vaporwavebeach-writes - Tumblr blog

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Wrote this on a whim. I don't know what it is exactly, but it IS Feyd-Rautha so be aware there is violence and bodily harm.

The Fremen language rolls down the back of the throat like honeydew on silk. It is a vat of unspoken secrets, a hiss in the dark, a revelation. When they cry out for their false messiah, the lie turns holy.

Spoken on the Planet of Giedi Prime, the honey turns to amber, and she is a fly trapped at its centre, forced to experience her own disintegration.

Last night, Feyd gave her a music box.

She lay curled up in a puddle of her own piss, and thought how wasteful. A stillsuit would have made much better use of it. But when the liquid crept across the floor and touched the burns on her face, her flesh cooled. She might have imagined that part. After all, when she awoke this morning, the burns were as red and as mangled as they were when Feyd-Rautha first struck them into her flesh in front of his entire family.

He left the music box beside her head.

Inside, were her mother's teeth.

He did not kill her mother. Her mother died ten years ago. But he killed her father, who carried her mother's teeth in a pouch around his neck. They were his lucky charm, he used to say, his deliverance. She'd wonder if he ever kissed them, just to remind himself what it felt like to kiss his wife all those years ago, to run his tongue over her pearly teeth and feel her laughter bubble against his lips.

Teeth are an intimate gift.

"Wakey-wakey, Fremen mouse." His voice is guttural, a corpse dragged across gravel, each word slick behind blackened teeth.

She saw him bite a chunk out of one of the Baron's hairless boys and the wound was edged with the same ebony that drips from his saliva. There was no blood. Just black, greased like tar and infected. In her worst moments, when the hallucinations have her gripped by the throat, she sees a black hole grow in his mouth, beckoning.

When her answer to his whistle is not forthcoming, his boot presses into her soft, unblemished cheek. The pressure of it forces the burns on the other to scream in protest against the dungeon floor. It looks smooth and polished, but as with everything on Giedi Prime, the potential for pain is woven in like veins through marble. The texture of it is like a hundred thousand tiny shards of glass, and her ruined skin feels the scrape of each one.

"You did not like my gift?"

"I adored your gift."

"Why have you not opened it?"

"I did not think my hands were worthy."

He pushes his boot down harder and a prolonged keen of pain is finally yanked from her bruised ribs. Rabban is easier to fool. Feyd sniffs out insult like a shark to blood. Her injuries are proof.

"You still have fight in you."

"If I lost it, I would no longer have the pleasure of your visits, my lord."

He digs his heel into the underside of her cheekbone and the agony threatens to blind her. Drool slips from her open mouth and blends in with the piss just inches away. She pictures tearing off her flesh and flames swallowing her in one fell swoop, burning too hot and too quick to cause pain. She would chew off her own tongue to end it if she could, but who would care for her mother's teeth?

"Then I will visit you again, sayyadina." The honey of the Fremen language turns to mockery and acid on Feyd-Rautha's tongue, an acerbic jumble of syllables that burn just as horribly when they fall onto her ears. "You will crumble like sand between my fingers. And you will become as they are, just another pet."

They.

The Harpies, cannibalistic and violent, eyes blank, mouths leering.

One of them draws forward, prepared with a knife, as she has done every night Feyd has come to visit. It feels like the worst of the punishment. She tenses, shivering like a leaf, and cannot form the words to beg him for this one thing and prove him right -

That she is breakable.

Please don't cut my hair. My father loved my hair.

The harpy gathers it into her pale fist and lifts the blade high. Just before it falls, Feyd's hand rises, a single finger held out in command. His pet cocks her head, a mewl caught in the back of her throat. They are soft with him, curious as pups. She wonders who they were when their lives had meaning and their names tasted sweet on their parents' tongues.

He signals for the harpy to drop her hair and the woman accedes without question. He reaches down to lift the lid of the music box, the teeth inside gleaming like pearls in the pallid light, and then steps over his captive's body to leave.

A soft, whirling rush follows as the harpies scurry in his wake.

Her minds falls silent again.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Hellraiser pinhead and kirsty fic i blacked out and wrote. Okie bye

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Failed Objective

KTJL!Boomer x Black Canary, word count: 4k commission: BIT DIFFERENT BUT this was a commission for a friend, one of my rare attempts at character x character work! it is heavily inspired by their headcanons of black canary, but it's boomer and someone who could easily destroy him 💙 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fighting to fucking, vaginal sex, size kink hellooo

Metropolis was quiet, unusually so. And even stranger considering the danger that had taken over the once, albeit infrequent, safe and bustling city. 

Fresh off yet another battle, throngs of their enemies slain (or defeated… it was hard to think of the right word) lay just metres away from where they had stopped to collect themselves. The shade of the building provided a pleasant respite from the unbearable sun of Metropolis and offered them just a moment of calm while the four unlikely colleagues caught their breaths and tried to reconcile their thoughts and their actions. The peace didn’t last very long, however, as Amanda Waller’s voice interrupted them.

“There’s another out there, close to your current location. You’ll have to eliminate them.”

“Jeez, Mandy! Whatever happened ta ‘hello’, hun?”

Harley rolled her eyes as she pointed to her ear, smiling immediately afterwards as she spoke once again to Amanda Waller. She’d been the quickest to adapt to the communication method. It wasn’t the first time she’d had full conversations with the voices in her head, and to boot, she was a bit of a sucker for a strong leader.

“Just teasin’ ya! Now, who do you want us to gut next?” 

She cocked her weapon, narrowing her eyes as she looked around the plaza the four of them were standing in. 

“I hope it’s that Constantine cunt…”

Digger chimed in, similarly making an attempt to look effortlessly cool, cocking his weapon but dropping it in the process. He continued as he scrambled to the ground to pick it up.

“... he’s always undercutting my share of the pu-”

“Enough. My finger hovers over the shock button, Harkness. Please bear that in mind.”

Digger mouthed her words silently, mocking her words, but looking around him to figure out if she could see him.

“I can see you. The surveillance camera opposite you is under our control.”

Eyes wide, mouth downturned, he quickly forced on a sheepish smile and mouthed ‘sorry’ to the seemingly omnipotent eye in the sky.

“Enough. Who’s the target?”

Deadshot was the only one of them capable of focusing on the task at hand, for which he had quickly received the moniker of ‘teacher’s pet’ from Digger, an offering which had won him a swift punch to the arm from Floyd. 

“Dinah Lance, alias Black Canary.”

“Ooooooh, more eye candy.”

Harley’s joy beamed from her smile, met with a similar one, albeit more leering in nature, from Digger. Interrupting their shared appreciation for the category of ‘women who could, and would in Digger’s case, beat them to a pulp’, Waller’s voice cut in.

“Luckily, she doesn’t seem to be under the same influence as the rest. Brainiac might have overlooked her. So this should be an easy task. Try to do it quickly.”

In the silence, the four members of the squad looked to each other, and only when Harley shrugged her shoulders did Deadshot speak up.

“There’s no point in wasting time by having all four of us go after her. You heard Waller, she’s just… normal.”

“Exactly! She’s just normal! And she’s… my buddy…”

“And are you willing to risk your head for her?”

Harley considered for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that loyalty, while important, was not worth risking Waller’s wrath for. Lowering her head, she appeared to have accepted that Deadshot was right. They needed to do as they were instructed.

“We can’t take any chances. There’s no telling what she would do for her more ‘heroic’ friends. So, who wants to volunteer to take her out.”

“Well, I refuse!” 

Turning on her heel, Harley left the group, leaning against a wall as she quietly prayed that they wouldn’t be successful in eliminating the so-called threat her friend posed. To her, working together would make more sense. But it wasn’t worth fighting over right now.

“Well? Who’s taking her?”

Digger stepped forwards, arms outstretched. 

“I suppose I can do it, the rest of you would only make a mess of things.”

“Ok, that’s settled then.”

Without further conversation, Deadshot launched himself onto the top of a nearby building, closely followed by King Shark and Harley as the three left Digger to deal with their newest target.

And trudging dangerously close to her own worst nightmare, Dinah stepped carefully, quietly, through the concerningly empty streets. The mess, she imagined, was likely down to those she knew well enough to recognise it can’t have willingly been their own actions. It was definitely the influence of Brainiac that had pushed the Justice League off the deep end. 

As she turned the corner, taking a moment to settle her nervous breathing before facing potential threats, she found a fate worse than death waiting for her. 

One man, standing alone, finger in his ear as he dug around disgustingly, pulling it out to take a glance, grimacing at whatever he had found, and then putting it back in there. She couldn’t really look away, though. And there was only one man she knew of who could be so compellingly revolting.

Hordes of Brainiac’s victims, the threat of enemies that looked so far beyond what she imagined the physical limitations of even alien worlds to be, a group of meta-humans hellbent on death and destruction. Stressful, to say the least. Concerning? Frightening? Now, it all paled in comparison to the sheer irritation of one single man. 

And then, he noticed her.

“Well! Hello, gorgeous!”

George Harkness. Digger. Captain Boomerang. Whatever moniker chosen, they all amounted to the same thing. A grade A cunt.

“You’re looking good, Canary. Almost a shame what I’m about to do to ya.”

A flash of concern crossed over her face and she struggled to hide it. What exactly did he mean by that? And why was he there alone without the rest of the squad she had heard he was with? Instantly, she knew she should consider him a threat, or at least more dangerous than she might have considered him before. He was a bit loose, determined, and clearly felt he had nothing to lose in the middle of a battlefield. Whatever it was he thought he was about to do to her, Dinah was painfully aware that he wasn’t joking about it.

“Can’t have you wandering around here trying to help out your mates. Who have all gone mental by the way, case you missed that.”

He liked to talk. He enjoyed the sound of his own voice. If it hadn’t been for the words, and the mouth they came out of, Dinah might have been willing to admit that the accent did something for her.

“And Waller’s orders were to kill the Justice League. So I guess that includes you.”

Digger pointed to her with both hands, cocking his thumb with his finger guns, his smile oozing over his face with self-satisfaction. He really was going to try and kill her. And while it should have been terrifying, it only felt irritating to Dinah. Yet another obstacle to overcome.

“Hello! Over there! Oi! Little birdy, can you hear me?”

It was only by sheer willpower, or miraculous and divine intervention, that Digger had managed to survive this long in life, or at least that’s how Dinah viewed his existence. There can’t have been any shortage of people who wanted to snuff that life short, to be the one to finally shut him up for good, and every second in his presence only further served to bolster the idea that Dinah might have to be the one who did it.

“For the good of humanity. I’d be doing everyone a favour.”

She was swiftly pulled from her admittedly, and worryingly so, delightful daydream by his coarse and irritating voice echoing out in her direction.

“Oi, Canary!”

Ignoring him, Dinah took a deep breath, grounding herself, trying to cling to the modicum of control she had left.

“Hello? Canary!”

His sing-song tone was so patronising, so taunting. She snapped in his direction, knowing that she was giving him exactly what he wanted, a reaction, her attention.

“What!?”

“Do you uh… D’ya like any other kinds of birds?”

“What?”

“Do you. Like. Any other. Kinds of. Birds. Other than, y’know, canaries?”

Sucking in air through her gritted teeth, Dinah rolled her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. It was odd, how playful and childish this all seemed. Both of them were in a position where they knew they were eventually going to fight, and likely to the death of at least one or the other. She supposed that was just his nature, and it was sickening to know it was having an effect on her.

“Just asking, cos you look like you might enjoy a cock-a-two. Ha! Get i- OOF!”

Digger crumpled over into himself, clutching at his stomach where the lump of debris had hit him. 

“Did you throw a fuckin rock at me?”

“I did! And you can consider that a warning, Captain.”

Dinah’s intention had been to spit the word with so much vitriol that there would be no mistaking the cruelty behind it, teasing him for having what she considered to be the worst alias she had heard so far. But, as things so often did with George, the acknowledgement of his name, the station it gave him, and the sexual implications he had imagined surrounding it, only served to stroke his ego. Truly, if he hadn’t believed that the back and forth bickering between them was laden with sexual tension beforehand, this was all he needed to confirm it. 

“Listen, Sheila, you don’t wanna piss me off or else- AH!”

Another chunk of rubble hit the side of his leg, falling to his foot and crushing his toes. As he yelped and lifted his foot, hopping on the spot like a ludicrous depiction of some slapstick children’s cartoon, Dinah ran to him, fists clenched and ready to strike him. It was him or her. 

Her first punch was a direct hit. Dinah’s fist coming into contact with Digger’s hard abdomen, sending him crashing to the ground where he lay in the foetal position for a moment before scrambling, once more in a comically pathetic fashion, to his feet. He bounced a little, his fists up in the air. 

“That’s how you wanna play this then, huh Canary?”

Dinah nodded, offering him a smug grin as she raised her fist once more, aiming for one of his ridiculous mutton chops and the fragile jaw underneath. But he caught her, his palm cupping her hand, his fingers curling around it.

“Aw, not fast enough, sweetheart. You wanna try again? I’ll give you another go. Nobody who looks that pretty can be expected to get things right on the first go. Except me, of course.”

Her second strike caught him in his moment of self-congratulatory bullshit, cracking loudly against the side of his strong, aquiline nose. 

“Aw, fuck!”

He cupped his hands over his face, catching only some of his blood, the rest of it trickling down his lips and chin. Pulling them away, he shook the blood from his fingertips, eyes screwed shut as he braced himself for retaliation. Dinah was distracted, entirely, by his profile against the bright sky. The curve of the bridge of his nose, the way his lips pouted out, his chin, the drips of blood that fell to his chest. 

And then she felt her neck being pulled. 

Digger’s fingers entwined in the longer strands of hair that sat on her shoulder, pulling her up and letting her fall back down onto her back. 

“C’mon then, get up. I hate to have to hit a girl, but I draw the line at beating one without a fi- FUCK.”

From her position on the ground below him, Dinah kicked a leg out, meeting him directly at the top of his thighs, just left enough to catch his crotch in her aim. The heel of her boot made contact hard enough to leave a distinct mark on his testicles, as well as his ego. She was beating him, and that was getting to him. When he recovered, standing up straight and facing her, Dinah could see he was seething, teeth gritted, the froth of his saliva spitting out from between them and onto his lips.

They collided once more, Dinah’s arms around Digger’s waist as she attempted to knock him over, Digger’s arms pulling at her arms, fingers digging tight into her skin and producing stinging, bright red welts. Punches were swung, contact was made, and through it all Dinah found that for the first time in a while, she was enjoying herself. It served as a distraction, at least briefly, from the state of affairs she and her friends found themselves in. Beating the shit out of George Harkness was giving her a reason to keep going, to strive against what felt like the crushing weight of futility. 

There was something else, however. Something more than that. Something that made her heart race, adrenaline pumping alongside another feeling. And as she breathed in the scent of his sweat, masked only slightly by his cheap cologne, Dinah realised what it was. 

Arousal.

Her beating heart, flushed cheeks, the way she was chewing on her inner lips and gums, trying hard not to let out any sounds of exertion as she knew they would be perceived as the moans of pleasure they really were. She was getting off to fighting with him. It was difficult to tell whether it was the violence, or the pain, or the satisfaction of seeing the smug smile wiped from Captain Boomerang’s perpetually self-satisfied face. But there was a bit of her that knew mostly, it was because she was attracted to him. A fact that hit her harder than any of the blows that Digger had landed so far.

For as long as it could continue, she was happy to push herself to exhaustion. Having Digger at her feet, having him thrust himself, all strength and force behind him, at her body. It was embarrassing to admit to, but it was hot.

Just as she was beginning to enjoy herself, much to her surface level chagrin but deeply embedded satisfaction, Digger stood back.  It was like he could sense her brief happiness and was determined to put a stop to it. Typical of him, really. But as he stood there, silent and panting, his eyes trained on her, he kept going until his back was against the wall of the closest building, his feelings echoed Dinah’s. Standing metres apart, he watched as she too took the opportunity to catch her breath. Staring. Gazing. Leering.

“Wise to keep your eyes trained on her, Captain. Don’t give her the upper hand. Unless she’s planning on putting it on your co-”

His filth-addled mind was distracted as she made a move, and he jumped back, bracing himself for the next attack. Instead, he watched as she brought her hand to her face, wiping her bloody and slightly swollen lip on the back of her hand. It was difficult not to admire her, the strength, the composure.

“How hot is she!?” 

Not that he hadn’t noticed before, obviously, but now he had time to really take her in, when she wasn’t coming for him with a fury he’d rarely seen in anyone who hadn’t spent over an hour with him. Still, he felt that only made her more attractive. He’d always had a thing for a thicker woman, someone who could hold their own. Someone who would make it a bit of a challenge for him to get to them. And that was certainly Dinah.

The way her chest moved, exaggerating the way her ample breasts spilled over the top of her bodysuit. 

“How often do you get bonza tits and an arse attached to the same person?”

Her strong arms, holding her as she leaned back on them to stare back at him with a puzzled look. 

“Christ, she could tear your cock off with a handy... But it’d be worth the risk, eh?”

Her thighs, thick and muscular, covered in the ripped fishnets. She looked dishevelled, tired out, panting and desperate.

“Fuck’s sake, Digger, stick to the task at hand, mate.”

It was almost impossible for him not to give in to his more lustful desires, but he countered it with the deal that once he had saved the world and was a renowned hero, he’d treat himself a little.

“Me and you, Admiral. We’ll shag as many desperate groupies as we can handle once we’re world renowned heroes. But for now, focus. Focus!”

“Hey!”

He was snapped out of his perverted fantasy by Dinah’s voice, calling out breathily from across him. He looked towards her, narrowing his eyes. The stinging pain around his nose and eye sockets flashed, and for the briefest of moments, his arousal was superceded by his irritation that she’d got the best of him in their fight. But only so far.

“Yeah? What do you want? Lil bit more for ya, Dinah-mite? I’ll give you a minute to straighten your tits out before we get back to it, huh?”

“No need. You going soft, Captain? Giving me a head start, which I definitely don’t need. You want to fight me, come and fight me. You wanna act like you can beat me, come prove it. Do it.”

Stupefied, Digger stared with the gormless grin she was growing very familiar with, his mouth hanging open before crossing into a dismissive smile. An incredulous laugh accompanied his frantic head shaking as he pointed at her aggressively. 

“You want me to hit you? Uh… no. No. It’s some kind of trick.”

“Weren’t you going to kill me?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Oh my god, but what?”

“WELL! I’m kinda… If you must know… I’ve got a bit of a stiffy now. Hitting you now kinda feels like that’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”

Without meaning to, and before she could stop herself, Dinah’s eyes flitted down to Digger’s crotch. The thick bulge, impressive even from this distance and under his pants, sent a twinge down her spine, and she braced herself as she felt her clit throb. It felt pathetic, to give in to the desires she considered taboo, the ones she hid from most of her friends. But it felt like end times. Surely, surely, she deserved to indulge a little. Get a bit dirty, amoral, bad.

“There’s simple solutions to that problem.”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to discern what was going on.

“Like what?”

Dinah stayed silent, raising an eyebrow back at Boomer, but keeping her expression neutral. He could think what he liked, and she knew his thoughts would immediately rush to the filthier options. And while she was happy to entertain those if they came up, there was always the backup plan of amputating the little, or large, fellow if things didn’t quite go her way. In the face of her silence, George laughed again, scoffing at her.

“Nah, you’re fuckin’ with me, birdy!”

Standing up, Dinah shrugged her shoulders, letting out a laugh herself. 

“It’s pathetic. You’re a ‘villain’, albeit one with shit branding, but here you are following orders.”

“What makes you think I wasn’t jumping at the opportunity for an excuse to get rid of you?”

“The fact that you’re so clearly not capable of doing it?”

Seething, Digger took one step towards Dinah, hesitating before he took another and deciding against it. Instead, he raised his voice and continued to shout to her from his safe distance.

“Uh… yeah… well… Fuck you!”

Dinah rolled her eyes, completely enraged at how she still found him almost irresistibly attractive despite his severely lacking wit and charm. She knew there was something about him though/ It wasn’t all bruises and blood. Pain only got her so far, in fact, it was an indulgence she rarely confronted, especially not with Oliver, and definitely not with any of her friends within the League. It was him. He was taboo, he was dirty and disgusting. So it felt only natural that she would find him to be an adequate target for her matching desires. 

“I’m a villain, yeah. But you’re supposed to be one of the good guys, aren’t ya?”

She waited, not responding. It felt like a trap, like a bit before he got to the punchline. 

“Then how come you’re out here flaunting your arse around for me to gawk at?”

It felt good to know that he’d noticed. But his base level misogyny didn’t merit a response.

“Or better yet, how come you’re so keen to get dicked down by the Digger? Don’t you have a fancy little boyfriend? Or has Green Arrow gone evil like the rest of them?”

Dinah’s face felt hot. Red. Embarrassment? Or shame? With a healthy dose of rage?

“Does he not mind you getting shared around? Cos if you’re looking for a rooting, I’ll deliver. Just wouldn’t want to have to kill him too.”

Her fists curled up into balls, her own fingernails digging into her palms, stinging, bringing a tear to her eye as she fought back the urge to wince at the pain. 

“As if Robin Hood would have any choice about being cucked by the real alpha male here.”

“Don’t talk about him.”

He put both hands into the air, pursing his lips and frowning. 

“Touched a nerve there, birdy. Maybe we should stop beating around the bush and I should give you what you want. A last treat, before I give you the old shreeeeeeeeck.”

He dragged his thumb across his neck, frowning and looking to the ground in an act of false sadness.

“I mean… since you’re so desperate.”

“Say that to my face.”

“Gladly.”

Stomping over to her, Dinah prepared herself for the worst, still not quite steady on her feet by the time he had reached her. But instead of being knocked backwards by a swift punch, she felt Digger’s lips clamp onto hers, his tongue being pressed forcefully into her mouth, down her throat, his fingers holding her head in place as she choked against him. 

She pulled back, and the sudden lack of his hands against her made her collapse to her knees. 

“You think you’re choking now? You haven’t seen anything yet, babe.”

Unzipping his pants, Boomer got to the point quickly. He hadn’t been lying about being stiff. He was rock hard, bobbing as he freed himself. And Dinah’s assumptions were right. He was huge. Enough that she stared unblinking at his thick, long cock for a few seconds, bright blue eyes wide and sparkling. Digger caught sight of them and raised his eyebrows.

“Come on, love. We’ve both got work to do. You’re prolonging the inevitable here a bit.”

“I don’t… “

She hesitated, reticent to offer him the truth, to admit defeat to him. But she really had no option.

“... I don’t think that’ll fit… in my mouth.”

“Well then, clever girl. What do you think we should do? Where else might old Digger’s amazing, impressive, massively huge, big, fat cock fit? Hm? You hardly need to be Brainiac to figure that one out.”

Without any further instruction, Dinah settled on her heels, easing herself onto her back on the ground as she unclasped her body suit and let it spring up her stomach. In a swift motion, she pulled both her fishnets and underwear down and spread her legs as wide as they would with everything bunched around her ankles. It felt so submissive, so dirty, to give in to him so easily, but she was beyond fighting. Now, all she wanted was the pleasure that he was so willing to give her. 

Not leaving any time for regret to settle in, Digger managed to pull his eyes away from the sight of Dinah, spread open, displayed so explicitly in front of him, so wet and willing. Leaning down, he shuffled between her legs awkwardly, biting his lip with his tongue pressed out in concentration as he got into the right position, then letting his mouth open wide in a toothy grin as he rubbed the slick head of his cock against her cunt, letting her arousal coat him as he pressed between her slowly and carefully. She was soaking wet, easy to slide into, but he took it slow, easing the head past her lips, almost feeling the satisfying pop as he entered her.

Her body reacted with a convulsion, back arching, hands gripping helplessly at the ground below her. She tensed, but realised that was the worst course of action, and focused on trying to relax her body, to make room for Digger as he pushed his cock further into her. Even once he was up to the hilt, enough that it felt like she was choking on him, he was aware that there were still a couple inches left. But he chose not to push his luck. Instead, he started pumping in and out of her aching, soaking wet cunt, watching her squirm as he picked up the pace. His hands travelling down her front, cupping her breasts, squeezing her nipples between his fingers through her clothes, the drool from his mouth spilling over his lips and onto her cheek as he mindlessly rutted.

Dinah could feel herself writhing below him, dangerously close to him noticing her hips as she bucked them up to him. It really wasn’t her intention to feed his ego, to let him know that she was enjoying this. The feeling of his body rutting into hers, his cock stretching her apart. In fact, she barely wanted to consider that fact herself. So, trying to hide any semblance of pleasure her body might express, she brought her hands to her mouth, clamping them down over the lower half of her face. At least that way he couldn’t see any smiles, any glimmer of a grin, and it would hold off any sounds of satisfaction that managed to escape her tightly closed throat. 

Digger was quick though, which surprised her, since he was someone who had as yet been unable to conquer the Flash. With a swift manoeuvre, he wrapped his still gloved hands around Dinah’s wrists, lifting her arms up and pinning them above her head. He transferred the hold to one hand, clearly thinking he was strong enough to keep her pinned there, hopefully not realising that she was letting him think that. With his free hand, he taunted her, wagging his finger in front of her before pushing back a loose strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eye.

“Uh-uh, I don’t think so, babe. There’ll be no covering your mouth when you’re with the Captain.”

His wide smile creased into his cheeks, eyes narrowing with a boyish lust that made her heart flutter. And her entire body throbbed as he leaned in, strands of his hair falling into her face, his nose close enough that it was almost touching, his breath hot on her as he spoke.

“Besides, little birdy… I wanna hear you sing.”

With one final push of his cock inside of her, her cunt stretched and still not able to take his entire length, Digger hit the spot. A shrill screech fell over Dinah’s lips, her body shuddering in surprised ecstasy as she realised what was happening. Digger Harkness, a man who had so far failed at everything he’d set out to do in life, had succeeded in giving her the best orgasm she had ever had. One swift pummeling from his thick, long cock had her trembling under him, clinging to his back, fingernails digging into him as she tried to keep him inside of her, riding the waves of pleasure with her. 

And quickly behind her, he le tout his own cry, triumphant, victorious, as though he had achieved something he thought impossible himself. His cum, warm, thick, coating Dinah’s insides. A win in his books. One he intended to tell everyone of if he survived what Task Force X were there to do. 

He pulled himself out from between Dinah’s plump, swollen lips, watching his own cum drop out of her and onto the ground she lay on. He let himself rest beside her, just to get his bearings, and let the blood rush back to his head before continuing on with his day.

“Listen… you keep yourself quiet and hidden in one of these buildings, I won’t have to kill you.”

Dinah smiled, keeping her gaze aimed at the sky above them, trying to hide the genuine glee she wore on her face.

“And, little birdy… if you tell me which one you’re hiding in, I might come by for another visit.”

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

PoisonCat (Valentine’s Day Exchange)

Pamela (Poison Ivy) Isley x Selina (Catwoman) Kyle

(1,055 words)

Summary: Ivy discovers she really likes to be called “Doctor”

Warnings/Tags: 18+ (not quite smut, but it gets reallll suggestive), botched heist, patching up wounds, friends with benefits (they are definitely gay LMAO), light medical play, discovering a new kink, make outs, getting real sensual with it

Notes: Surprise @acapelladitty!!! I was ur gifter for the exchange!!! I’ve never written for Poisoncat before, but after doing a bunch of research for them, I now love them (I mean, I already did before but you get it LMAO). I wanted to let you know that you are a huge inspo to me and I’ve really enjoyed all the times we’ve cooked up some wild shit 😭😭 Happy Valentine’s Day!!!

-

It wasn’t often that a heist went awry for Selina, but this time was sure to take the cake. Triggered security systems and broken glass were the least of her problems, now having to face the consequences of working with Edward Nygma. Mentally, Selina beat herself up for knowing better than to work with a conniving snake like him, but that didn’t matter now. The loud blaring of sirens could be heard in the distance as she lept from rooftop to rooftop with ease. Continuing to escape deeper into the night, Selina knew exactly where to run to.

Far enough away from the scene of the crime, Selina found herself perched on top of the overgrown warehouse. Thick branches and moss covered the outside, making the building look abandoned. Nobody would even think that a place such as this would be an ideal hideout, but for Selina, it was a refuge. A sanctuary. The home of an old friend.

Climbing through the window, Selina’s entrance was almost anticipated as Ivy watched her come in expectantly.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Ivy grinned.

“Nice to see you too, Pam.” Selina leaned against the wall, out of breath. “How did you…?”

“Word gets around fast,” Ivy shrugged. “Plus, all the cop cars woke me up.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I was up anyway.” Ivy made her way over to Selina. Pulling up her mask, Ivy inspected the small cuts and bits of glass occupying Selina’s face and body. Her face was streaked with blood and sweat. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? You look like hell.”

“Yeah,” Selina snickered. “I just got back.”

———

Selina was seated on top of the table. Her tight, black suit was cast aside, leaving her in an undershirt, her underwear, and several small bandages. Around her was a bowl of discarded glass and a small trash can of bloodied gauze.

Ivy made her way in between Selina’s legs, standing in front of her. She applied the disinfectant carefully. Selina winced at the sudden sting, but Ivy took a gentle hand in the application. The gaze in Ivy’s eyes was soft. It was easy for Selina to get lost in them.

“You’re staring again.” Ivy spoke up faintly.

“Am I? Purred Selina. “You’re so close to me, must be your pheromones.” She giggled. “Or blood loss.”

Ivy chuckled playfully. “First of all, my little flower,” she pushed a bit of Selina’s short hair off her face. “You haven’t lost nearly enough blood for delirium.” Ivy set down the disinfect. Her arms soothed their way up to Selina’s shoulders. “As for the pheromones?” Ivy’s hands cradled the area between Selina’s jaw and neck. “They only amplify what’s already there.”

Selina glanced down and back up again, soft laughter escaping her lips. “Whatever you say, Dr. Isley.”

There was a pause from Ivy. It was as if a switch went off. Cocking her head in consideration, she asked Selina to repeat what she had said.

“Whatever you say… Dr. Isley.” Selina repeated.

Ivy’s green complexion flushed. Selina’s forwardness was always welcome in their interactions. Having Selina in her current position would more often than not signal that they were going to have sex on a night like this. It seemed to be going that way thus far. It was the use of Ivy’s professional title being used in such a flirtatious manner that stopped her dead in her tracks. It fired her up, far more than usual, and Selina could see it from a mile away.

“Y’know…” Selina swiftly wrapped a leg around Ivy’s body, pulling her in closer. “I still feel a little hurt from the glass, I think I might need a more thorough examination, what do you think… Doctor?”

Their faces are just inches apart. Ivy scans Selina’s face. Selina’s dark, pleading eyes sparkled with mischief. Ivy always enjoyed the little dynamic they had. Usually she would be the one to initiate anything. A few whispers of filthy nothings, controlling some stray vines to gently twist around her thighs, and a kiss to the neck and Selina would be a goner. However, tonight was not one of those nights. Selina was pushing Ivy’s buttons and they both fucking loved it.

“Well, I may not be a doctor in a medical sense,” Ivy cleared the table, getting up behind her. “But in my professional opinion,” she continued as her hands reached Selina’s sides, pulling the cat burglar closer to her. Ivy’s hands wandered up to trail over Selina’s breasts. Ivy could hear Selina’s breath hitch, and decided to push forward. “Maybe if you’re in that much pain…” Ivy whispers as Selina can feel her breath tickle her ear. “… I think some bed rest is in order.”

Selina turns her head around and presses her lips to Ivy’s. What first started as small pecks soon evolved into a tender kiss. Ivy could feel Selina snake a hand through her red curls; her nails gently scratching her scalp. Ivy let out a soft sigh as Selina pulled away for a moment. She fully moved herself around to face Ivy completely, before straddling her thigh and returning the the kiss. Selina let out a low moan as Ivy playfully bucked her up her thigh. With a coquettish chuckle, Ivy’s hands trailed down to Selina’s ass before gently nipping at her bottom lip.

“Fucking tease,” Selina grinned. “Who knew that the illustrious Dr. Isley could be so salacious?”

Ivy hummed before quickly hoisting Selina off her thigh and off the table. “Then I’d suggest we take this appointment to the bedroom,” Ivy wraps an arm around Selina’s shoulder. “I do have a reputation to uphold you know.”

“Oh please do,” Selina’s hungry gaze caught Ivy’s as they made their way into the bedroom. “I would so love to see that reputation in action.”

Ivy lowered Selina onto the bed, hands caressing her thighs as she sunk down, kneeling in between her legs. Selina shuddered at the sudden sensation of Ivy’s nails gently dragging across her thighs. It was one of her weak spots that Ivy loved to exploit.

Ivy batted her eyes puckishly up at the mewling Selina. “Don’t worry my dear,” Ivy placed a kiss on Selina’s inner thigh. “I know just the thing to make you feel all better.”

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Monomania (fic)

Pairing - Homelander/Hughie (The Boys)

Summary - In the midst of a messy fight, Homelander comes to a somewhat stunning conclusion involving Hughie.

It was incredible, unthinkable even, that Homelander had found himself in this situation.

Hugh Campbell. Hughie. Starlight's little pet human. The gangly asshole who nipped at William's heels as William actively sought out as many different pain in the ass ways of inconveniencing his life as possible.

Hugh Campbell.

A pathetic human.

But a pathetic human who was currently trading hits with him due to the compound v which flowed through his veins to give him access to the sort of power that he probably used to jack off thinking about.

"Little Hughie." Homelander spat, dodging a messy right hook. Hughie had strength, yeah, but it was clear that neither man was a particularly trained fighter even if Homelander still held the advantage. "A fucking waste of skin compared to the people he surrounds himself with. One day that little girlfriend of yours is going to find herself a real man.”

Ducking under another swing, Homelander landed a strike of his own and his fist bounced off Hughie’s chest with a pained grunt.

“Supes and humans? A mess. Trust me. I've made enough of them." Homelander continued, refusing to allow his growing exertion to show on his features as he pushed Hughie off him – his heart thumping in his chest as his jaw throbbed in discomfort.

Hughie snarled his anger, his boyish features twisted into something almost inhumane as he threw fists with an obvious lack of thought. In the heat of the fight, Homelander could hear how laboured Hughie’s breathing had grown; how erratic and fucked up it was as his blood rushed through his veins and his pulse jumped with every strike. The stench of adrenaline, hot and heady, also hung in the air and the sheer potency of it was intoxicating.

Almost absent-mindedly, Homelander adjusted the crotch of his suit as he flew to the side to narrowly avoid a kick. Adrenaline and anger. Two familiar feelings which sat low in his belly and made his cock twitch despite his fury. He was the fucking Homelander and fighting like this-

His thoughts were knocked clean out of his head as a sharp fist caught him on the temple - sending his body stumbling backwards as the sheer indignation of being caught out burned within his chest like a serpent’s venom.

It only lasted a moment as Hughie's furious expression was quick to fill his sight. Panting and red-faced with the effort, Hughie looked down at him with such intense contempt that it actually made Homelander pause as long fingers wrapped around his throat and started to squeeze.

Even with the compound v, its potency already feeling like it was beginning to fade as Hughie’s movements grew more sluggish, it would be a hard task to choke him out and Homelander took a moment to look - really look - at the man attempting to kill him.

Hughie was handsome in a basic sort of way. He lacked the bulk and muscle of William but he certainly wasn't as scrawny and pathetic as he seemed to be on first glance. In his rage and erratic movements, a few curls of his brown hair had fallen over his forehead and remained plastered there by sweat.

Tall as fuck too.

It wasn’t often Homelander fund himself having to tilt his head to meet someone's gaze and what a gaze it was.

Hatred.

Pure hatred oozed from every millimetre of Hughie's eyes as the blue there appeared to grow steelier by the second and the utter intensity of his gaze, malicious as hell, made heat pool in Homelander's stomach as he drank in the undivided attention.

Atop him, Hughie’s body was an inferno of heat; a mixture of exertion and the compound which was burning through his unfamiliar cells like a supernova. Caged as he was against the wall, the pressure of Hughie's body pushing against his own was surprisingly erotic as the adrenaline and the attention and the flex of the hands around his sensitive neck caused his cock to grow harder between his legs.

With Hughie's hands still around his neck, Homelander easily jerked his head forward in one swift movement and caught Hughie's lips in his own, his actions not fully coming to terms with his thoughts until Hughie recoiled his head in disgust.

The first thing that registered in his head, aside from a burning shame, was a dull pain as Hughie's fist once again connected with his temple. The second was the warmth of lips against his own as Hughie followed the blow by pressing his face in close enough to allow Homelander to capture his mouth once again. Hughie’s lips were soft, nothing like his hard eyes, and Homelander snapped his teeth down on his lower lip, something victorious growling in his chest as he immediately tasted blood and Hughie pulled away with a throaty grunt of pain.

"You're a fucking monster." Hughie hissed.

The fury, that wickedly intoxicating fury, still radiated from his eyes but something predatory - something familiar - lurked in the shadows behind it and the hint of it send a coil of arousal through Homelander’s groin.

Little Hughie had a dark side it seemed, and in that instant Homelander decided that he was going to make it his new project to push the other man as far as he could to see how deep the darkness ran.

Shoving Hughie off him as though discarding a blanket, Homelander readied himself for another fight as he watched Hughie scramble to his feet – confusion and rage now at war on his handsome features as he attempted, vainly, to settle his breath. His eyes dropped for only a second to the undeniable bulge which tented at Homelander’s groin, evidence of his shameful desire, before snapping back up as a snarl overtook his mouth once again.

With the fresh seeds of obsession sewing their way into the landscape of his fragile mind, Homelander tensed himself up for barrle once more as a familiar smirk settled across his lips.

Little Hughie.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Giving kinktober a break bc I HAVE so much stuff going on rn. College is getting crazy and I’m currently in a play and I’ve been kinda overwhelmed and kinda burnt out with everything. I’ll be back to posting some regular stuff soon 🫡🫡

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 18 (Body Modification)

Victor Zsasz x Reader (NSFW)

(1,152 Words)

Summary: Zsasz makes his mark

Warnings/Tags: 18+, female reader (I got self indulgent sorry LMAO), knifeplay, bloodplay, scarification, penetrative sex, love confessions (yeah, I got REALLY self indulgent), aftercare, fluff (SLAYYY)

Notes: God, I love him. I got SO self indulgent with this one bc I’ve been having a shitty week. All my mutuals should’ve seen this one coming LMAO anyway, enjoy the fic!!!

-

Victor Zsasz loves to make his mark. Most infamously known, are the vast array of tally marks that are carved into his skin. Every mark, a symbol of every life he’s ever taken; every light that’s been snuffed out. In his mind, the marks serve as mementos; being made in the moment as a reminder for a lifetime. It’s an act of permanence. It’s an act of devotion.

So to him, it only makes sense to mark you just as he marks himself.

Apprehension and anticipation linger all around you. You sit there, completely still. Your upper half is completely exposed to him, save for your bra, leaving every inch of your blank, unmarked flesh in his view. Your shirt is discarded, laying in a crumpled pile on the floor. The soft sound of Victor’s footsteps fill you ears, pacing slowly behind you. Suspense and excitement fill your stomach. A deep inhale makes its way into your chest when you feel the cold metal of his switchblade touch your skin.

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” his voice is honest, firm, yet comforting. “This is gonna hurt…” you can feel the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, smoothing down your arm. “…A lot.”

“I appreciate you doing this Victor,” you turn to look at him. “But honestly, I’m a little scared.”

He stands over you. The blade, lightly trails along your chest, just below your collarbone, where you assume the mark will be made, your nerves spike, but you choose to swallow them down, knowing this is how Victor expresses love, in his own, sick way- not that you minded. He kneels, making his way down to your level. His hand guides you chin down to gaze into his dark eyes, filled with reassurance.

“I can promise you,” you feel his thumb gently rub over your cheek, “The pain won’t last long.”

His gaze is intense. Taking a deep breath in, you nod. “I trust you.”

He lets out a grin, tucking your hair behind you ear. He plants a soft kiss to your cheek where he was caressing over it. “Attagirl.”

Your heart flutters at his assurance. For someone so keen on sadism, getting off on the pain of others, Victor was being surprisingly comforting with you.

You can feel his body looming over you, feeling his head look over you to find the exact spot where he would mark you. He makes contact with your eyes, giving each other nodded approval to do it.

The metal is cold and exceedingly sharp. You can hardly feel it when he cuts you. The sensation almost feels pleasant as the blade glides through your flesh. You feel yourself bite back a shriek when he digs the knife deeper into your skin, making sure the cut will leave a lasting scar. Your breath hitches in your chest as he continues dragging the knife into you. Fresh crimson spills out from the cuts being left in the blade’s wake.

“God,” Victor lets out a soft growl, “I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now.”

He’s in awe of the blood trickling down your chest. It coats your chest, running down, nearly dripping down to your bra. You let out an abrupt whimper, unable to hold in the increasing pain.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Your bra strap slips past your shoulder. You feel Victor’s body directly behind you, almost in an hug. His hand smoothes your shoulder firmly, comforting.

“It’s okay,” He hushes you. “I know, I know.”

Those next few seconds, the pain is excruciating. You get up, turning around and steadying yourself on him, wanting nothing more to be enveloped in his embrace. Your eyes meet his, gazing at each other for just a second before crashing your lips together.

You feel yourself being carried over to the bed, feeling Victor’s hungry grasp taking off your already disarrayed bra. You suck in a harsh breath, feeling his tongue lick up the blood that dripped down your tits.

“You did so well,” Victor praises as he devours your bloodied flesh, slowly trailing downward, “I’m proud of you, taking that like a champ.”

“Oh god, V-Victor,” you whimper. You feel your pants being slipped off from under you. Your cunt aches, dripping with arousal as Victor thumbs your clit through your underwear. “I fucking need you.”

Victor gazes at you, carnally. His eyelids are hooded, lust swirling within his eyes. He pulls out a condom from his pocket, tearing the wrapper quickly with his teeth. He urgently slides the rubber onto his cock and eases himself inside you.

You can feel Victor’s body on top of yours, being careful to avoid the cut-up area of your chest. He positions himself, leaning on his shoulders to look at you. He rocks into you slowly, feeling your soaked cunt clench around his cock. As he picks up the pace, he presses his lips to yours feeling yourself moan into his mouth. His tongue feels heavenly and you feel yourself melting into him, letting out a hushed breath when he bites your lip, pulling away.

“You like that?” He asks breathlessly

“Y-yes,” you grunt out tenderly. “You feel fucking amazing.”

Victor chuckled, rolling his hips. You feel your cunt flutter around him as he continues to fuck you. You grip onto him tightly, nails sure to leave some marks on his back. He lets out an amorous groan, enjoying the way you hurt him.

“I love what you do to me,” Victor moans. His pace is rapid, hitting the deepest parts of you, making it hard to keep yourself quiet. You can feel your orgasm swiftly approaching, and judging by his pace- utterly frantic, so could Victor. “Your my girl, and I fucking love you.”

You’re taken aback by his abrupt confession, but honestly? You feel the same. Your hand drops down to your clit, rubbing it quickly, desperate for release. You cry out after he hits a particularly sensitive spot, once again slamming your mouth to his as you ride out your orgasm. He thrusts himself deep into you, a guttural groan escaping his lips as his orgasm isn’t far behind yours.

When all is said and done, you’re completely fucked out, disheveled, and exhausted. The air grows thick, heavy around you as he crashes onto your uncut side.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “You are so good to me.”

Victor smiles, pressing a loving kiss to your lips. He runs a hand through your hair, before holding out a hand, pulling you up. He turns around, grabbing some towels and antibiotics for the cut “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Hey Victor,” he looks over at you, head cocked curiously. “I love you too.”

You couldn’t wait for the cut to heal. The healed scar in the shape of a heart would soon be a testament to the love you have for one another.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 17 (Threesome)

Vladimir x Reader x Stefan (NSFW)

(1,233 Words)

Summary: you plan on getting revenge on Vladimir and Stefan, but end up with something way better

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, aftermath of being turned, canon typical violence (bc duh vampires), vlad and stef being sleazy, blowjobs (giving), vlad and stef being gay (a little at the end), fingering, penetrative sex, threesomes (duh)

Notes: I saw these two and KNEW what I had to do LMAO I used to be down bad for the Romanian coven way back in the day (specifically for vlad sorry I’m biased LMAO) and I think myself from two years ago would be proud of me for this one, enjoy the fic!!!

-

It all happened so fast. The way they sank their teeth into you, ripping into your flesh. How garbled your screams were as blood filled your throat, coughing it up. You could feel them sucking the blood out of you, growing woozy through the attack. Once it was all said and done, all you could do was lay there, wavering on the verge of death, processing what happened. One blond and one brunet. You’d never forget their faces- their bright red eyes.

But here you are, alive. Or, at least you think you are. You’re alive, but definitely not the same as you were. This time, you’re stronger. Angrier. Thirstier. There was a pit in your stomach, and you don’t know how to fill it. Your hands shake, feeling the indescribable urge to just attack; wanting nothing more than to rip your teeth into the nearest thing you see.

As you run through the forest- looking for anything to sate the adrenaline pumping through you, that is when you finally see them again. Their hair and eyes are unmistakably what you remember. Stopping dead in your tracks, you hide yourself in the tree line, ready to get some answers, or depending on if you could control yourself, ambush them.

They sit there on their logs, around a campfire, completely oblivious to your presence. Dropping from the tree line, you charge toward the blond, putting him in a headlock and pinning him chest first to a tree.

“What the fuck did you two do to me?” You snarl.

“Aw look, Stefan,” the blond laughs, crushed against the tree. “They survived!”

“Impressive strength, for a newborn.” You turn to hear the deep, amused laughter of the man, apparently named Stefan, from behind you. He shoots an entertained look at the blond, who looked at back at him with a smirk that gives you pause.

You quickly come to realize, that they are not afraid of you. Regardless, you stand your ground, keeping a firm grip on the blond.

“You two have five fucking seconds to tell me what happened to me or I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Kill us?” Stefan speaks up. “You hear that, Vladimir? The newborn thinks they can kill what is already dead!”

You freeze for a moment, confused. You’re completely taken off guard when Vladimir, the blond, breaks free from your grasp. There’s hardly enough time to fight back when you suddenly find yourself the one now pinned against the tree.

Their laughter rings in your ears; clear, low, and almost carnal. That pit in your stomach begins to churn, and not necessarily in a bad way. Vladimir’s body is impossibly close to you, with Stefan making his was beside you. You let out an audible exhale as you feel yourself be pushed further into the wood.

“So much fight…” Whispers Stefan.

“…For such a young thing,” finishes Vladimir. You can feel the back of his hand trail slowly down your cheek.

“You two are fucking sick,” you spit, turning your head away from him. His hand rapid makes its way beside you, dangerously close to your throat.

“We are not sick,” chuckles Vladimir, “it’s just difficult to talk when the one who wants answers is…”

“…Wound so tight?” You can hear Stefan’s voice coming from the other side of your ear. You wonder when and how he made it over to you so quick.

“Exactly,” replies Vladimir. “Which is why…” his hand drags over your throat. His grasp is cold, light, soothing the adrenaline that pumps from within you.

“…You need to relax.” Stefan is now directly at your side. You can feel his breath along the outside of your neck, down to your shoulder. He places a hand on your arm, soothing it down.

It kills you inside to know how much you’re enjoying this. You release some tension, signaling that killing them isn’t the only thing you want anymore. You take a deep breath in, swallowing your pride.

“Try anything, and I’ll rip you apart,” you whisper.

Your consent seems to be enough for them. You can feel Vladimir’s lips first, attacking your lips with fervor. Not far behind, Stefan’s lips make their way to your throat, hungrily, but not like when they drank the blood from you before. Their touch was something different completely. This was carnal.

You let out a soft moan as you feel a hand drop in between your legs, gathering your liquid arousal. Another pair of hands starts feeling you up, leaving no curve or crevice untouched.

“Wow,” Stefan groans softly. “Who new that a newborn would be so…”

“…Easy?” Finishes Vladimir.

The way they spoke in tandem was uncanny, similar to they way they worked together to touch you. Feeling a finger slip inside you, you grip the back of the tree so roughly, you could swear you hear a crack.

“Oh god,” you sigh, “h-holy fuck.” Your legs start to feel like jelly. Hearing the salacious chuckles from in front of you, you can only assume that Vladimir is the one finger fucking the daylights out of you, while Stefan gropes at you.

You can hear the sounds of a belt unbuckling and the sound of pants hitting the floor of the forest. You feel yourself being bent over, gripping to the tree for dear life. You hardly notice that your pants are down to your ankles, feeling the sensation of a stiffened cock teasing your inner thighs.

Looking in front of you, Stefan stands there expectantly. You take down his pants, freeing his length. You grip the shaft, firmly- as a warning. You look up at him dangerously, teasing him with a baring of teeth, before taking him into your mouth.

You let out a sudden whine when Vladimir eases himself inside of you. Stefan shudders as your moans vibrate around his cock.

“God look at you,” gasps Vladimir. “Getting ravaged like a whore.”

The degradation sends spasms of pleasure through you as he continues to fuck you. You try to talk back, but continue to muffle yourself on Stefan’s cock, where he generously allows you to control the pace. As you get the sense of where he seems to be enjoying himself too much, you slow down.

“Easy,” you direct. “T-tell your b-buddy up there to cool it with, fuck, with the remarks.” Stefan practically whines as you loosen up on him. Managing to keep your strength while getting fucked, you grip onto his leg, steadying yourself. You hear Vladimir bark out a sadistic laugh from above you.

“You’re funny,” he grunts, “thinking you have power here…”

“We know all the answers…” replies Stefan, halfway jerking himself off while you gingerly suck the head of his cock.

“…We know what you are,” croons Vladimir. His pace rocks into you mercilessly. You’re left almost breathless, feeling your orgasm rapidly approaching. You feel that if you come, you would be letting them win their strange game they seem to be playing with you. All that flies out the window when Vladimir’s cock hits the deepest part of you. You let out a restrained scream as your orgasm rips you in two.

You look up to find Vladimir and Stefan in an embrace, mouths attacking one another’s as you ride out the throes of your orgasm.

“You did so well, newborn.” Hums Vladimir.

“…But, we still have a long way to go…” chuckles Stefan.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 16 (Gags)

Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader (NSFW)

(549 Words)

Summary: Ben thinks you’re being too loud

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, penetrative sex, rough sex, underwear as a gag

Notes: god I love soldier boy, enjoy the fic!!!

-

He’s rough. Good god, he’s fucking rough. His cock stretches you open deliciously, slamming into the deepest parts of you. The slick sounds of your dripping arousal fill the room with every violent thrust. You were sure the sheets were soon to tear as you kept such a firm grip on them, feeling the fabric twisting in between your fingers. With Ben continuing to fuck you, It’s almost impossible to keep yourself quiet at a time like this.

“J-Jesus,” you gasp, “holy fuck, Ben, y-you, fuck, you feel so fucking hot.” Your voice wavers in pitch and volume. Ben maintains a brutal pace, which you could swear he does on purpose. He lets out a gruff chuckle.

“Look at you,” he chides playfully. “Fucking you so good, you can’t even speak.”

You let out a loud yelp when you feel Ben’s hand give your ass a hard slap. You jerk forward, shuddering on his cock. You can feel his towering frame lean over you, pulling you up by the shoulders, gathering you to his chest. He puts his fingers in your mouth, silencing your cries of lust. You suck on his fingers, moans bubbling in your throat as Ben pistons his hips, fucking up into you. It’s almost embarrassing how much you like the feeling of Ben using you like this.

“B-Ben please,” you whine. You feel your knees begin to shake as you feel yourself beginning to unravel. “Ben, I, fuck, you’re so-“

“Babe,” Ben slows down. “As much as I love hearing what I do to you…” he gently maneuvers you, flipping you to look into your eyes. His hand tucks a piece of hair the fell onto your face behind your ear. Even with the dim lighting in the room, you can still the mischievous flecks of green in his eyes. His hand cups your cheek, the sweetness of his actions causes your mind to run wild with what kind of degenerate, devious plans he has in store for you. He reaches over beside the bed and grabs your discarded underwear. “…You talk way too much.”

“Open your mouth babe,” he grins lasciviously. You comply, opening your jaw as Ben shoves the underwear in your mouth. “Careful not to choke, there are better things to choke on,” he chuckles.

Lowering you on your back, Ben soon eases himself back inside you. His cock slides into you deliciously. Your hand drops to your dripping sex, stroking it in arousal while Ben slams himself into you.

As Ben fucks you, several moans erupt from your throat, but are all muffled by the makeshift underwear gag. You feel yourself exceedingly reaching your peak. Struggling to express your arousal, Ben lets out a wolfish chuckle.

“Aw sweet-cheeks,” he croons “you gonna come? Don’t be shy, you can be as loud as you want now.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. The gag does a great job at silencing your wanton moans. You ride out your orgasm, feeling yourself clench around Ben’s cock.

As you come down from your high, you spit the gag out of your mouth, glaring at Ben in equal mixtures annoyed and playful.

“Don’t look at me like that, you were being loud, and hey, sometimes, you just gotta improvise,” he winks with a deep chuckle.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 15 (Temperature Play)

Garfield Lynns (Firefly) x Reader (NSFW)

(821 Words)

Summary: Firefly gets you all hot and bothered

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, temperature play (duh), light bondage, blindfolds, hot oil, fingering

Notes: I had the most HELLISH day ever, but writing this was fun fr, enjoy the fic!!!!

-

You wait there in trepidation, shrouded in darkness. The blindfold sits fixedly on your face. You lean forward, hands tied above your head. Excitement and dread lingers around you as you hear the gravelly chuckle of Garfield Lynns

“Feelin’ restless?” He asks, teasingly, from across the room.

“Let’s cut the shit,” you reply, keeping your voice low to hide any signs of anticipation. “What’ve you got planned?”

Your ears perk up as you hear something being placed on the table. The familiar click of a lighter being lit fills your mind with any possibilities of what you may be in for. However, with Garfield Lynns, anything having to do with fire was always a guarantee, sexually or otherwise.

“Now, sweetheart,” he drawls. “If I told you the plan, that would ruin all the fun.”

His voice sounds closer to you now, much more so than it sounded before. You can’t pinpoint how close until you feel his scarred hands trailing up and down your sides. His touch is slow, which is surprisingly different for him, catching you off guard. Garfield was always very rough with you, to feel him touching you slowly, sensually was a little unsettling, but certainly not unwelcome.

“Fine,” you sigh openly, “don’t tell me, just know that I’ll be able to take whatever you have to throw at me,” You huff. You want to say more, going on about whatever hell (or heaven) that Garfield wants to put you through will be something that you will be able to take, but the words are lost on you when you find ally discover what he was hearing that bowl for.

The hot oil, borderline scalding, causes you to tense up, shuddering as it hits your skin. You let out a restrained moan as his hands glide over your nipples, extremely hot and wildly sensitive. His hands linger around that area, groping you, feeling up every region that Garfield knew would make you squirm.

“You were saying?” He playfully comes back. You can’t see his face, but judging by his voice, you can already tell that Garfield is going to have a good time tormenting you.

“F-fuck,” you stammer. “Don’t tease.” Before you can thinking of any witty comebacks, a strangled whine escapes your lips as more hot massage oil pools in between the crevices of your shoulder blades. With even the smallest of movements, the small amount of oil welling in each curve began to drip down your back, cascading in a fiery waterfall of delicious agony.

The added simulation of the heat and Garfield’s ministrations to your sensitive flesh sent a spike of arousal down to your sex. Garfield’s hands began to trail down your body, lower and lower. Being in such a vulnerable position allowed him to much more easily have access to the parts of your body you wouldn’t so easily let anyone feel up, but god, if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

As his hands sneak their way into the waistband of your underwear, you feel yourself become almost boneless at your aching core, knees shaking, becoming more drenched not only with the oil, but with your fluids.

“You ready for it?” Garfield asks, voice low and husky.

“Please, touch me,” you nod your head frantically, almost pleadingly.

“I should almost not, you know, just because you talked such a big talk,” you can feel the breath of his voice, dancing across the back of your neck and into your ear. “But I can hardly resist…” his hand is now directly on your arousal, making you shudder from the drastic temperature change, stroking you slowly, gathering any fluids that were dripping down. “… I love it when you squirm for me.”

You clench your legs together, desperate for any friction from the excruciatingly slow simulation Garfield may have been giving you.

“Easy now,” he hushes. “I want this to be a slow burn.” His hands now teases over a particularly sensitive area, causing you to buck into his hand. He tsks at you, who does not seem to be catching his drift. “From just a small little candle, will soon evolve into a towering inferno…” you can feel him tease around your entrance. “…Engulfing you with heat, feeling nothing but the scorching…” his fingers slip inside you. “…Scalding…” fucking you steadily. “…Smoldering…” you cry out a shameless whine, his fingers hitting you exactly where you ache. “…Fire, transforming you until you have nothing left but to…” the friction is driving you wild. Garfield’s touches are leaving you breathless so close to the edge. His fingers curl within you, leaving you to writhe through your orgasm. “…explode.”

Pulling off the blindfold, you’re greeted with the sadistic grin of Garfield Lynns. He stares at you, expectantly, bowl of hot oil in hand. By the look of it, your heated escapades surely aren’t finished. You can only wonder what else is possibly in store for you.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 14 (Orgasm Denial)

Jackson Rippner x Reader (NSFW)

(1,064 Words)

Summary: you refuse to give Jackson his phone call, so he refuses to let you come

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, hostage situation, threats, airplane bathroom sex (woooo mile high club), little bit of hair pulling, Jackson being forceful, orgasm denial (duh)

Notes: ok, so I meant to write a fic for this movie WAAAAAAAY back in April but hey, better late than never LMAO enjoy the fic!!!

-

Never in a million years did you think you’d find yourself in a hostage situation, but here you are.

One moment, you’re sharing a drink with the charming man you met at the bar in the airport, then next thing you know, you’re forty thousand feet in the air, staring out the window, by that same charming man, keeping you trapped to your seat.

His plan to you was easy: call the hotel, and switch the room. That’s it. The way he had described it to you was exceedingly simple. He specifically told you, it’s simple. But if it was so simple, why would he threaten to kill your family? Why was he so hellbent on getting you to switch the room? Why would he shoot down your every single, rightful attempt to escape? If it was so simple, why couldn’t he do it? What was he really hiding from you?

“Jackson, this is fucking insane,” you hiss. “Sooner or later I was eventually going to have to go to the bathroom, it’s an eight hour flight for Christ sake.”

He holds up an empty water bottle. “Best I can do.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny?” You let out a soft chuckle, laced with annoyance. “You think you’re fucking funny? You’re not funny, Jackson.”

“Look, if you just made-”

“No, no, what would be funny, was if you let me piss myself, making a scene on this fucking plane, which I’m sure you wouldn’t want, right?”

Jackson sits there silently as you continue to go on your whispered tirade.

“And if I get taken away, you’ll never get that call.”

“Your family will die.”

“How bad do you want it, Jackson? Fucking try me. You want me to make that call? Then please, let me go.”

Jackson stares at you for a moment, completely dumbfounded. His icy eyes soon narrow into an amused gaze. He lets out an entertained sigh, and gets up from his seat.

You cock your head, confused. At first you think it’s some sort of trick until he motions for you to go. As you make your way down the aisle, you feel a tight grip on your wrist, holding you back.

“Don’t get cute.”

He lets you go, and you find yourself in the cramped space. After locking the door, you make the attempt to collect yourself, taking in a deep breath and exhaling a groan of pure rage. You curse yourself at the situation you found yourself in. You curse yourself for the possible danger you’ve landed your family and possibly innocent people in. You stare at yourself in the mirror, angry that you even let yourself fall for him back at the bar before all this even happened. At this point, you would like for nothing more than to punch the mirror, cracking and shattering it into shards.

Wait. The mirror?

Glancing at the soap dispenser, you frantically pump out some of the soap, forming suds on your hands. By the time you’re finished writing your message, you let out a laugh of relief. Cleaning off the evidence, satisfied with your plan to escape, the pride suddenly drops into the pits of your stomach as you find Jackson, waiting outside the door.

Before either of you can get a word out, you feel his hand covering your mouth. The back of your head hits the wall as he slams the bathroom door shut. You feel woozy, from the quick motion quickly halting to a stop. You can hardly pick up what he’s saying until you find your consciousness has faded back into place.

“If that little, by-the-book stewardess saw that, the plane would be safely landed, I wouldn’t be able to relay my command to the man outside your house, and your family will be dead.” His hand grips the sides of your cheeks, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes, glacial, look at you fixedly. “It would be wise of you to stop gambling with their lives.”

Due to the cramped space you two currently find yourselves in, you feel his body on top of yours, impossibly close. The room starts to grow heated. Breathing heavily, adrenaline flows through you, ready to escape by any means necessary. Without thinking, you press your lips to his.

He opens his mouth slightly, allowing you to feel one another’s tongues in your mouth. He nips at your lip as he pulls away, eliciting a soft mewl to escape your lips. You gaze into each other’s eyes, deeply, before diving back into one another.

The kisses grow more heated. You can feel him gripping at every curve and crevice of your body. Your hands make their way up to his head, fingers raking through his hair, giving it a soft tug. You note that this seems to spur him on, as he grinds himself against you. Feeling the sudden friction to your groan, you let out a hushed moan.

You soon find yourself being propped up on the sink. The sound of heavy breathing and Jackson unzipping his pants fills the cramped cubicle of a room. You can feel a growing dampness from within you sex. Arousal spikes within you, once Jackson’s throbbing cock is whipped out from his pants.

A hand drops in between your sex. You bite back a moan as Jackson gathers your pooling arousal, swiping over the spots that make you squirm. He lets out a smooth chuckle, pleased with himself. Positioning himself with your entrance, you feel his cock slide into you roughly. His other hand warps into your scalp, yanking you closer to him as he fucks into you.

His pace is slow, but exponentially rough. You can feel him splitting you open deliciously, fighting the urge to let out whimpers of pleasure escape, which would compromise both your position. It’s when he speeds up his pace, which has you getting more vocal as you beg for your release.

“Jackson, please,” you pant. Your back hits the wall with each thrust, feeling yourself come more and more undone.

“N-not until, fuck, you make, the call,” he grunts, pounding into you.

“Mmm, you know, I-I can’t do that.”

“Then I guess, you won’t be coming anytime soon,” he teases, cruelty staining his voice. He slows down his pace, significantly, forcing your approaching peak to cease. “It’s your choice, how bad do you want it?”

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 13 (Heartbeat)

Victor Zsasz x Reader

(695 Words)

Summary: after some rough fucking, you listen to Victor’s heart

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, some real rough sex in the beginning, scratches, bite marks, aftercare, cuddling, heartbeats (duh), fluff (finally!!!)

Notes: man, I love him SO MUCH I didn’t really know how to fit in the prompt for this one, but I think I may have pulled it off, enjoy the fic!!!!

-

You feel your arms starting to give out, flopping onto the bed exhaustedly. Your knees dig into the mattress, back arched as Victor pounds into you ferociously. You let out an impassioned whine, feeling his cock hit what felt like the deepest parts of you.

“Oh god,” you gasp, “Victor, I-I think I’m, fuck, I’m so fucking close.”

Continuing to thrust into you roughly, Victor’s eyes study your back. It was completely red. Scratch marks, raking up and down. Glancing up to your shoulders and the nape of your neck, he spies the several bite marks that were left in his wake- some already starting to bruise. He groans carnally, satisfied of leaving his mark on you.

“Fucking do it, babe,” he grunts, gripping at your hips, continuing to piston himself within you. “You’ve earned it, plus, I’m close too.”

You grip at the sheets, feeling yourself become practically spineless as you come violently, sobbing out in pleasure through your orgasm.

Victor isn’t much farther behind you. As he pulls out of you, You hear a guttural groan erupt from his throat. You shudder, feeling his cum shoot onto your lower back in thick ropes as he finishes himself off.

You lay on your arms, exhausted, fucked out, and sated, heart racing. You feel a warm, dampened towel over the spot where Victor spilled himself all over you, cleaning you up.

“Thank you,” you sigh out, blissfully.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” He replies, his hand gently ruffling your hair. You feel his hands move between your torso as he gathers you to his chest. Victor presses a soft kiss to your jaw, moving down to your neck to kiss over the fresh bruises. He moves back up, giving you several small pecks on the lips. “How ya feeling?”

“Great,” you answer back, giddiness fluttering within your stomach. Your legs begin to shake from holding yourself up. “Just a little exhausted though, you did just fuck the ever-loving shit out of me you know,” you giggle.

Victor lets out a low, playful chuckle as his hands smooth down your arms. “We can lay down here for a little bit if you want to.”

You turn to him, his deep brown eyes gazing into yours, tenderly. “You know what? I think I’d like that.”

With a gentle pull, you found yourself laying on top of Victor. He wraps his arms around you in a firm embrace, keeping you flush against him. Your head lays on his tally-mark scarred chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took. Despite the fact that Victor Zsasz has the reputation of being one of the most skilled hitmen in Gotham- someone who could easily take a life at a moment’s notice, this was a comfortable position to be in. You feel safe with him.

Cuddling yourself into him more, you can hear his heartbeat through his chest. After a while, you feel your breathing patterns start to match with his. You could’ve sworn at some point you heard his heart skip a beat.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you note, grinning softly.

“Yeah,” he sighs, looking down at you on his chest. He runs a hand, smoothing down your back, making you melt into him. “It tends to do that when you’re with the people you care about.”

You feel a blush spread rapidly across your cheeks. It’s almost like you can feel your heart start to beat quicker, as you feel the ever growing warmth that starts to flourish in between the both of you. For him to say that in such a casual manner was enough to make your heart flutter.

“Keep talking like that, and I don’t think I’m ever gonna want to get up from this spot with you,” you chuckle.

Victor gazes at you with his signature grin. A grin that signaled mischief. His eyes though, were different. They didn’t hold the rascality as his grin, but rather, something softer. As he pulls the covers over the both of you, the warm feeling envelops you in a wave of euphoria. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I can live with that.”

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

no one ever writes for btaa scarecrow thank you for your service you are feeding me and I appreciate it deeply

Not only am I down bad for him, but he’s also SO FUN to write LMAO thank u anon!!!! 🙏🙏

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 12 (Medical Play)

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader (NSFW)

(1,223 Words)

Summary: you have a debilitating phobia of needles and Dr. Crane has the solution to overcoming those fears

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, reader has MAJOR trypanophobia (fear of needles), panic attacks, exposure therapy, medical kink (duh), crane feeding off the reader’s fear, crane being unprofessional, doctor/patient dynamic, fingering

Notes: sorry this one’s a little late LMAO but literally? as someone who had SEVERE trypanophobia, this was kinda empowering to write, enjoy the fic!!!

-

There was always a sense of unease whenever you found yourself at the doctors office. Maybe it was the awkward silence of sitting in the waiting room, anticipating what’s to come. Maybe it was the little intrusions that came with a basic physical check-up. Maybe it was unsettling scent of sterilized chemicals, sanitizing the room. Maybe it was those beige colored walls, glaring at you for the duration of your visit. Maybe it was the fact that you were about to be subjected to one of your worst fears. Or maybe, it was the fact that your physician is incredibly attractive.

Yeah, that too.

You find yourself, laying on his exam table, staring up at the ceiling. His voice, playful, as he explains the clinical the proceedings of this visit, reverberates off the walls.

“I’m really glad to see you taking the initiative to face your fears, exposure therapy isn’t for the faint of heart, you know.”

Your heart flutters at his words. As someone who suffered from a fear of needles since childhood, you figured that now, well into your adulthood, it was finally time to overcome that fear.

Doctors appointments for important vaccinations or even just the seasonal flu shot was always enough to spiral you into a panic. Nightmares leading up to it, hyperventilating, and giving yourself panic attacks to the point of nausea or fainting were feelings you had become all too familiar with. Feeling the prying gazes of other people in the waiting room or judgmental nurses always caused your embarrassment to spike at what you thought, was your own childish anxieties.

Seeing Dr. Jonathan Crane changed all that. When you scheduled your first session with him, his office felt comfortable. Adorned with classic horror movie posters and little mementos about his interests gave the impression that you wouldn’t be just some patient to him, but someone who he would genuinely try to help with your issues. When time came to actually talk about your fear, he wasn’t mean, or judgmental, or condescending, but he was understanding. He was someone who took a deep interest in whatever you had to say, as a patient and as a person. When he suggested the idea of exposure therapy, you were hesitant, but he had helped you come to realize that you had to start somewhere, which lead you to the clinic.

“Thanks, doctor,” you smile nervously, “gotta start somewhere, right?”

“Too true,” he says, turning to you as he walks over to the counter. “I appreciate that you put your trust in me to help you with such a… Debilitating, vulnerability.”

You hear the metallic rustling from within the cabinets. You stare back up at the ceiling, yet your curiosity gets the better of you. Glancing back over to him, you spy him preparing the needles, sending a wave of trepidation through your body.

“The syringes will be filled with a simple saline solution, it’s not harmful, but the solution is not what you’re afraid of, is it?” Maybe it’s just your anxiety, but you could swear there’s a hint of eeriness within his voice.

“Hey, uh, Doctor?”

“What is it, sweet pea?” He asks jokingly.

“I um, I just wanna apologize in advance in case I freak out at the needle.” You muster out with as much courage as you can. “Like, I-I might cry actually.” You chuckle nervously. You actually do feel the urge to cry as uneasiness fills the pit in your stomach.

“Aw now,“ There’s a playfulness to his voice. You’ve heard it many times in sessions, but it feels a little unsettling to hear it now. “Don’t psych yourself up too much, remember your breathing techniques.”

You can’t regulate your breathing at a time like this. As he makes his way over to you with a little alcohol wipe, you feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate. You feel the sweat trickling down your forehead as your throat begins to go dry. You feel faint; clammy. That alcohol wipe was the calm before the storm. You were fine when it was swabbed across your skin, but it always signaled what’s to come.

“Dr. Crane, I don’t know if I-”

“The feelings you have right now are completely expected,” he hushes you. “It’s all anticipatory, you fear the dread of it more than the actual stick itself, and I think I have found a sufficient way to combat that,” his explanation is stern, but comforting. He takes his gloved hands in yours, feeling his warmth through the latex. “Do you trust me?”

You’re hesitant. Your eyes threaten to spill tears out of the sheer distress you feel at the moment, yet Crane stares at you confidently, as if he knows you will make the right decision. You let out a shaky sigh, “Yes.”

“Good,” he grins at you. His hand makes its way to cup your cheek, gently thumbing over you. It moves up and around, to the nape of your neck and through your scalp, playing with your hair. You practically melt into his touch, fear beginning to dissipate from within you. And it’s at that moment, he gives it a tug, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “A good method to combating fear, is to add an equally positive stimulus.” He lets out a low chuckle in response, which you feel go straight to your groin.

“I think I catch your drift.”

“Trust me,” he whirls you around on the table, spreading your legs. You can feel the heat pooling in your sex. “By the time I’m done with you, your phobia of needles will be the last thing on your mind.” He eyes you up, feeling his predatory gaze all around you like you wish his body was.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” you whisper desperately.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

You two work together to undo your pants. Your sex drips with arousal as Dr. Crane’s hand makes its way past your underwear. Your legs shake as he grazes over a particularly sensitive spot. He adds more pressure stroking you steadily as you all but grind yourself on his hand.

“God, you are such a good patient,” he groans. “Your determination to cure yourself of this fear, by any means necessary, is remarkable.”

You let out a breathy moan at the praise. You feel his fingers enter inside you, curling up and fucking away any fear you had before.

“Dr. Crane,” you gasp. “I think, I-I’m-”

“Getting close?”

“Mhm.” You groan.

You feel yourself quickly reaching your peak, eyes slamming shut. As you feel Crane’s fingers speeding up, there’s a sharp, painful sensation in your arm, making you cry out in a pained whine. With the pain, soon follows your orgasm, which tears through you frantically.

Breathing heavily, you come down from your euphoric high, to find Dr. Crane removing his gloves, smiling over at you proudly.

“Congratulations,” he smirks. “We’ve made excellent progress in overcoming your phobia, I think we’ve made a break through.” Washing his hands in the sink, he takes a seat on the table beside you, that playful tone once again adorning his voice. “However, I think we may need to have a few more sessions, fears aren’t cured overnight you know.”

You giggle, looking at him feeling giddy. You couldn’t wait for your next appointment.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 11 (Humiliation)

Kevin Moskowitz (The Deep) x Reader (NSFW)

(1,127 Words)

Summary: the one where you peg him

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, strap-on, oral (on the strap), humiliation (duh), degradation, dom/sub, dom!reader, hair pulling, premature orgasm, pegging

Notes: I love bullying him LMAO this can be read as a sequel to this or a standalone, anyway enjoy the fic!!!

-

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic.” You grit out. Your words are cruel and disgusted, but your mind certainly feels the opposite way. In front of you is a beautiful sight: The Deep- Kevin, on his knees taking your strap in his mouth. He sucks on the artificial cock throughly, gingerly sucking just past the tip. “Make sure you suck it real good,” you grip his hair firmly, “get it all nice and wet, since you’re the one who’s going to be taking it up the ass.”

You can hear his pitiful whimpering around the silicone cock. His oceanic eyes slam shut as he swallows the strap further down his throat. He’s slow with it, but that’s to be expected. As he gets further down the base, you can hear him gag around you. Barking out a spiteful laugh, your hands continue to grip at his chestnut hair.

“Good job, Kevin!” You praise, voice laced with a mocking cruelty. “Make sure you really get every, single…” you thrust into his mouth, causing a mixture of a moan and a gag to erupt from his throat. “…Inch.” You chuckle as The Deep writhes below you. Saliva trickles down the corner of his mouth.

Looking down, you spy his massive cock, erect and practically aching through the spandex of his supe costume. It was utterly gratifying to Kevin in a position as compromising as this. In the public eye, he could talk the talk, but behind clothes doors? He was nothing but talk, and in your mind, someone who talks should probably be putting their mouth to other uses; especially when the mouth they have spouts arrogant and douchey remarks.

“Please,” Kevin asks imploringly, “can we just, um, rip off the band aid?” You roll your eyes, deciding to play dumb.

“What do you mean, Kevin?” You ask, playfully. “There is no band aid.”

“Oh come on!” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “You know what I mean.” It was almost embarrassing to see how badly The Deep wanted you to fuck him. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t want to give him that satisfaction so easily.

“I know, but I want you to say it.”

“God,” he sighs, “this is so-”

“Humiliating? Yeah that’s kinda the point, you fucking idiot.” You grin, sadism dripping from your voice.

Kevin lets out a defeated sigh. His eyes refuse to meet yours as he mumbles his wish.

“Can you, p-please…”

“What was that, Kevin?” You reply, thoroughly enjoying his torment. “I don’t think I caught that.”

The Deep says nothing in reply.

“Aw Kevin, that really is a shame,” you pout mockingly. “I thought you would be more confident in your sexuality, you know, since you didn’t have a problem with humiliating those women.” You jab venomously. “But really?” You make your way around him, bringing a hand to pat on his shoulder, where The Deep tenses almost immediately. “Is it because you have no control?”

“Okay, now wait a-”

“It’s because of those, huh?” Your head is in the crook of his neck, staring at his gills. “Are you really that insecure of them, that you feel the need to have so much control?” You turn your head to Kevin’s, staring intensely, waiting for a reply.

Kevin stammers, completely taken aback. A bewildered expression is splashed across his face when he realizes that you’re right. Swallowing his pride, the sweet words you’ve been waiting to hear finally make their way out of his lips with a grunt of desperation.

“Please just fuck me already.”

You clap your hands together, with a wicked chuckle. The Deep stands there, stupidly and full of anticipation.

“Oh wow,” you push him forward onto the bed. He flips himself around, leaning on his arms to face you, reverently. “If only I knew that’s all it took.” Your eyes glaze up and down Kevin’s chiseled body, practically eye-fucking his gills. Clearing your throat, you lift the strap for emphasis. “Ass up, Kevin.”

He obeys quickly. Pulling down the bottom half of his spandex and tossing it to the side, Kevin is nude, bending over to give you access to his ass. Giving it a quick slap, he flinches. You snicker before easing the strap inside of him. He lets out a guttural exhale as you begin thrusting into him at a steady pace.

As he gets used to the feeling of being fucked in the ass, you decided to test ho much more he can take. Raising an arm to steady yourself on him, Kevin arches his back so he can feel the strap with every thrust.

“God, look at you,” you chuckle barbarously. Shameless moans erupt from Kevin’s throat. “Taking me like the bitch that you are.”

“I-I, please…” is all that he manages to stammer out in his amorous state.

“C’mon, you can get the words out,” you drawl, voice tarnished with cruelty, as you push into him harder, making it more difficult for him to get the words out.

“Please… I want, I-”

“You can do it, Kevin,” you taunt in his ear. “Tell me what you want or you’re only gonna make it worse for yourself.”

“I w-want to come, so f-fucking bad,” he groans wantonly.

“You do?” You ask playfully. You bring your mouth to his neck, biting gently. He whimpers in reply. “You can come when I tell you to.”

“F-fuck, you,” he mutters.

“What was that?” You ask, voice dripping poisonously.

“Nothing, I-”

“No, no I heard you,” your hand snakes it’s way through The Deep’s hair, and like a serpent, you strike, grabbing a fistful of it to pull him back. “No way you’re that fucking stupid, talking back to me. I think this behavior is deserving of a punishment, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” Not wanting to make it worse by defying you, Kevin whimpers pathetically. You can’t tell if it was out of fear or pleasure, but you continue with your threat.

“I swear to you,” you continue thrusting roughly, “I’m going to make your life a living hell, fucking you so stupid, so rough, you won’t even be able to-”

You soon get your answer to Kevin’s response as he finishes all over the bed, coming in thick white ropes. You pull out and pull back, shocked. He turns around in shame, eyes doe-like. Your anger soon dissipates into a sadistic chuckle and evolves into uproarious laughter.

“Holy shit, looks like you couldn’t hold it all together, huh?” you giggle venomously, putting your hands on your hips. “Oh well, looks like we’re gonna have to train up this little pain slut before any real damage can be done, right?” Kevin says nothing, breathing heavily. He’s embarrassed, utterly exhausted. He sighs, ready to face the music.

“Right.”

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 10 (Praise Kink)

Poison Ivy x Reader (NSFW)

(750 Words)

Summary: you go down on Ivy and she can’t help but tell you about how much of a good job you’re doing

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, praise kink (duh), slight goddess kink, oral sex (giving), fingering (giving)

Notes: POISON IVY IS SO MOTHER!!!! my buddy @acapelladitty recently wrote an Ivy fic which can be read here, (literally go read it, it’s so GOOD) and it inspired me to write Ivy for this prompt!! enjoy the fic!!!

-

Sweat drips down your forehead under the canopies of green that surround you. The room grows humid at the heated position you currently find yourself in. Before you, lays Poison Ivy, splayed out like a winding branch. Her vibrant red hair is splayed out, rich like the ripest of strawberries. She lets out a sultry whine as you lay between her legs, devouring her like the fresh peach she is.

“Oh sweetheart,” she gasps, “you treat me like a goddess.” She grips the sheets, fabric crumpled in her hands. You let out a low chuckle in reply as your tongue glides through her folds, glistening from the stimulation.

“Of course,” you pause your ministrations briefly to plant soft kisses on her inner thighs. “A goddess deserves only the best of what her worshippers can provide her.” Resuming your feast on her sex, she lets out another moan. Your tongue makes its way to her clit, making her shudder.

“You’re so devoted,” she mewls lowly, “such reverence should be worthy of a reward.”

You feel a spike of arousal at her words, spurring you on in your mission to please her, not that you needed much spurring to begin with. Ivy is right. She truly is a goddess. To call her powerful would be an understatement. The way you’ve seen her bend the forces of nature to her will was extraordinary- truly a sight to behold. To anyone, she would seem like a goddess. The power and beauty that Poison Ivy holds is enough to make anyone devoted to her crusade against the destruction on nature. You were certainly no exception.

You hum a noise of arousal into her dripping cunt. She lets out a gentle sigh, arching her back as you continue to eat her out.

“My sweet flower,” she moans, “you are so good to me.” You feel her hands tangle their way into your hair, much like the interlacing vines that surrounded you. With the combination of Ivy’s generous praise and her hands playing with your hair, you practically melt into a puddle or pure arousal.

Encouraged by her vocal ecstasy, you grip onto her hips firmly, keeping her down as your lips on her aching cunt. Feeling flirtatious, you move yourself up, hands wandering to her gorgeous breasts. A hushed whimper escapes her lips when your fingers find their way to her nipples, sensitive buds that would make her cry out amorously.

“K-keep going,” she groans tenderly. An abrupt moan erupts from your throat as Ivy tugs on your hair, whose grip becomes tighter with the added stimulation of your breath on her cunt.

“You like that?” You ask in between licks. The vibration from your tongue as you speak sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through Ivy as she lets out a hum of approval when you feel her legs on top of your shoulders. You swing up your hand, taking her calf in your arm. Peppering kisses up her leg, back down to her heat. Slowly, gently dragging your nails up her inner thigh, you insert your fingers into her, pumping in and out steadily. You swipe your thumb over her clit, causing a high pitched gasp to exit Ivy’s lips. “My beautiful girl,” you drawl lovingly. “Getting close?”

“Y-yes,” she gasps. Not wanting to keep her on the edge for much longer, you continue to fuck her with your fingers. You apply more pressure to where you thumb her clit, also using your tongue to further her release. You curve your fingers inside of her, picking up the pace ever so slightly until you can feel her clenching around you.

The rest of the room grows thick and hazy, smelling sickly sweet and floral. You couldn’t tell if it was the aphrodisiacs floating around the air, or if it was your euphoric response to hearing her cry out in bliss as her orgasm bloomed like a flower bursting from its bud.

She takes you by the arms, pulling you up into a tender kiss. She moans into your mouth, tasting herself on your tongue.

“My dear,” she tucks your disheveled hair behind your ear, making you blush furiously. “You really are something special.” She presses a kiss to your cheek, making you a puddle in her hands. Ivy chuckles enticingly, gently pushing you down onto the bed of vines. “You treat me so well my little flower,” you can feel her breath on the nape of your neck. “Time for me to return the favor.”

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 9 (Stripping)

Soldier Boy x Reader (NSFW)

(945 Words)

Summary: you tell Soldier Boy about your mission before hopping in the shower

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, little bit of blood, typical canon violence (it’s the boys duh), alcohol consumption, making out, striptease, heavily implied shower sex at the end

Notes: this was a fun change in pace after yesterday’s prompt LMAO anyway I love soldier boy, enjoy the fic!!!

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The door behind you closes with a slam as you catch your breath. You quickly walk over to the mirror in the corner, you take in your bloodied appearance, trying to process the completely batshit insanity that was your last mission. You feel yourself take shakily taking in deep breaths, still running high on adrenaline.

“Hey there.”

You whip your head around to see Ben, sitting on the couch, nursing a small bottle of bourbon. He looks at you, amused. Seeing you caked in blood and sweat seemed like this seemed just like a normal Tuesday for Ben, considering all his experiences way back in the day during his glory days as the legendary Soldier Boy, where he would be in the same position as you.

“Hi,” you reply, staring at him for a moment.

“What happened to you? You look like shit,” he grins.

“You-” you make your way over to him, slumping down on the couch beside him, not giving a shit about the dried up blood occupying your clothes. “…Have no idea.” you sigh. With a subtle nod, he passes you the bottle, where you swiftly gulp down a couple sips, feeling that delicious burn run down your throat. “Where’s?-”

“Butcher and the cum guzzler?” You nod at him witch a chuckle. “They’re out, doing god only knows what, which gives us…” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in. “…The perfect opportunity to release some of that pent up adrenaline.” You meet his gaze, brilliantly hazel with flecks of green staring at you wolfishly.

“You know what?” You take his hand in yours, pulling him up, “I think I’d like that”

“There we go,” he chuckles. Once he gets up to his feet, Ben can’t keep his hands off you. His large hands are on your waist, gripping the small of your back.

You lean in to kiss him, and he tilts his head to yours, giving you access. The sensation of his tongue in your mouth sends shivers down your spine, letting out a soft groan. Ben lets out a perverted snicker, as his hands make their way to your ass, groping you firmly, keeping flush against his chest.

Your feverish make out session leads you two to the bathroom, messily slamming the door as you find yourself positioned sitting on the closed toilet.

“Easy there, Soldier Boy,” you chide, annunciating his hero name with a sensual drawl, biting his lip gently as you pull away from his kiss, maneuvering yourself on top of him. “As much as I’d love for you to completely wreck me,” you continue, getting up from straddling him, “I feel fucking disgusting.”

“That’s alright babe,” Ben says eagerly, “I don’t mind a little mess.” He winks.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” you voice flirtatiously, “I was hoping you could watch me take off these messy clothes,” you lean back toward the sink, “…And maybe join me in the shower?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Ben lets out a low, gravelly chuckle. You sense the heat in his voice and hearing it sends arousal shooting to your sex, which begins to ache in anticipation. “You make a very tempting offer, I’m in.”

You shoot him a sly look as you begin to undress yourself slowly. “You wanna know how I got all bloody?” You glance over to Ben, who lets out a noise of approval. “I was hunting a supe, nothing special, one of the D-listers.” The first item to go is your jacket, which you unzip slowly, giving Ben access to look at your chest, which prominent through the fabric of your shirt.

“He was on the run after getting himself in hot water with Vought.” The jacket hits the floor as you continue to speak. “Unfortunately for him, he ran into me before Vought could get to him.” Next, off come your pants. You turn around, giving Ben a decent view of your ass before teasing him with just enough, and turning back around. “He had some info I needed, and was too stupid to give it to me, so I figured it would be better to put him out of his misery before Vought got their claws in him and probably would’ve done something worse.”

You find yourself on top of Ben once again, pulling off your shirt, exposing your upper half to him. You can feel his length, hard and eager through his grey sweatpants. Coquettishly, you decide to have a little fun, grinding on him ever so slightly. A guttural moan erupts from Ben’s throat, you can’t tell if the wet patch is coming from you or Ben as you feel the arousal rip through you. Left in nothing but your underwear, you reach the peak of your story.

“He put up a fight- more of one than I thought, but it wasn’t so bad once I crushed his skull with my bare hands.” You get off him abruptly, not wanting to finish this before it even gets started. You flip open the shower curtain and turn on the faucet, hearing the shower pour down.

Slipping off your final piece of clothing, you are completely nude as you motion for Ben to take off his own clothes and meet you in the shower.

“Jesus,” he stares at you in awe, getting up and frantically removing his own clothes, haphazardly tossing his Giants jersey to the side and ripping off his sweatpants. “My god, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he grunts, before sliding his arm around you and pulling you into the shower with him.

You giggle before pulling him into a sloppy kiss, sliding the shower curtain closed behind you.