blood red // sal fisher x reader

Anti-Hero

It's me, hi
I'm the problem, it's me
At teatime
Everybody agrees
I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror
It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Sal was being different. You had noticed how uncharacteristic of him the dominant, kinky persona he last showed you was. You wondered if maybe everything else he had shown before that had been an act, or if maybe he had always been a freak and just needed to discover this side of himself — either way, you had loved being bossed by the same boy who had previously begged you to even be kissed. He knew exactly what to do and exactly how and where to touch you and, to be fair, you had expected him to lack skills in that department.

"Sal," You asked, curiosity overpowering any other feeling you had.

"Hm?" He hummed, the tips of his fingers trailing down your back lovingly, making you sigh in approval from time to time.

"Was this really your first time fingering someone?"

He felt the warmth of the blush as it crawled up his neck, tinting his ears just enough for you to see. The truth that Sal would never tell you or anyone else was that he had been watching a shit ton of porn ever since your first kiss. The day you were supposed to go back there to take his virginity, he freaked out upon the realization that he didn't know anything about it, he had no idea how to pleasure a woman, but he didn't want to be a disappointment to you. He dreaded the thought of not being able to make you cum when he always felt about ready to orgasm from the simplest of your touches.

It's not like Sal enjoyed pornography — in fact, he hated everything about it. It just didn't look appealing to him, and he could never get turned on by watching it —, but as he sat on his bed with his laptop in front of him and a notebook on his lap, he actually found himself learning a lot. He made little notes of things he thought would be important to remember, like the fact that curling his fingers up inside of you would help him find your g-spot; he even wrote down some pet names —nothing degrading, of course— that he felt you would like to be called. But when the time came, he found himself calling you a good girl simply because he thought you were one. It came from his heart and felt natural, and he was happy to know that he could, too, be a sexual person and have his own kinks.

He also loved the feeling of praising you, of telling you that you were doing something right and rewarding you for that. He could never picture himself as one of those people who were offensive or even aggressive during sex, but if you were to ever show interest in those things, he would try them. He wanted to be whatever you'd be looking for in a person.

"Yes." He replied shyly, small smile on his lips as you let out a low, breathy moan in response to his affections.

"That was by far one of the best orgasms I've ever had, including the ones I give myself. And that's tough to match." You admitted, breathing out a chuckle. "Shit, you're gonna make girls really happy in the future."

Sal grimaced, his touch retracting from you for just one second before he collected himself. He couldn't show a reaction, he had promised you he wouldn't let his feelings get in the way of your encounters, but he'd hated the words that had just left your lips. If only you had cut your sentence short.

"Thanks, I... guess I will."

You nodded against the pillow, your hand finding his free one. You gave it a soft squeeze. "But for now, you're gonna have to settle for me." Your words were accompanied by a smile, which Sal returned brightly.

In a matter or seconds, he was happy again. All thoughts of your previous statement had been erased as hopes for a relationship overflowed his mind. It was ridiculous just how much influence you, your words and your actions had over his feelings and overall demeanor. He really was completely yours to control.