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ageofevermore · 1 year

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TASTE THAT YOUR LIPS ALLOW

SUMMARY — after a morning of insatiable teasing, wanda and natasha take turns completely undoing you

WARNINGS — smut minors dni, soft dom natasha, soft dom wanda, teasing, lingerie, hickies, fingering, nipple play, choking, edging, oral (r and wanda receiving), begging, thigh grinding, face riding, nipple sucking, orgasms

Wanda has a knack for messing with the thermostat when you and Natasha leave, even if it’s just for a few hours. Your comfortable apartment might as well be decorated in icicles if she had her way, the wooden floorboards so chilly that your entire body tenses when the first bare foot is laid upon them after returning home from the shops. You groan Wanda’s name into the otherwise quiet space (save for the buzz of the air conditioner that’s working overtime to accommodate her request), pulling your arms tightly to your middle, practically drowning in her oversized hoodie that engulfs a third of your body. You shimmy out of your denim shorts, letting them pool around your ankles before taking a step forward, attempting, and failing, at adapting to the frigid shock that’s traveling up your body at lightning speed with every step toward the door.

Wanda snickers, knowing exactly what she’s being scolded for without any additional context. Natasha grumbles beneath her breath, coming out of the closet with a new set of comfy clothes on her body. Your girlfriend looks entirely domestic in her pajama bottoms and t-shirt, but the sharpness of her jaw and darkness of her eye reminds you of who she really is, and what she’s capable of. It’s not often that Natasha carries this energy home with her, but she’s been set in a mood for the last few days that has your muscles aching and thighs squeezing together, though she’s yet to relieve that second issue. She’s been teasing you for hours today, your outting to the shops no exception, seeing as she dragged you to each and every lingerie boutique with a sinister smirk on her lips and gave you a healthy description of the ways she’d fuck you into hell in every single skimpy set she suggested.

The thermostat is across the apartment in Natasha’s office, and you’d think that would mean the temperature of your space would remain consistent, considering Natasha craves consistency, but whenever she has the chance, Wanda’s grimey fingers sneak around the dial and twist it down to the low sixties. You have a suspicion she does it so that you and Natasha cuddle into her warm energy, the scarlet vibrations beneath her skin an incentive to cuddle close, but you can’t be entirely sure. Mostly because every time you’ve suggested that reason to her she denies it with a vicious scowl.

Where Wanda is in the apartment, you’re not entirely sure. She wasn’t in the kitchen when you came back from the shops and shouted your greetings with arms full of bags, and she’s not in your bedroom or Natasha’s office, but she’s close enough that her muffled laughter was audible from the bedroom, meaning she’s most likely waiting to catch you in the act of tampering with her air conditioning. On high alert, you hurriedly shuffle into Natasha’s office, letting the cream walls surround you and all of her possessions dance in your viewpoint as you make a b-line for the thermostat. Your fingers barely brush against the ridges of the knob before you feel hands snake around your waist and pull you backward. Your back rests against her chest, the material of her t-shirt rubbing against the material of her hoodie that you’ve stolen without permission. A shiver runs up your spine, and whether it's from the cold or sheer anticipation, you’re not entirely sure.

Her hot breath tickles the back of your neck, furthering the sensation of too hot and too cold that's quickly spreading across your body and down the very center of your bones. If bone marrow could evaporate from internal heat, you’re entirely sure that inside of your body would be dryer than a dessert right now. You lean back into her, finally becoming lax in her grip rather than tense from shock and adrenaline. One hand stays around your middle, while the other runs down your body until it reaches the bare skin of your thigh. Her fingers are warm, and the faint pulse of electricity beneath her skin is noticeable as she drags her fingers upward, now snaking beneath the fabric of her hoodie and scoping out your pantie situation without shame. Wanda is always warm, no thanks to the magic that she harbors in her soul, but it's become a comfort even on hot summer days when she can’t get her hands off of you for longer than a few minutes.

Your breath hitches when she meets the lace of your panties that are already sodden from arousal no thanks to Natasha’s morning of teasing. For a moment, your girlfriend loses her composure and the fingers around your middle squeeze into your skin in shock for how moist the center between your legs already is, but that weakness quickly disintegrates into a dominating stance that weakens your knees.

“I see Nat’s had some fun with you already.” She mouths the words dramatically against the side of your neck, teeth catching against your skin every few syllables. Hot saliva dampens your skin, and the stroke of her tongue against the shell of your ear has your joints quivering for something more. You whimper a response that’s hardly audible, torn between grabbing onto her or leaning forward to hold the wall. Your body feels like jelly, no longer frigid from the low temperature of the apartment.

You’ve almost forgotten about the fingers between your legs in favor of focusing entirely on the hot tongue on your neck, but you’re quickly reminded of their presence when she resumes her adventure of breaking you down. Her fingers explore the lace with careful thought, her mouth sucking a deep purple bruise into your sensitive skin simultaneously. The stimulation you're receiving has your brain absolutely malfunctioning, and you almost don’t recognize her fingers pulling your panties to the side until it’s too late, and a finger is prodding your entrance and pushing deep into your velvety walls. The squelch of your juices is an embarrassing sound that echoes around the office, one that makes your eyes pinch shut in dread, but has Wanda entirely intoxicated. Her eyes are a deep shade of green, pupils blown out so wide her entire eye is almost black with lust. Her own thighs shake with need, but she’s so absorbed with you and your body and your reactions that it doesn’t register in her mind that she’s dripping down her legs.

The hand around your midsection wanders beneath the hoodie, pulling it up and exposing the skin of your torso as it makes its way higher. The lace covering your chest matches the lace of your panties in feel, and it's a softness and intricacy that Wanda hasn’t felt before. Her fingers are still hammering into you, but an added sensation of fingers pulling at your nipples sends your nerves into a state of pure white hot sensitivity that all you can hear is a high pitched ringing.

“Liking that new set I bought her?” Natasha leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest as she watches Wanda unravel you with ease, no thanks to her hours of relentless teasing. You’re like putty in the older woman's hands, melting into her chest with breathless whimpers and whines every time she strokes just right or not enough. Natasha’s resting easily, amused and turned on by the show she’s walked into, although she’d been counting down how long it would take Wanda to devour you whole once she realized you’d gone out in her hoodie. She always was the possessive one out of you three.

“Liking the show?” Wanda rebuttals, moving the lace away from your chest in favor of plucking purposefully at your nipples. The hand between your legs quickens its pace, though even with the brutal speed she’s jackhammering you with, there's a gentleness to her touch that amplifies the feelings she’s provoking. Natasha snorts, though there is little amusement in the sound, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to the pair of you. She wraps a hand around Wanda’s throat, squeezing in just the right way with just the right amount of pressure that has your girlfriend struggling to keep her eyes open, entirely dismantling the dominating stance she previously held.

Natasha smirks, leaning in close to Wanda’s face, reminding the redhead who’s really in charge. “Hands off. I’m gonna be the one to finish her off, and it’s definitely not going to be in my office.” Wanda huffs, retracting her fingers from your center, eyes pinched shut at the desperate whine you pitch at the loss of sensation.

“No! No please.” You’re desperate, arching your hips into the gentle hand that’s fixing the lace over your puffy lips, strings of arousal connecting your skin to the soft white lace that’s entirely ruined by now. Your gaze is hazy and unfocused, entirely lost in the trenches of pleasure that have abruptly stopped before you were ready.

Natasha shushes you, cupping your face in her freezing hands and lowering her lips to yours. Her kiss is sweet and slow, but your tongue is filled with urgency as it battles her for dominance, even though you’re aware that you’re not going to win. Natasha bites down on your bottom lip before she pulls away from the kiss, dropping her hands from your cheeks and giving you an even glance.

“Both of you in the bedroom. Now.” She demands, waiting for you to scramble out of the office and into the bedroom before she reaches toward the thermostat, and turns the dial back toward the low seventies, completely intent on buying a lock that keeps Wanda’s troublesome fingers away.

When she returns to your shared bedroom, she notices that the little clothes you had on have been scattered across the floor in messy piles, and that despite her warning, Wanda is between your legs, devouring your pussy with a feverish desire that almost distracts her from the plan she had. The redheads tongue laps at your sensitive folds, and the sound of suction being broken as Wanda pulls away from your clit in favor of lapping at your gushing entrance provokes goosebumps to rise on Natasha’s spine. The older redhead clears her throat, unhappy with the predicament she’s found the both of you in, although she has a feeling you’re not the one who initiated this encounter. The sound of suction being broken for the second time seems to remind Wanda of the orders she’s been given, and when she pulls away from your dripping center sheepishly to smile at Natasha with slick coated lips, a blush rises on her cheeks.

“I’ll get to you later.” Natasha rolls her eyes at Wanda, though there is a fondness in the way her lips quiver into a grin that she tries to hide for the sake of keeping up appearances. Not bothering to undress herself, Natasha kneels on the edge of the bed, bearing her weight on the mattress that sinks in tune with her. She hovers above your trembling body, drinking in the sight of you so pathetically desperate and aching for relief, knowing that she’s partially to blame without even touching you. “What about you, hm?” One evil finger snakes between your legs, ghosting over your swollen clit with a gentle pass before it disappears entirely. “Have you had enough teasing today, malysh?”

“Nat.” You whine in response, knowing that she knows the answer, and reaching for her t-shirt to pull her flush against your chest, desperate to close the gap between you. You whine when the fabric brushes against your sensitive nipples, no thanks to Wanda’s pinching and twisting earlier. “Please. Natty, please!”

Wanda’s a panting mess behind you, and with the jerky motions of the mattress, you have an inkling her hand in down her pants and she’s relieving the ache between her legs without interruption, unlike you. Your hips scramble to find a rhythm in grinding against Natasha’s leg, desperate whines falling around your lips as you get into a good pace that knocks your clit just right with every other pass. Cold hands settle on your hips after a few seconds, pinning you in place with gentle urgency.

“Stay with me.” Natasha whispers endearingly, mouth hovering just above yours now, her breath hot against your skin. She wasn’t so attentive all those hours ago at the shops, but you’re grateful for her change in heart that will hopefully lead to you getting that orgasm you’ve been chasing for days. “Mouth or fingers, which do you want?”

“M-Mouth. Your mouth, please. Please.” You beg, dropping your hands into her hair when she moves down toward your hot center, picking up where Wanda left off. The first pass of her tongue through your sticky folds is gentle, testing the waters, before she dives in completely, vulgar sounds escaping your lips as she goes to work in cleaning you out, pushing her tongue into your entrance as far as it’ll reach before extracting it and making a pass over your sensitive clit. Her fingers tug at your nipples, flicking over the sensitive nubs that have handled so much abuse already.

“M-More. Please.” Your broken request is met with efficiency, Natasha shuffling farther down your body and abandoning your nipples so that one hand can hold your hips in place, while the other plunges two fingers into your dripping entrance that was previously stretched out by Wanda. Your nipples aren’t left to recover for long however, as Wanda crawls overtop of you, sopping pussy in eyeshot as her hot mouth engulfs your over sensitive nubs with an urgency you’ve only met a few other times.

Natasha’s fingers are curling into your velvety walls, hitting that perfect spot inside of you that makes your nerves feel like there are a few thousand fireworks exploding inside of them. Straining your neck, you attach your mouth to Wanda’s cunt, moaning at the slight tang of her arousal on your tongue. Her hips twitch at the sudden sensation, entirely sensitive from her own stimulation just seconds ago, but within seconds she’s searching for more from you, beginning to grind into your mouth with a passion, chasing her own high as Natasha brings you closer to your own.

Natasha can feel you getting close around her fingers, so she doubles down on her pace, and blows a cold stream directly onto your clit, giving you permission to finally fall over the edge. As she coaxes you through your orgasm, Wanda falls apart as well, hips spluttering to find friction as she rides your tongue until she's satisfied, the both of you collapsing into a pile of weak limbs that provokes an infectious giggle from Natasha’s chest.

Crawling up into the center of the bed and settling into your typical cuddling position where you’re in the middle and Natasha’s are around both of you, she makes sure to drum her fingers against Wanda’s belly before speaking, “Wands, the next time you touch that thermostat, it won't end as nicely for you.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wandanat #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader

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from-izzy · 4 months

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[01:34] | nct na jaemin

Your ceiling fell.

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » boyfriend na jaemin who picks you up even though he's tired, summer is annoying to the reader (sorry, i'm really hating summer rn), fluffy fluff with a tinge of angst, clothes stealer reader!, but you never end up using it because you got too tired and fell asleep, i love na jaemin (can you tell?), reader is the little spoon, jaemin is so caring and cute (i'm in love with him), jaemin brushing his hand through your hair

word count, estimated reading time » 2496, ~9 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » jaemin is taller, outside clothes on the bed (i don't do this but it's cute here 😭 forgive me), oh...it's not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

recently went back to my wips and found bits and pieces that could work together and meshed them together as best as i can 🤣 just whipped up this little thing whilst i was at it hehe

also, not going to be specific but will you believe if i said that this is based on a (my) true story? 🤠 it's been...messy 🤠 to say the least.

thank you for proofreading (when you're supposed to be focusing on school) @cupidjyu !! 💕

Your ceiling fell.

Well...

To be exact, there isn't a hole that lets the spiders and birds able to look down and see the base of your kitchen sink but when the inside surface of the roof fell, so did the insulator that kept the house warm during the frosty winter, and cool in the scorching summer. Because of the unstable roof condition, your whole family was wary of putting the air conditioning system on. The vibration from the machine and the sound waves themselves may be the little push it needs to send other parts of the roof crumbling.

You hate the hot weather so much.

In this period of the summer, when opening the windows was barely an option as it also let the heat through, it has been hard even to do anything remotely productive. With every move of your body, it generates heat and energy, which when mixed with the thirty-five-degree heat, all you want to do is lay on your bed and let the sweat evaporate off your skin with the help of your tower fan. That's how the mornings would go. Sometimes when you're not too tired from the previous day's work, you would go and take shelter in the library, turning confused heads when you would be wearing a jacket as overtime, it became too cold.

The worst thing is that there has been no word from the insurance company or the people who could help to fix the hole in your ceiling. Unfortunately, it did fall during the peak holiday season but at this point, when it’s no longer the festive season, no one in your family understands what’s going on with the back-and-forth messy conversations to fix the issue.

The past three months have been full of frustrating calls to your boyfriend but Jaemin has been picking up your phone call at the second time his ringtone rings, greeting you with that emphasising smile of his as he sees the layer of moisture on your face. At first, you tried to give him the best smile you could, but you eventually broke down after the first month, completely done with changing your clothes every day in every hour. Jaemin, though busy with his own responsibilities, never fails to take you out whenever he can, accompanying you in your aimless night time walks or accompanying you to the library where he would start reading a random book while you snooze on his shoulder.

Today is one of the nights where you can’t handle sleeping in the house, too hot and uncomfortable for your eyes to even think about closing. You guiltily text Jaemin, asking if he’s able to have you over and within a few minutes, the black-haired arrives at your house, air conditioner blasting in his car and a genuine smile greeting you as soon as you step in. He waits outside his car with his oversized shirt and short pants; his usual summer attire. He kisses your frown away as soon as you rush into his arms, dropping your bag of clothes to the floor. His affectionate gaze for you grows, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hush you from the apologies that you would say for going out so late at night even though you insisted that the five-minute walk was fine to do.

“No,” Jaemin juts his lower lip to you adorably. “Not letting you do that!” He presses another quick peck on your lips that makes your cheeks heat up and makes you a stuttering mess. “I’m hungry! Let’s go grab some food first!”

You let out a knowing chuckle, shaking your head at him fondly as you know that just means another movie night that will go on until five am. To Jaemin, this is the best kind of date: the one that is unplanned but is planned at the same time. With the way that you’re literally having the worst summer ever as well, all he wants to do is to make sure that at least when you look back on this summer, you will remember his air conditioner blasting in his room. Bonus, the later you sleep, the more time you’ll have in a cooled, comfortable and private environment.

But you know deep down, that you will always remember his warm, kind heart first out of all.

With hands full of takeout from the nearest fast food to his house, Jaemin talks you through his list of movies that he wants to check out before you both fall asleep. He was so excited that he nearly missed the step up to his room, almost waking up the whole house with how his body would tumble down the staircase otherwise. But oh how much he would if it meant that you wouldn’t be crying on the humid, summer night.

"It's perfect, Jaem."

You comment when Jaemin asks you about the temperature of his room and he gives you a relieved look, smiling in satisfaction to know your thoughts. Jaemin starts to unload the snacks in his arm on his study table, prompting you to do the same. He turns his sleeping laptop on, waiting for his device to start up.

In the meantime, his attention falls on you once more. "You must've been overwhelmed." His arm spreads open, silently asking if you would accept his gesture.

All you gave was a quiet hum and it momentarily worries him before you step to bury your head into his broad chest. You sigh into his perfect body temperature that balances the coolness trapped in the four walls. The corners of Jaemin’s lips rise as he starts shifting his body side to side, giving the hug a little more dynamic and comfort as he starts to sing your favourite tune to your ears. His fingers rake across your hair, not minding the whines and complaints you gave about how your hair is disgusting and oily, even pressing a kiss to your scalp to ease your worries.

Your arms start to find home around his waist and your palm grips the fabric of the shirt even more, feeling eternally thankful for having a loving person in your life. A mutter, “Thank you for all this.” Your voice trails off, eyelids heavy and honestly, quiet snores could leave your lips at any moment now.

“Always, bubs,” he muses back. “Maybe we can skip the movie night today?”

The suggestion pulls your lips into a sour smile but you can’t hide the drowsiness in your system after getting small hours of sleep for the past week. “We have food.” But truly, it’s nothing that food can’t fix.

A raised eyebrow meets you when you slightly pull back to see the reaction on Jaemin’s face. “Food and horror movies.”

The shared favourite genre makes you break out into a genuine smile, excited for the movie marathon cuddled up in his bedsheets and the smell of food as you both expose yourself to the light from the computer until the sun replaces the moon. Jaemin watches you excitedly walk back to the door of his room where your bag slumps over on the wall next to the frame.

“You don’t want to wear mine?” The suggestion is said with a smirk from him and your hands stopping to unzip your bag halfway. “Guess not!”

“No! I do!” You drag the last syllable out and when you turn to face him once more, Jaemin only lets out a teasing smile. “Let me steal!”

Indeed, Jaemin already has everything prepared for you, tilting his chin to his bed where some of his and your favourite hoodies are spread across the duvet. You spot the emerald green one, immediately jumping from your kneeling position on the floor and making the neat pile topple over at your eagerness.

Jaemin feigns fake offence and an exaggerated gasp, “All my hard work!” He weeps to which you just roll your eyes as a response, continuing to take out your shower and night necessities to prepare for the night.

“Alright.” A heavy sigh follows after, “I’m going to sho—”

But before you could take another step towards the bathroom, a pair of arms pulls you backwards, your back colliding with a chest that you know all too well. You can’t see the expression on his face but another thing that you know about Jaemin is when he leans down to press his cheek on yours, humming once more into your embrace, his cheeks are painted with hues of red and pink—his love for you overflowing from the simple back hug gesture.

“What you doing, Nana?” It deepens his blush, melting with how the nickname naturally sounds lovelier coming from you.

“Just go brush your teeth and shower in the morning.” He mumbles against your cheek. “I want to go on this movie marathon with you right now.”

“But you hate it the most when someone lays on your bed without washing up.”

That’s also true. He does hate that a lot.

The idea of outside germs reaching the place where he would be closing his eyes and be in another space for hours never fails to bring a scowl to his face and he always makes sure everyone who visits his space is aware of that fact.

But it’s you—and Jaemin loves you more to overlook that fact for a day.

“I’m planning on changing the sheets anyway.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “Plus, I literally get grease and pieces of chocolate on there anyways so I think I may need to change my mindset about that rule now…”

The mention of the substances makes you gasp, a similar one to the one he directed at you before. “Na Jaemin!” The playful slap on his arm only makes his hold against your body tighter, sending you both into a fit of laughter.

Amid the chaos you created, Jaemin makes his point clear with the previous topic, throwing himself still clad in his dirty clothes onto his bed and taking you down with him. You yelp at the sudden fall, throwing everything out of your hands to muffle the sound of your mouth, aware of the sleeping couple not too far away from this room.

“Oops! Gotta change it tomorrow, I guess!”

“Na Jaemin, stop! I’m still going to shower anyway!”

So begins the shoving and wiggling for you to escape his strong grip on his bulky arms. You know shortly after running out of breath that it’s a better choice to rest your head on his pectoral, giving up on both the shower and possibly the movie night. The laughter dies down, but never the love that Jaemin shows for you. On the back of your head, you can feel his thumping heartbeat, the rhythm making your eyelids fall naturally.

Jaemin carefully slides you over to the mattress on his side, turning his body to face the girl he loves the most in this world. His eyelashes flutter quietly, quieter than the humming of the white rectangular machine stuck high onto his wall. He doesn’t bother waking you up, content with the tiny snores you let out through the small gap between your lips.

“And to think you were scolding me minutes ago.” Bopping your ice-cold nose with the pad of his pointer finger. “Okay, at this point you’re going to freeze.”

Though exhausted and body screaming to just fall asleep then and there, Jaemin pulls himself back to the edge of the bed, standing and stretching his four limbs. He quickly retreated to the connecting bathroom, picking up your discarded items that he made you toss to avoid his parents from waking up and scolding the young couple in love—though he knows they will just scold him given how much his parents adore everything about you.

Scared that you would soon wake up in the very uncomfortable posture that you have right now, more than half your feet dangling off the bed, Jaemin swiftly completes his night routine, skipping the one that would make his dentist question his habits but he pushed the thought aside for now. As quiet as he could, he makes his way over to your still peaceful figure. His knees sink into the bed, eyes observing you while he holds his breath to avoid any more unnecessary movements than the ones he’s making right now.

An arm lifts your upper body, and Jaemin quickly jumps behind you. You did stir a bit in your sleep when Jaemin undoes the noisy metal zipper of your jacket but nonetheless, he succeeded without bringing you back into full consciousness. In his head, he imagines himself doing a little celebratory dance under the shining disco ball, all the fluorescent light on him on the dance floor. Then, the same arm is placed on your upper back once more but now paired with his other arm tucked under the back of your knees. You quickly adjusted to the position, Jaemin raising your body high enough for you to relish in the remnants of his cologne on the crook of his neck.

“I love you, Nana.” You confess to him earnestly. “I love you so much…”

Jaemin stands on one side of the bed, scanning the curves of your face intently as if he has never noticed the small mole on the slope of your nose. He couldn’t fight off the want to steal another kiss from you, bending his neck down to slot his soft ones to hug your plump ones. A satisfied hum is brought out after, Jaemin mirroring your content heart with another lingering press on your forehead.

Soon enough, your body is finally between his bouncy mattress and his weighted polyester. Immediately, your hands roam over to the other side of the bed where Jaemin would usually be, groaning when all you felt was the crinkles of the cotton that is not his shirt.

“Okay, okay. I’m here.” He assures the dissatisfaction painted on your face first by flicking the light switch off and then by wrapping your smaller frame into his own.

The muscles of your whole body relax for the first time in a while at the thought of going to dreamland—maybe it’s the Jaemin effect. A hand makes its way to the curve of your head, fingertips half-buried into your strands. A slight gush of wind can be felt on your nose but you don’t mind the proximity, even continuing to scoot even closer, pleased with the hand on your lower back that pushes you in closer.

“Sleep tight.” His eyes landed on the brown bag across the room and his muted laptop that plays your favourite comfort movie. He lets the movie play, strategically moving his forearm to block the blue light emitted. When he confirms that his shadow falls upon your lids, he places the lightest kiss as a final ‘goodnight’. “I love you.”

So maybe, you don’t hate the hot weather as much as you thought.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

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junosmith810 · 1 year

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sandandjello · 1 month

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Whynter ARC-1050XPH: A Smart Portable Air Conditioner, Dehumidifier, and Heater Combo for Year-Round Comfort

#Air Conditioners and Evaporative Air Coolers #Home Tech #Misc Gear #Smart Home

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coffeeghoulie · 4 months

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Mushy May Day 26: "You Smell Nice"

After a long day, Aurora comes home to find Swiss in her bed looking for cuddles.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together and to @ghuleh-recs for making the dividers <3

Aurora steps into her room, baring all of her fangs as she yawns. It's been a long day, and she can't wait to sink into her nest and curl up into a deep sleep.

The lights are off, but Aurora doesn't need them to sense that she's not alone right now. The hair on the back of her neck stands up straight, and a growl builds behind her teeth, tail lashing violently behind her. But as soon as the threat slips past her lips, it dies on the air.

Within the piles of pillows and plushies on her bed, gifts from her packmates and soft things that caught her eye, two golden glowing eyes blink sluggishly open.

"Swiss?" Aurora says, flicking on the lamp on her nightstand. The room is awash in soft yellow light. There's a loud, indignant grumbling, and sure enough, there's her fellow multi-ghoul, half buried in her bed, curled up on his side. He covers his eyes with a thick forearm.

"Hey, princess," he mumbles, voice sticky with sleep. "I ever tell you you've got nice digs?"

Aurora chuckles, leaning in closer to trail a purple-painted claw up his forearm, watching goosebumps rise in its wake. "You come in for cuddles?"

Swiss pulls his arm from his face, smiling coyly up at her. "I mean, if you're offering, I won't say no, Rory."

She rolls her eyes playfully, arms crossed over her chest. The hand that had teased over his arm moves up until she cups his cheek, feeling the sharpness of the stubble there. "I was planning on taking a shower, but then I'll come give you some cuddles, you needy, needy ghoul."

Swiss must be exhausted, because he only blinks up at her, enraptured by the little ghoulette towering over him.

"I mean," Aurora continues, "You're more than welcome to join me, but I don't think you're gettin' up any time soon, huh?"

He groans, shifting slowly, the spade of his tail padding against the mattress. "Yeah, you're right," he smiles. "Too comfy."

Aurora leans back on her heels. "Alright, you big lug, I'll be back in like ten minutes for some multi cuddles."

He flashes her a honey-slow grin. "I'll hold you to it."

The last thing Aurora hears as she slips into her bathroom is Swiss laughing at his own joke. The door shuts and latches behind her, and Aurora sighs in relief as she turns on the shower.

Her gills flutter as she steps under the spray, warm water erasing the tension from her shoulders. As much as her affinity to water makes her want to drag the shower out, she really doesn't want to drag it out, knowing that there's cuddles waiting for her.

Aurora reaches for the black bottle of her shampoo, lathering up quickly. Her blunt claws scratch at her scalp, and she groans in satisfaction. A quick, thorough rinse, and she grabs the matching conditioner. She had bought the set on an off day on tour, from a little store in some mall where the air had been intensely fragrant with a thousand different scents that even humans would find it overwhelming.

She finishes washing up, rinsing the conditioner she's let sit while she washed her body. She steps out of the shower, shutting the water off and wrapping herself in an incredibly soft, fluffy towel. It's all for show though, a little material comfort.

Aurora calls on her air, a magickal breeze circling her small form, evaporating the moisture from her body. She shivers, the air cold on her damp skin, before reaching up, running her fingers through the wet strands of pink hair plastered to her scalp. It dries quickly, and she sighs in relief knowing that her bedhead in the morning will at least be managable.

She dresses in one of Cirrus's shirts, hanging down almost to her knees, before she shuts off the bathroom lights and steps back into her bedroom.

Swiss hasn't moved, still curled up and comfortable. His breathing is slow, and Aurora could almost believe that he's fallen back asleep if it weren't for those gold-coin eyes slowly blinking open. His fingers twitch where they're laid out on the mattress as his eyes focus on her, as if he was sleepily reaching for her.

"Just a second, pretty boy," she hums, reaching over to shut the nightstand lamp off, casting the room into darkness before she climbs into her bed. Aurora grabs a soft blanket from the foot of the bed, crawling up to lay against Swiss, picking up his arm to tuck herself into his big spoon. She throws the blanket over the both of them.

Swiss rumbles, instinctively pulling the little ghoulette against his chest, burying his face into the nape of her neck.

"Mmmmmm, you smell nice," he murmurs, and Aurora shivers as she feels the press of his fangs against her skin. He drags the points slowly, not biting or marking, just mouthing at the back of her neck. "Like fuckin' candy, could just eat you up, princess."

She reaches up, grabbing the hand holding her to him, holding his wrist with both hands as she relaxes into her pillows and his touch. "Think it's the shampoo," she giggles, even as goosebumps spring up on her nape.

Swiss chuffs, burying his nose in her pink hair; she can feel his inhale. "What's it, strawberry vanilla?"

"Mmhmm," she purrs, her tail wrapping around his calf as she feels her eyes growing heavy. "And lavender, too."

"Smells good. You always smell good," he babbles. His purr rattles through his body, strong enough for her to feel it. Swiss kisses the back of her neck, purring before rubbing his cheek against it. "Bed time, princess?" He asks, thumb smoothing back and forth in an arc right over her heart.

"I think so," she yawns, pulling his arm closer as she presses as close as she can get to his chest. "I like this, I like you having me."

Swiss laughs, no more than a huff of an exhale. "I like having you. I've got you, princess, go to sleep."

And as much as Aurora loves bossing him around on stage, she listens to Swiss, letting sleep take her.

#i went digging through the lush website for something that smells the way i wanted it to for rory #it's based off of the american cream conditioner (there isn't a matching shampoo but idc lmao)#i love lush sm even if you're just hit with /smells/ when you step inside lmao #if i had a bigger bathtub i'd go ham on their bubble bars #dot's writing #aurora ghoulette #swiss ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #swissrora #mushy may 2024

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hometoursandotherstuff · 8 months

Text

This is an early automobile air conditioner, popular from the 1930s through to the 1960s.

Water inside the cooler evaporates and in the process transfers heat from the surrounding air to evaporate the water, giving in return cool moisture-laden air inside.

This model was made by Thermador.

#vintage car a/c #vintage cars #other stuff

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ghostlykeyes · 1 year

Note

I'm feeling so totally normal about Denji so like denji with reader who both are hella virgins trying to have sex for the first time

virgin Denji so sweet LOVE him

Warnings: 18+ Denji, explicit sex, AFAB pronouns/anatomy, Denji's POV.

dare et accipere.

Denji knows there’s not much he can give you.

He’s supposed to be listening to you, and he really, really wants to. Your voice is coming out in a low, gentle hum. It’s buzzing around his head like a late-night summer moth tempted by a flickering streetlight, but never quite landing. But your hand, your hand has landed. It’s resting on his knee and he thinks the warmth that’s seeping into his skin through his pants might set him on fire. Blistering, intense, somehow not unpleasant. But it’s enough to scramble his brain, to cross the wires a little.

So he’s supposed to be looking at you, listening to you, but he can’t stop thinking about how his room looks. His room, of all things. There was a time when he would have been so glad to have a girl in his room, he wouldn’t have thought about anything except girl and room and ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod and no amount of dirty laundry would poke through her feminine smokescreen. But you, you’re different.

His eyes flicker around the room: underneath you both, a mattress, the sheets just washed but freckled with permanent stains. On his nightstand a candle Nayuta made at school, allegedly smelling like warm vanilla (really, it just stinks like somebody forgot cookies in the oven). There’s a curtain, bought second-hand, fixed over his bedroom window with thumbtacks. Over everything a dusting of dog hair. And it’s enough for him, really, it is.

But he can’t stop thinking that you, you deserve new clean sheets, romantic music filling the air instead of the hum of an air conditioner, a whole damn department-store-section of candles. The weight of everything he doesn’t have presses into his bones. It digs its thumbs into his chest. He starts to think, what the hell, you deserve more than him—

And then your soft hand rubs against his cheek. His thoughts evaporate. Poof.

“Denji? What are you thinking about, honey?”

“Um,” he says, very eloquently. Denji goes completely pink. His hands won’t stop moving in his lap. He rips off a sharp corner of fingernail, lets it tumble out of his fingers and onto the floor. If he keeps picking at his fingernails, he’s going to start bleeding. That thought doesn’t save his cuticles. Denji squishes a loose tag on his index finger. He pulls.

You giggle. Your soft hands close over his, prying his fingers apart. Denji’s lips quirk. You squeeze him in your grip, and sigh.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” you tell him. You squeeze his chin between your soft, soft fingers and lift his chin until your cool breath fans his burning cheeks. The smile you give him is gentle, delicate, like a flower blooming. And god, his chest tightens. His heart hums in his chest, growling chainsaw-loud. The buzzing in his ears threatens to swallow him whole. “I’m nervous too,” you admit. “But I want it to be you.”

“I want it to be you, too,” he blurts out. Thank god his brain can go on autopilot sometimes because he feels so pleasantly tangled up, he has no idea how to form words right now. But, well, who needs words, anyway. Your eyes flutter shut, and you keep his chin trapped between your fingers. You blow a sigh out of your mouth, like somehow maybe your nerves will go out with it.

He knows he’s supposed to close his eyes to kiss—he knows that’s a rule that someone somewhere made up, and everyone is supposed to follow. But he can’t help it. He wants to watch you as long as he can. You’re starting to lean in. He catches the softest hint of your shampoo. Again, on autopilot, his hand finds your cheek. Denji’s rough thumb skims over your cheekbone. You smile then, so bright, and you timidly catch your bottom lip between your teeth, and holy, holy, holy shit, Denji thinks. A shiver shakes down his spine.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. And you deserve everything, absolutely everything, but you’re here with him. Denji. With his chainsaw heart and his bare-walled room and his hands that don’t know how to touch a woman (yet). His hand trembles a little against your warm cheek. His throat’s dry, and so is his mouth, dry like cotton. He’s nervous, yes, because it’s you, and because it’s sex. He’s nervous but dear god he’s ready, the way his pants are too tight, almost choking him and the pounding in his chest all shout ready, ready, never been so ready. So it kills him to stop but ugh, you’re such a nice pretty girl. You really do deserve at least one candle.

“Wait wait wait,” he chokes. Your eyes fly open. Your spine straightens as you pull back, so fast and half-frantic you could almost call it ‘recoiling’.

“Did I do something wrong…?” There’s nervousness sticking to your voice.

“No,” Denji assures quickly, squeezing your hand. “Just hold on a second, okay? And close yer eyes again.” Your shoulders relax. The gentle, timid smile blooms back across your face.

Denji scrambles up from the bed. There’s a fluorescent pink lighter lounging next to Nayuta’s candle and he snatches it up. Flicking it quickly, he holds the flame to the wick and smiles lopsided as the flame catches. He lets the lighter clatter out of his hand back onto the desk. Denji plops back onto the bed beside you, catching one of your hands in his.

“Ta-da,” he announces. You open your eyes and he presents the lit candle with an enthusiastic wiggle of his fingers. You make a showy gasp and cover your open mouth.

“Wow! All for me?” You tease, and bump his shoulder with yours. He grins. Tease all you like, but you can’t hide how hard you’re blushing or the way that just one candle makes your eyes light up like a whole damn Christmas tree. Denji feels a warmth start in the center of his chest and spread out, all gentle-like. It pools in his stomach, his fingers, his cheeks.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “Anything for my girl.”

‘My girl’ makes you melt into him. You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh, looking up at him with those pretty-pretty eyes. He brushes a kiss right between your eyebrows, and lingers there a moment. Because yes he wants to sleep with you, and yes maybe he imagined losing his virginity as something sloppy, sweaty, pulled away from him quick and unceremoniously like a band-aid. But Nayuta is at a sleepover and you have nothing but time tonight, so why rush? Why not savor it?

(No. He’s not stalling because he’s nervous. No way.)

“This feels kinda sappy,” you laugh, rippling through the silence. Denji squishes your hand.

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling lopsided. “It kinda does, doesn’t it? Who woulda thought I could be so romantic?”

“I like it, though,” you assure.

“Good,” he says.

“But I wanna have sex with you now. If that’s okay.”

“Oh,” he says. A beat passes. His brain is in total-meltdown mode. Not a single coherent thought to speak of. Autopilot takes control again and makes him inch closer to you on the mattress. You both ignore the squeaking. “Yeah, that would be awesome.”

You take his face in your hands, holding him still, and lean forward to gently push your lips together. It’s a quiet, sweet peck before you pull away. Once. Twice. On kiss three Denji flicks his tongue out to push against your lips and relishes in your quiet gasp. He’s kissed a handful of girls and he’s definitely read his fair share of dirty manga, enough to have good instincts. He lifts a palm to caress your babysoft face before dragging it back to tangle in your hair. His other hand finds your left breast and camps out there.

“Denji,” you sigh into his open mouth, in an airy kind of voice that goes straight to his dick. His fist tightens in your hair and he’s desperate, he’s got to taste you. He slips his tongue inside your mouth and curls it along the roof of your mouth. Denji licks a shuddering stripe across you. Your back arches, mashing your tit into his hand. He whines.

You chew on his bottom lip, timid enough that he barely feels your teeth. But it’s enough to make his hands tremble against you.

“Mmmmm,” he hums, deep and dark and low. The prick is enough to remind him he’s got hands and, oh shit, he should probably be doing something with them. He unwinds his fist from your hair, trails it slowly down your neck until you shudder into his touch. Denji’s hand cups your other breast. Experimental, he squishes them, savors how they mold to his hands.

“That’s…” you’re stammering, breathing your unsteady words into the inch of space between your mouth and his.

“Good, baby?” Denji double checks.

You nod before slamming your mouth back against his, almost splitting his lip on his needlepoint teeth. The sting makes him palm your chest again, probably harder than he should. But you make a sweet little desperate sound that he swallows whole, a keening note that he takes as encouragement. Timid, he runs his fingers along the firm shell of your bra, feeling where the material starts and ends under the thin fabric of your shirt.

“You can take it off,” you pull away from his mouth to whisper in the shell of his ear. And then, more firmly, “I want you to take it off”

Denji doesn’t need to be told twice. He snatches the loose hem of your shirt and pulls, yanking it off you so quickly it almost gets stuck on your arms. You splutter, teasingly.

“Can you take it off faster?” You giggle, helping him unsnare the fabric from your armpit.

“Can always try!” He says brightly, offering you a wide, cheesy grin. You roll your eyes. He finally gets the damn shirt loose and slides it quickly off your arm, tossing it over his shoulder.

“No thanks, I don’t need you to rip all my shirts to shreds.”

“Mmmmm,” he bumps his nose against yours, rubs against you affectionately. Denji’s calloused palms skim down your arms. His fingers tingle like electricity, like TV static. “I dunno, it seems like a good idea to me.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you grip his shoulders, steadying yourself before swinging a leg over his waist. Your knee brushes against his dick and he whines, full on whines, and he doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. Denji sinks one hand into your soft thigh. His other spreads out over your spine, helping you balance until you’re comfortably straddling him. Your thighs, god, your soft, squishy, wonderful thighs, how did he get so lucky, squeeze against his legs, and the heat explodes across him like a wildfire. Tender, you press a light kiss to the top of his head and sigh. The inhale pushes your tits right into his face. He almost cums right then and there.

“Fuck,” he breathes. The word fans hot air across your collarbone and your skin explodes into goosebumps. Denji’s hands scramble across your back, looking for your bra clasp. You arch into his touch.

“Up,” you murmur into his ear, earning a shudder. “And to the left.”

He follows your instructions well and hones in on the snaps. Denji’s fingers tremble but it doesn’t stop him from unclasping your bra. His fingernails scrap lightly against your skin and right there, he’s got it. The bra snaps open, and you slip the straps off.

Denji’s seen your boobs twice. The first time, when you’d broken into an apartment-complex swimming pool and lost your bikini top trying to dunk his head underwater. The second time, you’d been sharing the bathroom, changing clothes. He’d made to (reluctantly) slip out as soon as you’d started unzipping your shorts but you’d given him a wink, squeezed past him, and locked the bathroom door. “I don’t mind if you stay,” you’d whispered against the shell of his ear.

He’s jerked off to both events multiple times but holy shit, this? With you breathing heavy, topless, and straddling him? Your hard nipples just inches from his face, your cheeks warm and blushing, you biting your lip as if to say I hope you like them? This takes the absolute fucking cake. He’s gonna be touching himself to this for months.

Denji’s hands shoot to your breasts. For a moment, he just holds them gently, still, his eyes wide and cheeks cherry-red.

“Um,” he chokes out. “Baby, I dunno if I’m gonna last long enough to…”

You giggle all sweet, taking his face in your hands.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you reassure. “We have time, right? I just want to make you feel good.”

Okay, you’re a certified fucking angel. It’s not the first time he’s thought that. But it is the first time he’s thought that while you’re half-naked on top of him, letting him feel up your chest. And despite the fact that oh, the way you said that just made him so painfully rock hard he thinks he could cum right then and there if his boxers shift the right way, he plans on showing you. That you’re an angel. That he needs you. That he loves you.

With a jerky motion, Denji maneuvers his hands back to your thighs and pivots you. You fall back onto the mattress with a squeal. Denji quickly scrambles over top of you, until his knees settle next to your thighs and his hands press into the mattress, just above your shoulders. Your doe eyes blink up at him. For a second he looms over you, committing the sight of you all laid out—all for him—to memory.

He leans in until his nose brushes against yours, offers you a butterfly-light kiss.

“C’mon, baby,” he breathes. “Wouldn’t be fair if I just laid back n’ let you make me feel good…”

He attacks your neck like he’s starving. The wet suck of his lips trailing down along your jugular tugs a moan out of your mouth and fuck, you’ve gotta stop making noises like that or he really is going to cum in his pants. Denji nips your skin, gently, of course. The sharp edge of his shark-teeth is enough to make you bleed. He doesn’t want that—a hickey or two, though? That could be nice, he thinks as he sucks the dip between your collarbones. Something dark purple, something in the shape of his lips that reminds you of him.

“Lemme make you feel good, too,” he rumbles against your skin. You squirm up against him, your thigh brushing his cock. He sucks in a breath and drops his forehead to the dip between your tits. His fucking nerves are on fire. Denji lingers there for a moment, waits for the heartbeat-throbbing in his dick to calm down.

He tries to think of the unsexiest thing he can, just to hold on. Paying taxes, bringing the dogs to the vet, pulling hair out of the shower drain. It only half-works because no matter how much he tries to think about something else, the smell of your body wash, the music of your heavy breathing, and the heat radiating from your naked tits coalesces into a mind-bending smokescreen. Fuck, you’re so sexy.

Denji fills his hands with your chest and licks a lazy stripe down the center of your torso. Your back arches into him. As he gets lower you tremble, quaking and moaning and oh, Denji thinks, I could do this all freakin’ day. His tongue stills against the barrier of your shorts (still on, unfortunately). He looks up at you. Denji raises an eyebrow, questioning, but your head is thrown back and you’re moaning his name—won’t stop moaning it between heavy breaths—so he takes that as an okay to pop the button.

Your shorts slide off you easily, and you lift your legs to help him tug the fabric off. Denji’s hit with the sudden scent of ‘girl’. He can’t describe it, but it’s a little musky, a little sweet. A little wet spot seeps through the thin fabric of your underwear. The sight of you in your panties generates a shiver that reverberates from the top of his spine, down through every nerve in his crotch.

He breathes out, shaky. Denji gulps. He’s not afraid, really, or even nervous anymore. His raging hormones vaporized every single feeling except the need to be inside you. It’s just that he’s dreamed of having you like this so long, ever since the first time he saw you, and he’s half afraid that any second he’s going to wake up in a tangle of sticky sheets. Still single, still a hopeless virgin, still no ‘you’ to give himself to. He could weep at the thought.

Denji shakes the thoughts out of his head. He leans towards your core, until he can feel and smell and holy shit, almost taste you. Carefully, he hooks his index finger in the bridge of your panties. You whimper as his finger brushes the hot skin beneath, skimming over your lips. He swallows a moan at the sound.

“Can I—”

“Yes, Den, please, just touch me,” you whine, lifting your hips toward him. He bites his lip at your desperate attempt for more friction. Just for a second he reflects on how lucky he is, on how badly you want him. But he’s not going to keep you waiting.

Denji tugs your panties down. He doesn’t bother to slip them off your legs. They hang crooked off your left ankle and you open your mouth, probably to tease him. You don’t get the chance—his warm mouth is on you before you can speak. Your quip melts into a deep moan.

Denji shudders between your legs. Your thighs bracket his head, squeezing tightly. He doesn’t mind the pressure. It keeps him grounded, a little, because holyfuck his head is spinning. Nothing in the world could glue back all the little pieces your pussy’s taste has broken him into. Perfectperfectperfect. His rough hands keep your legs lifted, trapping you at an angle that lets him lick you unrestricted. Experimentally, he slides his tongue from the top to the bottom. He tries to note which places make you squirm hardest. He tries, but fuck, he can’t make anything stick in his brain. So he lets his tongue take over.

It’s sloppy at first. Not that it matters much. Everywhere he licks and sucks turns you into a trembling mess, whining and fisting the sheets. He dips his tongue inside. Denji’s eyes roll back. Holy. Shit. You’re so warm he could just fucking live down here, pushing his tongue into you all day.

A few weeks ago you’d mentioned sex and Denji, determined not to fuck it up with his inexperience, clumsy hands, had called Kishibe. (Yes, Kishibe, and yes, ew. Asking for sex tips from that man was the weirdest conversation he’d ever had.) Despite the fact Denji doesn’t remember much of what the old man said (how is he supposed to think with his tongue in your cunt), he distinctly remembers this; pay attention to your clitoris.

Denji’s tongue maps the wet skin. In the back of his mind, he’s half-concerned he won’t find it. Gentle, hungry, he licks towards the top of your pussy, higher, higher, until—fucking ow. If the way you just pulled his hair says anything, he found it.

“Relaaaaaax,” he breathes against your hot pussy. You whine from above him. “I’m gonna go slow, okay? Lemme know if it’s too much.”

Closing his eyes, Denji says a silent prayer you won’t ever tell him to stop, because this may be his new favorite place on earth. Then he timidly closes his mouth around your sensitive knot. Encouraging, you gasp his name.

Denji takes his time, sucking softly. (It’s not a doorbell, kid, Kishibe’s voice rattles through his brain. When you’re eating a lady out you need to be gentle.) He savors the little whines his tongue shakes out of you. You’re writhing around his mouth like a live wire.

Timid, Denji removes a hand from your thigh and spreads your lips. If you’re going to take his dick (supposing he even makes it that long) he needs to stretch you out. Slowly, he presses his index finger into your pussy. He sucks in a breath as your muscles clench around him. The wetness, the pressure. Denji imagines the heat and the softness closing around his cock. He groans from somewhere deep, deep in his lungs. His nerves are spitting electricity.

“This okay?” He asks, mouth still flush to your cunt. You take a second to breathe and adjust around his finger before blowing out a breath.

“Yeah, it’s good. It feels tight but…it’s not bad.”

“M gonna put another finger in, ‘kay?”

You nod. His middle finger prods your entrance, stilling against the hot flesh for a second. Denji works it in, and yeah, he thought it was tight before, but now? The pressure against his fingers is almost unreal. A shiver tumbles down his spine. His skin explodes in goosebumps.

The last tidbit of information Kishibe gave him burns through his brain—make her cum before you get in, alright? Once you’re really fucking you’re not going to last long enough to make her feel anything. Denji needs to be in you soon or he’s going to be sitting there, sheepish , cum staining the front of his pants.

So he picks up his pace. He works his fingers in and out, gentle, but still fast enough that it makes you whine and clench around him. He moves around you clockwise and counter-clockwise, then his tongue starts spelling out the alphabet. And then once he’s through that and you’re yelling his name at the ceiling, but you’re not quite there, he starts his grocery list. He’s halfway through ‘seaweed nori’ before you unleash this noise, this deep, dark call that’s almost scary (but definitely sexy) and squeeze your thighs around his head so tight it makes his neck hurt.

“Denjidenjidenden, holyshit, that’s so good, Denji,” you scramble strings of curse words and his name. It’s an angel’s choir to his ears. Your body shakes like you’re about to fly apart. He can’t see much of you from where he’s trapped against your pussy but he doesn’t care, this is the best view he could ask for anyway. You’re perfect no matter what angle he’s viewing you from. He lets you ride the orgasm out, lets your breath start to steady and your thighs gradually un-vice from his head.

“Babyyyyy,” you whine. Your voice is so cute and sweet. It drags him from between your legs. He just has to look at those big, worshiping doe eyes you’re giving him. He presses a kiss to your lips and tingles at the way you lap up your own wetness off his mouth. For a virgin, you’re not shy.

“I…I wanna go down on you, now,” You whisper to him. Denji’s jaw tightens, and his eyes roll back in his head. His hips jerk, completely involuntarily, dragging his throbbing cock against your leg. Electricity surges through his limbs. It’s almost over, right then and there. You move to undo his pants and he lets you, but he grinds a warning through his still-clenched teeth.

“Baby, if you do that, I’m not gonna be able to uh, last long enough to…” You giggle and shimmy both his pants and boxers off in one smooth pull. The air hits his sensitive dick and he whines your name. Half-a-prayer, half-a-plea. Your name sounds so good in his mouth, he thinks through the haze.

“Okay,” you say lightly. “Next time?”

“Next time,” he says. Or at least he wants to say that, but then your hand closes around his cock and he can’t speak. He groans instead, shoving his head into the crook of your neck.

You breathe, deep, but your words quiver.

“I think I’m ready, Denji.”

And in his fantasies that’s the moment he sinks into you—the moment he fills you up, the moment that you become his and he becomes yours.

But he knows that tremble in your voice. It’s the one that haunted you when you asked him out for smoothies, (as a date, you’d squeaked after a second of silence). The one that colored your tone when you called him once, panicked, whispering that a guy might be following you home. You’re scared.

So he slows down, and he presses all his love into a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Hey,” he says, taking your face in his hands. “It’s me, okay? Your Denji. Everything’s gonna be okay. If it’s too much we can stop right then ‘n there. Okay, peachy?”

And you giggle, because he only calls you ‘peachy’ when he’s trying to make you laugh. And suddenly, he makes everything okay again.

“Okay, love,” you nod your head. You reach down between his legs. When your hand finds his dick you give him a loose stroke before lining him up at your wet, soft entrance. The head of his dick brushes against your heat. Denji bites his lip so hard he almost draws blood. He makes a fist in your hair, careful not to pull, and you drop a feather-light kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I’m ready,” you say. This time your voice is steady. He knows you mean it. You’re ready.

Slowly, so slowly, Denji eases his hips forward. You suck in a breath as he just barely pushes in. He knows he needs to be gentle but holy shit. The head of his cock works into your core. It’s so warm and so, so tight. Denji’s head falls forward, his messy hair dragging over your face. The sensation is overwhelming, unbearable almost. Every single one of his nerves is in overdrive. It feels like they’re all poking into each other with a million needles but somehow it’s hot and it’s electric and it’s absolute bliss.

You’re vice-tight around him and Denji doesn’t even think he’s going to fit. Carefully, he inches it in, panting. Your pussy’s squeezing him tighter than he’s ever squeezed himself jerking off. Is this what it’s going to feel like every time? The thought sends a pins-and-needles shock through his entire groin and he moans, half a grunt, half your name.

“I—fuck—I don’ wanna hurt you,” he breathes, his fists white-knuckling the sheets. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you keen back, almost breathless, boneless. “It’s okay, Den. I can take you.”

He gulps at that, and pushes his cock in. It takes every fucking ounce of restraint in his body not to start humping you like an animal because god. above. This is the best he’s felt, ever, in his life. And it’s better than he could ever have imagined, it’s better than any dirty magazine could make it look and sound. If this is sex then he’s never putting his life in danger again. He’s got to keep living on no matter what just so that he can come home at the end of the day and fuck you.

You’re mind-numbingly tight. Denji grits his teeth around your name and eases his hips back. It’s hard for girls, sometimes, he remembers, and there’s no way he’s going to let himself fuck you, hard, unrestrained, squash his virginity into nothingness. Not if it hurts you.

“This is good,” you breathe airily, and press your fingernails into his back.

“Mmmmmmm,” Denji moans, pushing back into you. Words are impossible. He rocks his hips back-and-forth, back-and-forth. The way it’s tugging pretty little noises out of you is divine and shit, he can’t help thrusting into you a little faster, a little more greedy. You feed his passion by screaming his name. Your pussy squeezes around him. Denji gulps. The tightness is bunching up in his abdomen, deep and low inside him. It’s coming—what, it's been like a minute, tops?—but he can’t stop it, the pleasure’s fucking smashing through him. It’s tidal-waving through his limbs, rippling everywhere but collecting in his groin. Denji moans your name, tries to warn you, “baby, baby I’m gonna—” and then he’s jerking out of you, sudden and almost severe. His fist closes around his dick, pumping, and he’s cumming. Hard and fast and thick and all over your pretty tummy.

He can’t even be embarrassed because what the fuck this feels sosososo good, it’s fucking unimaginable and he is never, ever, ever going to jerk off again. It’s sex, with you, only sex all sex forever and ever sex. Denji whimpers your name, clinging on to you like you’re the only thing that might stop him from exploding right out of his body. Everything’s all tingly and his nerves are static and his vision’s white and, just, fuuuuuuuck. There’s no words to describe this. But he hopes the way he’s whining into your neck and his whole body’s writing tells you plain and clear how good you make him feel.

After the lightbulb-flash of that orgasm, he’s completely jellybones. Denji collapses, thankfully, far enough to your left that he only flops on your arm and doesn’t crush all of you. You giggle, giddy with sex and love. You snag his boxers from the corner of the bed and wipe the cum off your tummy with them, and shit, he really should’ve gotten you a towel but he literally cannot fucking move. You snuggle up underneath his arm and he accepts you, pulling you into his chest. Despite the dusting of sweat, despite the smell of sex, despite your wetness slicking both your thighs, he can’t get close enough to you. He squeezes you, plants a kiss to the top of your head. You both settle in, tangled in his bedsheet, and let your breathing even out.

“Thank you,” you hum after a while, nuzzling him. You’re so sincere it makes his heart melt in his chest a little. Because, what could you ever thank him for? You, sweet you, beautiful you, angelic you? He should bow at your feet just for letting him breathe the same air as you, let alone touch you. He’s about to say that, but you sigh and he knows you’re not done speaking yet so he waits. You walk your fingers along his naked collarbone, just basking in the warmth. “For making that so good for me.” He squeezes you tighter to him, nuzzles into your neck affectionately. “And for, um. For giving me your first time. I know it’s not a big deal for a lot of people, but it felt really special. This, I mean,” and you sigh, and he presses a kiss to the warm, inviting skin of your neck. “...us.” You finish. Denji couldn’t agree more. He’s glad you’re good with words, because him…not so much. But it feels good to hear the way you feel, spoken plainly, put out on display. He feels the same.

“Aw, baby,” he murmurs, and pulls you into him. He wriggles up, maneuvering until his nose presses into the skin of your temple, and his words breeze gently over your ear. “I’m glad I got to do it with you,” he says, and seals his words with a kiss. “Forget my first time, y’know? I’ll give you every single thing I have.”Denji knows he can’t give you much—not everything you deserve, at least. But giving you all of himself seems like a good place to start.

#chainsaw man/reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man headcanons #denji x reader #denji/reader #nsft #denji chainsaw man #csm #denji #you know what? they did pretty good for their first time #I'm proud of them

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