gap was closed by you, leaning that last bit, one hand meeting his cheek and you tugging him closer to kiss him. As soon as you made that final move, as soon as your lips met his all bets were off, this was happening, patience and hard work pays off and he can take.

The response you draw from him is immediate, a soft groan, his hands moving, finding your waist, shifting his body and adjusting his posture to better return your sudden affection. You move with him, allowing him to do what he wants, take more of the lead, something he seemed to do with a startling amount of ease, as if he expected you to not only bend but to be into it.  

You were very much into it. 

It wasn’t like what you had with Randy was bad but he was relatively inexperienced when you got together and still wasn’t the most confident without some major prompting and praise. He was a good kisser but more than that you had a great rhythm off the hop, found a solid groove with a natural give and take that seemed to feed into one another beautifully. His hands feel good on your waist, they are grounding and it drives you to want to touch him further. The thumb on your hand still cupping his face swipes over his cheekbone and you tilt his face to be closer still, a move he permits along with your other hand starting on his side before wandering up the expanse of his chest through his shirt. 

His hands slip lower, you feel a rough press of him over your hips and then his hands on your outer thighs and he tugs, a further adjustment so you are underneath him, he is leaning further forward, his body starting to cover yours as the make out hastily progressed. The need overwhelms you first, he breaks the kiss and his lips drags down your jaw and further still, kissing over your neck and you arch, squirming your hips, grinding against him and he smiles against your throat from how well this is going so quickly. 

Your fingers hook in the neck of his shirt, tangling, twisting, you pull, desperate for more contact as you grind again, he nips lightly at your pulse and you moan again, softer and so sweet, addicting for him to hear. Another few passes of tongue and of teeth that have your thighs hugging his hips and the next grind that happens is mutual, as is the breath that is caught in your respective throats. “Fuck, you’re better at this than I imagined.”

The smile on his face shifts to a grin that is outright cocky, one of his hands on your hip he pulls, makes you grind on him in a way that has your head falling back with a sigh and he asks, “Have you imagined me like this a lot?”

Your hands don’t stop wandering his body, feeling him and when you don’t respond right away, more concerned with the next move of your hips and the subtle rush of pleasure, he continues, “Thought about me being the one doing this when you’re with your shitty little boyfriend?” 

A shake of your head,  but you don’t stop, you start to tug, a silent plea for him to take off his shirt and one he gives into as you say, “He’s not that bad.” 

He is sitting up on his knees, the lack of contact makes you want to complain but the fabric is peeled away and thrown to the side and any possible complaining is forgotten about. A scoff, “Sure, yeah, he’s a real great guy, hence why you were just grinding yourself all over me with your tongue down my throat.” 

A laugh that is too light all things considered, “Shut up.” 

He listens. Your hands on his shoulders yanking him until he is against you once more, your mouth crashing into his. Your body was warm and soft, you were talking about this being better than you imagined but he was stuck with the same realisation, you were a good kisser, had amazing give and take and of course the mental aspect, you were in a relationship but ready and willing, touching him, kissing him, it had him aching in his jeans. He started to tug on the bottom of your top and you broke the kiss in a hurry to free yourself of the constraining material. The sight of you in your bottoms and the pretty lace framing you up top turns him on so much more.

It progresses quickly after that. You spread below him on your back, your tongue parting his lips allowing his into your mouth, an action he completes with a small groan his wandering hands choosing to settle, particularly one finding its home between your thighs and you arched into his touch with a hushed, “Fuck yes.” 

He lets out a pleased hum, your hands work with his, removing the remaining clothing to give him better access and when there is the last layer between you and his touch he asks in a tone that is as humorous as it is sickeningly sweet, “Am I allowed to speak?” 

A hurried nod as you squirm, his fingers brush over you more firmly and he says, “You’re fucking drenched. I don’t think I’ve ever felt someone get this wet from just a little making out, how hard up for it are you?”

“Very.” Your breath hitches and he knows he’s found the right spot to focus on, fingers swirling over your straining clit through your damp panties. “Is he not doing what he should be?”

Your brain feels foggy, you are far more concerned with the sensation starting to wash over you, limbs feeling heavier, eyes half lidded and rocking your hips with the movement of his hand, “Who?”

He laughs, “Who? You already forgot all about him? That tells me everything I need to know that poor ol Meeks isn’t satisfying you.” Before any protest or defending of your boyfriend could leave your mouth he is tugging the crotch of your panties aside and feeling the bare heat of his fingers against you makes you gasp, head falling back against the arm of the couch. 

You try to push out what you wanted to say, try to tell him, “I-I didn’t forget M’ just, ugh, distracted, you-you’re distracting.”

“Awe yeah, I’m a really big distraction, do I make it hard to think?” He asks as his fingers pick up the pace, pressing more firmly you moan and nod, “Yes! You do.”

“I could make it worse.” He teases and he moves quickly. Still shirtless, in just his jeans he is on his knees and tugging you further down the length of the couch, underwear half on, your legs over his shoulders his head dips down and his strong but soft tongue licking that first stripe over your clit has you crying out with an arch of your back. 

He did make it worse. You couldn’t think properly as soon as the make out started, your mind was far too busy with him and the taste, feeling, the pleasure, it stole all logic and sense. With his lips wrapped around such a sensitive part of you, cradling your clit and sucking indulgently, pretty mouth latched on and tongue lathing over you between his lips, fingers digging into your hips and ass as he held you where he needed, you felt like you were threatening to fall apart in less than five fucking minutes. 

Panting out his name, heels digging into his well toned back, fingers scrambling against the corduroy like material of the couch cushions as the feeling built, if he kept this up you’d be cumming against his talented tongue in about two more minutes. Thighs squeezing his head as well as your erratic breathing clues him into how close your end is and he pulls back, the wet strand of spit, the leash connecting his mouth and your clit breaks as he moves back, his fingers take over, messy circles drawn and you whine as the edge backs off from the change in pressure and technique, “How are you doing up there?”

His own voice sounded rough with arousal, the knowledge that he is into this, getting off on eating you out makes another wash of arousal soak into your brain, heart still pounding as you tell him, “Good, so good, please Mickey, keep going.”

“Keep going?” He asks, his head resting on your inner thigh as his fingers continue to dance over your pulsing clit, your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip, a nod as your eyebrows draw together, “Yeah, please? I was getting close, an-and your mouth is, fuck, amazing.”

He preens under the praise, “Oh is it?” He is playing dumb as his thumb comes down and he pulls your clitoral hood up, nerve dense tissue exposed and vulnerable, he blows gently and you shiver, body tensing, Christ, how were you so sensitive that even air passing through his lips felt this good? 

“Ye-yeah, I wanna cum, please, please-” And he decided to tease you further still, he leaned in, tongue out and your eyes are wide, teeth tugging on your bottom lip, desperate to feel him again, for him to keep going, to push you over the edge. Less than an inch from contact he pulls back with a sigh, “I dunno-”

Your head tips back with a loud groan as you roll your eyes, “Fuuuuck, Mickey, c’mon, I’m dying over here!” 

“Yeah? Does it hurt, yet?” He asks and you do notice a distinct ache along your swollen walls, a throbbing pain of denial in your clit steadily building and how awfully empty you feel at this moment. 

“Starting to, yes.” You bite out and he says, “Maybe I should be nice and help you out.”

“Yes, please, please be nice to me.” You beg and with your head still back, staring up at the ceiling you are unprepared when he licks over you again, the yelp that leaves you makes him snicker before he says, “Sure, I’ll be nice, I’ll get you off.”

You ramble, babble out your thanks and his mouth is back where it should be, lips locked over your clit, licking, sucking, one of his hands sliding between your thighs and two fingers delve inside to aid further, you clench around them with a stuttered moan of his name. It takes about three minutes for you to be on the edge between him working your clit and his fingers fucking in and out of you, curling just so in and out again and again. “God, Mickey, don’t stop, don’t stop, M’ almost there-”

And then he does just that.

He stops, his fingers stay lodged inside of you, fingers pressed to that sweet spot he’d found with ease but no longer moving and you want to cry, you ask in completely frustration, “Mickey what the fuck?” 

“I know, I know, I told you I’d help you out and M’ gonna, soon as you give me something.” You are looking down the length of your body to him between your spread thighs and are just about ready to agree to anything so long as he’d make you cum. “What is it?”

The grin on his face is positively wolfish, he licks again over your clit and you inhale sharply, “Nothing big.” 

“No?” You ask and another lazy lick combined with a rock of his fingers he says, “No. I just want you to tell me I’m better than Randy is and I’ll make you cum your brains out.”

Your heart drops, you shake your head, for some reason, that wakes you up, makes the heat inside you cool, you feel like that is the line, that is too far, you say, “No, I-I can’t do that.”

He tsk’s, “Shit, guess you don’t want to cum that bad then.” He didn’t stop though. He didn’t pull away, far from it, he goes back to eating you out and fingering you he just kept fucking stopping before you could cum and he kept on posing that question, your juice painting his chin. 

“You wanna admit it yet?” And you kept on telling him, “No-no, I-I don’t ha-have anything to admit.” 

It made him laugh. He had two fingers three knuckles deep inside you, right now and felt your clit pulsing in pure frustrated need in his mouth less than two seconds ago but sure, you had nothing to admit. “I can feel how hot and worked up you are, how many times have I edged you already? You are a really, really bad fucking liar.” 

“M’ not lying!” You attempt to assert but your voice wavers, “No? So I’m not better than Randy? He makes you sweat and tremble like this before he’s ever even made you cum once?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and refuse to meet his gaze. You want to thread your fingers in that stupid sexy messy hair and grind on his tongue until he makes you cum, not have this stupid battle of wills.

“Mmm, yeah that is why you aren’t able to look at me, because I am so far off base.” He sounds unbearably smug and he slides his fingers out of you and you almost break, you want to sob and plead for him to continue but he is sucking the mess that had coated his fingers and you again feel your mind going blank at the visual. 

He is getting up and his erection pressed against the denim looks like it has to hurt, he was starting to undo his pants and said once he was standing at full height, “How about you return the favour though and see if your tune changes?”

That sounds way too appealing to you especially because you could pay him back with some torture of your own and torture you do. After taking in the sight of him bare, your mouth is practically watering, he looks frankly delicious and you intend to dine happily. Your hand locks around the base and you lean in, eyes staring up at his face as your tongue makes the first pass, intent on taking in his expression and how he reacts to the movement. It is positive to say the least, the slight inhale, the tensing of his muscles, and the small curse that spills out. Your tongue flicks over his flushed tip, tasting the ample pre-cum that he had been leaking, your lips close, a chaste kiss before you begin to move down one side of his shaft, he is impossibly hot and throbbing in your grip. 

This is going to be too easy. 

Is what you initially thought but you would also be very wrong, because even as you let him breach your mouth, even as you begin to suck and take more of him in, you don’t feel in control or empowered. You feel weaker and hotter, he made you feel so fucking good with seemingly such little effort that you being able to do the same, to pull such reactions out of him makes you want consider his previous offer more seriously. 

You try to push those thoughts away as you blow him.

You gag yourself, choke on him and it makes him groan your name, his hips buck, he fucks in and out of your lips stretched around him and drool slips out, slides down your neck as you hold his hip with one hand, the other around the base of him still, hand working him in tandem with your mouth. You look up again, his eyes are still on you, on the length of him sliding between your slick lips, his neck and chest blooming red, flush from pleasure painted over his features as he pants and you squeeze your thighs together. 

All in all you used your mouth on him for around five minutes before you break, pulling him out you ask, out of breath and needy, “Fuck me?”

Randy is coming inside after going to get himself some breakfast, it’s around ten AM, sun shining and he is carrying a stack of mail and thinking about giving you a call soon to make up for him bailing last night. The movie was a good time but he missed you, he didn’t do much after the movie, came back here and went to bed basically, he thinks you will probably be up soon. He is about to sit down on the couch when something catches his eye, namely, a tape half in half out of the VCR. He comes forward, he pulls the tape out and there are no markings whatsoever on it, odd. 

He is curious enough that he thinks why not, he shrugs and pops the tape in, he walks back around the coffee table and is flipping through the mail again but what he hears gives him pause, makes him stop. 

Hearing a very familiar modulated voice greeting him, “Hello Randy. Been a while. Seems like some stuff has changed for you, like the cute girlfriend, she’s new. I like what I have seen of her, how much I have seen of her, thought you’d be interested to see what she was up to last night that I managed to catch on video.”

And the voice over cuts out and instead he is hearing your voice, gasping out, “Mickey oh my fucking God-”

He pauses flipping through and looks up and what he sees playing out on the screen makes him gasp.

The video shows a well lit apartment, the main focus of the shot is a couch, the view is from the side and bent over the arm of the couch pointing at the lens is you, not a stitch of clothing on, fingers digging into blue fabric, open mouthed and moaning, with who the fuck else but Mickey Altieri behind you. He was fucking you and seemingly you were loving every second of it, your face twisted in bliss and rocking back onto him, “Yes, yes, yes-”

“Good?” He asked with a laugh and your head pitches forward, a shaky nod and you hum the affirmative, “Mmhm!” 

“Yeah it is, fuck you’re tight.”  His hand reaches out, he grabs your hair, wraps the handful around his fist and he tugs hard, you cry out and clench down on him making him suck his own teeth from the sharp jolt of pleasure, he is pulling your hair so your head snaps back up, making sure he is showing off your gorgeous expressions for the camera. 

Little did you know that when he passed by the camera set on the counter earlier to grab his bootleg he turned it on, that it had been running this whole time. It didn’t take much to edit it, or to add the voice over or for him to sneak it into Randy’s apartment either, honestly it was too easy if anything. 

Randy had dropped the mail and was slowly sitting down, he can’t stop watching as you rock yourself back, helping impale yourself on Mickey and moaning the whole way. His hand that wasn’t pulling your hair is sliding down and the cry that tears from your throat makes what he is doing obvious, fucking you doggy style and toying with your clit at the same time has you telling him in a few more thrusts, “Shit, oh, ohh Mickey, fuck, I-I’m close again, fuck-” 

“You gonna give it up? You gonna say what we both know is true?” He prompts and you shake your head, “I-I cah-can’t, Mickey, just, let me cum, please-”

“Not till you say it.” His hand is out of your hair and laying a hard hit onto your ass that makes your back arch and finally you can’t take it any longer, your confession pours out, “You’re better than him okay?! Fuck, fuck! You’re so, so much better tha-than Randy, make me feel so good, he-he’s a joke next to you, God, don’t stop!” 

“Oh there you go, see? Doesn’t being honest feel so, fucking, good?” Those last three words are bookended by a brutal thrust, another strong move of his fingers and finally you break, nodding along, agreeing as you cum chanting his name over and over like some broken and fucked up prayer, trembling the entire time as the pleasure tears through you and threatens to make you collapse. 

“What the fuck…” Randy asks quietly as he continues to watch the scene unfold, watch as Mickey keeps railing you totally dumb and you agree with all the fucked up things he asks, drooling and telling him, “You’re so good, so much better, keep, ah, keep fucking me, please!”

“You think I’m able to stop now? Not a fucking chance.” 

He can’t bring himself to turn it off. Even as you continue to insult him, even as Mickey makes you parrot back that Randy is quote, “A shit fuck-ing boyfriend who doesn’t deserve you.” 

When you say it though it sounds a lot more broken and pathetic, "He-he's a shit fu-fuck-ing boyfriend who-who doesn't deserve meeee-"

Randy gets shamefully, embarrassingly, painfully hard as Mickey fucks you harder and harder, fucks you through another two more orgasms and a few more good position changes. Watching you ride him while he has a hand locked around your throat is hard to take, but the worst has to be when Mickey has his arms wrapped around you, fucking up into you and you are just trying to take it, legs shaking and too weak to do anything else but cling to and kiss him as he has you, as he holds you. That sloppy kiss is broken, your eyes squeezed shut as you are telling him for the fourth time since the tape started, “Mickey, I’m close again, God, yes!”

And not only do you cum, not only do you sob out his name as Mickey’s hard dick slips in and out of your well fucked hole, no, you end up squirting too, something Randy didn’t even know your body was capable of. Your moan bleeds, cracks at the edges and the man fucking you laughs, a blissed out joyful sound of disbelief, ��Holy shit!” 

The amount that comes out of you is impressive, he watches as the camera picks up the rivulets of liquid as they race down Mickey’s shaft and his sac and the quickly darkening stain under the pair of you as he doesn’t relent even for a moment. Mickey kisses you, deeply, sloppy and to add further insult to injury, after you are coming down from your orgasm, he breaks that same kiss he initiated and asked, “Randy ever make you squirt like that?”

And you laugh, eyes rolling back and a shake of your head as you breathlessly admit, dumb and cock drunk as you tell him, “No way, not once.” 

The tape doesn’t even stop there, it goes on until Mickey is the one warning you minutes later of his impending orgasm and it is like you become possessed, your hands lock behind his neck, a burst of energy, motivated, you ride with abandon and Mickey doesn’t even have to ask, you are too far gone, you are the one who begs, “Cum inside, don’t pull out!”

He should get up.

He should turn off the tv.

He should take out the tape and smash it to bits but no, he does none of those things. He watches helplessly as Mickey’s hands grip your hips so hard Randy bet’s they will bruise as he holds deep and unloads inside of you. Mickey let out a groan of your name and you shiver and Randy is sure you can feel every pulse of him as he fills you. 

The come down is sickeningly and stomach turningly intimate, he feels as if he is intruding on a private moment even though you are his girlfriend. He watches the kisses passed back and forth, the soft touches and he is about to wonder when the tape WILL finally cut when he hears that mocking voice of Ghostface again, “Pretty hot, huh? I think they make a good couple, what about you Meeks? You enjoy the sequel?”

And the screen goes black.

He sits there staring at the tv set for all of thirty seconds before he gets up and goes over. He doesn’t hesitate to hit rewind. He should talk to you, confront you about what happened, what this means, what you did but when the tape finishes rewinding he doesn’t do that. 

He takes his original seat and frees himself from his pants and guilty enjoys the second of what is sure to be many viewings with his dick hard and hot in his palm.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Okay I saw you want more submits talking about pure filth so I had an idea.

I honestly feel like Ethan Landry would be like seriously into pussy worship. Like he’d want to go down on you all of the fucking time but like in a very submissive way? I’m talking him on his knees while your stood up with your hands in his hair, pulling his face into your pussy and fully grinding all over his face. He’ll do it till he can’t fucking breathe anymore with tears literally rolling down his face but he just can’t get enough of it and he’d 100 percent cum just from eating you out without you even needing to touch him.

Just popped into my mind and who best to share this idea with than the smut queen?

Smut queen eh? How sweet are you! 

For real, you got inside my head Anon so fuck it. You get to have a piece. This is what I am talking about, requests are closed but if you send in something that sparks the inspo then my brain will RUN with it! Ethan has a mouth made for eating pussy, those lips are built to cradle clit I swear to God. I did this all in one go, so let’s go!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 1.4K. Ethan Landry X AFAB! Reader. Warnings: Ethan Is A Needy Slut. Begging. Eating Out. Pussy Worship. Praise. Dirty Talk. Crying. Grinding. Face fucking. Premature Ejaculation. Ethan Creams His Jeans Hands Free. 

—

Pay Your Respects.

—

You don’t think you have ever met a guy as needy as Ethan Landry, hell you aren’t sure there is any man you haven’t met who could top him in that regard. He wants, he pines, he craves and he begs so fucking prettily, just like he is right now. He was going to come over and you knew he would be there soon, you thought you had enough time for a shower, you miscalculated, which meant that he came over before you could, still wrapped in your robe before you could clean up. You let him in and as soon as the door closed he was on you, poor thing couldn’t hold back, needed to kiss you by way of greeting. 

It makes you laugh against his mouth, saying a playful and amused, “Hey there-”, between kisses. He returned the greeting, far more out of breath than you were, “Hi.” 

It had been all of two days since you saw each other but he was acting like it was a month apart. You returned his affection, pressing nearer, arms wrapped around his neck, leaning up, fervent presses of your mouths together, teases of tongue before you break it, pull away and ask, “How are you?”

“M’ fine.” It was a lie. He looks so upset that you weren’t still kissing him, a look akin to a kicked puppy, sad eyes and a pout that could break almost anyone's heart, make whomever want to give him whatever he wanted to put a smile back on his face. He has something in mind, the short clipped answers and his overall body language communicating that. You asked, “You don’t wanna talk?” 

A shake of his head and you hum, “Hmm what could you want,-” His hands are on your waist and your fingers toy with the soft curls at the base of his neck, “-what could you want…”

He had been holding eye contact with you the whole time you stopped kissing him but now he breaks it, eyes dropping down, a brief flick that you catch. Corners of your lips quirk up and you let him go, your hands slide down and you start to open your robe, you ask quietly, “Have you eaten?”

“No.” He responds quickly, his eyes watching every single move of your fingers, watching you untie the belt, pull aside plush pastel fabric, enjoying every single inch of skin that is revealed to him. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Starved.” He admits, voice clearly strained and you grin at how needy he is just seeing your body partially exposed. 

“Get on your knees.” 

He drops down so quickly that you are sure it hurts his knees. You slip off the robe, let it pool around your feet and his hands are on your hips, he is dipping his head and moving so fast and you tell him, “Wait!”

He suppresses a whine, big brown eyes staring up at you, positively pleading and you lead him, commanding, “Slow down.”

Doing as directed he takes it slower, leans in, moving lower, his hand slides down your hip, over your ass, under your thigh he pulls, giving him more access to you. Lips meet near your knee and he starts to kiss up your inner thigh, looking up at you the entire time, gauging your reaction, waiting, hoping that you will give him the go ahead. "Please?"

"Please what?" You ask and he asks again, "Please let me eat you out? Let me make you cum. I'm dying, I need it-"

You let him squirm, wait until he is literally doing so, lips so close to where he wants and where you do too, when you finally say, “Go ahead.”

His mouth latches onto you so fucking fast. 

You abandoned shame in regards to him eating you out before you can shower a long time ago. He seemed to love it much more that way, the reaction he has to the natural smell of you is as if he gets high on it, the taste of you better than any meal. That first swipe of his tongue through your folds he moans loudly, pornographic, desperate. Your leg ends up over his shoulder, your fingers buried in his hair as he settles in, finds his rhythm, he is so fucking good at this. He wants nothing more than to please you, to worship you, show all of the reverence a human being can solely with his tongue buried in your cunt. 

A roll of your hips, grinding against his face, you pull on his hair, hard, he groans as you yank him nearer, bringing him closer. He loves to tongue fuck you and his enthusiasm makes you love it too, him trying to get himself as deep as he can in you while you grind your engorged clit against his nose, the pleasure spikes with every push of your hips and flex of his tongue. Your head falls back as you moan his name and his head is swimming, he is painfully hard in his jeans, aching, trying to keep breathing but he wants to please you more. You fucking his face like this makes it no easy task but he doesn’t care, he just wants you to cum on his face, it’s more important than air. 

He feels how you pulse on his tongue, getting wetter, leaking down his chin, you shiver, tugging on his hair, panting and moans getting louder and louder. He feels light headed, he isn’t giving up, he works harder, he takes your direction further. You lead him, jerking his head up by his hair, he sucks your clit deeply and he can tell you are nearly there, close to cumming in front of the door of your apartment. 

“Ethan, fuck, such a good boy, m’ so-so close. Don’t stop!” You rush it out on a single exhale, you gasp after that, back starting to arch and he knows, it is almost like he can feel it, feel your impending orgasm, as if it is giving him pleasure too, his tied to yours.

Bucking his own hips as he sucks and licks. It hurts, he needs to get his pants open but he is helping support you, he can’t let you fall or lose your orgasm, not after all this hard work, he just can’t, it’s unthinkable. He is grinding against the seam of his jeans and the zipper, it hurts but the stimulation even if it is painful, it isn’t all hurt, the undercurrent of pleasure and pressure, the sounds you make, your taste and you being so near to your end does it. 

He overflows in more ways than one.

He cries, tears spill down his cheeks from his own release happening in his pants, overstimulating, achy and unsatisfying as well as the lack of air. The load is impressive, his underwear feels uncomfortably plastered to his skin but he doesn’t think of any of that. He is focused on you, the fact that you are now cumming on his tongue at the tail end of his own ruined orgasm. You are panting out his name and he wishes he could have that on a tape to listen to on repeat. He loves how you say his name as you draw out every ounce of your climax on his tongue.

You finally, finally come down, your hips stop, you aren’t grinding now, no longer fucking his face, sucking down a deep breath trying to regain some composure. He gasps for air and it makes you look down at him for the first time in several minutes, his face is soaked. Slick, drool, tears, lips parted, hair a wreck, he looks blissed out and totally happy, the definition of pussy drunk. 

“Awe my poor little crybaby.” You say fondly around a laugh, light, musical, your leg comes down off his shoulder, confident you can stand on your own legs safely, “You okay honey?”

He nods, your hand slips from his hair and goes down his face, you cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, half smile on his face as he noses against your palm. Your thumb swipes over his bottom lip before you tilt his chin up, “You did amazing, you want your turn now?”

His eyes had closed in contentment from you touching him but upon you saying that they fly back open, “Uhh, no, no I’m okay-”

He shifts and you notice he looks uncomfortable and that is when you catch the wet spot on his jeans. You could tease him, you could be mean, instead you offer, “You wanna join me in the shower?” 

Ethan jumps at the chance. He doesn’t know what he will change into after the shower but getting to help you clean up and the prospect that maybe he can go back down for seconds makes any other thought impossible.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Hear me out!

Sam’s killer side is more dormant and her bloodlust is out of control and she’s feeling the overwhelming need to kill someone. By this point, she’d stopped trying to fight it. Reader is a friend/girlfriend who knows enough about Sam and her urges to offer her a substitute; letting her fuck you stupid. As kinky as you can think of with sprinkles of blood play, knife play, heavy degradation and praise. Sam 100% has a strap, she just does and loooooves to make her choke on it. You didn’t really believe Sam would hurt anyone and you’d never seen her kill anybody first hand before but by the time she was finished with you, you knew that she was far more than capable and the thought of that was nothing short of a turn on.

Oh, Anon. You were the first person to submit for the Ghostface Sam fic prompts, and you nailed it in one. So here we are! My first Sam Carpenter fic! And the first fic of the new year! Let's get into it, I hope this is dirty enough for you!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.8K. Ghostface! Sam Carpenter X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Blood. Mentions Of Murder. Begging. Oral Sex. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Cum Eating. Strap On Sex. Spanking. Knife Play. Blood Play. Knife Used As A Makeshift Sex Toy. Multiple Orgasms. Squirting. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Rough Sex. Sam Is Mean. You Love It. Edging. Mild Orgasm Denial. Asking For Permission.

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"Make It Hurt."

---

The itch is becoming completely unbearable. How is she meant to cope with this? Nothing is able to keep her mind off the intense want to maim and destroy. 

She should be happy. Her last spree went so well, she got away scott-fucking-free, everyone views her as the helpless survivor of an attack when in reality she did it and framed the real victims. It’s been months, far too long, and she is feeling the urges bubbling up inside of her once again. She can’t go around killing without some sort of plan, it’s just asking to get caught and if she ends up in jail then she’ll never get to again. A complete nightmare, and one she wants to do everything possible to prevent. 

It is to the point she is having trouble sleeping. Other hobbies are dull and lifeless, she has low motivation, food is bland, her mind is just consumed with thoughts of running through warm bodies with cold steel, of slicing, cutting, draining every single last drop of blood from a person. She needs to plan appropriately so she can hopefully satisfy her bloodlust, but she’s waited too long, the planning stage isn’t working as it normally is, it’s not fun, it’s frustrating her even further. She doesn’t want to plot, she just wants satisfaction now, she wants to feel the hot spray of blood hitting her face, soaking into her clothes, she isn’t able to pull the creative resources she needs from herself to do what the job would require, the well is dry. 

You wake up to find her side of the bed empty and long gone cold, rolling over your check your phone, it’s past 3 AM. You groan and sit up, why isn’t she in bed? Furthermore, you’d insisted she get some sleep with you tonight, she’d been up late a lot this week, and you could see how restless and antsy she was getting, irritable and unable to keep her mood even. You get out of bed, pausing to get your robe off the hook on the back of the door, you pull it on and tie up the belt at your waist as you leave to go find her. 

Sam is unable to sleep, she’s in the living room in the dark, a favoured gore fest of a horror movie on the TV and her favourite knife in her hand. She has her feet up, one hand is playing with a lock of her hair curling it around her finger, winding and unwinding it over and over, the opposite hand occupied with flipping the knife, a casual but impressive trick, the flick of her wrist practised, natural, complete muscle memory. She is still dressed in what she wore to bed, braless in the well fitting and tight white t-shirt, cotton dove grey shorts that creep high up her thighs. You lean against the wall and watch her for a moment. 

You know what this is, you can see it in her body language, the tension is radiating off of her. She is unfulfilled, she is craving to hurt, she wants to kill, enact things she is watching on the screen, the desire to spill blood is overtaking her. She is smart, calculating, she knows that now is not the right time, but that doesn’t change the frustration she feels. You wish she could do what she really wanted to, but you know just as well as her it’s a bad fucking idea. 

You knock quietly on the wall, and it makes her react immediately, sitting up, even more tense, she stops flipping the knife, gripping the handle, her head turns and upon seeing you she relaxes slightly. She slumps back into her original position, still holding the knife, she says quietly, “Hey.”

You walk over, returning her greeting, “Hey yourself.” Taking the seat next to her, you look over to her, a hand rests on her thigh, and you ask, “You okay?” 

“Can’t sleep.” She sighs, and you laugh lightly, your hand squeezes her thigh, “Yeah, I can see that.” 

“Sorry, I know you hate waking up alone I just, I couldn’t keep lying in bed awake-” Her dark brown eyes meet your gaze, and you lean closer, shushing her, “Stop that, you’ve got a lot on your mind right now clearly, stop worrying so much about me.” 

You are much more concerned about her than yourself, you adjust, one knee on the couch, you lean over further, one hand still firmly on her thigh and the other on the backrest of the couch. “I know what’s up with you-” 

A dip of your head, your lips brush hers, a small peck before you pull back, continuing your thought, “-all pent-up, like you are locked in a cage, unable to do what you really want.” 

She leans up, steals a kiss, and you indulge her momentarily before breaking it again, “We both know you can’t, not till you relieve some of this stress, so…”

Your hand leaves her thigh, fingers curl around her wrist and pulling up her hand, you have her slip her fingers through the opening of your robe over your chest, let her get a handful of you, arching closer into her touch you offer yourself up, “Take it all out on me.” 

Her breath hitches, she doesn’t pull away, in fact her touch gets bolder, greedier, feeling you up, your lips barely an inch apart as she responds, “Baby, I can’t do that, I’ll hurt you-”

“I want you to hurt me. You need to draw blood to feel better? Why not mine?” Your hand is off her wrist, instead it latches onto her hand, the one holding the knife. Your head moves, gives some more breathing room, you hold the blade to your own thigh, exposed between the folds of your robe, the one you are kneeling on. You press, drag the unyielding silver over flesh, and you gasp from the jolt of pain, both of you watch as the skin splits and crimson begins to drip. Her resolve is splintering, you whimper out, “Please Sam?”

Those two words, that plea, begging, unlocks something in her. Makes some part of her snap, the last vestiges of self-control are abandoned in short order. 

She practically drags you back to the bedroom. 

You think at first she is going to have you on the bed, toss you onto the comforter and plush sheets, no that is apparently too good for you when she is in the mood, and you know that because she tells you as much. She pushes you down onto the dark hardwood floor, your eyes are questioning, which leads her to tell you, “C’mon sweetheart, you told me you wanted it to hurt, and I’m going to give you just what you asked for.” 

She’s standing over you, passing the knife from hand to hand, sadistic smile playing on her lips and as she stares down at you, her look tattles on her thoughts, she's considering what to do with you, playing around mentally with just what she wants to do to you first. You watch as she starts to take her shorts off, knife still in one hand, she drops the fabric onto the floor and then next she is removing that all lace black panties she had on underneath, and you are already salivating at the view of her. 

Your eyes are locked between her legs, you love every single part of her, but you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you couldn’t be honest about how much you adored her bare like this. You roam, from the well maintained patch of black hair to her prominent clitoral hood and the plump lips you could suck and toy with for hours. 

You get your wish, she knows you well and what you are craving. She moves, standing over you and then lowers herself down, her knees on either side of your head as she straddles your face. Hands move on instinct, you reach up and grip her hips, moaning against her as soon as the flavour of her hits your tongue. Swiping up through her folds, getting a better taste before passing over her clit, you hum indulgently and repeat the motion. Over and over, taking care to spend more time focusing on that most sensitive part of her. She is moving her hips, grinding herself down on your lips and tongue, with a deep moan, “Fuck, you are the best little cunt eater around.” 

You preen under her praise, it makes you work harder to please her, sucking deeply, eyes falling closed with another hum that makes her body buck on top of you. She is loving this, riding your pretty face, and you love it too, the taste of her, getting her wetter and wetter, listening to her moans and feeling her thighs clenching around your head. It is bliss, it is your purpose, to be used for her pleasure and enjoyment, nothing is better. 

She reaches back and her fingers press on the cut on your thigh, the blood had slowed significantly and the rush of pain makes you moan louder against her. “What a pain slut you are. I bet if it touched you that you’d be fucking soaked.” 

You know that to be true, your thighs rub together, and you feel the wetness staining them, you want some attention for yourself, but you want to keep pleasing her much, much more. You forget your own leaking cunt and choose to continue focusing on her instead. 

She rolls her body again, her wetness is all over your face, it had started to run down your chin, you feel it on your neck. Your fingers squeeze her hips, and you continue to eat her out, you knew you were affecting her, her dirty talk is becoming more fractured, moaning much more. “God yeah-ugh-there you go, jus-just like that, ohhh, suck that fucking clit like you mean it.” 

Her body starts to react in that way that you know all too well, tensing, breath coming in shorter gasps. She hadn’t even been riding your face for that long, but you were exceptionally skilled at this, had more than enough practice and knew how to get her off quickly, adept at giving her powerful orgasms with nothing more than your mouth. Knowing much better than to stop now, you keep going, unrelenting, feverish, you continue your current action, having pulled her clit into your mouth, tongue flicking over it while it is encased in the wet heat of you and in less than a minute more you are rewarded with her cumming on your face. You never grew tired of this, of her shuddering on top of you through her release, the minute movements as she wrung out every bit of sensation she could, the near guttural moan of your name that would pass through her lips. 

It made you leak more, clench around nothing, long to feel the same.

Her body becomes still, but her breathing is still erratic, she raises up on her knees a little to give you some breathing room. You are staring up at her, you watch with rapt interest as she removes her shirt and tosses it, leaving her totally naked still on top of you. She is looking back down at you, a half smile playing on her features, one that is dangerous. She sets the knife down on the floor, and you know better than to even think about going for it. After a moment more to recover, she is getting up, ordering you firmly to, “Stay.”

You do as you are told. Laying there on the floor as you watch her move, she steps over you and out of your line of sight, you don’t even dare to turn your head to follow where she goes. You hear the opening of some drawers, you know what she is after. You hear her speak from somewhere behind you, “Strip.” 

Hands scramble, rushing to comply, you take your robe off and toss it into the far corner of the room, leaving you totally bare. Sam insists you sleep naked, much prefers having you open and exposed, something you do not mind at all and do for her willingly. The floor feels hard and cool against your back, you have no real time to rest, you hear her footsteps coming close again and then there are fingers in your hair, they twine and twist, she pulls, tugging hard, “On your knees' whore, now”

You suck in a harsh inhale through your teeth, the sharp stab of pain radiating down the base of your skull, and you do as asked, getting up onto your knees, her firm hand guiding you. She’s back in your field of vision now, and she’s gotten her favourite toy to use with you, her strapless strap on. 

It is dark purple and looks striking, totally stunning against her skin, it’s long and thick as it sits heavy between her legs, jutting outwards, it’s ribbed and whenever she has you it fills you up beautifully, hits all the best spots. In short, it makes you into a totally blissed out well fucked mess whenever she fucks you with it. With no straps, the way it is secured is with a curved and rather bulbous end that she inserts into herself, gives her something to clench on and when she gets into a good rhythm with fucking you it presses over and over into her g-spot. Further still, the toy contours and curves with her body, a textured pad right behind the shaft that pushes against her clit, giving her a completely perfect way to stimulate herself with ease while she is fucking you, every thrust in and pull out, hitting her both externally and internally. 

You knew this next part very well. You needed to prep her strap for you to take it, you were soaked, totally dripping, but with how rough she was every bit helped. She pulls you near, and you move willingly, mouth opens, and with her other hand on the base of the toy she guides it between your lips. Cool silicone passes over your tongue as you close around it, you bob your head down, taking about half of the toy before pulling back, keeping just the tip between your lips. You loved when she made you blow her, she keeps pulling on your hair, guiding you, making you slide up and down her shaft, coating it in spit as you suck it. “You are so perfect, you know that? Just as cock hungry, right?”

You nod, eyes looking up at her as you work, focusing on blowing her and putting on a good show, but more than that too, when she makes you take it deeper? A hand on the back of your head, forcing you to take it as deep as you could, you choke and gag, when it hits the back of your throat she moans, you know this part feels the best. Whenever the tip of that dildo hits on something more solid, it provides a delectable jolt of pleasure for her. Both her hands are in your hair too, tugging and pulling, leading you to suck, drool is running down, drops landing on your own chest as she picks up the pace, moving her hips, fucking your face. 

You gag so hard you start to tear up, “Pretty, pretty girl, you look best with tears all over that face.”  You loved how she spoke to you, the mix she strikes of praise and degradation, of warmth and filth, it makes your blood sing. 

When you gag again, a bit too hard, that kind of gag that makes your pace falter and the tears finally start to fall she clucks her tongue disapprovingly, “Are you even trying?”

You nod and Sam urges, “Show me then. Prove me wrong.” There is a light slap to your cheek that makes you inhale sharply though your nose and work harder. You want to please her, you do the tricks you know, you try to get a handle on your breathing, you squeeze your thumbs in your fists to help tame your gag reflex, and you push yourself. When she is moaning in that particular pitch, you know you are doing well. 

You are doing so well in fact that she pulls the spit soaked shaft from your mouth, and she pushes you down, “Face down ass up.”

Your face is put down right there, into the mess that has collected, drips of spit and her arousal staining the wood, and your cheek is put into it, and you don’t fight it. She gets behind you, a rough slap to your ass that makes you groan, she loves how it sounds so she lays down a few more as she gets on her own knees. 

“You are leaking everywhere oh my God-” She laughs, but there is no malice in it, she spanks you again, the pain is slight but strong, burning, you take it just as she wants you to and then all of a sudden hurt gives way to ecstasy. She slid inside of you with no issue, complete ease, because just as she said you are drenched. How could you not be, after all the build up and what she said to you? How she treated you. Her hips are flush with your ass, she is completely inside of you, and she moans, grinding herself against you, and you moan too, after inhaling you finally push out that sound showing how good it felt. 

She pulls out halfway before slamming back into you to the hilt, the sensation rockets up your spine, the force of her thrust makes your body move, your cheek drags through the mess it is resting in and you moan. “Awe, you like that?”

You nod weakly, inhaling shakily, and the end breaks off into another choked off sob, “Course you do. You are so nasty, getting fucked face down in a puddle of drool.” She starts an even and steady pace, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the space of your shared bedroom. 

“Depraved, disgusting-” She changes the angle, brushes that place inside you that makes your nails bite into the wood below you and cry out, “Right there!”

Another hit to your ass so hard that you yelp, she degrades you further, “I know where it is. You are stupidly easy to please, then again, all bitches like you are.” 

“Sam, oh my God-” You gasp, and she laughs, “Sam, oh my Godddd-” she taunts, parroting back what you said, letting you really hear how needy and pathetic you are. 

“Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?” She asks, and you moan out, “Noo-ooohhhh-” 

“Course you aren’t, you’ve got entirely no shame.” She muses, her breathing is picking up as she is slamming into you, knowing she has found a particularly good rhythm that is working for her just as well. You are so consumed with everything she is doing to you that you don’t hear the sound of metal scraping, you don’t register her picking up the knife. 

You feel it. 

She cuts, desperate to harm and see more blood. The cuts are quick, light, surface level and each one is punctuated with another brutal thrust into you. One over your hip, outer thigh, the curve of your breast, you sob from each cut, hiccuping and wet and moan, deep and long from each hit of the head of her false cock on that swollen spot inside of you. The blood pours, it joins the mess on the floor, she presses her fingers to the wounds, causes more pain, you clench around her, she holds pace, but it gets messier, sloppier, she’s going to cum and you are so fucking close. 

You are a pain slut, but the bright bursts of hurt are keeping you on the opposite side of the edge, she can tell, you are struggling, crying, desperate, “Awe, you havin’ trouble cumming baby?”

“Ye-yes!” You whine, she tsk’s, “Need some help?”

“Puh-lease?!” You don’t give a shit how pathetic you sound any longer, all you know is the intense and all consuming need to cum already. You are dripping down your thighs, totally frustrated and keyed up, you feel like if you don’t cum soon you might die, it’s hard to breathe, as if you are drowning, choking on sensation itself. 

“Okay, I’ll help you, sweet thing.” You feel her move, her tits press into your back, her arms loop around you, one around your middle, over your waist and the other hand, the one still holding the knife is between your legs. The smooth and rounded end of the knife is dragged over the fresh cut on your thigh, it hurts, you yelp again, she catches the mess of blood, and then it is pressed to you. She used the blood for lube, the end of the knife was being pressed to your straining clit, she moves it in tight circles in time with her thrusts and having both spots abused inside and out has you falling apart in less than ten more thrusts. 

You don’t forget yourself, still, before you do tip over, you are good, you ask, “Sa-Sam, close, please? Fuck, fuck, please?!” It spills out in a rushed babble, breathless, she is panting too, and you can tell by the tone of voice in her reply she is near her end too, “Fuck yeah, good girl do it, you’ve earned it-”

That’s more than you need for it to happen. You cum so hard, you make a mess, moaning incoherently and loud enough you are positive you will get a noise complaint, thighs feeling like they will give out, shaking, sweaty, bloody, cunt spasming around her shaft still driving in and out of you as you squirt onto the floor. 

She loves when she makes you squirt, she is fucking you through your complete high, the mess is on her too, running down her toy and over her own slit, down her thighs, and it is enough to make her reach her end too. Your name stains her tongue as she peaks and holds deep, she grinds through the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body feels heavy and weak, the only thing holding her up is you. She doesn’t relent, over stimulation starts to set in, and you beg, “Stop, fuck-”

She drops the knife onto the floor, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Her hips have completely stopped, she is just sitting inside of you. Both of you are catching your breath, you ask, “Feeling better?”

“It’s a start.” She hums, and you laugh lightly, eyes falling closed, she slowly pulls out, and you wince slightly, feeling fucked out and sore in the best way, “Don’t get too comfortable, you have to clean me up still.” 

You knew she meant not only the end that was just inside you, but the one that was still resting snugly inside of her. 

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 20th. Role Reversal. "On The Other Side Of The Knife." Billy Loomis X FEM! AFAB! Reader. "

Now this is a real special one, topping a slasher is always so fucking fun! I need to write it more often, honestly, especially when it comes to Billy Loomis. He is such a slut and I love making him eat it so this is that. Enjoy as we come up on the last stretch of Kinky December.

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Rating, Explicit. Length. 2.1K. (Old Length. 2K.) Warnings. Praise. Role Play. General Ghostface Fuckery. Knife Play. Blood Play. Rope Play. Sub/Dom Dynamics. Hair Pulling. Mentions Of Poly!Ghostface. Voyeurism. Restrained Billy. Submissive Billy. Dom Reader. Face Sitting. Cunnilingus. Dirty Talk. Teasing. Lingerie. 

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It had started off as a joke. Isn’t that how most of these discoveries go? 

It’s all fun and games, laugh, laugh, joke, joke and then whoops turns out someone IS into that and just like that, a new kink is discovered. 

Still, when it happens to Billy, it is a shock for the both of you. But we are a little ahead of ourselves here. 

It had been a great night. A solo-session with the two of you, Stu indisposed for the evening, you loved being with both of them but getting to have Billy all to yourself on occasion was such a treat. You knew that he felt similarly, he loved Stu just as much and sharing you between the two of them was never an issue, it was a damn good time. Having you pinned in the middle was quite the sight to behold, writhing and the way you sounded? Oh my God, forget about that, it was perfection. 

But this wasn’t about the to be perfectly honest, wonderful times the three of you had. This was about you and him, and it went very well. A phone call, a chase, you were captured, trussed up, teased, taunted and taken. You were left pleasantly sore, skin slick with sweat, thoroughly satisfied, a little bloody in addition to his cum slowly leaking out of you. 

While on your back as he was untying you, pulling the ropes away and tracing the indents that they left in your skin. He was rubbing over the skin soothingly, he had long since ditched the costume, looking down at you affectionately, “You did so good tonight.”

He praised you as one of his hands rubbed over your thigh as he unwrapped the ropes from around your ankle and threw them aside. You were rubbing one of your wrists as you responded, “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A laugh from him before firing back with a roll of his eyes,“Oof what high praise, baby.” 

His hand ran up your leg, he reached out and picked up the knife that was lying on the sheets next to you, he started to crawl over you, knife brandished and held out, “I think you should say something a little nicer to me.”

You smirked up at him and, feeling bold, you decided to challenge him, “Oh, should I now?”

“Mmm.” He hummed as the flat of the blade started to come down to your chest, and you got a very interesting idea. 

You reached up, hand coming to the back of Billy’s neck, and you pulled him down, leaning up to kiss him. He melted into it when your lips met, returning it easily, and you slowly took action. Your hand sliding up from his neck and into his hair and nails scratching over his scalp lightly, the soft groan he let out against your mouth was all the signal you needed, your other hand moved quickly and grabbed the knife from his hand. Your fingers threaded into his hair and tugged hard, you broke the kiss and the knife was held to his throat, you were about to tell some dumb joke and continue the banter and teasing-but his reaction made you stop. 

The way his eyes flew back open, the slight gasp, how he tensed and that look in his eyes as he stared down at you. Unsure, slight fear, arousal, a look you were sure he had seen painted on your face the first time you two did this when he was the one holding the knife. 

“Oh? I think he likes it.” You taunt, you hear him swallow audibly before he responds, “What? Me?”

He tried to say it in that classic and oh so confident way of his, but he couldn’t pull it off this time. Couldn’t hide the shake in his voice, obviously thrown off, or the slight flush on his face.

You decided to experiment a bit further. You tugged again on his hair as you held the knife a little closer to him and his breath caught in his throat, he swallowed thickly again, his tongue darts out to wet his lips nervously, and you couldn’t help the grin that broke out on your face.

Fuck.

Yep, no doubt about it. He liked it. He couldn’t hide it from you. 

You eased off shortly after that and did the appropriate thing. You talked about it. 

He did like it a lot. And he decided he wanted to try it out, being the victim for once. You could tell he was a little nervous, he wasn’t one to typically give up control, but he trusted you, and he certainly couldn’t ignore how shockingly good it felt when you took that bit of control from him. I mean, really, who could blame him for being curious. 

A plan was made, a date set and another night where it was going to be just you and him. Having both you and Stu ganging up on him was a tad too much to handle for his first go with this. You agreed, and besides, you wanted to do this to him on your own. 

It was just so fucking good. 

The fact he was being this open with you, so vulnerable and trusting was amazing on its own but seeing him like this was the best part. He had given you a lot of free rein with the planning, you knew him well and would figure out his limits together. You had a safe word and signals, and you felt confident. You kind of decided to go all in. 

It started as any good role play like this should, with a phone call.

He was waiting for you to come by, little did he know you were already there. Watching him through the window, as you talked to him, the conversation started easily and slowly, claiming to be a wrong number but bored and looking for someone ‘fun’ to talk to. You watched him as he looked around, trying to find where you were before you could strike, it WAS fun watching him go around but managing to keep his tone normal and light, he was a good actor. 

You slipped inside easily. 

See, part of the fun was figuring out how you would take him down. You had been on the receiving end many a time, and he was so fucking strong and could hold you down no problem. You wanted to genuinely get the drop on him, make it a bit more real. Not only that, but you had led him into the perfect position. Crouching low behind a corner, having a wire pulled taut between the hallway, phone cradled in your shoulder, he was coming, you totally had him.

“Where the fuck are you?!” He had gotten into the bit, playing along perfectly, and you couldn’t help but smile behind your mask. Wouldn’t he like to know?

You held the wire with one hand and knocked on the wall you were leaning on with the other, he obviously heard it, he came down the hallway quicker to follow the sound and you got him. He tripped, and you were on him in a second, he was sprawled on his back, and you were on top of him, seated on his chest. Your thighs are on either side of him, pinning his arms down with your knees, one hand gripping the collar of his shirt, tugging him up, you leaned down, and the cool plastic mask brushed his cheek as you whispered, “Gotcha.”

You sat up, and took him in, hair dishevelled, expression a fantastic mix of scared and nervous, lightly tinged with arousal. 

He looked you over. My God, the sight of you in that costume, knife gripped in your fist, it was all too exciting. You loved seeing him under you, he already looked flustered and you hadn’t even done anything… Yet.

“Now that I have you-” Dragging the back of the knife over the side of his face slowly, he squirmed under you,“-what to do with you?”

His gaze broke from the hollow eyes of the mask, face flushed. Looking away and being quiet, that wouldn’t do. You threaded gloved fingers in his hair and tugged hard. His breath hitched, and you felt him shift under you as you spoke, harshly, in a similar tone that he would use on you.

“Look at me.” He hesitated, and you tugged again, “I said-” You had that knife coming down and holding it to his throat as you finished your sentence,“Look. At. Me.”

He did, eyes snapping up to you, and that look made you want. His lips parted and the way he was breathing, you were practically dripping. You let go of his hair, and you leaned back, the knife still held to his throat, your other hand came behind you and you felt him. He was achingly hard in his jeans and when your hand made contact he fucking whined and arched into the touch and that made between your thighs pulse and made your own breath want to stutter. He looked fucking beautiful. 

You wanted so much more of this. “Don’t tell me that you are getting off on this.”

You taunted him, doing your best to play the part, and he responded to your teasing with a strained groan as you manipulated him through his jeans. It felt good to be in control.

“Look at you. Obviously loving it. What a little slut.” He actually groaned again when that last word passed your lips, and that had you so very pleased. He was already struggling to hold it together, you could tell. His eyes were pleading for more, but you couldn’t help but focus on his mouth. You were already terribly worked up yourself and in need of relief, and with him laid out in front of you like this, well you’d be a fool not to take advantage. 

You let go of him, and he fucking whimpered, head falling back against the hardwood, hips arching, calling out for more contact, and dear Lord you wanted to hear him do that again too. Instead, you tsk’d and said,“Greedy thing. This is about me right now-”

You stood up on your knees, pinning his arms to the floor with more force, and he winced at the slight pain, one hand running up your leg, gathering the smooth black fabric, starting to pull up the robe of your Ghostface costume,“-but I’ll tell you what.”

You moved that knife and ran the tip of it over his bottom lip, your head tilting to the side, hiking the material up even higher, “You be a good victim for me, and I’ll make sure you get what you deserve.”

The bottom of your robe gathered in one fist, he could now see what you had on underneath, and it wasn’t much. Thigh high stockings, sheer and smooth, lace tops and held up with a garter belt, barely there panties and his eyes went wider at the sight. 

One important thing you knew about Billy Loomis is he had a terrible weakness for lingerie of any kind, so combining that previous well-worn love of his with this new and exciting territory you were exploring together was mind-blowing. “I’m going to let you have use of your arms, don’t try anything funny.”

He nodded shakily, enraptured, practically dying to see what you were going to do next. You moved forward, getting into position, the hand holding that knife came down between your thighs, two fingers hooked in the crotch of your panties as you still held the weapon and moved your soaked underwear to the side. 

“You talked real big on the phone earlier. So many threats and awful things you said, and yet here you are now, quiet as a mouse.” A light laugh from you when he had no response, he looked wrecked and wanting, eyes fixated on your dripping core. You started to touch yourself in front of him, gloved fingers rubbed your clit in soft circles, you arch into your own touch, fingers slide down through your folds and back up again, you could hear how wet you are.

You spoke again, “How about you apologize properly, hmm? Then we can talk about if you are worthy of a reward.”

Your hand fell away, and you lowered yourself down onto his mouth, and his hands were immediately on your ass, eyes falling closed with a moan of pure satisfaction at the taste of you. With your fingers in his hair again, tugging him in closer to your cunt, a grind as your other hand came back, the tip of that knife dragging leisurely up his chest, he shuddered under you upon feeling the cold metal. 

“Now be a good boy and get to work.”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Not What I Planned." Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader.

Well hello! It is the amazing and fantastic @eggsandbeer birthday so, so soon! But I am meeting Matt and Skeet tomorrow and my brain is gonna be all on Billy and Stu post that, so you get this now! This is my first time writing Rusty, I watched Joy Ride 2 six times while writing this. I love Riri, she is so fucking awesome and I adored doing this. She has a more personalized version but gave the go ahead to post a reader insert version for you all! So let's go!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.7K (I Know.) Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Customer Service Work. Asshole Customers. Murder Mentioned. Drinking. Making Out. Man Handling. Fingering. Masturbation. Blow Job. Cum Eating. Vaginal Sex. Riding. Taunting. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Praise. Pet Names.

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You hate your job, it is exhausting, mentally and physically, a total drain, but you do all you can to not let it get you down. You focus on the little things, good customer interactions, great coworkers and the times you are truly able to get away from your work. It isn’t like it’s what you wanted to do for the rest of your life anyway, far from it, in fact one of those vital lifelines that helps keep you sane is a local news internship, it gives you some good experience for what you hope to actually eventually do with your life along with giving you purpose. 

Today is not good, though, off to a less than ideal start. This is decidedly not the way you wanted to spend your birthday. Rolling into the grocery store to do a closing shift, apron in your grip and bag over your shoulder, half-hearted waves to co-workers as you strolled through towards the area you could safely stow away your stuff until you are allowed to clock out. You do just that, drop your stuff in the usual place, get your uniform situated and punch in, ready for another day of God knows what bullshit. 

Your mind was at least slightly occupied, where you work is en route to the Burning Man festival which meant that you were busy as fuck with people loading up on supplies before they arrive to their final destination, it kept you busy. As for what kept your brain whirring, your internship had tasked you with writing a piece on the crowd that is rolling through on their way, meaning you are watching and listening intently. It looks like you aren’t from the outside, hands stacking a fruit display, but ears open, all sorts of talk about events the Burners were amped up for, how much further they had to travel, what snacks were the best and would keep in the desert heat. 

You did some actual work naturally, finding yourself crouched and cleaning out a stubborn drain, the process thoroughly annoying and honestly degrading, and not in the fun way you usually liked. It was your fucking birthday, for Christ’s sake, you should be indulging in the fun kind of calve burning, not the bent over and unclogging kind. Still, you try to stay in higher spirits and certainly not show it outwardly, if someone squinted hard enough, they might be able to pick up on it. 

Later on, you had just finished making a new display, standing back and looking at the gorgeous display of apples you’d spent longer than you cared to mention on, hands on your hips. The first genuine smile that had graced your face since clocking in and wasn’t tinged with a single hint of perfectly practised customer service fakeness. This is one of those moments you felt genuine pride in your work, a glimmer of nicety in all the bullshit. 

It lasted for two whole seconds.

A customer’s cart hits you in the hip and wrist simultaneously because of how you were standing, the action both painful and shocking, completely unexpected. It makes you step to the side, grip your wrist with your other hand, the pain is throbbing and dull, it isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, but it still sucks and should have never happened in the first place. The customer doesn’t apologize. Worse still, they stride forward, pick a single apple from the middle of the display, causing half of it to tumble over. The customer scoffs with a roll of their eyes, they drop the apple into their cart to look around, seeming to notice you just now for the first time, only then acknowledging you. They give a pointed look from you to over their shoulder, a motion of their head as they criticized your work, “Not very sturdy.” 

Your mouth falls open, and they tut as they walk away, leaving you dumbfounded with fifteen some odd apples scattered on the ground that you had to clean up and a display you had to rebuild. 

Later still, you are sweeping, trying to get these damn onion skins up, but they aren’t moving. You are half focused, conversing with one of the Burners, they are asking for your opinion on what kombucha is best, and you are humouring them and getting a few questions answered along the way. 

Throughout all the regular work crap, you’d been having small conversations with people, writing brief notes for your project, and it was nice getting some serious stuff down about it, served as a half decent distraction too. 

His initial thought is that it was reminiscent of a zoo, upon greater thought while attempting to park the Peterbilt he decided swiftly that it was worse than that, a fucking circus. He manages to park and decides that getting in and out as fast as possible would be vital to maintaining his sanity. He was aware that Burning man was happening, naturally, but still the place was crowded as all Hell, more than he had been anticipating. Rusty didn’t like large crowds of people, but he needs some supplies, he needs to eat. 

It isn’t any better inside. 

He is making his way around, hat pulled low, basket in his grip, grabbing a few drinks, some favoured snacks that he knew kept well, he was passing by the produce, almost ready to get the fuck out. He goes into your department, he is grabbing bananas and thinking about getting some of those pre-cut carrot and celery sticks. Rusty is trying to be a tad more health minded, not like it would do much with how much he enjoys a good smoke but better to do something than nothing he supposed. 

His train of thought is broken when he hears a loud exclamation of, “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are!”

Rusty’s head turns, he catches sight of you, standing there, trying to look apologetic as some older lady is verbally ripping into you, “I’m making lemon chicken LEEK stroganoff, right?”

She is looking at you expectantly, your eyes wide, and with that half customer service forced smile you nod and say through gritted teeth, “Right.” 

“So tell me, how. Am I. Supposed. To make. Lemon, chicken LEEK stroganoff without LEEKS?” The way she said it was infuriating, the halting, pausing way of it, so condensing, as if you were the cross between an idiot and a child all rolled into one. 

“I don’t know, ma’am. I guess you can’t. I’m very sorry.” You admit it reluctantly, knowing she won’t like your response, and she does not. She goes off on you, “Well I’ve had this menu planned for WEEKS, I have company coming tonight! You have to make this right!” 

Rusty was listening in, brow pinching, this woman was off her rocker, what a complete bitch. You were trying to calm her, smooth over the situation, and she was being worse and worse to you. No matter what you say, she wouldn’t stop freaking out. 

“I really am very sorry. I could call another store nearby and ask if they have any leeks?” You offer up, and she scoffed with a laugh, “So I can make ANOTHER stop? Do you not remember? I am hosting a dinner party tonight, I’m busy! I have other places to go, I can’t be here fighting with you over this all night!”

And yet she was still here, doing just that. 

He had turned, wasn’t watching quite as subtly as he was previous. You were doing your best and none of it was measuring up to this crazy, impossible standard that was being set out. He was looking at you, and he could see that you were taking it hard, your customer service face and voice were holding strong, but your eyes? They looked so sad. 

You reminded him of a kicked puppy, as the woman finally had enough of being a raging cunt and stormed off. Right after that, someone else in uniform walked by, a manager? And on their way, they said, “Happy birthday.”

You gave a small, “Thanks.” along with half a wave as they strode past. You were not only working on, but getting treated like that, on your birthday? 

It got to him, hit him square in the chest, shot to the heart. A sigh and he looks over, he makes a note of the asshole who mistreated you so, he has a little time before they check out before he can go dispose of them in the parking lot for being so unreasonable and rude to you. It might be too far for some people but not for him, people like that, there is no changing them, not at her age, some people don’t deserve to live. 

First things, first though, he saunters over to you, a small clearing of his throat before he asks, “Got a date tonight, there a drink you’d recommend?” 

You turn towards the low and smooth voice, you have to turn your head up to look at him properly, he was taller than you. The way he was standing, the angle, and how he wore his hat you couldn’t see his face, brim pulled too low, standing a few feet away.

A small inhale and your smile turned more genuine before you reply, “Oh, our Pink Champagne is my favourite. I get that on special occasions.” 

Well, how fucking perfect a find were you? Kind, respectful, hardworking, and you have good taste. 

“Thank you.” He said it easily with a wave of his hand in acknowledgement and broke away. You watch him go and think to yourself that he is cute, in that particular way that strikes you when an older guy catches your eye just so. The interaction doesn’t stick with you however, you turned and saw more fucking onion skins that needed sweeping up.

Hours later, you finally get off of work, messed up apron in one hand and looking forward to getting the hell home. You had two days off ahead, you were intent on a bath and partaking in some drinks in your fridge with a good record on when you get home. You are walking through the dark and now very empty parking lot, your mind only focused on reaching your car, sliding behind the wheel and getting home as soon as possible, when you hear a voice calling out. Your car keys are in one hand, the keys between your fingers, sticking out and ready to punch a would be attacking if you need to. 

Hearing the voice makes you put your head on a swivel, initially scared, you look and then see it is that older gentlemen you helped out earlier. You pause, and he comes a little closer, again in the dark and with that hat you can’t make out much except for the orange glow of the end of his cigarette, partially illuminating the lower half of his face. He calls out your name, following it with a question of, "-right?” 

“Hi, yeah it is.” You were still sightly on edge until he is holding up the very same bottle you suggested earlier, “Wanted to say thank you for your recommendation, properly.” 

Your brows raise up, you saw him in the store hours ago, meaning he should in theory be long gone, and you ask, “I thought you had a date?” 

“I do. I was just waitin’ for her to get off work.” Even though you couldn’t see it fully, you could hear the smile in his tone, and it makes one spread to your own face. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realize that was you asking me out.” 

The tone you said it in was very light, and he seemed equally amused, “Sorry bout that, terrible manners on my part, truly.”

There is a beat of silence, and you say, “I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.” 

“So you’d be willing to join me?” He asks, you nod, you felt endeared to him very quickly, the confidence he displayed, the boldness, you were charmed and figured why not? You had the time tonight, nothing wrong with enjoying a birthday drink bought by a courteous man. 

“Where are we going to go?” You ask, and he gestured over to the large shiny black Piterbilt towards the back of the lot. “Was thinking my truck, if that’s alright with you?”

When he asks in that delicious tone of voice, you think that yes, it is very alright with you. “Lead the way.” You prompt, and he does, you fall into step beside him, apron is thrown over your shoulder, and you asked, “So you’re a truck driver?”

“How’d you ever guess?” He asked on an exhalation of his cigarette with a glance over to you. Now you can catch the half smirk on his face, unable to make out his eyes completely, but it didn’t bother you, honestly you kind of dug the mysterious kind of thing, not even fully knowing what he looked like. If anything that communicated how into him, you were, hadn’t even seen his whole face but his voice and how he carried himself was more than enough to convince you to this odd kind of unexpected date. 

“I’m real intuitive. Call it a gift.” You mused, and he liked you, even in how you joked, there was no real meanness to it, could tell that it was all in fun and that inherent niceness shone through. “Giving me gifts when it’s your birthday? Isn’t that what M’ supposed to be doing?” 

That gives you some slight pause, how in the fuck did he know that it was your birthday? Before any serious question could be made, you were next to his truck on the passenger side. You look it over and say honestly, “Nice truck.”

“Thanks, do my best to take real good care of it, s’ seen some rough times.” You look a little closer, scrutinizing, if it had, you couldn’t tell, the thing looked clean and not a scratch on it. You turn and lean against it, you realize he had gotten some cups that were also sold at your work, he holds them out, “Mind holding these while I open this?”

You nod and take them out of his outstretched hand and watch as the last remainder of his cigarette was dropped and ground under the heel of his boot. He uncorks the bottle with ease, doesn’t spill any or cause it to overflow, which mildly impresses, you hold out the cups and he fills them. The bottle is set aside on the ground and after passing him his cup he asked “Any words to share?”

“Here’s to the weekend?” You offered up after a moment’s thought, and he said, “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks yours and his cups together, and you take a sip of the sweet and familiar fizzy alcoholic drink. 

“Seriously the shift I had today was rough, so this is really nice, thank you-” Then you realize you don’t know his name, he clearly picks up on this and says, “Name’s Rusty. Rusty Nail.” 

Immediately you figure it must be his CB handle, you wonder if Rusty is his real name, but also you don’t think it matters much, you don’t press, “Well thank you, Rusty, really.” 

“S’ my pleasure. Heard how that woman was going off on you earlier, some people can be so rude.” Is that what prompted this? The total bitch who was freaking over leeks? If so, you think that maybe her being such a raging cunt wasn’t such a bad thing if it led to this. 

Little did you know that Rusty had taken care of her, she was currently stuffed in the trunk of her own car, way, way on the other side of the lot, body long since gone cold. 

The conversation then turned to you both complaining about a shared distaste for rude and unreasonable people, he let you vent about your day and previous horrible customers at your job. As the conversation went on, you find yourself enjoying his company more and more. You also find yourself standing closer to him, half the bottle gone, he’s had another smoke, and you are leaning on him much more than the truck, he doesn’t mind, you sigh to him, “I cannot believe the crap you have to put up with, it’s so unfair!” 

“Some people have some really unsavoury and outdated views on people in my line of work.” He admits with a nod, and from what he’d shared it seemed like. There are people who say the meanest shit, make horrible assumptions, treat him like dirt or worse, a feeling you know all too well at your own job. You relate to Rusty. 

You’d been talking for an hour, and it was even later, darker, and a shiver unexpectedly ran up your spine, “You cold?”

You were a little, you were in a t-shirt and after standing in one spot for so long this late the chill had somehow set in. “Yeah, surprisingly I am a bit.” 

Then he made an interesting offer. “You want to get in my truck, warm up?” 

You think you really did want that. “Yeah, that’d be great, actually.” 

He moved back then and so did you, he opened the door for you, and you looked up, Christ it was big, how were you supposed to get in while in your slightly buzzed state without looking like a total clown? You feel him against your back, he asks, “Need some help?”

You nod, unsure of what he means or how he is going to help but trusting him all the same, it’s then that you feel his hands on you. He turns you, and then those same hands find your waist with ease and grip. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you realize to him, you probably do, as he helps hoist you into the passenger side of the truck. Rusty sits you on your ass in the seat and your face feels much hotter, he just scooped you up and set you down so fast, one simple and fluid motion as he stepped one foot up on the running board, and then there you were. You are side-saddle, legs dangling down and far off of the ground. His hands leave you quicker than you’d like, sliding off your waist and stepping back down. You are a bit dazed, his hand touches your ankle, and you jump, he laughs at your surprised, “What?”

“You wanna get your legs in, so I can close the door?” You nod and do so, swinging your legs in, and he shuts the door. Your hand, that had been clutching your bag and apron, dropped them on the floor by your feet. You look down into your cup, you hadn’t spilled any even when he picked you up, the cup is raised, you tip it back and swallow down the remainder. A sigh and you pull the cup back, hand still clutching it, comes to rest on your thigh as your thumb on your opposite hand swipes a stray drop from the corner of your mouth. He had come around to the other side, he has the door open and is sliding in beside you into the driver's seat, he’d picked up the bottle on the way, and you were contemplating asking for more.

As if reading your mind he gestures for your cup, you lean over, holding it out, and he pours you some more, you asked him, “So before, you were talking about all the bad stuff about truck driving, but what about the stuff you do like?”

The question seems to surprise him if his tone is any indication, “The stuff I do like?” 

He has pulled the bottle back, he isn’t pouring more for himself, you respond to his question with another of your own, “Yeah, what makes the job worth it? Other than the money.” 

Rusty considers the question for a moment before he says, “I like seein’ the country, like being by myself most of the time but most of all? Probably seems obvious, but the freedom of it.” 

You nodded, it made sense and asked, “Can go anywhere, do anything?” 

“S’actly.”  

The silence is as surprisingly comfortable as the passenger seat of this truck is. The thought hits, and you say it without thinking, “I dunno how you do it.” 

“What? Truck drivin’?” He asks, and you say with a turn to him, “Yeah! Like, the actual driving it.”

He laughs, and you press on, one hand holding your cup and the other making like you are gripping a steering wheel that was comically large, pretending to turn it, “Seriously! This thing is massive, it’s a beast! How can you control it?”

“Ain’t that hard really, just gotta be the right mix of careful and confident.” He assures, and you laugh, “You make it sound so easy, I’ve never driven anything this big, that-” You point out the window to your much less impressive ride, “-is my car over there.” 

“Yeah, don’t quite measure up, does it?” He teases and you grin, “Nope. But I don’t think I could drive anything like this.”

“I think you could.” A small pause before he asks the big question, “Wanna try?” 

You nearly choke on your sip and pull the cup back, wiping at your mouth, “What? Me? Drive the behemoth? You want to write it off that bad, Rusty?” 

“You cannot be that bad a driver.” He scoffs. 

“Rusty, you barely know me, I dunno-” He insists, “C’mon, I’ll help.”

“Help?”

You were curious enough to allow it to happen, you’d not counted on his idea of help being putting you in his lap. He’d moved the seat back enough and encouraged you to climb on, emboldened by both the drink and his encouragement, you slide on into the space he made. He moves the seat forward enough to do the pedals, and he places your hands on the wheel, his hands covering yours. “You sure this is a good idea?” 

Nerves were setting in, you’d been drinking, not a lot but also all the close contact with him was getting to you, his attractiveness was apparent during your brief meeting earlier but now that you'd’ been getting to know him? He was becoming even more appealing, being sat in his lap, your back to his chest, his hands on yours, you felt flustered. Sounded by him in both touch and scent, it could be enough to make your head swim if you let it. In your current position, his voice is over your shoulder, “Positive. You’ll be fine.” 

The tone of voice he says it in, the conviction, he makes you believe it. 

One of his hands leaves yours briefly to start her up, the truck rumbles to life, and it makes you jump slightly, Christ it was loud and is vibrating like all Hell. “We’ll just do a lil’ loop, alright? M’ doing the pedals, you just steer her real easy.” 

He had to speak louder to be heard over the hum of the truck, and you pitch your own volume up to be heard, “Yeah, real easy, can do.” 

His foot comes down slowly, and he eases it forward, you grip the wheel tightly and let him lead. He talks you through the process, and it helps, you focus your eyes forward and your ears on listening to his smooth voice praising you, “Uh-huh, around the pole, use it as a guide.” You swallowed and nodded, brows knit together as he keeps talking, “Oh good job, see? You’re doing it.” 

His hands squeeze yours reassuringly, your mouth feels dry, you nod and say quieter than you should, “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, you’re doing most of the work.” You feel that isn’t truthful but again, he talks, you believe. 

“Almost all the way around, a little further-” Both his hands leave yours, sliding down your arms and choosing to come to rest on your waist again, letting you fully be in control. It makes you tense, rushing out, “Rusty, wait-”

Another flex of his hands, another show of comfort, he says easily, drawling out, “Calm down, you’re doing it all yourself.” 

You aren’t fully convinced until you’ve made the full loop, and he lets off the gas, he turns off the car and your shoulders slump, what he says next, makes you melt, “I told you. You’re perfect.” 

That does something, makes a particular part of you break, or is it wake up? Either way, a certain section of you, somewhere aside, comes alive, and instead of wanting to run from it, you chose to grab onto the live wire of sensation with both hands. The truck has stopped, but you keep moving, the urge overcomes, and you turn in your seat and in his lap, one hand comes up, meets his cheek, feeling the rough stubble. He’d already gotten you the champagne, but you think you want more still, and you ask, “Can I be selfish?”

“S’ your birthday, be as selfish as you want to.” You take that is more than enough of an invitation. You lean up and in, push the brim of his hat up enough to give yourself the appropriate access, and you kiss him. 

He had a feeling it was going this way, but thinking and experiencing are two different things. You choosing to take the lead was better than he could have been hoping for, though. Your mouth was so fucking soft, you felt warm, he tried to take it easy, but this is the kind of thing he can’t help getting swept up in. Chances like this don’t come around often, the urge to rush is present, he manages to ignore it, preferring to savour it, or rather, savour you. He lets himself relax further into the seat, returning your affection immediately. 

The scratch of his facial hair against your skin feels better than you’d hoped it would, you let out a soft exhale, a sound on the precipice of a moan while still falling just short. His hands are still on your waist, he nudges you closer, you lean in more, your head tilts, his lips part, and he tastes more like cigarettes than he does the champagne, but it’s there. Your tongue makes the first exploration and sticky sweet fruit is unearthed from below smoke and ash. 

One of his hands slides down, a brief pass over your thigh, and you wonder where it’s going, you realize in short order when the seat you are both on moves back, giving you more space, making it, so you aren’t quite as locked up against the steering wheel. Heat is sparking inside, your hand moves from his face, slipping to rest on his neck, your other hand comes up to his shoulder, fingers grip the jacket he has on and the want becomes too much. You grind down on him. 

The shifting and adjusting allows you to feel how hard he was growing, a harsher inhale, and you begin to scramble, you want more contact, you move to be fully straddling him, no more twisting partially around like you currently were. You are seated just right soon enough, ass firmly planted, and you think fleetingly God he had some solid thighs, strong, you felt very well-supported. 

The making out was only paused briefly while you changed position, you’d gotten right back into it, your mouth slotting back against his with a hum that sounded like his name. You grind again and this time he returns it, rutting up into you, and the friction makes you actually moan this time. The taste, the feeling, and two minutes more of making out is all it takes for you to break, pulling back once his touch had gotten bolder, one having slid up your body, palming one of your tits through your work shirt easily with how large his hands were. You arch into him, breaking the kiss you beg, “Fuck, Rusty, more.”

You are close enough now that you can see his smile as opposed to just hear it, his hand moves and starts to go under your shirt, rough fingers on bare skin and steadily moving up, brushing the edge of your bra. Not quite a laugh but more than an amused releasing of air, he asks, “More?” 

A frantic nod, another squirm of your hips and he asks, “How much more? C’mon, tell me.”

He wants you to say it and you want it desperately enough that it’s no issue, far from it, if anything him making you say it, makes you want it more, makes you feel hotter. “Fuck me?”

“I like your directness.” Thank God for that. “Just have a lil more patience with me, alright?” 

When he asks in that tone, you think you’d do just about anything. A small nod and he needs to get his fill of you just a hair more. Hands explore, groping, feeling, it teases both of you, trying to get a sense of your body before the clothes come off, mind running over just how you’ll feel with nothing in the way. You remain good, you let him feel, minimal squirming on your part, even when he starts kissing your neck as the hand that isn’t up your shirt kneads your ass. Only when you feel your underwear literally plastered to you and your cunt ache incessantly do you whine his name again. 

He mercifully acquiesces, “Okay, okay, I hear you.” 

He eases up, a gesture of his head for you to move to the passenger's seat, “Gonna need you out of those clothes for what you really want.” 

You rush to comply. Once in the passenger's seat, sitting sideways, still facing him, looking at him, your hands catch the bottom hem of your shirt and as if anticipating that you intended to frantically tear it off, he stops you. One hand out and that sweet but firm tone, commanding, "Do it slowly." 

Your face feels hot, and you do as instructed, slowing your movements right down, pulling the shirt up, exposing your stomach and then your bra. Higher and higher until you have taken it off, tossing it in the direction of your bag and apron. Next you have your thumbs hooked in the waist of your pants, arching your hips you start to slide them down, you watch him, try to gauge his reaction, but it’s hard in the low lighting. He gives a nod to show he’s pleased so far, encouraging you verbally too, “Go on.” 

Shoes removed, pants follow, soon you are in just your underwear, and he speaks, a small gesture of your body, up and down, “S’ a good start but keep going.” 

You reach behind yourself, start to unhook your bra, and he is still talking, “Dying to see the rest.” 

You swear you can feel his eyes raking over every exposed inch of your skin. A small thought strikes, you follow it, slipping your arms out of the straps but holding the cups to your chest, an indulgent smile, a rise of your eyebrows, and he clicks his tongue, you play dumb and ask, “What?”

“You’re being a tease.” He states, and you ask in a tone of mock innocence, “Am I?” 

He says more seriously. “Drop it.” 

Unsure if he means your bra or the act, you chose to abandon both. You let the padded fabric slip out of your hands, a spread of your legs, you wonder if he can tell how wet you are from here. He moves too now, you weren’t expecting it, he falls to his knees in the space between your seat and his. Hands come to your hips and the sudden contact makes you jerk with a sharp inhale. His mouth catches yours in another kiss, you return it and moan, his mouth doesn’t stay on yours for long, trails down, jaw and neck, one on your shoulder and lower.

He is confident, he’s taking what he wants and you more than let him, you enjoy every rough scrape of his well worked hands, pass of his lips and nip of his teeth. His warm breath fanning over your chest is welcome, one hand has moved again, over your hip and now on your inner thigh, his thumb is close enough, and he runs it up you, swipes up your clothed slit. You sigh, eyes falling closed, relishing the contact, you are sure now he can feel how wet you are. He runs it back down and then up again, a press just right, and you moan between the friction on your clit and his mouth now on your chest. 

He found it so easily and judging by the smile you can feel against the curve of your breast, he is just as pleased. Rusty abandons the current pleasant task, fingers hooking in your underwear, “I got a feelin’ it’d be a fight to get these off you too, an’ I just can’t wait.” 

You couldn’t either, not anymore. 

Assisting with a move of your ass up, he gets them off, and now you are naked in his semi-truck. You want to jump him, but he is holding you down by your thighs, taking in the view of you unobstructed, totally bare. “Fucking gorgeous.”

A hand reaches out, catches his jacket, and you tug as you tell him, “I feel really exposed right now, you wanna lose some of these?”

“S’ only fair.” He agrees, he removes his jacket and asks, “Wanna give me a little show while I fix myself?” 

It is a request, but you take it like it’s an order. Hand between your spread legs, fingers trace up, catching ample wetness and spreading it up, circling sensitive tissue, making your thighs tense and a small moan fall from your lips. “There you go.”

The praise helps, you increase the pressure, and he hums in approval. Shirt is gone, belt is opened more and more revealed until he is in a similar state of undress. The view of him stripping all for you is insanely helpful. Pleasure is filling you easily and once he is ready he asks, “You mind if I-?”

“However you want me, please.” It leaves you needy and breathless. He steps in, he moves your hands away from yourself, and starts to adjust you to his liking. You like it, you think he can be rougher honestly, you are put on your knees, facing the passenger window, a hand on your back, adjusting you more, hips tilted up, and you feel him against you. The bump of his shaft between your thighs and over your clit is already very good. “Ready, yeah?”

A shaky nod, “Please Rusty-”

The one word and his name is all you are able to get out before he is lining up just right, you hold your breath in anticipation, he spits into his own hand, strokes himself, the extra lube as courtesy is appreciated. He slides in, and you let out a gasp, he doesn’t do it easily, taking you in one firm stroke, hand on your hips as his come to rest against your ass. He revels in you, the tight, soaked heat of you, his head tips back slightly as he soaks it before he starts to move. Pulling out halfway before driving forward, your hands scrabble for the window’s edge, you hold onto it like a lifeline as you gear up for what is already promising to be the ride of a lifetime. 

His thrusting is firm, just like him, steady and sure, a good and even pace. It leaves breathless, not caring about being overheard, not like anyone could in the empty parking lot. A heavy breath from him, “Fucks sake, you’re soaked.” 

You were moaning, incoherent pleas, along with his name, you were more than warmed up, each drag of his thick shaft in and out increasing the feeling. Fingers dig into the meat of your hips, he pulls you back as he drives forward, and you move too, rocking backwards to meet him. “Tight as Hell, can barely fit myself in here.” 

“Keep talking, never, ever stop talking.” Is the one thought in your brain as you moan dumbly. You aren’t thinking much, unable, but you are feeling. Rusty was so kind to you, was totally turning your birthday around, making you feel incredible, spoiling you, and you want to do the same. His hands are roaming and that won’t do, you need to stop him before you are fucked into total submission and wrecked. Another minute, just another minute, you tell yourself, eyes are half open and brain hazy. The glass is so fogged up you can’t see out of it, could write your name but if he asked you doubted your hands would be steady enough. Could you even spell your name right now with what he was doing to you? 

Finally, you reach back, hands on his hips, “Ru-Rusty, please, stop-”

“Something the matter?” He asked, holding deep, all the way to the hilt inside you. His hands smooth up your sides, fingers trace the curves of your chest before coming back down again, and you shiver, clenching on his shaft. 

“Gotta, fuck, do something. Pull out?” He listens, he does so, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”  

The pet names, fucking Christ the pet names, you are forcing yourself to move. It happens quickly. You turn, and then you push him, so his back is against the seat of the driver's side. He takes the hint, sits up on the seat sideways, and then you are the one on your knees. Between his spread thighs, you lean down, a hand locks around the base of his shaft and you lick. He lets out a surprised groan, soft and sounding too good. You start to blow him in earnest, careful of your gag reflex as you work. Your hand slips up and down his slick shaft as you suck on the head, his hand comes down to your head, fingers twist in your hair, “Like tasting yourself?” 

A nod as you moan against him, tongue swirls around the tip, and he watches enraptured, his hips buck slightly, and you gag almost immediately. He inhales through his teeth, “Sorry there.”

You brush him off, a gesture that it is fine, as you redouble your efforts. He seems to be enjoying it immensely, he is encouraging you further but soon asks, “Can you handle some more?”

For him, you want to try. You nod, and he guides you, does it slowly and easily, “Breathe through it-”

You do and the pace, his voice, it somehow works, and you’re able to take him deeper, “Pretty birthday girl. Takin’ it so well.” 

All you wanted to do was please him, you continue the work for only a minute more, however because then he tells you, “I want you back up here.”

You jump at the chance. Same as before, you climb up him and straddle him, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where this is going. “You didn’t have to do that.” He comments, and you have your hands on his biceps, currently sucking a hickey into his neck and teasing your dripping hole with the tip of his dick, “I know. I wanted to.”  

“Could tell you were into it. You always wanna taste yourself like that?” 

“Not always but it is-” You move your hips down, start to slide him inside with a moan, once he is buried inside of you again you finish the thought, “-a favourite.” 

“Dirty girl.” He coos it like a compliment, and it hits you just like one, too. You start to ride, his hands on you help along with upward rocks of his hips. You bite and suck along his throat in between broken moans, the salt of his skin is a tad too addicting, as is the stretch of him inside and the way he brushes all the right spots inside of you at this angle. 

Apparently it still isn’t good enough for him. 

He tugs you closer, presses you so that way your clit is getting friction and ground with every thrust and bounce, your moans increase in volume in pitch along with the sensation. You had no clue this is how your day would shake out, if you did, maybe your shift would have been more bearable. 

His hands are on your back, holding you close, fucking up into you as you are slamming down, and on a particularly good hit you are gasping. For two people fucking for the first time and relative strangers, you’d found a frighteningly good rhythm. Your body is moving on instinct, just chasing what feels good but still, thoughtlessly tinged with doing your best to please him, thankful for the moment that what seems to be getting him off is feeling incredible for you. It isn’t quite enough, though, and he seems to pick up on that. 

“Lean back.” His voice snaps you out of your pleasure induced stupor, and you nod, separating yourself from him, the one point of contact still remaining your ass on his thighs and him stuffed deep inside. He directs you further, his hands help, and you find yourself with one hand on his knee, the other braced on the roof of the truck, feet on the seat on either side of him and with a confident nod you start moving again. 

It’s good, you are able to hit spots inside yourself that are even deeper, using all your leg muscles as well as your hands it becomes more of a full body effort, minute adjustments can be made so too much strain is never on one part of your sweat slick frame. Soon as you are just right in the groove of it, he surprises you, why he wanted the change in position becomes all too clear. His hand is between your bodies and his thumb presses down, swirling over your clit, and it makes your pace falter, “Oh my fucking God-”

“Don’t stop now.” The way he says it makes a shiver run up your spine and again makes you clench down on him. He says it in the dominant tone of voice, but it’s light, that smug fucking half grin on his face, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. You shake your head, choking out, “Wo-won’t stop.” 

“No, course you won’t, you’re so good at listening.” The praise washes over you with another sharp jolt of ecstasy. His hand that wasn’t working your nerves into a frenzy was on your thigh, sliding up, gripping your hip, “This workin’ for you?”

Fuck, was it ever. You nod frantically, focusing on breathing and not stopping riding him, but in short order, your movements were getting increasingly sloppy. It was like he didn’t have to ask, didn’t rush it, just let you work it out and helped carry you along. You were getting dangerously close, the edge creeping up at a blinding pace, everything you’d experienced so far this night was piling up and threatening to make you break apart at the seams. There were no real words, just hurried breathing and pitched moans, head back, nails digging into the fabric of the truck cab’s roof, the sound of skin on skin and his encouragement. 

A soft call of your name, his hips moving up, grinding into you as his hand works and him asking in a mind meltingly hot tone, “I wanna see it, give it to me.”

And something about that, whether it is what he said or how he said it, causes the reaction inside to finally make it happen, like it clicks into place just right, and you go from a weak and barely audible strained whisper of, “I’m almost there!” To holy fucking shit, I’m, “-cumming!” 

Riding as much became not an option, legs almost giving out, but he takes over, grip on your hip is bruising, hip strength impressive, and he drives up into you over and over. Your hand isn’t able to stay on the roof, caught midair, body tense as your climax rockets through your body, you think your hand on his knee might be drawing blood with your nails, but you can’t stop it nor can you care. 

You jerk as it peaks, and he slips out, his fingers don’t stop until you are crying out and pushing him away, still trembling through the aftershocks. Your eyes were closed, you were panting and not even remotely down from his high when you feel the hot splatter on your tits and stomach with your name staining his tongue. Peaking back open, you see him, hand around himself, and he’d cum all over your torso. The pretty pearly white is sliding down, and his own breathing is very laboured. Your hand trails down, still shaky, skating through the mess he left, and then you're bringing those same fingers back up to taste him. 

Your body relaxes against him, you get into a more comfortable position, and after you stop shuddering so much you are telling him, “That was pretty fucking great.”

“Oh, are you all done?” He asked as he looks up at you, hands are resting lazily on your thighs, tracing patterns absentmindedly. “I mean I thought we were but are we not?”

“We don’t gotta be. I’m in no rush.” The thought of that is extremely pleasant. 

“Another drink till you’re ready to go again, old man?” You asked with a smile, and he laughs as he reaches over to where the bottle was left on the floor of his side of the truck. Thankfully it hadn’t been knocked over, “You get that one and only cuz you were so good.” 

“Only one old man joke or one joke overall? Because I was gonna make one hoping that you aren’t passingly along tetanus to me Rusty, but if you’re planning to be a buzzkill-” He shuts you up with a hand on the back of your neck and a kiss that you end up humming into. Yeah, you think this has been a pretty solid birthday. 

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 10th. Mirror Sex. "More Than One Way." Bo Sinclair X AFAB! Reader.

The do-over of Kinky December is going on! Bo and mirror sex, what more do you really need honestly? Not much to say but this event is fun and I hope you all enjoy it!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.4K (Old Length, 2.1K.) Warnings: Alcohol Mention. Dirty Talk. Jealousy And Possessive Behaviour. Manhandling. Choking. Vaginal Fingering. Hair Pulling. Rough Sex. Degradation. Name Calling. Semi-Public Sex. Exhibitionism. Bo Is A Bastard. 

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You are a low maintenance and relatively easy to please, you never ask for much of anything, and you were quite content with the life you had carved out in Ambrose, further still you were very happy with him. Perhaps this causes the change of heart, pushes you to be genuinely honest because you ask for so little, and it was almost your birthday, you thought he just might give it to you.

He could be in a giving mood on occasion, and what better time to set off that than your birthday? 

Bo had laughed when you asked for it, “You wanna do what now?”

You were already half regretting this decision based off of his initial reaction alone. Crossing your arms and looking away from him, you started to downplay it, “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

He scrolls and flips the magazine closed on the tabletop closed, he tossed it aside as he said, “Naw it ain’t nothin’ c’mon, I just wanna make sure I was hearing you right.”

You let out a small sigh and looked back over, he was smiling, a little smug but still seeming like he genuinely wanted to know as he sat at the table in front of you. 

A deep breath and you push yourself to repeat your previous statement, “I wanna go out for my birthday.”

“Like out-out?” He leaned back in the kitchen chair he was seated in and gestured vaguely to the window with the hand that currently wasn’t holding his beer, “Outside of Ambrose?”

You nodded once and were about to start defending yourself and giving reasons why it was a good idea, and why you wanted it so much, how good you had been that you felt you’d earned it. You were about to begin to tell him about how much you helped out around here and how well you listened, and you wouldn’t ask for anything else-

But before you could even start he gestured for you to come closer, you did, pushing off the counter you had been leaning against and coming over to him, closing the gap between the two of you. As you were right in front of him you knew what he wanted, a single nod being the gesture that he wanted you to sit on his knee, and you did so easily. His hand met your lower back, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, it was quiet for a moment. With his nose buried in your hair, he asked, “Where’d you wanna go?”

That is how you ended up here.

You wanted to go out, go dancing with him, he seemed reluctant, but you weren’t super familiar with the general area, you didn’t live around there before. Back before you knew him you lived states away, you were on vacation with friends when you stumbled into Ambrose and fell into his life. So as a compromise you decided to let him pick the place, he had been into the nearest big city far more than you had, and it seemed only fair, he seemed MUCH more interested after you mentioned that he could choose the venue.

Now the reason why he was so into it was made apparent. 

You’d been having fun so far, the tables are all occupied, leaving you up closer to the bar than Bo would like, especially because the bartender was looking at you far too much. As soon as the bartender attempted to verbally flirt with you, that was it, you were pulled away to the bathroom. 

The set-up of this club was different, having single room bathrooms with doors that locked, as opposed to a more traditional bathroom with usual stalls. You couldn’t protest, you knew if you tried it would fall on deaf ears, he’d have no sympathy, you could tell by his body language that he’d made up his mind. The door is opened, you are shoved through it and pushed against the door, your back meeting cool metal and his mouth is on yours.

The reason why was obvious. He needed to stake his claim, mark you as his again, you would never ever want anyone else, and you weren’t flirting with the bartender back, but the fact that he was even comfortable enough to attempt it with you was reason enough for this. He had his hands all over you, rough and possessive and so thoroughly Bo. 

You were breathless when his mouth finally pulled away from yours, and he turned his efforts towards attacking your neck, his hips pushed into yours, you feel how hard he is against you. He spoke, voice as rough as he was being,“You like how he was lookin’ at you?”

Head was already swimming from the drinks and from the sudden make out session, arousal filling you rapidly, you stumbled over your response, thinking was hard when your panties were this fucking wet, “Wha-what?”

Wrong answer. 

He was off you, hand on your wrist, and he dragged you from the door, it was very sudden you nearly tripped but managed to stay upright. Then you were right where he wanted you. He placed your hands on the counter flat and one of his hands was curling around your throat from behind, the other on your forehead, pulling your head up, and he spoke harshly in your ear, “Fuckin’ look at yourself.”

You did as instructed. Eyes half lidded, clothes slightly askew, breathing harder, you looked almost as turned on as you felt. 

“What do ya see?” His hand on your neck squeezed and you swallowed thickly. You took a little too long to reply because he decided to answer for you,“Cuz I’ll tell you what I see.”

His hand came off of your forehead, keeping his other hand firmly around your throat as the first one reached up under your dress, fingers felt you over your panties, and you gasped at the contact, “I see a fucking whore.”

How he spoke to you made you fucking throb and fill with want, somehow even more so than you already were. His fingers ran over your slit a few times, making your underwear even wetter as he pressed it closer to you, and it made your hips squirm, “Just look at what you’re wearin’ for Christ’s sake. This is your idea of a good time on your birthday, huh? Getting gawked at by a bunch of drunken assholes? Parading around in a skimpy little dress?”

His fingers were inside the barely there garment, his grip on your throat unrelenting to the point that you feared it might bruise, his grip too strong, you couldn’t reply, he tsk’d as his fingers slid roughly inside of you, “Must be, you’re fucking soaked. Don’t need any help from me this time, your cunt is fucking crying for it.”

He only let his fingers thrust in and out of you a few times before he pulled them out, and his hand finally left your throat, you sucked down a few deep breaths now that you were able to. You had no time to rest as he yanked your underwear down to your knees and hiked the skirt of your dress up over the curve of your ass. You heard him undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, and you couldn’t look away from yourself as you gripped the sink, you were so turned on just by the idea of this. Mess leaking down your thighs as you thought what a birthday present, getting fucked in a semi-public place like this? I mean, the door was locked-

Wait.

Was the door locked? You couldn’t remember if he locked it, you couldn’t recall hearing the sound of the lock turning over, 

You looked at him in the mirror, he was looking down as he was pulling himself out, you wanted to glance over and check. Trying it was stupid and yet you did, head turning an inch in the direction of the door and in response his fingers were in your hair, tugging hard, it hurt but in that good pleasurable pain kind of way. Hot breath in your ear as he grits out, “Did I SAY you could stop lookin’ at yourself?”

You squirmed again from how harshly he barked that at you, and it made you bite your bottom lip before responding to him, eyes forward, once again having to face yourself, “No-Bo. You didn’t.”

If the door wasn’t locked, then anyone could come in at any time, and that idea got to you terribly. He tugged on your hair again, harder than before, and you winced at the pain, “That’s right, I didn’t. Eyes forward.”

Soon, the feeling of him sliding inside of you took over and filled you with pleasure instead. That first rough plunge into your dripping cunt made you gasp his name and your eyes wanted to roll back already at the feeling, something you knew he wouldn’t allow or tolerate yet again, so you stare forward. 

One hand on your hip and the other came around to your chest after releasing your hair, he tugged the straps of your dress down, one after another, exposing your breasts to him and locking your arms to your sides in the process. The straps were tight in this position and holding your arms close to your sides, your hands still on the sink's edges, and he wasted no more time before setting a rough and steady pace, thick and hard cock stretching your walls.

You were trying not to be too loud, gasped and hushed breaths, and he didn’t like that. He gripped your hip harder and pinched one of your nipples, making you whine, “Filthy thing. Fuckin’ love it, clenchin’ down so hard on me.”

You did love it. All of it. The risk, the danger, the pleasure and how hard your heart was pounding in your chest, how you looked, how he made you look at yourself, at what he did to you. Eyes are unfocused but not unseeing, you love how you look, if you had his shotgun to your head and were made to conjure up a word to describe yourself or face having brain and blood paint the mirror before you, that one word you’d choose above all others was, mess.

You were a mess. 

The best way to describe you when he had his way like this with you, a complete and utter fucking mess. All for Bo. 

This wasn’t going to be drawn out long, wasn’t meant to be, was meant to be hot and quick and hard. 

Yet you didn’t need long tonight, you just needed it like this, exactly like this.

He could tell, knew just how badly he was getting to you and how perfectly his cock hit that sweet spot inside and how it all was working for you. 

“Bo-fuck-yes!” You gasped, and you clenched on him again, he chuckled, breathless himself and his hand slid from your hip, rough pads of his fingers finding your clit and circling it. You couldn’t hold back the loud moan you let out. 

“You wanna cum, little whore?”

A frantic nod from you, pushing your hips back and meeting him in the middle, he filled you perfectly, you were getting so close, you begged. “Ye-yes! Want to cum so-shit, so bad!”

He slammed into you again and again and his fingers didn’t slow, his breathing picked up in your ear, and you were right fucking there, “Well I ain’t stopping you birthday girl. C’mon, do it. Fuckin’ cum.”

And you didn’t need to be told twice, this time you couldn’t help it as your eyes squeezed shut and tipped over the edge, letting out a long moan of his name as you came, shuddering and knees nearly giving out from under you. Thank God, he was still holding onto you and helping hold you up. You hadn’t even caught your breath when you felt his pace get sloppier, uneven, breathing erratic, so close to his end, you wanted it, so bad. You met his gaze in the mirror, still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you begged, one sweet word passing your kiss bruised lips,“Please?”

He gave you just what you need and groaned out your name, holding himself all the way to the hilt inside your soaked pussy when he unloaded, warmth filling you that felt so fucking right. 

You both needed a minute to catch your breath after all of that. You were feeling so much, hot, sweaty, satisfied, more sobered up for sure, your knees were weak, and your arms hurt a little from the straps of your dress digging into them. He was still hard and still inside of you, he ground, and your breath caught, his hand slid up from your breast back to your throat, he squeezed. 

“So you gotta be wonderin’ what your gift is.” Wait, you thought him taking you out was your gift? 

It wasn’t? You were a little scared as you swallowed thickly, and asked,“I thought you taking me out was my gift, If it isn’t what is?”

He chuckled and his fingers pressed once more on your clit, making you moan softly before slipping from between your thighs and his hand closed around your wrist. He brought your hand up, and he was looking into your eyes in the mirror, his back still to your chest, and he said,

“You know how you’ve talked about wanting me to fuck you in front of other people?”

Your heart nearly stopped. You nodded once. You wanted that more than anything, it was one of your biggest fantasies, you clenched around him again, and that made him smirk.

“Yes Bo.”

“Well I figured I’d be nice and indulge ya.” You were confused, and he could tell, he kept talking, “I picked this place on purpose for a reason. You know what the place next door is?”

Your voice is small and still confused, “Another club?”

He laughed a little, slight cock of his head with a nod, “Yeah it is. A very particular kinda club, baby. One guy owns this one and the other.”

You still didn’t get it. Still confused. He brought your hand up and brought your fingers to the mirror’s surface. 

“Tell me darlin’…” And what he asked next might have been the hottest question you had ever heard. Your eyes still glued to his in the reflection, that devious look in his eyes as he asked, “…Do you know how to tell if a mirror is a one or two-way?”