#7k roleplay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyseokmins · 1 year

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the devil wears baby blue • h.j.s.

Pairing: joshua hong x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors PLS dni!), strangers to fucking lol Warnings: joshua hong himself 🚩🚩, swearing, alcohol, reader is a menace and tease too i'm ngl, grinding, groping, slight exhibition kink, degradation, name-calling, objectification, FINGERS (all of it fingering, riding, etc), mentions of knife/surgery, choking, wbk but major hints to big cock josh 💔, marking, licking, alluding to devil imagery uwu, roleplay sort of but not really, kind of public sex acts + a mirror, manhandling, lil slaps, dangerous fashion decisions + "fun" clothing shenanigans during sex ig????, mentions of car sex and oral sex (male rec.), dirty talk (joshua won't stfu), edging, lil bit of pain kink if you squint ❤️‍🩹, and tons of banter/insults, is there a thing like a wealth kink??? - as always lmk if i missed smth WC: 7k A/N: *taps mic* would love to thank @onlymingyus and @duhnova for proofing, hyping, and supporting me on this. also ofc a huge honorary shout out to @hwanghyunjinenthusiast for the constant cheering and screeching at me in and out of dms - hope you enjoy this hehe. idk if jackie will see this but her watch post(s) helped re-inspire me to attack this wip. and finally blowing kisses to the joshushushus in my inbox, i hope you'll like this! ps if anyone recognizes where the last dialogue is from, you receive a kiss on the forehead from me and get to spend one night with joshua!! 😏

↪ this is a loosely based prequel to idiot

Seungkwan's hand lays steady on your back, guiding you through the crowd much more efficiently than you could have on your own. He has a way of navigating through the waves of people with practiced ease whereas you would rather just be swept away. It's why you enjoy going to the club with him, especially one as crazy as tonight's.

You would think you were still on the dance floor with how many people are bustling around you, mingling and giggling just as much on the sidelines as they do moving to the music. Drinks in hand, they chat and flirt with one another so it takes nearly twice as long to make it to the bar than you think it really should.

"This better be worth it," you shout directly into your friend's ear despite how close you are to him. "For the amount of times my feet have been stepped on!"

There's a sharp pinch from his fingers that snuck to your side. "Told you not to wear those stupid shoes."

Though you can't exactly hear it, you can see how his pouty lips purse out in a huff. He's also grumbling under his breath and you're able to catch bits and pieces. Things like, "won't matter" and "swept off your feet anyways" and "don't blame me" make you roll your eyes.

"Acting like this is my social debut with the prince of wales."

"Someone's been watching too much Bridgerton. And with how often you fail to come —" he's interrupted by the loud thumping of the bass, "makes sense."

"You can't possibly compare me against your standards, Mister Social Butterfly. You know everyone… and you've probably screwed a lot of them as well."

Seungkwan can only guess a gist of what you actually say and is therefore mildly tempted to let you get lost in the sea of people like he knows you'd rather prefer. But he's finally made it all the way over to what seems like an impenetrable social circle, though the group readily parts to make room for the two of you to squeeze in. So, he'll have to bring you along for the adventure.

"Hey there!"

"Hello!"

"Fancy seeing you here."

"I know, right?"

Greetings are easily interchanged. Most of them are familiar faces — friends of your own or people you've gotten to know simply through Seungkwan's ever-growing collection of new instagram posts.

Jeonghan's got some poor new soul to flirt with again and Seokmin looks like he'd rather be at home watching cooking videos. Vernon is wearing headphones of all things while Seungcheol has a shit-eating grin on his handsome face. And you instinctively know Mingyu has to be up to no good because you don't see or hear him.

Not that you're actually paying that much attention to the same-old-same people, focus naturally drawn to the tall man standing next to Wonwoo. Light brown hair curls just beneath his ears, shaggy enough that the urge to run your fingers through and imagine what the tug of strands between them might feel like consumes you. It comes as a shock, considering that Jeonghan's had the same style before and you've never felt like this.

You drink in the baby blue shirt that compliments the mystery man's skin tone, top buttons left undone to showcase the delicate silver around his throat and framed by collar bones. The fabric's elegance belies the strength of the body it clothes, material straining tastefully in the tiniest bit over a broad chest and wide shoulders. Sleeves rolled up to accentuate the flex of his forearm down to the long, long fingers wrapped all the way around the glass of alcohol held between them.

"That's Joshua Hong," Seungkwan supplies helpfully though he can't hide how smug he sounds observing you and shares a knowing look with Vernon who snickers.

"Joshua Hong," you repeat and enjoy how easy his name sounds and feels coming off your tongue. "Is that so?"

"Yeah and to my knowledge, he's extremely single."

"Don't tell me that's how you introduce me to other people."

He feigns innocence. "Can't recall but even if I did, bet it's going to work in your favor. Don't look now but it seems like you've caught a big fish."

Of course, when someone tells you not to look, the first thing you'd logically do is look. Glad you weren't caught staring earlier now that the very same man you were drooling over has noticed your existence and is staring directly at you.

Brown irises drop down to scan your figure and the suggestiveness of it lights something deep within you. You're quick to nudge off Seungkwan's arm around your waist when Joshua's eyes linger a second longer on it than you'd expect, ignoring your friend's sassy mutter of "hook, line, and sinker."

"I… I really don't like that implication, 'Kwan."

"Sure you don't."

Joshua Hong's intent gaze is far from unsavory. Even if it was more perverse in nature, you think you'd feel drunk off the same amount of power it fills you with and you haven't had a single drop of alcohol yet. A swear word escapes under your breath at the dampness of your back — and elsewhere — before sending the admiring man a demure smile of acknowledgement and turning once more to Seungkwan.

"You were criticizing my shoes earlier?"

"'Cause you can barely walk in them!"

"Then let's put these bad boys to good use."

Your friend can only shake his head as you stride away. He'll keep an occasional eye on you from afar for the rest of the night but he has a hunch things will be… fine. He hopes. Wonwoo did say Joshua was a decent man, after all.

He'll have to be… if he's willing to put up with you, Seungkwan thinks to himself with a cringe as he watches.

Vernon hands over a much appreciated beer and he sidles up to the unbothered man's side, jutting his chin out in your direction and asking, "Are you ready for some entertainment?"

"Yo, always bro."

"Cheers to that."

Meanwhile, you've made it to the new company without stumbling once — something you're very proud of. You nod at Joshua. Nothing more than a soft flutter of eyelashes, alerting him that you're aware of his presence but indulging in nothing more. Instead, you choose to lean comfortably into his companion's space.

"Hi Woo, care to share?"

The bespectacled man wordlessly offers his nearly empty glass of wine, always easygoing and ever perceptive. Unlike his best friend who never fails to be endearing but can't take a hint to save his life. One of the many reasons why Mingyu has never succeeded as a wingman — unfathomably clumsy but still loveable in all aspects to steal everyone's heart involved.

You finish the rest of Wonwoo's drink off with a satisfied hiss at the taste but not without a snort. "I didn't mean that, silly."

He cracks a smile, returning the teasing with a fake, reproaching scold of your name. "Could've told me you wanted to steal my buddy and not drain all my alcohol!"

Joshua laughs — loud and clear above the din of noises surrounding you. It has an air of gracefulness to it and you're sure the club brightens in a way that's totally not from the strobe lights going crazy.

"So, this is Seungkwan's friend…"

You jab Wonwoo's side with a huff. "Hey, I'm much more than that!"

"If it's any consolation," Joshua cuts in with another laugh and a handshake, taking on a self introduction. "I'm just some guy named Joshua. Hope that doesn't disappoint."

"Just some guy, huh? One that wears a Royal Oak?"

He thrillingly doesn't let go of your hand, keeping a firm but gentle grasp when turning it with his to properly glance at the notorious status symbol wrapped around it. The steel casing glints just as fiercely as the sapphire glass over white gold hour-markers embedded on its face.

"Yep, still just some guy that's called Josh. Joshua Hong, to be exact. Scared you off yet?"

"I wear heels that have a one hundred percent chance of breaking my ankle to a place where there's a terrible combo of dancing and drinks. But you think I'd be scared by a pretty boy wearing thirty-some jewels around his wrist?"

He steals another appreciative look up and down your body. Not as fiery as the first one but still bold without shame, striking another bolt of heat that flashes through your veins and simmers in your lower abdomen.

"Taste. And bite. I'd expect nothing less from someone like you."

"Someone like me?" you scoff as he winks, taking a step back and extending your arm as far as it will go with the notion for you to follow.

"Dance with me?"

Wonwoo had quietly faded into the background and slipped away for another refill. Smart guy. There's no one to worry about leaving behind when you accept this unfamiliar man's invitation and let him whisk you in the direction of the dancefloor. But not before catching Seungkwan's mild and supportive yet watchful gaze before he raises his beer in a mock salute.

It's almost cute at how inept Joshua is maneuvering through the tumultuous flow and ebb of moving bodies compared to said good friend. The way his taller frame looks more like a poor cruise ship tossed helplessly in the waves of the ocean than the stationary lighthouse and its reassuring beacon you'd expect causes a chuckle.

"You're almost as bad at this as I am."

He shoots an apologetic smile at the same time someone once again jostles his shoulder, pushing him closer into you. "Nightclubs really aren't my scene."

You're not complaining about the aided proximity that lets you hear what he says without strain. Although you do try to match the beat as it changes to something more sensual yet still playful. Going along with the rhythm of the other dancers rather than against much smoother than Joshua's awkward attempt to mimic. He sticks behind you, failing to hide the blatant mesmerization at how you sway effortlessly to the beat.

"You're not bad at this at all."

You shrug. "I've been here often enough to blend in better than most. So tell me, what's a rich boy's usual scene then? Shanqin Bay's clubhouse?"

"Hah, you wanna come with me sometime and find out?"

"Only if you can promise a fun experience… oh," you throw a smirk at him over your shoulder, "and to cover all the costs, of course."

"A pretty thing like you would have anyone saying yes and wrapped around your little finger."

"Maybe, but only if they're worth my attention."

"Afraid to disappoint yet again when I spend most hours of the day in the operating room."

You turn abruptly to face him, grateful for the hand that shoots out to support your elbow despite his surprise at your dubious side-eye. "Are you a doctor?"

"Maybe."

"Director's son?"

"Cliché enough for you yet?"

"I recall someone who's wearing a Royal Oak saying I had good taste so I'm not going to complain. Though it would have been quite the story to hear you were the one under the knife," you take a step closer and slip a finger underneath his silver chain to tempt him closer, "to end up looking this good." When large hands hesitate to land on your hips, you raise an eyebrow. "Thought a surgeon would have a steadier grip."

"Oh." Brown eyes flicker with a carnal desire, focusing on your lips. "You expect me to be a rich, talented playboy and not be naturally handsome too?"

"Sorry, Doctor Hong but there has to be at least something wrong with you."

The polite smile he'd been wearing all night quirks up at the corners, changing into something more on edge. A little dangerous. Beckoning excitement. He spins you back around, hands solidly landing on your sides — this time without reserve — to prevent your lower bodies from touching and changes the subject back to when you approached Wonwoo and him.

"Do you always take drinks from guys?"

"Ah, hm. Just the good ones."

"Good alcohol?" His breath is hot against the ear he's speaking directly into. "Or… good boys?"

Biting your lower lip does nothing to hide the unfettered glee you're feeling. "Alcohol, of course." A breathy sigh and you take the leap. "Want a taste?"

There's no need to ask twice. It's like the right key turning its lock. The doctor's initial awkward movements are nowhere to be found as one hand smoothly leaves your hip, turning your chin toward him to meet you halfway with his lips ready to brush against yours.

At the last minute, he backs off and turns your chin to its original position of facing forward with a smirk you can't see. Who cares about a missed kiss when his other hand slides across your stomach? Urging you to press your ass backwards and grind against the very obvious bulge that his khakis do nothing to hide.

Its growing hardness and promising length cause you to automatically moan, arching your back with the feral need to feel more. Your head tilts to the side, hips swiveling and swaying not to the beat but the rise of his cock. The position willingly grants Joshua access to lick, suck, and bite at the exposed skin.

He hums along to the music with a melodic voice from what you can hear, though you find more enjoyment in the consistent vibrations against your neck. A naughty hand plays with the tucked-in hem of your blouse and an occasional finger teasingly slips under the waistline of your jeans.

You can now feel Joshua's smirk when in turn, your fingers tangle in the bottom hairs of his mullet. His lips curl up, moving to nibble behind your other ear and breathe in your scent. As delightfully predicted, there's a distinct pull by your rings when you tug them free from the strands that has him pausing. Eliciting a sharp hiss and equally as sharp — but appreciative — thrust against your backside.

In retaliation, the lax hand caressing your throat tightens around it ever so slightly while he growls in your ear, "You said there has to be something wrong with me, right?"

"Mhm, oh yeah. Totally."

"Wanna fuck around and find out, beautiful?"

Hook, line, and sinker was damn right, Boo Seungkwan. Of course, the devil would be wearing a shirt the same shade as the sky where heaven's clouds make their home.

And you eagerly take the forbidden fruit — his hand, once again — and teeter after him. The red flags are already starting to fly at full mast but into the dimly lit hallway you go, elated to find an empty and quiet corner right before the stairs leading down to the bathrooms.

Underneath the neon glow of the exit sign, Joshua pins you against the wall with your arms laying on his shoulders. If you thought the attacks from his mouth were rough on the dance floor, they turn ten times more animalistic now that he has something to support you with other than strong arms and big hands. A pair of soft lips and the warm wet tongue between them contrast with the digging in of his teeth that follow your necklace chain to its adorning pendant.

It hangs in the v-neck window of your blouse and he lets out a tiny grunt of displeasure at the breasts being concealed away by the fabric and its many buttons. That doesn't stop him from tugging the bottom of the shirt free like a petulant child, nothing preventing his fingers now free to tickle and feel up the bare skin beneath.

This man is good at distraction. You don't think much of the light grazing beneath your tits, only a fleeting and casual touch. It feels so good when he cups under them like an additional support for the bra you're wearing and squeezes, causing you to keen and push yourself further into him. Then quick as lightning, one hand sneaks around the back to unhook the bra's clasp and the other deftly unbuttons your jeans.

"Joshua!" you squeak in protest, stepping back and pressing flat against the wall. You're quick to rush and slap a hand against your chest to keep the beloved strapless bra that's served you well from falling to the ground. "Is your red flag undressing someone in public?"

"Only if you insist 'cause surely I would never decline such a request being the gentleman that I am." The doctor makes no further move despite the way he licks his lips and teases, only chuckling at the menacing way you squint. "Just know my full intentions are to be touching all over and especially under whatever layers you're wearing very shortly."

There's no use hiding the whine that escapes when he places a hand on the wall next to you and leans in with a smirk.

"However, sweetheart… "

You catch his line of sight dart off to the left and your heart plummets, the fear of being left high and dry (wet) setting in. "Josh — "

"You'll have to forgive this rich boy's schemes. You see, I've always been very spoiled and just have to take what I want right away. And you're much too irresistible…"

He speaks casually. Like your jeans weren't suddenly unzippered and he isn't currently running a tantalizing finger on the fabric below the waistband of your panties, causing them to soaken further down. Way more than they already had and almost where you need him but also not even close in the slightest.

"Though as a rich boy," he continues, "I'm more than familiar with providing a small courtesy here and there. Would this club's filthy bathroom offer enough privacy for you, gorgeous?"

"… Only if you make sure I'm presentable enough to get down there… and back up here after, for when I have to leave with my friends."

Joshua's eyes widen before he's throwing his head back and laughing, bright and cheery like he's not going to rearrange your guts. "So you don't expect to go home with me? Maybe I won't be such a walking red flag to you."

"Doubtful. Now fix me up, Doctor."

"With pleasure."

It's not like there are as many people milling about as in the main area. Still, it's good to be conscientious. The same adept hands re-fasten your top undergarment efficiently. When he ducks his head to kindly fix your pants — which is sort of hot — you take the opportunity to whisper in his ear for shit-and-giggles to gauge his reaction.

"You know there's a front clasp too."

He glances up from where he's eye-level with your covered breasts, eyes darkening. Bingo.

"What a little whore we have here, hm?"

The nonchalant, degrading question and burning desire in his gaze makes your knees weaken, arousal skyrocketing. Enough that you almost throw all caution to the wind for him to fuck you. Right here, right now. But then he's pulling away, offering a palm you can't seem to refrain from taking a hold of. And ever the true picture of being a gentleman — helps you descend down the dark stairwell.

Your killer heels really do nothing for you physically (besides the threat of rolling an ankle) because it doesn't matter how tall or short you end up with them on. It's the confidence and ego that are heightened exponentially, which is all that matters.

That's why you follow Joshua Hong into the sketchy bathroom, let him lock the door, and bat your eyelashes with a coy smile. Leaning against the sink and fussing with your blouse as he approaches like a predator eyeing up its prey. Greedily drinking in the bare skin revealed by each button that's undone until only one is still fastened — right across your tits — that the man can unclasp himself if he so chooses.

Barely anything stopped him before anyways.

And that's what also fuels you to put your arms around his neck, pressing your bodies close together. Even closer by hooking your right leg across his hip, the point of your heel digging intentionally into the back of his other thigh. It's hot and hard — the dick bulge that keeps growing pressed tightly into the snug warmth of your core — and Joshua lets you grind down and dampen his khakis for a few moments longer than expected.

"Desperate, aren't you? Didn't wanna fuck in public 'cause you're freakier behind closed doors?"

"Just a little." You fight back the urge to whimper or admit anything to him. Like you aren't humping his length that only swells more and feels achingly thicker the harder you rut against it, eyelids fluttering the few times it's able to deliciously spread your pussy lips just the slightest through your clothes. "I'm so wet — "

"The more of a mess you leave on my pants, the longer I'll have to edge you while waiting for them to dry." Joshua grins cockily at you trying to force your hips to stop themselves only to struggle pathetically in vain. "Think you'd like that. Haven't even gotten to fuck this hot little cunt yet and I'm already certain I wouldn't mind being buried in there for hours. But don't know if your friends will stick around for that long…"

"J-Josh, ah — Shua… mhm!"

"So I think you'd better behave if you know what's good for you," he stills your hips hard, "fuckin' slut."

You mewl at the hard, rude thrust that bumps your clit as if he was actually fucking you. Like goo, you let him manhandle you around so you're bent over and facing the smudged mirror, hands gripping tightly to each side of the sink basin. Aided by the reflections, you witness how he shamelessly ogles the tempting ass that's been rubbing all over him all night. And of course that means you have to perk up and wiggle your hips, giving him quite a show.

The small distance between you clears the lust cloud and you throw a smoldering glance over your shoulder. "If you fuck me with my heels on, I'll give you a chance with them off."

Joshua swats your ass — not very hard but you release a yelp of surprise. "Wasn't aware that you were running the show, sweetheart."

"It's my backside you're looking at."

"Knew you were mouthy the minute I saw you. You're aware of how kind I am, so let me give you a choice." He's anything but kind as he sighs and leans his weight over top of you. Despite the bracing strength of his arms, you feel suffocated by just being caged in between them and the overpowering scent of his cologne. "I shut you up with either my fingers in your mouth or around your throat."

Oh… decisions, decisions! Long fingers that would surely feel best deep inside your pussy but that wasn't one of the options. You purse your lips in thought and arch up, balancing the heavy cock supported by your ass and unconsciously pouting. Joshua has the audacity to look at the time while brushing back his hair and clicks his tongue.

"Wow, I'm letting you choose between sucking on my fingers like a slut or being choked like a whore and you still can't decide? What a high maintenance toy."

The urge to scoff is extremely strong. "Sucking it is then, Doctor Hong," you say sweetly and then add with a sneer, "like the perfect slut that I truly am."

"When your friends all said you were nothing but a gentle soul, I knew they were duped. Only one was partially truthful in saying you could be sassy which doesn't even come close. Little do they know there's a bratty cockwhore with quite a bite underneath all that charm."

"Haven't fucked any of them, that's why. No plans to either."

"Yeah, what was it you like — oh right, good boys?" He laughs — low, mean, and degrading. "Then what am I, sweetheart?"

"A doctor who's full of himself and needs taken down a few, ha, pegs."

"Ah, there it is." Joshua undoes the final button, slipping a curious finger beneath the bra's front hook pulling your tits together. You shiver when it snaps against your skin after he retracts, pointer finger tracing a lazy line up your throat to its final destination. "The attitude."

You willingly part your lips, lolling your tongue out mischievously to match the roll of your eyes. "Someone gets off on it."

"Is that so?" He smears the lipgloss on your lower lip by pulling it down before releasing it. "Do you think this is all a coincidence, darling?" Meeting the hardened gaze in the mirror, you shake your head. "The minute I saw such a sparkling gem on Wonwoo's story, I just had to have it for myself."

It's not hard to guess what he's referring to. A couple weeks ago, you wore enough scraps of fabric to just cover your nipples and the areas between your legs. Drinking far too much and hanging off of the WonGyu duo's broad frames while the whole gang partied it up together at Vernon's. You had even asked them to send you the videos and pictures after because damn, you did look hot as fuck.

Who knew it would be bait for an entitled pretty boy?

"At least you waited to find me when I wasn't drunk."

"Much more fun to break someone sober."

"Glad to know consensual exists in your vocabulary."

"How about it — will you let me destroy this little pussy of yours and ruin it to keep you crawling back to me for more?"

"Sure, if you ever stop talking and actually do something — "

Joshua's quick to shut you up, almost cracking your jaw with the harsh thumb that's jammed in the corner of your mouth to prop it open. The following two fingers are thrust cruelly inside as a replacement so it can move to keep your chin steady. They're able to reach so far when pinning down your tongue, ending up wedged near the back of your throat so you're already gagging around them.

"Most sluts behave the second I drop the nice guy act. But boy oh boy, it only makes you act up more, eh?"

He finally does away with your bra to allow those gorgeous tits to spill out and casually rips the garment from your body like it's personally offended him. Maybe it has. Shoving it away into his back pocket and then urgently tugging your jeans down. The binding position you're left in helps keep your shaky legs in place while you cling to the sink like it's a lifeline. Upper body supported only by the cruel hold he has on your face until he yanks it back so you're flush against him instead, the cool baby-blue silk of his shirt set ablaze by your shared body heat.

"Next time, wear something that has easier access. Or better yet… maybe nothing at all or I'll be forced to rip it off." A piercing set of eyes attempt to glare into yours that roll back delightfully despite what's likely some snark ends up sounding all jumbled. "Oh yes, there will be a next time, sweetheart. I have to train this cunt to yearn for my cock — and you don't think you'll get it that easily, right?"

Joshua chuckles darkly knowing you can't reply. But liking to be full of surprises, you relax your upper jaw while his fingers trail across your pelvis and close your lips around the ones in your mouth. Suckling and swirling once the tension in them relaxes despite the naughty thought of biting. That doesn't eliminate the occasional graze of your teeth as a threat, responding to his words in your own way.

"Just look at yourself, slobbering all over… bet you suck cock like a champ. And prolly like it real messy. How well-trained you'd look trying to balance on these pointed heels while I fuck that bratty mouth."

You moan at the visual he's painted in your head.

"That's right, darling." There's a mean pinch to your clit followed by the man's groan at the ruined fabric squelching between his fingertips and how the covered little nub was already begging for friction. "Now tell me how long your cunt's been warming up and soaking these drenched panties?"

"Since the beginning…" you admit once he's freed your sore mouth and chooses to bully your breasts next. "When you looked at me."

He snickers, pushing your underwear to the side and petting at the bare slippery folds. Just able to barely see a small glimpse of where his actions play with your lower body in the mirror. At least your expressions make up for what he misses seeing.

"Aw, this soft pussy started drooling the minute I laid eyes on you? While I was imagining all the things I could do to these tits," the hand on one of them palms at the rounded flesh hard. "This ass," his pelvis grinds in a slow circle against it. "Mhm, and of course, this hidden gem."

At that, a thumb brutally rubs at your clit while plunging a finger inside the warm, wet walls that eagerly pulse around it. You weren't wrong about how good the digit would feel inside, the length and stretch of its bony knuckle feeling good enough to substitute as a mini-dick when Joshua starts a slow and methodical pace with it.

"Thought about having you spread out in the backseat of my Bugatti La Voiture Noire, you'd look like a vision laying across its leather seats. And the best thing? No one can see inside so you'll get your much desired privacy while being right out in the open."

Then he's adding another finger, longer than the first. And finally one more with an additional push in and out of the others. Clearly his experience on how to work a pussy is more than helpful. Alternating between stuffing your hole full of all three or changing up the pace and number each turn.

And of course, your chest is attended to as well. Both nipples tugged in iterations to match the rhythm of each finger spearing into your cunt, the pendant of your necklace bouncing in time. Without fail, he hits the bundle of nerves with a deadly precision that has you going slack against him.

"Maybe we should do that 'cause," he mumbles in your ear, "this filthy hole is awfully good at convincing me to spoil its owner like no one else. Let's see if it can tell me how much it'll want me to fill it up one day."

Your ears ring with the devastating screams of white noise at the sudden stop. The moans you were letting out trail off into a dissatisfied growl. His hand falls away from your upper body while the one in between your legs merely sits nice and snug, still inside but not moving. Far too relaxed, limp even.

"Joshua!"

"C'mon, weren't you listening? Convince me."

"Fuck you," is what you spit out, glaring at the challenging and impossibly smug reflection of the menace behind you.

"You didn't say fuck off, so… I'm waiting."

Another check at his watch like he's bored infuriates you enough to move your hips. Whining at how his fingers fail to stiffen and only follow your pitiful motions back and forth. Out of protest, you reach behind and take a harsh hold of the hard length you're able to grab.

"Watch it, darling!" Joshua flinches and the way his cock twitches dulls the venomous words that come next. "Or I'll leave you here all needy and by yourself, waiting for some other pathetic dick to hop onto in order to satiate just a little bit of this wet and slutty pussy's behaviors."

Well, that idea doesn't appeal to you whatsoever so you lean on the sink with a huff to do what needs done. It's a struggle to stay balanced on your heels while grabbing at his wrist but a small part of you knows he won't let you fall, a bicep supporting under your breasts. Revenge comes sweetly by digging your nails into the tense muscle of his forearm and leaving scratch marks that have him hissing.

And now you know for sure — despite the doctor's incredibly huge ego and big talk, Joshua Hong's no better than a painslut.

"Hah," you breathe out and start to slowly rock your hips. "Disrespectfully, go to hell."

Ignoring the abrasive insult — because he's a demon anyways — Joshua focuses on the wet suctioning sound growing louder the faster you move. The feeling of your tits and necklace hitting his arm to the beat of your hip bounces and enjoying the view of how his fingers disappear beyond the jiggle of your asscheeks. Up into the tight heat of velvety walls as you force his hand to behave and serve your needs like one of your dildos, though they've never been this uncooperative.

"That's it. Yeah, there we go… just like that. Go ahead and make yourself cum riding my fingers, beautiful. Uh-huh, now who's using me like a little whore to get off?"

You're already losing yourself. Waiting for that rising wave to crest because despite his annoying mouth, Joshua's fingers are more than skilled enough to hurl you into a delightful climax. As long as nothing interrupts it.

"Answer me — or I'll make you choke yourself."

"Mhm…"

He likes seeing how your face contorts, moans getting louder. It's too addicting which is why he growls out, "Do it."

It's a feat to let go of the sink but the reward is to move his arm around your bra-line to your throat, making his hand envelope it. The visual in the mirror is depraved — limbs all wrapped and tangled with each other — and your half-closed eyes taunt the searing gaze in the mirror, repeating his words right back.

"Why not do it yourself, Doctor?"

"Are you some sort of succubus or what?" He spits out the question like it's the germs on the toilet seat next to you. Freeing himself momentarily from the grip of your hand and your cunt, the man's at least nice enough to assuage the pissed off whine with a consoling lick up your neck and tugs impatiently at your pants. "Take these off."

"Go fuck yourself," you mutter darkly with half the mind to walk out of there. But you do as he says, quickly shimmying them off while your clit buzzes and twitches angrily at the neglect of stimulation again.

Joshua's eyes don't look away, his hands steadying your hips and your pussy aching when you hear how he slowly slurps on his fingers to clean them. Once you step back into your heels, he throws the jeans over his shoulder.

"Careful with the phone," you threaten.

Joshua snorts and bends over to secure a strap for you — sucking harshly on the skin of your thigh as a "you're welcome" but pulling away before your hands can tangle in his hair and keep him down there.

"Wrong thing to say to someone who likes broken and expensive things. Shouldn't you be warning me not to break something else?" Suddenly, your other shoe dangles precariously off your foot when he uses a strong hand to lift and support your leg onto the sink's surface. "Like this poor pussy?"

The straining burn in your muscles and the added chill of the porcelain is all alleviated by harsh rubbing at the tender skin of your entrance. Middle and pointer finger eagerly prying sloppy pussy lips apart once again.

"Ah, but I might enjoy that."

A clear glob of arousal drips from your hole fluttering and clenching around nothing. Joshua leers hungrily past your shoulder at the mirror's erotic display of your exposed cunt and the wetness shining under the buzz of the bathroom's fluorescent lights.

"Dirty and yet it's such a pretty little jewel. Sparkling and glistening so, so lovely that I can't wait to watch it shatter while playing with it."

Finally, all three fingers from before work in tandem to scissor repeatedly inside of your tight warmth without forgiveness. This time, the devil has nothing but good intentions to send you over the peak of pleasure. His eyes can't stop feasting on the raunchy way your greedy hole gobbles up his fingers. The loud squelches accompanying his motions echo around the small enclosed space, mixing with the warm breath hitting the side of his cheek from your gasping moans.

Joshua thinks it's mighty cute how puffy your outer pussy lips grow and struggle to spread around the thick and long digits shoved inside plus the onslaught of his thumb bullying your clit. The angle shows the slightest bulge of them relentlessly stroking the bundle of nerves that has your leg twitching from the sheer pleasure.

He focuses on bringing you there, all on what you're feeling rather than his own pleasure because you have the most convincing cunt ever that deserves to be ravaged by a large, girthy cock. A shame it has to wait because he cannot give in so easily. But you're definitely a piece of work. Joshua likes that.

"Gonna keep making a mess on my fingers, darling? Leave 'em all sweet and wet enough for me to wrap around my dick later and pretend it's your pussy instead."

You'll be the death of him when your head rolls into the crease of his neck, drool dampening the skin as you mouth senselessly at the vein protruding beneath. There's a sharp sting — the certain kind he hasn't felt in a very long time. A telltale warning of a hickey, the beautiful colors of red and purple already rushing to the surface and decorated by little nips of your teeth after you soothe the pain with your tongue.

No one marks up Joshua Hong. Sure, he's had lipstick stains before but those can easily be swiped off with a handkerchief and washed away in the shower. He can't help but smirk though, knowing when he eventually wipes your sticky lipgloss off, something of you will remain for a bit.

However you can't go without a little punishment. If you can even call it that when he returns to wrapping a hand around your throat. Anyone else who dared to leave a mark would be walked away from. But you — you simply lose enough oxygen causing your head to spin more pleasantly than it already is.

And you claw at his forearm, scratching it up ten times more to serve as a further reminder for Joshua to look at. You're by no means urging him to stop but to earnestly keep going while simultaneously searching for something — anything — to anchor you down as you float into an almost unconscious state of pure ecstasy.

It's by far the strongest, most intense orgasm you'd ever experienced. Becoming nothing but a bag of bones in his arms as your walls pulsate around his fingers and the fruitful expenditure of your release drips down his wrist.

He stays in that position, unable to move anyways with the vice-like grip of your spasming cunt cramping his fingers. Instead, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible by squeezing and releasing the pressure on your throat over and over again. The true picture of debauchery — heaven and sin mixed in one — and he kind of wishes for a third arm to take a photo for a keepsake.

Everything in your body aches deliciously. You feel both refreshed and exhausted when you finally come to and even then Joshua supports your weak body as you try to regain control over your wits and whereabouts.

"Pants," you croak out and wave him off when he tries to gentlemanly assist. Which he still kind of has to when you almost topple face-first on legs that feel like jelly. "Bra."

Joshua's a little less enthusiastic to hand that over, bitter sarcasm lacing his words. "Wow, won't even grant me a souvenir?"

"Boo-hoo," you gripe back and pretend not to notice the eyes glued to the way your tits bounce when adjusting the garment around them. Turning to look in the mirror, you work on dulling the "just got fingered in the bathroom" appearance. "It's not like you need one and it seems even less likely you'll keep anything from a stranger, especially lingerie."

"Hm, I like how well you read me."

"Of course you do, fuels that large privileged ego. Don't get used to it. But, want me to do something about that one though?"

He coughs at the rather suggestive insult, shifting his pants and shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the messy boner you're referencing. "Guess I did a great job if you're begging for it already."

"Oh, for goodness sake I'm being courteous."

"Cute."

Joshua admits it almost like he's startled by the words that escape his mouth. Further surprising both of you with a clumsy, sloppy kiss to the cheek when he leans over to fasten the top button of your blouse. As if embarrassed, he's already halfway out the door when he remembers to mention, "I'll be thinking of you darling, look forward to your call!"

You're left staring at the saliva spot reflected on your cheek in shock. And then, you wipe it off with the rest of the accumulated sweat to make yourself a bit more presentable and then head back to the club as naturally as possible.

Dr. Hong is seemingly nowhere in sight as expected. You figure it would be hard to return with a raging boner despite the low lighting and he probably left through the back exit to likely jerk off in his ridiculously expensive car. The visual of white ropes of cum streaming past the steel band of the Royal Oak around his wrist haunts your mind, making your aching core buzz to life again and your sticky panties even grosser.

Out of pure spite, you hope he stains his shirt too.

Luckily, Seungkwan is still at the bar when you wobble over in search of him. He shouts your name in mock shock, assessing your appearance with pursed lips and eyeballing your figure dubiously.

"You look like hell."

"Yeah?" you laugh it off as nonchalantly as possible, unaware of the phone in your back pocket lighting up with a returned text message from a newly saved number and a scandalous picture attached. "I just got back."

onlyseokmins: July 2023 ©

#ez.creates #svthub #joshua hong smut #joshua smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #smut #hong joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #if this flops so does the hong schlong #i fist fought this joshua in the parking lot and WON #svt.smut

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bitchgray · 1 year

Text

I Dream Of You

You've met a wonderful man...now you just need the help of a certain dealmaker to keep him. And luckily, he knows just what he might want from you.

Word Count: 7K

Dividers both by cafekitsune.

Tags: afab but gn!reader (reader's described as having breasts and wearing a two-piece swimsuit, and is mentioned as being able to carry children), established relationship, roleplay (Azul pretends to be a manipulative asshole for fun, sport, and sexual gratification on both your parts), dubcon (as part of the aforementioned scene), tentacles (so many fuckin tentacles he's an octomer what do you expect), I take liberties with guessing mer anatomy, oral (sort of? He sticks his fingers and one of the aforementioned tentacles in your mouth), breeding kink, praise, petnames (pretty thing, darling, pearl), creampie

Author's Note: I'd call this Kinktober but I don't think I'll write more, so I'm just uhhh....stuffing as many kinks as I can into this and calling it a day.

You wished the sound of the waves were soothing to you. The feeling of the cool water lapping at your feet, the salt in the air, the heat of the sun on your skin. You wished any of it could be soothing to you.

As of this moment, though, more than anything, they were reminders. Forcing you to keep your resolve or be left on your own. And that, more than anything…you knew you couldn’t manage.

The potion you held in a stoppered glass vial would work marvelously, you had no doubts for that, all that would be left…is to simply drink it.

All you could do was take a slow breath of the stinging, salty air, and muster what little courage you could have.

With hands that were steadier than the way you felt, you undid the stopper of the bottle and knocked back the potion—it felt ice-cold on your tongue, making you cough when you finally swallowed all of it.

You looked briefly back at the abandoned, rocky shore, doubts swirling in your mind.

And you took slow, measured steps into the waves, letting the water consume you.

You knew how to find where you needed to go. Beneath the waves you were able to breathe just as easily as you could above, and your body was resistant to the pressure, your eyes were adapting faster to the light dimming from the surface. Even the cold wasn’t clinging as easily, your body adapting to more and more as you slowly walked your way to the cave where you knew you’d be able to get what you wanted.

“Hello?” An odd thing, the way your voice reverberated underwater, but your newly-sharpened gaze caught on to a flutter of movement deeper into the cave. Your brow furrowed—you knew you had the right place, so was it as simple as no one being here at the moment?

You hesitated at the entrance once more, but wandered in all the same.

You came to the conclusion by the sight of the space someone else clearly lived here—or at least it wasn’t uninhabited for very long at a given time. Small collections of bottles, tinctures sat in clear view on a table. A large tome, some glimmering collection of metal ores and precious stones sat in clear view.

Your curiosity was rather good at getting the better of you—you didn’t notice the way a shadow from the deeper part of the cavern reached out behind you, many-limbed and wanting.

You shrieked in surprise as it did, as suddenly you were yanked back from the table, from the light, into the entryway into a deeper part of the cave, and a hand sealed itself over your mouth, muffling your surprised, frightened struggle against the arm that held you tight against a bare chest, that pinned your arms to you with surprising strength.

“Shhh little human.”

The voice was lilting, warm, even, as it tried to soothe you—as warm as his touch and the appendages that you knew even in the dark to be tentacles from how they felt, weaving around you in cautious but eager motions, suckers fluttering over the soft of your skin.

You squeaked behind his hand as one of those tentacles suddenly wormed its way up your inner thigh, and you squeezed your legs shut, trapping it in place, your heart pounding in a way that decidedly didn’t get soothed any by his laughter, by the way his tentacles now worked with a stronger want to feel every inch of your skin in a way that made you squirm, only at first in resistance.

“What’s such a pretty thing like you coming wandering into my home?” he hummed, idly, as though he’d forgotten that you can’t answer him with his hand over your mouth, leaving you to fight back a smile as his tentacles hit sensitive flesh, and fighting further to stifle your laughter and failing. “Are you h—” he paused, suddenly, his seductive question cut short and you knew you’d been caught, your grin beneath his hand growing as he freed your mouth. You were still trying to restrain yourself when he asked, incensed, “Are you laughing?”

“You’re the one tickling me!” you accused, giggling while you spoke—and as another one of his tentacles curled covetously over your collarbone to tease at the the tie of your swim top, you jolted. Another peal of laughter graced him from you while he shook his head, all amusement.

“You really are just the most sensitive creature alive,” he hummed, willing his body to pause in its exploration of you, but pressing affectionate kisses to your throat, your jaw, your cheek.

“You can’t judge me for it, Azul,” you played up the way you were whining, wriggling in his grasp, pouting. “I’m helpless, can’t you tell? It’s unfair.”

“Oh so now you want to play your role,” he hummed, a soft huff of laughter on his breath. “And you were the one saying you had difficulty getting immersed.” His faux petulance pulled another little stream of giggles, leading you to nuzzle a little more towards him, which he couldn’t help but smile at, pecking your lips before he asked, “Done being ticklish?”

“Only if you’re done tickling me,” you replied, and his hand slid back up to your cheek, turning you to look towards him, to let him run his thumb over your lips.

It felt strange, to see the way his expression morphed, trying to play into the role of the one who takes from others, the one who gets what he craves, hiding under myriad disguises his role as one who simmers in his wants when it comes to you.

“Such a sweet little thing, mm? Do all humans wander as much as you do?”

“I—I was curious.” It was funny—suddenly you did feel rather small. Something in his words, his tone, the way he was curled up all around you, touching you, clinging to you, covering as much as he could—it was a novel experience, feeling small, but it wasn’t a bad one by far, at least not with him.

Still, though, his displeasure, written plain on his face, made your heart twist—your excuse wasn’t good enough, clearly.

“And your curiosity lead you to intrude on my home.”

“I—I didn’t—”

“Surely you don’t believe me to be so stupid, do you?” he hummed, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not the first human to come here for one.”

“F-for—”

“A deal.”

All his tentacles pulsed around you at the word, drawing a gasp as they began moving again, some of the larger suckers now beginning to catch onto your skin as they held you still.

You drew in a sharp breath, feeling them begin to work marks onto you, flushing as you suddenly feel very much like prey in his grasp.

And for a moment, you stood just like that, trying to restrain the way you shivered at the movement of his tentacles, the intensity of his pretty blue gaze, the movement of his thumb over your lips, tried so very hard to settle back into the role you were playing, hold back on your want to kiss him. Only for him to suddenly pull away, releasing you from his grasp, save for one, solitary tentacle winding up your forearm. With a firm insistence, he dragged you through the water, further into the darkness of his home. Eventually, he stopped, your eyes adjusting enough to the lack of light to see that he had settled himself onto a worn-away hollow of rock, one that looked almost like a throne when he settled onto it. He pulled you over another couple steps, to allow you to settle onto another, smaller stone seat.

All the while, that tentacle remained curved on your arm like a shackle, trapping you before him as king when he asked, “You came here for a reason. I’m not so cruel as to turn you out for simply surprising me. So tell me what you want, and perhaps I can help you.”

Your heart pounded. It wasn’t a request, you knew that from the way the tentacle was wound around you. You were trapped by this point. Your gaze turned back to the light drifting lazily from the rest of the world in the main cavern, but you were anchored in your seat in the dark with him.

He could feel your pulse from where it was wrapped around your wrist, you knew it from how the sucker was fluttering over it, this close to trying to worry another mark onto your skin. He was smirking at you, waiting for you.

“There’s…there’s a man on the surface.” Your eyes flicked over to find him staring back at you, amusement written all over his face, an eyebrow arched, “He’s wonderful, and everything I could ever hope to love, but I know he doesn’t…I know he doesn’t see me. Not—not like that at least. I made a mistake in how I approached him at first and it—it colored everything wrong. I—I was hoping you would be able to help me get him to—to look at me.”

He hummed, tilting his head, considering you, your story—you could feel the way his gaze landed on you, making you squirm well before you met his eye. “You’ve exhausted every other option before coming to me, I assume?”

“I tried.”

“Well, he sounds like a waste of a man if he can’t—”

“No!” Your vehemence surprised him, but you stuck to it, looking down at your hands, “He’s—he’s smart, and he’s beautiful, and he’s so passionate about so much it makes me smile just to think of him, it…” You trail off, softening your voice, warming it when you meet his eye to murmur, “He means everything to me.”

It has the result you wanted. Even in the dim light, you could watch the splash of color paint his cheeks when he suddenly pieced together that you were talking about him. The slip doesn’t last, though it does make you have to stifle a giggle when he cleared his throat before saying, “Regardless, if the fool can’t even look at such a prize as you and see you, well. Is he even worth the trouble?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I had my doubts,” you answered, easily, and he hummed.

“Very well, then. I suppose if you’re so certain, then there needn’t be any hesitation on my part, either. So—in terms of payment for services to be rendered—”

“I have—”

He raised a hand, cutting you off. “I have no interest in any valuables—and I’m certain you could ascertain by now that I have no interest in surface dweller’s money. What I’m interested in is a service of your own.”

The confusion that fluttered over your expression seemed to please him. “What…service?” If it was something to be done down here, surely he has any number of merfolk as customers—did he need something from the surface?

The question brought a smile to his face, languid, relaxed, and a few more of his tentacles, eager in their intentions, began seeking where you sat, curling idly at your ankles, up your shins. “You see, I’ve always had some rather specific curiosities regarding humans, curiosities I believe you can provide an answer for.”

“You want…information?” The trade confused you, it seemed like such a light cost.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” The answer would have come as far less confusing were it not for the way his touch squeezed at your limbs, covetously. “But what better way to learn than hands-on? What better way to satisfy one’s wants than to simply…touch?”

Your face dropped in realization. “Y-you mean…”

“In exchange for the adoration of your beloved on the surface, tonight, you’ll offer your body to me until I am entirely satisfied,” he murmured, his lips quirked as his eyes dragged over you. “In both my curiosity and in my…other wants.”

“Oth—oh.” You knew you were flushed at the implication, and he was grinning, playing his wicked role eagerly.

“Such a small price to pay, surely? After all, I have every intention of ensuring you enjoy it, too. And your lover, he would never have to know.”

You paused, trying to wrack your brain for anything else you could do, but he had laid his terms out plainly—if you wanted his help, he wouldn’t accept anything other than this, and you had no room to bargain.

In a flourish, he produced a piece of parchment and a pen for you. On it, written in a practiced hand, were the terms of your agreement, laid out plainly, in the same wording as before.

(You spotted the slight shake in his handwriting in an instant—he must have drafted this well before you’d come here for this, had he been excited at the time? As excited as you felt right now, having to stifle your smile?)

All you needed to do was sign…

But you paused before pen hit paper, and he sighed—you knew in an instant that he spotted your indecision. “It seems you’re hesitant after all.” Before you could blink, the contract was back in his possession, well out of reach as he wandered away towards some alcove deeper in his home. “I suppose you’ll simply have to wait for your clueless lover to finally piece his wits together—if he even does that. Such a shame.”

“W-wait!”

He paused, eyes tracing languidly back over towards you, over his shoulder, eyebrows raised gracefully. You clenched your jaw—he knew he had you, hook, line, and sinker.

Still—you didn’t have another choice.

“You’ll—you’ll listen to me if I tell you to stop?”

His eyes softened, no small shimmer of mercy from the one who just moments prior negotiated the price of your body. “Of course. I promise.” The words held weight, coming from him.

“And—you won’t hurt me?”

“I have no interest in hurting you. Quite the opposite.”

“…Give me the pen.”

And he was back in an instant by your side, contract detailing your deal opened to show its entirety. With one arm around you, he offered a pen, the other the paper.

Your eyes flitted over the words on the page once more as you slowly lifted the pen, and you, finding it to your satisfaction, signed your name.

And his smile only grew. “Thank you for your patronage.” As the contract was stolen away by one of his tentacles, the pen by the other, he took your hand in his to press his lips to your skin, leaving you shivering as he trailed his lips up. Only when he reached your shoulder did he murmur, “I believe I’ll be taking my payment now.”

He was on you in an instant again, a mirror to how he pulled you tight against him when he first saw you wandering about his home aimlessly, only this time, his hand had decided to busy itself to pulling at your clothes, untying things in a rush, all pretenses gone in favor of hunger in his touch. His tentacles were no less wanting, pulling at you, leaving more red marks up your legs and over your stomach as your shorts were shucked down and top untied and unwound from your body by his wanting hands, leaving you dizzy in the sudden way you were laid bare for him.

“Wait—,” your words choked in sensitivity as a tentacle traced over your collarbone, but to his credit, it took little more than that and a moment to process for him to pause, to give you the second it took you to draw in a shaky breath, look away and murmur, “P-please be gentle?”

He blinked, surprised by the request, but his scheming belied something warmer when he murmured, “As gentle as you like, pretty thing.” His hand caressed your cheek gently, guiding you to look back towards him—letting his lips meet yours.

His words and his actions felt separated, the way he kissed you every inch of that hunger that his stilled limbs no longer betrayed—you almost wanted to laugh, the role all but abandoned in favor of finally having what he wanted. You would have laughed were you not responding just as eagerly.

When finally he pulled away, your eyes fluttered as you leaned closer to him, leaned in for more, only to gasp when one of his tentacles made sudden, unapologetic contact with your inner thigh again. Only this time, the way your legs were already trapped made it impossible for you to shut them against the touch, only shiver as he trailed teasingly closer to his prize. His arm around you, trapping your arms tight against your body, left you helpless despite your struggling against him.

He could feel how your pulse raced when he pressed his lips to the skin of your throat, feel the way your head tilted to give him more access to trail kisses, to nip when his tentacle finally made contact with you, gliding smoothly up and down your heated core.

Your lips pressed tight together, muffling your whimper at your throat.

His response was immediate—his teeth sinking into your shoulder in warning, releasing that noise. He kissed the injury softly when his teeth released you, leaving you shivering in his hold, trying to press your hips closer to his touch. It was clear that he just wanted you to showcase every sound you make, to refuse to hide from him—just what he liked.

In spite of your own inability to do so without embarrassment melting you far too quickly into someone who wants to, needs to hide.

But the issue was, of course, that he offered you no way to hide. You were trapped, exposed for him—you were the focus of every one of his senses in the hopes of teasing you to the point of getting you shaking for him, exactly how you were.

So all your best intentions to mute the sounds of your enjoyment to him while he was focused on tormenting you were laid to waste the moment he made contact with your clit, leading you to gasp—and leading him to react, far too quick for you to counter in any way before two of his fingers were in your mouth, keeping it, keeping you open for him.

You whined at the sudden exposure, the realization you wouldn’t be able to hide half as easily anymore, and he, the picture of affection despite the debauched nature of what he was doing to you, pressed myriad kisses to your hair, your burning cheeks, your throat, while his tentacle kept swirling around your clit. The slow, measured pace which at first felt like too much on the little bud, slowly became too little—not nearly enough for you to be pushed anything closer to what you already felt yourself aching for.

You ran your tongue over his fingers, dipping between them for a tease, and you felt him shudder, the suckers that were on your body fluttering with the motion, before some few began to start focusing on leaving their marks.

You were going to have constellations of his touch left behind when he was done with you, stars for him to plot with only slightly apologetic kisses afterwards. But you couldn’t even care—not yet, at least. No, for the moment, you were too busy trying to aid that slippery tentacle over your clit, increase its lazy, idle pace. Another of his tentacles wound up your body, curling over one of your breasts to squeeze at you, playing with your nipple—you tried to arch more into his touch and his arm around your waist suddenly tightened, pinning you right back against him.

You whined pathetically against his fingers, and he couldn’t help but coo his sympathies in response, “Poor thing, is even this too much for you?” knowing full well the way you would wriggle, struggling to try and free your mouth enough to say every needy thing you were thinking, begging for.

It’s not enough. Please, more.

But his fingers stayed stubbornly rooted in your mouth, playing in the slick of your saliva, pinning your tongue into place much the same way he had pinned the rest of your body into place against him. Frustrating as he was, as his chuckles were, his touch was laden with affection, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your ear, your throat, his suckers dotting hungrily over your skin. Denying you any answer that might prompt him to pity, to offering you relief.

You knew you were shaking when one of his tentacles finally reached up to your core to start playing in your slick—you knew that you were wriggling your hips towards his touch, in spite of the way his strength pinned you back to him. You couldn’t help the soft, pleading noises leaving you, couldn’t help the way you struggled against his grip for more, couldn’t help listening to your body’s desperation.

You sucked in a breath when the tip of his tentacle dipped into you, freezing, hoping to coax him further into you.

Whether it was pity or him giving into temptation, he eased his way into you slowly, squeezing his way in through your slick, finally filling you.

All at once, the physical relief of simply that struck, feeling the way his tentacle moved inside you to better hit your sensitive spots, and you went lax, the way you writhed before reduced to placid shivering against him—a fact which left him pleased, if the way his lips curled at your shoulder was any indication.

“Yes…such a sweet thing,” he practically purred as you let him have his way, his steady pace over your clit, the new sensation of his tentacle lazily curling inside you, widening you, stroking incessantly over the sensitive spot inside you.

You whimpered and he hummed, softly, curling his limbs further around you, squeezing you like a breath, layering suckers over your nipples to taste your skin, and leaving you completely and utterly aware of but one thing—him. His touch, his voice, his teasing, him filling you up, playing with your clit in a way that shot sparks of pleasure up your spine.

You wanted to call his name, you wanted to kiss him.

You wished you could beg for him, but all you could do was lean into his lips when they touched your cheek, pouting, trying to catch his eye to plead for more..

Slowly, as he moved in and out of you, as he laved his touch over your clit, you could feel tension beginning to return to your body, winding you tighter and hotter, a coil in your belly you couldn’t ignore.

Couldn’t ignore, certainly, but couldn’t do much anything about, with how firmly he was holding you still.

You settled for whining against his fingers again, trying to writhe as he held you tighter, trying to moan, “More,” around his fingers, squeezing around the tentacle inside you.

And that he seemed to enjoy, you squeezing around him spurring new movement, a shaky noise against your skin as a moment of tension seemed to squeeze through him, too—betraying the simple fact that he was far more affected than his controlled motions seemed to suggest.

Still, though, you were beholden to his pace—beholden to the way he wanted to stretch every motion, every moment out. You were his, after all, were you not? His to play with, now that your name sat on that contract, promising him your body to explore, to tease, to fuck until satisfied.

You would have your pleasure. But this was about his enjoyment of it far more than your own experience.

And he was so enjoying your desperate, indistinct pleads.

Enjoying himself enough that before too long, you felt something new suddenly touching your skin, slapping hot and slick against your back with a low, pleased hum from Azul. His cock had finally worked itself free from his sheath, and was free to writhe against your lower back for some friction he sought out, too, subconsciously, his hips working to try and provide it.

The feeling made you shudder and clench around him, your eyes squeezing shut to block from your sight the vision of his smugness, his teasing.

“I suppose this is your first…encounter of this variety with my kind?” He didn’t wait for you to respond before continuing, “Cum for me, pretty thing, and you’ll get to have every inch of me, just like you want, mm?”

And like that his pace increased, over your clit, pistoning into you, pushing right up against your sweet spot.

You had no choice but to scream, to wail around his fingers’ best attempts to muffle you, though even those best attempts were withdrawn, letting you try and fail to muffle yourself.

He didn’t let you thrash too much against him, strong enough, content enough to pin you to him and hush you, soothingly. He enjoyed it, you knew, when you whined, when you tried to break free of his strength, when your head lolled to the side to let his lips take their fill of your skin.

He enjoyed the sounds you made all the more when he didn’t pull away after your orgasm settled and every touch became pleasure bordering on pain.

“A—ah—Azul it’s too much!”

The slight slip of your role in your desperation to be able to breathe again under the building wave of pleasure you were drowning in wasn’t met with acknowledgement, he was too busy grinning at the way you struggled against him, kissing at the tears that gathered, hot and sweet on your lashes.

You sobbed in your relief when he finally eased up, that tension disappearing, melting you against him as you shuddered through the remaining aftershocks.

Softly, you recognized the way he murmured, “So good,” against your skin.

For a time, this was all—simply him holding you, floating idly through the water as your head lolled back onto his shoulder, your eyes trying to flutter open.

His cock wriggling at your back, hungry for your attention.

“Azul.” Your whine of his name couldn’t keep him from humming out a soft laugh as he broke character, shifted his arm around you to let you lift your hand to card through his hair. It was calming to you, and a brief reminder, amid the broken character of just how easily he bent to your whims in the most adorable way.

You tugged him closer to nuzzle against his cheek, and he relished it, leaning into your affections like an anemone tugged by the force of the waves, rushing into your pull without thought or question.

At least, for a time, before he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and extricated your errant hand from his hair, pressing a kiss to your wrist before wrapping you back up in him.

“You’ve been so good for me,” he hummed, his eyes lidded, his grin regaining a touch of an edge, like a knife, like a promise. “You’ll have me, now.”

He shifted, repositioning you with his strength a little further up, giving his cock room to slip beneath you, wriggling eagerly against the sensitive skin of your heat. You flinched, and his lips were on your temple in an instant to murmur those same, soothing hushing sounds.

In time, you relaxed, drawing in shaky, excited breaths as his cock slowly began to push into you, the spade-shaped tip catching your breath as it slipped its way inside you.

“So good,” he murmured again, though his voice had grown taut in his restraint, in how cautiously he entered you, wanting to keep from causing any undue discomfort. You whined, wriggling in his grasp as best you could to tempt him further into you, his touch making you realize how empty you felt.

When at last he bottomed out, you breathed a sigh of relief, even as you tried to not twitch, squirming at the way his cock still moved inside you, instinct bidding it to seek more friction.

You squeezed around him and he gasped, softly—your own instincts pushing you now to press your lips to his heated skin, his jaw, his cheeks, his lips when finally he turned enough to let you and he melted.

You moaned, freely against his lips, as even just this, even just kissing seemed to send his cock writhing inside you for stimulation. Still, though, you tried to pin your focus on him—the way he melted even without you being able to touch him, even with every chance for him to turn the tables, have you weak, pliant against him, he let you have this. He wanted this, and you wanted to provide, you wanted to distract him from his chosen role.

Of course, he wouldn’t let himself be for long—wouldn’t let you tear his control of this, of you from his eager fingers for very long, grabbing your cheeks to pull your lips from his.

You pouted, whining your displeasure while your eyes fluttered open. He was panting for breath, but his limbs, shifting like the tides, curled covetously around you once more when he murmured, “You really are so sweet to me. Such a perfect little prize, aren’t you?”

One more, chaste kiss to your lips before he tilted your head back—and through the slight opening he negotiated of your jaw, one of his tentacles took advantage, prising your jaw open further and pushing its careful, slow way into your throat.

Vaguely, the taste of your own slick registered on your tongue, and you realized that this was the tentacle he had stuffed into you moments ago, and that knowledge had you clenching on his cock again as his tentacle began to move, thrusting in and out of your mouth, toying with your tongue. You whined—for want of kissing, for embarrassment, for need, it didn’t matter, the sound was torn from your throat regardless, and Azul soaked it in gladly, pressing kisses to the corner of your eye, hot with tears, to your cheek, hot with want, to your throat, your shoulder, each dotted with a gentle little, “Perfect,” possessive and pleased.

Your tongue traced over one of the suckers on the tentacle in your mouth and he shivered, his cock pulsing inside you. And just like that he began moving, sinking deeper into you, curling into you harder to feel the way you squeezed around him. And when that wasn’t enough, in his mind, his fingers which had been previously in your mouth moved down to your clit—you squealed around the tentacle in your mouth, but it just pushed further into you in careful measure—leaving you shaking in your effort to break free, though you had no results for how he held fast to you, not letting you escape the pleasure he was subjecting you to.

From the years you had been with him, you knew the signs that he was trying to hide, knew that he was closer to cumming than he hoped to be, weak in equal measure for you, and to how long he had been waiting to indulge himself in your body.

You tried to sink into the illusion he was hoping to put on, wriggling in his hold to keep him content with capturing you again and again, softly punishing each slight with further touch—a harsh squeeze to your breast, his pace over your clit intensified, the pace of his cock inside you slowing, a bite to your shoulder. Any of it, all of it combined to make you whine, moan, sob. All of it pushing you closer to your own orgasm once more.

“You were made for me, weren’t you?” The question was too hungry to be idle, to sound as teasing as he hoped—it was like he was licking his lips with just the thought. “So pretty, so soft, so wonderful.” He hummed, pressing another kiss to the crux of your shoulder and throat to feel you shiver in his arms. “Temptation has never looked so sweet as it looks on you. You were made for me to fill, you—” his fingers sped up over your clit and he sucked in a breath, released on a soft moan as you squeezed around him—and the thought occurred to him, “You were made to carry my babies, weren’t you?”

He moaned again, though the sound was equal parts pleasure and faux mourning, trailing off into a chuckle. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to let you go after this,” he hummed, the lightness of his voice a direct contrast to the heavy, wanting way his tentacles and arms clung to you, filling you, making it so all you could feel was him. “You started this for wanting a man on the shore, but surely he could never make you feel this good, mm? Ignoring you as he has? And you promised that you’d satisfy me—perhaps I’ll never be satisfied with you. Perhaps I’ll—” the same image sparked in his mind that choked his voice off into a moan, his cock pulsing in you before he finished, “Perhaps I’ll keep you here forever, fill you with my cum, keep you all to myself.” The idea had you whining—tightening around him in a way that made him moan, but not lose any of his pride in the way you melted for him. “You like that, do you?” he asked, and you tried to squirm away, or at least give some response, but his limbs held you in place, and the tentacle in your mouth seemed stubborn to steal all responses past weak whimpers. “What a treasure you are, so sweet. That fool on the surface has no idea what he’s missing.” Tears beaded in the corner of your eyes again for him to kiss as he purred out, “Are you close, darling?” Desperately, you nodded, moaning around his tentacle, a sound that choked out as it delved deeper into your throat. “Would you like me to make you cum?” You tried again, and the noise drawn from you as his tentacle began to pull back was nothing short of raw need. Infuriatingly he was still so composed.

His touch retreated from your clit and you thrashed, his tentacle pulling out from your mouth, letting you plead, incoherently, “Please please please please fuck—pleaseletmecum.” You couldn’t free your arms from his grasp, couldn’t touch yourself—you were at his mercy to touch your clit and draw you over the edge.

You stopped struggling when you heard him moan, and saw, over your shoulder, him sucking on his fingers, savoring your taste—you felt him pulse inside you and you knew he was so close.

You whimpered at the sight, the sensations, and he opened his eyes, letting his fingers slip out teasingly before his hand caressed your cheek, saliva still hot on your skin while his hand kept your gaze pinned on him.

“What would you give me if I did?” his voice was heady when he spoke and you let yourself get drunk on it.

“Anything.”

He grinned, and it was like his eyes glowed, knowing he had you cornered. “Such a shame I couldn’t get that on paper…another time, perhaps.”

Part of you, terrified that he meant your orgasm would be delayed, forced you to take a breath, to try and plead your case, to beg for him—only for all that air to be choked still as you felt the tentacle previously in your mouth, still hot and slick with your saliva, make contact with your clit.

That glee lit up his expression again when he murmured, “Cum for me.”

It barely took any movement on his part over your core for him to send you over the edge, all but screaming at the sensation.

Your core squeezed around him, and his body squeezed back, leaving mark after mark over your legs, your chest, your stomach, everywhere he had layered his touch.

Now, though, his hips began to work, holding you in place providing the best possible leverage for him to thrust into you, sink you further onto him while he worked over your clit.

You didn’t even try to fight the overwhelmed sensation of your body sinking to his every demand despite the way you thrashed. You didn’t tell him when you began to get overstimulated, you wanted to feel that little sharp sensation of too much while he chased his own pleasure. You wanted him, and he gave himself to you fully, a curse abbreviated by his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder, hoping to contain his moans.

Spurts of heat slowly began to fill you as his cock twitched hard, jolting inside you as he fell into his pleasure. You squeezed around him instinctively in response and he gasped, all his limbs curling a little tighter, a little closer.

It ended on that moment, the short, magical scene you had written for yourself. It was done, and he was curled around you, shivering, clinging for a comforting spell where it was simply you and him, floating from the endorphins. It was another short moment before he felt himself enough to begin dragging you both towards the soft alcove serving as his bed, still inside you while turned you around, guided you to lay on him, to stay close to him as his tentacles reached out, still active enough to tidy up as much as possible. Tucking your discarded swimsuit close-by for you when you needed to get dressed, grabbing at the faux contract to remember to dispose of it later.

And then all his focus was on you as you flinched when his cock slipped out of you, returning to its internal sheath. “Are you alright?” You hummed an affirmative, drawing closer to him, lifting your arms up to wrap around him, wanting to get your fill of finally being able to touch him, to cling to him, as opposed to being clung to, sinking into the warmth of his skin.

His hand traced up and down your spine slowly. “My pearl, so sweet to me.”

“I’ll bite you,” you mumbled, flustered at the praise even with your face half-buried in his chest—it just meant you could feel the way his laughter buzzed through him. “Now that you’re not in my throat.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” you replied, easily. “If I need a few cough drops tomorrow I’ll take ‘em.” You grinned, slyly, tilting your head up to make eye contact with him. “Worth it.”

Now it was his turn to shy away from your flirting. “If you need a few cough drops tomorrow I’ll see if I can make something better for you.”

“For a price?” you teased at him for the role he played, the role he still plays for all of creation but you and a select few others.

“For you, nothing at all…though perhaps a few more kisses.” You smiled, starting on your debt, kissing over his chest affectionately as his hand reached up to where he stowed away the prop contract, far from anything actually bound to his magic, looking over it again idly and barked out a laugh. “You actually signed your name.”

Your eyes flicked up from your business kissing at his skin. “Mm-hm.”

“You know I could have made this an actual contract. What would you have done then?”

Your eyebrow quirked at the dare in his voice. “Oh no, you’d have to promise to make yourself love me in exchange for wild sex, whatever would you do?” you laughed. “I did read it over, love, I know better than to just sign something, even if it is a scene with you.”

His eyes warmed with a flash that looked almost like pride before one of his tentacles curled around your calf, his fingers beginning to trace idle, meandering circles up the skin of your back. “I believe the worry is more for you, dearest—you signed a document with your real name, therefore, you promised to stay here until you satisfy me fully.”

The teasing in his tone wasn’t missed—you imagined he expected you to flush at the implication, at the imagining of a long night spent with you wrapped up in him, his touch everywhere, overwhelming you in the best possible way.

He seemed to underestimate how much you wanted that.

You slowly curled yourself up onto shaky hands and knees to crawl a step or two up before you settled onto his lap, throwing your arms over his shoulders before you pouted, “Are you not satisfied?” You tried not to smirk at the way color once again flooded his cheeks after a moment of processing your question, at the way his brain stalled having you so close yet again. His hands found their place on your hips out of instinct, his tentacles beginning to curl their own way over your body again as you leaned down, tracing your nose over his throat, prompting him to tilt his head to the side, exposing more of himself. “Do you want more, Azul?” A kiss on his jaw, another on his pulse to feel the way it fluttered, you let yourself be pulled back slightly as one of his tentacles wrapped around you, coiling around your torso, up between your breasts, over your collarbone, his suckers fluttering over you, tasting you, marking you again. You let him recover for a spare moment, lifting the end of his tentacle to press a soft kiss to it.

You opened your eyes to see his pinned to you. “You are…” he trailed off on a laugh, reaching up to trace a hand over your throat up to your cheek for you to lean into. “You are a temptation.”

“Is that a nicer way of saying I’m a menace?”

“No. It’s entirely separate.” You laughed, and he lit up, reaching to pull you down again as his touch layered over your body, intent on holding you close while he kissed you—soft, warm, all the love in his eyes just for you.

And all his attention content to be pinned on you for a little while longer.

#azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #cw tentacles #tw dubcon #this is smut #🐙-🪙#bitch-gray-writing

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fountainpenguin · 1 month

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As promised, here I am to kick off the shout-outs for the 'fics I wrote for Hermitcraft Guess the Author in July!

Here are the little ones, and the ones that have cover art are scheduled to post over the next few days. Links go to AO3!

Do Fish People Dream of Magic Gloves?

Etho doesn’t undress and Bdubs doesn’t stay up late. It’s raining. They are very cold.

OR, Etho and Bdubs get stuck together after a storm. Although he's dripping wet and at risk of getting sick, Etho's dishabiliophobia and gymnophobia (fears of undressing & nudity) strike again. oh no.

Rated T - 7k words

What Color Was the World's First Flying Horse?

In the aftermath of Tango's Season 8 Episode 5, he cleans the grave for a horse who didn't make it.

Rated G - 1k words

Into Dust

In Season 10, Scar and his horse (cOW) take a dust bath.

Rated G - 1k words (Exactly)

Schnoot?

Season 9 is over. Grian never did find his sniffer.

Rated G - 500 words (Set of 5 100-word drabbles)

To Err Is Human

A pre-Hermitcraft Grian muses on his life while building NPC_Grian in his basement.

Rated G - 1400 words

Also, while this one wasn't for Guess the Author, it WAS for MCYT Aspec Week and I'd like to shout it out too:

I'm Gonna Be the Sun

Sequel to "There Are Many Benefits to Being Corporeal"

In which there are even more benefits to being corporeal than those from the previous story by that name.

OR, PiglinMyNose-centric story of his life with SnifferMyFeet... and the dawning realization that Sniff has Joel and Grian's Double Life memories, but mashed together.

As Sniff goes on and on about his poly marriage with Etho and Scar, Pig has an increasingly stressful time keeping his mouth shut about the whole... existence of roleplay thing. It's a good thing we're not setting up a future 'fic where that comes crashing down.

Rated T - 26k words, 7 chapters

#hermitfic #Hermitcraft #GoodTimesWithScar #Grian #EthosLab #BdoubleO100 #TangoTek #SnifferMyFeet #PiglinMyNose #Sniff and Pig #Etho and Bdubs #ridwriting #mcyt #fic announcement #Pixels Imperfect

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epicsteddieficrecs · 1 year

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Epic Steddie Fic Rec | April 17th-April 23rd 2023

It's a long one this week! I discovered @loveinhawkins and their ficlets as you can see 😆

If you know anyone I haven't tagged, please tag them in the comments!

Complete

🖤 All Night, American Desire by IrisLanding/ @onirislanding (Post-S4, PWP | 4K | Explicit): “Oh my God. Are you telling me I. . . I appropriated a gay cruising spot? Oh my God,” Steve laughs a little frantically. “Robin will–” “Have her best day ever, absolutely,” Eddie replies with a big, obnoxious grin. He holds out the joint to Steve, who shakes his head, then he stubs it out on the sole of his shoe. He puts it back in the baggie, which he shakes a few times and then rolls closed. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s more impressive, that you used the word appropriated or know what cruising is.” (Part 1 of All I'm Saying, Pretty Baby)

🖤 When You're Shaking Your Good Frame by IrisLanding/ @onirislanding (Post-S4, PWP | 5K | Explicit): If, a week ago, someone had told him he was about to have the best sex of his life mainly from Steve Harrington talking, with no penetration, on a Tuesday, he’d have told them to fuck all the way off, take a bus back, and then fuck off again. But he did. They did. And then Steve had to go and say he was going to drive all the way home with a massive boner and spend the rest of the night jerking off thinking about Eddie, because he’s a ridiculous, kinky horndog. (Part 2 of All I'm Saying, Pretty Baby)

🖤 My Fave, Undressing in the Sun by IrisLanding/ @onirislanding (Post-S4, PWP | 9K | Explicit): He tries to soften his features into something less possessed and says: “Eddie and I had sex. Twice.” There is a long, blissful moment of silence that Steve knows is too good to last. “WHAT–” (Part 3 of All I'm Saying, Pretty Baby)

🖤 Cross My Heart, They'll Never Catch Us by IrisLanding/ @onirislanding (Post-S4, PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie was pretty sure his head had been emptied and filled with marshmallows or something because Steve Harrington was sitting on his bed, towel sliding off his hips, holding a bright blue butt plug he'd just magicked out of his bedside drawer. He then produced a fresh bottle of lube packaged as nicely as his shower gel, and started saying something about clothespins. Or, Eddie is falling for Steve but he's hesitant about commitment. Steve thumps him on the head with kink and roleplay.

Cat Scratch Fever by Catt360 (Post-S4, PWP | 7K | Explicit): Post killing Vecna, Steve may have developed a small, minute, teensy-weensy and incredibly inconvenient crush on Eddie “the freak” Munson. He figures that he can just ignore it for long enough and it will go away. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t. Alternatively titled: Eddie gets a cat and Steve can’t handle his big gay feelings anymore.

First Discovery by percylicious39 (PWP, BDSM | 2K | Explicit): Steve didn't even know guys could squirt. "The more you learn", as they say. He just wishes he learned about it in any way other than by doing it all over himself.

calm me down by corrodednothing (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie Munson loves having things in his mouth. Especially fingers. Oh, and dicks, of course. or; Eddie and Steve hang out and end up doing the nasty

Come and Turn the Tide by gayhandshake (Modern AU, PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie is laboring under a misapprehension about the nature of his relationship with Steve Harrington.

takes me to the clouds above by merkintosh/ @lurkinmerkin (Post-S2, A/B/O AU | 3K | Explicit): All Eddie had to do was overcharge Steve Harrington for weed, scoot him out of his glade and then continue on with his day. That's not what happened here.

Dial V for Virgin by LexiRoseWrites (No Upside Down, University AU, A/B/O | 8K | Explicit): Rushing a fraternity so his dad will keep paying for college isn’t exactly Steve’s idea of fun. Being required to lose his virginity in order to get a bid from ABΩ somehow makes it even worse. Which is why finding graffiti in a party bathroom that says, “for a good time text Eddie 555-318-7249,” feels like a sign from the universe.

how far he’ll go by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol. 2 | <1K | Teen): Distantly, Eddie can hear Nancy and Robin tearing up cloth for bandages, but his eyes remain fixed on Steve—and maybe if it was any other kind of situation, his brain would be fixed on Steve Harrington is shirtless in front of me, but right now Steve is lifting up his hand from his side with an awful wet sound, and— “Oh, Christ,” Eddie hisses, feels himself pale. Steve somehow manages an exhausted smirk. “Hey, if you’re gonna throw up, don’t do it all over the hole in my stomach, dude.”

of chocolate frosting and upside down ducks (things worth being scared for) by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol. 2 | 1K | Teen): “If it makes you feel any better,” Steve says, “I think we all just got so used to it, that—” “Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Eddie interrupts with a huff of a laugh. “If I think about it for too long, I might actually cry for you all, Steve.” “Nah, don’t do that,” Steve says lightly—though he thinks that a part of Eddie really means it. “It’s more like… like I’m a duck, y’know? Calm on the surface, but…” He drums on the table in demonstration. “Freaking out underneath.”

it’s a light and tumble journey by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol. 2 | 1K | Teen): It’s Dustin who saves Eddie. He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas. So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face. “What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths. Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes.

The Shire’s Storyteller by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 | <1K | General): Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Eddie’s lips twitch into the faint semblance of a smile. It’s very quick, blink and you miss it, before he turns sombre again, looking down at the forest floor. Steve can’t blame the guy; he can’t imagine that he has all that much to smile about. “I just meant,” Dustin says, “that we could use some entertainment.” He jerks his head meaningfully at Eddie—who thankfully still has his head down so he can’t witness this tremendous lack of subtlety—and mouths, You know, a distraction. “And I’m the entertainment guy,” Steve says flatly.

respite (wanna give you forever) by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol. 2 | <1K | General): Steve gestures out to the distance, where the kids are still playing, where Nancy and Robin are re-counting the supplies he’d noted down earlier. “Reckon you’ve got an hour or so, if you wanna get your head down.” Eddie snorts. “Ah, sleep,” he says, with a wry smile. “What’s that?”

like something from the silver screen by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Pre-S3, Canon Divergent | 2K | General): He jumps up onto the window sill to better enjoy the breeze, stretching his legs and idly looking outside. He just catches Eddie scoffing, the little aside he makes: “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Steve turns his head to him. “What?” Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Just… you,” he says. And it’s said with a kind of reluctant fondness, almost like they’re friends—which is bizarre, Steve thinks, since this is definitely the longest conversation they’ve ever had. But maybe the approaching summer break has Eddie all sentimental.

🖤 bled out without a trace by loveinhawkins (Canon Divergent, S4 Vol.2 | 4K | Teen): “You’ll be fine,” Steve says. He discreetly pats at his pockets. Feels the handle of the switchblade. Touches Dustin one last time, a palm across his brow. “Look after him.” “Hey, I—I don’t like your tone, man,” Eddie says. “We’re looking after him, together. Together, all right? Fucking promise me, Harrington.”

can’t bear it alone by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Dustin POV | 8K | Teen): He thinks about the relief in Eddie’s voice when he said he had a hunch about Steve’s whereabouts, like Dustin is the chosen one for understanding what makes Steve tick. Eddie’s joked about it before; he’d called it “sibling telepathy” when Dustin had silently communicated his popcorn order at the movies, and he’d nudged Steve in the ribs when Steve’s nose wrinkled meaning Gross, dude. Then Steve had huffed a laugh, nudging Dustin back. Okay, okay. I’ll pay for it, you little shit. But Eddie gets Steve, too, Dustin thinks; that’s why he called him. And yeah, it’s different than the way Dustin understands Steve, but it’s significant enough for Eddie to make the cut of Steve Harrington Interpreters in Dustin’s mind.

be kind, rewind (and check what’s inside!) by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Pre-S4 | <1K | General): Of course, Steve finds the tape later, because the universe likes to laugh at Eddie, apparently.

and it’s a song you know by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (POV Dustin (1,5K | General): The lyrics are clever, because they hide under metaphor, apocalyptic imagery and all that stuff, but it clicks when Dustin gets to a verse about a tune echoing through a mall, ‘and it’s a song you know, you’ve known it all your life,’ and he’s suddenly thrown back to when he explained how Steve worked out the location of the Russian code, and Eddie was taking it all in, eyes as round as pennies. Dustin sets down the notebook and says, “It’s about us.” It’s not a question.

take me by the hand by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol.2 | 1K | Teen): When he’d found the radio in the RV, he had planned on it being a backup to the Walkman, a last resort measure—but the volume is feeble, too temperamental to rely on. Every so often, he can pick up a fraction of a song before static takes over again. A natural lull falls, not uncomfortable, and it’s during that silence when the radio picks up another song: catchy bubblegum pop that Steve vaguely recognises. “Can you turn that up?” Eddie says suddenly. He’s sitting up straighter and there’s an odd look on his face that Steve can’t decipher.

The Vigil by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Post S4 | <1K | General): There’s a movement in the corner of his eye; Eddie stops writing and looks over to see Steve’s head nodding sleepily. He smiles to himself. But then he realises that Steve isn’t falling asleep, not completely: whenever he catches himself drifting off, he jerks, straightens up, before the cycle repeats again. And, every time, his hand moves to his jeans pocket, as if checking for something. It’s not a panicked gesture, not exactly. It’s something more… habitual. Ingrained.

you’re too young to be lost by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Dustin POV, Post-S4 | 5K | Teen): Dustin knows that as soon as you cut one monster’s head off, another is bound to grow in its place. So when the late Jason Carver’s family and friends move out of Hawkins, he’s secretly glad about it, sure, but he’s not exactly relieved. Rumours are a hard thing to kill.

🖤 why are they watching me? (they're watching you.) by rabbitinrain/ @stargazersteddie (Truman Show AU | 25K | Teen): Eddie Munson lives a normal, comfortable, mildly mundane life in Hawkins. But two new faces in town turn everything he thinks he knows upside-down, and he quickly learns that nothing about Hawkins (or himself, for that matter) is as it seems.

Eddie Munson: 19-year-old Virgin by pterawaters/ @pterawaters (Post-S2, PWP | 4K | Explicit): Eddie turns in his seat, facing Steve as he admits, “I’m a nineteen-year-old virgin. How the hell am I supposed to front a metal band without having done it? I’m holding the whole band back, I know it. They’re not saying anything, but we all know they’re thinking it.” “Right,” Steve says, thinking the virgin thing does seem at odds with the rest of his persona. “So, you’re here to ask which girl you should go after? I mean, Wendy’s usually up for anything. Lydia might be more your style, though.” “Steve,” he says, putting his hand on Steve’s wrist. “I don’t want to ask out a girl. I want you to fuck me.”

Every Single Time by AidaRonan/ @aidaronan (Post-S4 | 2K | Teen): Eddie and Steve haven't talked about it yet. What they are. What they want to be. On Hawkins' Senior Bonfire Night, maybe they will.

Dear Harrington by IndigoFudge (Major Character Death | 3K | General): Steve weeps. That’s the only word to describe it. His chest aches and aches, burning with words that he never got to say. He presses the vest to his lips. It smells like smoke, like sweat, like blood - though Steve supposes a little of that is his. Love, he thinks again, and the word feels like home. • Steve finds a letter that Eddie wrote to him.

for everything I long to do (it's a, it's a, it's a, it's a sin) by stellarpoint (pettifogger)/ @letterfromvienna (Will POV, Post S4 | 3K | Teen): Will wakes up early after a sleepover at the Harrington house. He sees something in the kitchen he wasn't meant to see, which prompts the realization that he might not be as alone as he thought.

WIP

🖤 better by you, better than me by palmviolet/ @palmviolet (Canon Divergent, Season 1-2 | 28/? | 147K | Mature | Warning: Violence): November 1983. Between unpaid bills, the supposedly straight jock he’s seeing, and letters from his convict dad, seventeen year old Eddie Munson’s got enough to worry about. But when Will Byers goes missing, it sparks a chain of events that will show there are more depths to Hawkins — and to certain people in it, like infamous Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington — than he realizes. / or, the excessively long slow-burn in which Eddie is involved in the Upside Down from the very beginning.

🖤 nothing but the dead and dying by loveinhawkins (Canon Divergent, S4 Vol. 2 | 22/? | 61K | Teen): Steve sighs, like he’s trying to laugh but he can’t quite manage it. “I’m sorry, man,” he says too lightly, “gonna need you to drive for a bit. I know it’s not part of the plan, but hey.” He gets out a laugh now, but all it does is set Eddie’s teeth on edge. “Henderson said you’re good at—what’s it called, in your game? Improv?” And Eddie hates it, hates how soft Steve’s voice is, hates how the conversation is so clearly a distraction, a last ditch attempt at protection from… he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. - In the RV, Vecna’s curse changes course.

🖤 Swing and a Miss by deadonarrival (Baseball Player Steve, Fake Relationship | 4/5 | 29K | Explicit): “Apparently they usually reserve the box for the wives and girlfriends … so either you’re gonna have to be my boyfriend or you’re going to have to sit in the stands with the fans. It’s not that bad, you just need to like, pretend to be my boyfriend so you can sit with the other WAGs and like, then you can be in the box and have all you can drink alcohol and snacks.” “Did you agree to this!?” Eddie asks. “If I say yes, how mad are you going to be?” Steve asks.

🖤 Reboot by plutosrose/ @plutosrose (Modern AU, Actor Steve & Eddie | 6/10 | 23K | Explicit): In 2012, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson film a scene in the teen drama Normal Stuff that launches a popular ship on ao3. By early 2013, they aren’t speaking anymore. In 2024, Robin calls Steve with an offer to reprise his role as Andy Hartley in a reboot of their old show, with one important update–his character gets together with Eddie’s.

Online, Offline (Out of My Mind) by LexiRoseWrites (Modern AU, A/B/O, Actor Steve | 4/10 | 15K | Explicit): Online dating and scent-matching are used by desperate people who want to find their soulmate, but will settle for a compatible partner. Steve is more worried about what he’s going to say in his acceptance speech for the Oscars. He doesn’t need romance, he needs to prove his parents wrong. And besides, masquerading as an alpha for his entire acting career has worked great thus far. Why risk losing everything he’s accomplished over something he’s getting by just fine without?

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #epic steddie fic rec #steddie fic rec

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howdoyousleep3 · 2 years

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Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: 7K Notable Tags: Established Relationship, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/Sub, Surprise Roleplay, Crossdressing, Feminization (!!!!), Age Difference, Breeding Kink, Butt Plugs/Sex Toys, Manhandling, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink (!!!!!!), Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Pregnancy Kink (!!!!) A/N: Y'all...😮‍💨 This shit is wild. I'm so horny for these two and for this specific kink, it's craaaaaaazy. How have we never indulged in Senator and Breeding Kink?? This might be my favorite thing I've ever written for them and I can't wait to hear what you think. This fic is entirely dedicated to @vilkasdaina since she was the one that requested it. Extra lub to @the-iceni-bitch and @maddiewritesstucky for hyping me up when I needed it most. I hope you enjoy. 🧡 Read here on Ao3.

Bucky thought his hands were trembling as he was cutting up carrots and potatoes, steaming Steve’s dress shirts, and fluffing the pillows on his bed, but that’s nothing compared to the tremor of them when he hears the senator opening the door to his apartment.

The shake of his fingers as he tied the frilly white apron around his waist, his waist while wearing a dress, is a very close second though.

Bucky has but a second to consider how long he’s been thinking of this moment, how long it’s been brewing in his mind. He’s spent months planning this daydream out, from hyping himself up into going to the extreme, to ensuring that this was the perfect Friday to execute his plan.

Every single thing is perfect so far: how easy it was to get into Steve’s apartment, how unrushed he felt throughout the chore list, how delectable both dinner (pot roast) and dessert (red velvet cake) look and smell. Even the dress he borrowed from Wanda fit him perfectly, black and cinched at the waist and low-cut.

“I hate you. You look better in this dress than I do. How is that possible?”

She even believed him when he said it was for some Halloween party on campus. He couldn’t bring himself to buy a new pair of heels but he is wearing stockings underneath this dress, one on each leg, and that will just have to do.

Every single aspect of the night has worked out flawlessly and yet here Bucky is about to faint wondering what Steve’s reaction is going to be. He has to like it. Right? Bucky’s been taking hints all the way back from when they were merely boss and employee, comments about coming home to a warm meal and wishing he had someone to come home to and to take care of him, how his ma would do the same for his father before he passed away.

Steve is a man who wants to be taken care of, pampered.

And Bucky is just delusional enough to provide that for him, even if it is but for a night. There’s no option left but to follow through and do it well.

He’s pulling the roast out of the oven with shaky hands when Steve walks into the kitchen.

“Hi honey,” Bucky purrs, surprised at his own sultry tone, the false confidence it’s laced with. “I hope you’re hungry.”

The look Steve gives him from the doorway of his kitchen floods Bucky’s mind and body with almost too many emotions. The senator is hungry indeed, eyes blazing as he takes in the situation before him, no doubt Bucky’s attire. Surprise is evident on his face, as is confusion.

Bucky places the roast onto the stovetop, checks the temperature of it to ensure its doneness, turns back towards Steve.

Steve looks at him, unmoving and critical. Bucky anticipated this moment, this moment where Steve plays along or calls it off. He gives him a moment to take everything in, to make decisions for himself on whether or not Bucky has gone too far or if he wants to continue. Bucky can almost hear his questions from here, can hear that brilliant mind working overtime.

Steve is rarely caught off guard and Bucky can already feel himself growing addicted to making this a frequent occurrence.

One thing is for certain— Steve looks like a housewife’s wet dream. It feels like he takes up every extra inch of space in this kitchen, both with his physical presence and dominating air. A charcoal-colored suit, a crisp white dress shirt, a tasteful tie; Bucky wants to unwrap him button by button. His suit is perfectly rumpled, his hair windswept, his cheeks flushed. He looks like he needs to be taken care of and something deep deep within Bucky reacts.

He ignores it mostly, but capitalizes on the opportunity in front of him.

He makes his way across the kitchen towards the older man on shaky feet, stops when he is toe to toe with him. The way Steve looks at him is unnerving, predatory. He’s in Bucky’s head already, is affecting him physically too. He feels himself stir between his legs, his dick filling out under the silk of the women’s panties he’s wearing. The excitement is almost too much to contain, his body interpreting it as sexual excitement.

It probably is.

He indulges in his urges and clenches down around the plug buried in his ass.

It’s definitely sexual excitement.

He reaches forward on his tippy-toes, places a kiss onto Steve’s bearded cheek. When he pulls back Steve continues to fill the air with silence. Bucky chooses to reach for Steve’s shoulder bag, taking it from his body and placing it in its designated spot on its hook a few steps away. His heart hammers against his chest when he makes his way back towards Steve.

It batters overtime against his ribcage when the senator startles him with a burly arm wrapped tightly around his waist, with a tug and a squeeze that results in his entire front being pressed deliciously to the older man’s own.

“Smells delicious,” he purrs against Bucky’s mouth, hand quickly wandering down to his ass draped in silky material. Bucky’s heart soars elatedly, his mouth parting to make way for his breathing picking up. When Steve’s big fingers dig into the meat of his ass, kneading, Bucky can’t help but gasp. He feels smaller like this, in this roleplay and dressed more femininely. He’s tempted to drop to his knees right here and call the whole thing off to suck Steve off, but he worked too hard for this. He has to stay focused.

He lets himself gasp again, this time in more of a shocked manner, pushes at Steve’s chest as he turns his cheek away from Steve’s mouth.

“No sir, not in the kitchen and not after I’ve worked so hard on dinner,” he breathily tells him, voice full of fake scandal before he turns his attention back towards the stove. As with every other moment spent with the senator, he fails to remember and anticipate just how intoxicating the man’s physical presence and pushiness is. He takes a few deep breaths as he pulls a rocks glass out of the cabinet and makes his way to Steve’s liquor selection.

“Did you have a good day?” Bucky asks lightly, working to pour a generous amount of scotch into the glass he retrieves. He moves towards the fridge, grabs a sphere of ice specific for drinking liquor. It’s quite fancy if you ask Bucky, but he wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he found them in Steve’s freezer.

“It was…” Steve starts, saddling up to the kitchen island. “It was a lot actually. I wasn’t sure it was going to end.”

Bucky’s chest pulls tight. He brings Steve his glass, places it in his hand before turning his attention back to dinner.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Midterms are such a stressful time, understandably so. You have nothing to worry about, you know this.”

The reassurance flows from Bucky easily and with purpose and honesty. He knows how stressed Steve has been over the past few weeks and he knows that stress will only compress and grow as they get closer and closer to election day. This is the main reason Bucky chose this time to follow through with his plan.

Steve sighs heavily once Bucky has spoken, a tiny thrill running through him when Steve immediately takes a drink from his glass. He could get addicted to this.

“I do know this. There’s just both some uncertainty and some big changes that this election could bring. Some pretty important states have been putting in the work. It could be big. Texas with a Democratic governor? Can you imagine?”

Bucky hums, plating up the roast, potatoes, and carrots rather artfully on two of Steve’s dinner plates. He doesn’t have enough time in the world nor the focus at the current moment to dwell on and analyze the reasoning behind how easy this interaction feels. There’s no awkwardness, no unpleasant tension. It’s as natural as any other interaction they have when he’s in Steve’s apartment. Except this time, he’s wearing a dress and has spent the day cleaning Steve’s apartment and not eating greasy pizza in his underwear on Steve’s couch.

“Honestly, no. But there’s hope with Beto. His campaign is one that should be studied and used as an example for all future candidates, governor or not.”

He gracefully makes his way to the dining table, two plates in hand, Steve following him curiously and slowly. He had set the table just a few minutes before Steve arrived home from work and Steve seems impressed, a raise of his eyebrows once he sees the lit candles. When Bucky goes to make his way back to the kitchen, Steve stands in his way. He doesn’t move. Bucky knows then that small talk and mindless conversation are over.

When he tips his chin to look up at Steve, he can almost taste the scotch on the older man’s breath. His dick comes back to life, twitching in his panties. The senator’s eyes dance as he drinks in Bucky’s face, his appearance. Bucky goes almost cross-eyed when a hand casually rises to cup the side of Bucky’s neck, Steve stepping forward, closing what is left of the gap between them.

“You tryin’ to romance me, sugar?” he inquires softly, voice but a gruff whisper. Bucky wants to kiss him, wants to melt even further into the older man’s dominant embrace, his chest, his body.

Get it together.

“You deserve it,” Bucky dutifully responds with, almost positive Steve can feel his erection against his body. Steve’s own is dizzyingly heavy against Bucky’s belly. He immediately wishes the plug buried between his cheeks were replaced with that cock. He forces himself to reel in his kiss, placing a dreadfully chaste one on the senator’s lips before slipping around him and into the kitchen.

“Go ahead and sit down. Everything is ready.”

Bucky isn’t sure how he’ll make it through dinner. Especially with the other plans he has in mind; he won’t survive those .

When he turns back to the table, Steve has seated himself and made himself comfortable, having taken off his suit jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. Bucky suppresses the urge to moan when Steve takes the time to unbutton his cuffs and rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up his forearms. He could get off to that and that alone on repeat, he swears.

Bucky reaches behind himself and unties his apron, also drapes that across the back of his chair. Bucky can only describe the look Steve gives him as predatory. It devours him, feels like a physical touch that has his breath hitching in his chest.

Fucking hell.

“Is that a new dress?”

The question feels as if Steve’s stroking him off.

Bucky nods his head as he takes a seat in his chair.

“It is, I was…was hoping you’d notice. Do you like it?”

The last part slips out of Bucky’s mouth before he can contain it. He shouldn’t have to desperately seek out Steve’s approval, no matter how flustered he may be. The senator would reprimand him for this line of thinking, for Bucky not communicating with him, but…he’s working on it.

He regrets his question up to the point where Steve reaches beneath the table and openly adjusts his erection.

“I think you look fucking divine.”

“Oh.”

Bucky is sure his blush creeps down his neck.

“I think that if you didn’t work so hard on this dinner, I’d toss you on this table and eat you for supper.”

“Steve.”

“Honey, my dick is so—”

“Steven,” Bucky damn near begs, overwhelmed by the senator’s words and the plug he’s wearing and his dick wrapped in satin. “This is not appropriate dinner talk. Watch your mouth. Please .”

He thinks it’s what a housewife would say. Surely a housewife wouldn’t let her husband talk about fucking her at dinner. And that’s what Bucky is tonight, a housewife. He’s playing a role tonight.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, grounding himself by placing his palms flat on the table. After a few seconds he looks up and over at the senator to find him already devouring him, his eyes roving over Bucky’s nearly nude chest. His nipples harden in an instant, pebbling up at the attention. It is more than distracting.

Without another word yet still communicating his desires by eye fucking Bucky into oblivion, Steve picks up his fork and knife and digs in.

Thank God.

Bucky shouldn’t be startled by the moan Steve lets out, but he is. It’s dripping in eroticism, it’s guttural, it’s pleasure. It’s food, he has to remind himself as he watches Steve savor his bite on his tongue. Bucky shoves his own bite into his mouth, first one and then another, just so he has something to do with his mouth other than beg for the senator’s cock.

“Buck, honey,” Steve moans, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them to work another bite onto his fork. “This is incredible. You made this?”

The pleasure brought on by the senator’s compliments is unmatched. Bucky feels as if time slows, as if his head fills with wisp after wisp of cotton candy sweetness. He’s finding it infinitely more difficult to stay focused, but he nods his head.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs, swallowing his own bite before reaching for his wine glass. “Started it this morning.”

Bucky doesn’t miss the twinkle in Steve’s eye at the subtle confirmation that Bucky has indeed been in the senator’s apartment all damn day. He knows it, Bucky sees this, but he blessedly plays along, Bucky’s dick hard for this roleplay and this banter.

“How have you spent your day, sweetheart? What’d you do while Daddy was away at work?”

Bucky barely manages to swallow his bite of carrots.

“Umm, I…well, I did the laundry and steamed your shirts, made the bed. I vacuumed and tidied up around the house. I went to the store and got the things I needed for dinner and dessert. I—”

“Bucky.”

Bucky immediately feels like he’s done something wrong.

“Y-yes?”

“If you tell me you made red velvet cake for dessert I’ll—”

“Of course I made red velvet cake for dessert.”

“— marry you right here.”

Bucky’s cheeks burn bright red as he looks down at his plate to push a few pieces of potatoes around. He snatches up the opportunity to solidify what it is they’re doing here, what Bucky hopes Steve is understanding in full.

“Don’t be ridiculous— we’re already married.”

When his eyes meet Steve’s, he’s almost certain he’s going to reach across the table and snatch Bucky up to sit him on his cock. There have been few times in their relationship where Steve has looked so furiously hungry, where Bucky can see his purely sexual thoughts written all over his features. His eyes burn like fire, his breathing is damn near ragged. His neck is even flushed.

Bucky needs to add Steve’s reaction to him saying they’re married to the list of things to analyze later.

They share a heady look with one other, the two of them visibly trembling with their need to break character but to also keep moving forward with the hottest thing they’ve ever embarked on together. Steve is the first to break the tense silence.

“You spent all day taking care of me? Taking care of our home?”

Bucky mindlessly takes another bite of the roast on his plate. It melts on his tongue. He did do a good job.

“Of course I did; that’s what I’m supposed to do. You work hard every day and deserve to have everything you want at home. You deserve to be taken care of, Daddy.”

A noise deep in Steve’s chest reaches Bucky’s ears at the same time Steve’s fork lands loudly on his plate.

“Bucky. Fuck, I need—”

He reaches forward, grasping up Bucky’s chin and pulling. His own fork lands as loudly as Steve’s did on his plate. He tries hard to shake his jaw free of the senator’s grip. Hell will freeze over before he doesn’t follow through with every aspect of his roleplay, no matter how desperate he is, no matter how thick with arousal his brain is.

“No! Steve, no. Not at dinner, not here. This wasn’t…this wasn’t the plan.”

“Fuck this plan, Bucky. You’re killin’ me, baby. Just—” Steve tries, voice rough as he litters Bucky’s cheeks, his jaw, with wet kisses. Bucky whines.

“Steve, no.”

It’s more the word no than his tone that does it, his whine morphing into something stern, strong enough to force the senator to pull his head back with a groan. His temple presses against Bucky’s own. His chest heaves as he collects himself. One more part of this roleplay is important to Bucky, one more part. He needs to follow through with it and he needs to make it quick. The senator doesn’t wait for anyone and Bucky knows he’s used his one chance to reel him back in.

Steve pulls his head back to run his nose along Bucky’s hairline, the move making Bucky feel like prey, yet somehow intensely comforting. He waits a moment before speaking again.

“You’re showin’ me so much fuckin’ skin, Buck.”

“I know, it’s…it’s a lot.”

A hand curls around Bucky’s knee under the table, fingers toying with the hem of his dress and the lacy top of his stocking.

“No— it’s perfect.”

He presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek before he can respond, clearing his throat and adjusting himself. Bucky attempts to pull himself together as well, crossing his legs and reaching for his wine glass before taking a sip and reaching for his fork. His hand still shakes but there’s nothing he can do about that, he’s decided. He clenches desperately around his plug, a shiver running up his spine in impatient anticipation.

“So you spent your day tidying up, doing some chores?” Steve asks, making a valiant attempt at trying to steer the two of them back towards the direction that Bucky has requested.

“Mhmm, but that’s boring. Tell me more about your day. What’s been on your plate lately? It’s such an exciting time.”

Steve does just that, sharing with him his back-to-back meetings and appearances. Of course Bucky is aware of most of the things that fill the senator’s days, Bucky himself being a part of some of these meetings and events. But it’s been so long since the two of them have actually sat down to talk about their day. They don’t tend to do that, Bucky reminds himself. Bucky finds out what Steve’s up to outside of meetings he’s a part of through trying to figure out when to squeeze in a quickie.

So, it’s nice to hear Steve discuss what he’s involved with, what’s on his mind and how he is feeling. It’s wildly domestic and Bucky’s dick doesn’t soften in the slightest.

Bucky has a lot to think about once this night comes to a close.

When Steve is done sharing, they fall into an easy silence. They’ve taken their time eating their meal, sipping on their drinks. It’s easy and blissful and Bucky is relaxed…until he realizes this is the perfect and silent opportunity to move onto the last part of his surprise and to finally get Steve’s hands on his body.

His heart kicks up into his chest.

With one last sip of his red wine and placing his fork on his empty plate, he clears his throat.

“So, I’ve been thinking, honey” he starts, his elbows falling to the table, his fingertips grazing his collarbones. His voice is gentle, but there’s an obvious tremor to it, one that isn’t lost on Steve. Somewhere deep, Bucky digs up confidence, pulls forth a coquettish demeanor. Steve’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as he finishes his last bite, mirroring Bucky’s body language and leaning forward onto the table as well.

Fuck, it’s risky. This is the most daring part of his planned roleplay. Is this something the senator will enjoy? He finds it difficult to find his voice as Steve’s eyes rove over his chest once more, as if Bucky has tits . It’s so brazen it makes his dick twitch.

“You were thinkin’ about what, sugar?” Steve pushes after Bucky doesn’t finish his sentence right away.

Bucky audibly swallows.

“I stopped taking my pills,” Bucky whispers, throwing caution to the wind. “I’m ready to try for a baby. I think it’s the perfect time to and I know I—”

The response is immediate.

Strong and hungry hands reach across the table for his nape, his waist, as he’s hauled from his chair and onto the top of thick thighs, directly into Steve’s lap. He doesn’t have time to appreciate the strength it takes to be so smooth with a move like this, let alone have time to gasp. Lips are on his in an instant, insistent and hot, tongue delving between his parted lips and stroking along his own.

It’s the kiss he was hoping for, the kiss he’s been denying himself all night.

It’s delicious .

“You…you wanna fuckin’ run that by me again?” Steve all but growls into his kisses, doesn’t even bother pulling his mouth away from Bucky’s. He whimpers pathetically when Steve dives for his neck.

“I…I want your baby,” Bucky stupidly whines, but Steve’s groan sounds like thunder when he digs his teeth into Bucky’s adam’s apple. “Want to start a family, wanna… want you to get me pregnant, Daddy.”

He’s on his back in the next instant. Dishes clatter to the floor, the time and effort he put into setting the table gone within seconds. He’s sure he hears something break, more than one somethings, but his pout of, “Steve, the dinner…!” is met with a harsh, “Fuck the dinner,” just before his dress is hiked up around his waist with a yank.

“The dress isn’t mine, don’t—!”

“I’ll buy another fucking dress, Bucky, goddamnit .”

The sensation of Steve between his legs, narrow, fit waist between his thighs, leaves Bucky no choice but to moan. It’s a gluttonous noise, a built up one that is the culmination of jerk off session after jerk off session imagining what this moment would feel like. His thoughts don’t compare in the slightest, the feeling of Steve’s cock rocking against his own behind the silk of his panties forcing him to give into the urge to tremble.

He feels the frenzied moment that Steve realizes he isn’t wearing his normal undergarments, that he’s prepared for this housewife role thoroughly.

“You motherfucker, you…oh my god, Bucky.”

“Daddy…”

“Fuck yeah, that’s right,” Steve purrs from above him, fingers digging greedily into the meat of his hips, eyes blazing where his gaze rests between his thighs. “Really am your Daddy now, ain’t I? You gonna make me a Daddy, sugar? You gonna gimme a baby?”

Oh.

“Oh fuck.”

This wasn’t part of the plan. Not once did he consider Steve returning his dirty talk, of what Bucky’s roleplay would sound like coming from Steve’s point of view. He failed to think about how it would sound if Steve responded to the things he had decided to say. He is such a fucking idiot.

He is a fucking idiot that is going to come if Steve keeps massaging his body in such a deep and appreciative way.

The senator chuckles, hands greedy as they work their way around Bucky’s body. He rubs the heel of his hand up and along Bucky’s dick, squeezes his fingers around it with another rumble. Bucky’s eyes nearly cross.

“You’ve been in my house all goddamn day,” Steve mumbles distractedly, hotly. “Cleanin’ and cookin’ and bein’ the prettiest fuckin’ housewife a Daddy could ask for.” His fingers find their way to Bucky’s nipples as he talks, the tips of them pinching and pulling at them over the material of his borrowed dress. Bucky hisses between his teeth, his dick throbbing and his ass clenching around the heavy plug he wears. He should have done this months ago; he’s in heaven .

“And now my tight little wife tells me she’s been keepin’ secrets? Been tryin’ to get knocked up without Daddy even knowin’?”

“Steve, I can’t…I can’t do—”

“What a naughty fuckin’ girl I got.”

Bucky is in way over his head. His fantasy never went this far, always ended with what he thought would be the most anticipated moment, the reveal. He hadn’t thought beyond that point. If he had, he may have not followed through. They’ve never dabbled in any of these kinks, in breeding, in roleplay. Surely he won’t survive an hour, let alone the entire night.

“Show me that fuckin’ pussy. Show me that pussy that Daddy’s about to ride until he breeds, just like you’re askin’ for.”

He won’t survive the next five minutes.

He barely has time for his brain to catch up on what he’s feeling, what he’s hearing, his limbs weak from an onslaught of arousal. The senator reaches for the top of one stocking but stops, apparently deciding to keep them on, which is heady. The underwear encasing his dick is yanked down his thighs then, impatiently left hanging from one ankle before the senator is shoving his legs apart, the wide spread making Bucky feel like a slut.

He feels the plug buried between the cheeks of his ass. He’s been feeling it all night, all day.

He feels it but he doesn’t register that Steve will see it.

Goddamn, has he gone dumb in the head.

“Oh my fucking god, are you…”

The senator can’t even finish his sentence, his thoughts, something Bucky would surely marvel at if he were in a more stable headspace. But all he can do is whine, huff and run his hands down his chest to his dick where he squeezes at himself. Steve lets him, watches as Bucky touches himself, the senator’s fingers pushing at the base of the plug, rubbing at his stretched and puffy rim.

“Look how ready you are for Daddy, baby,” Steve recovers swiftly, voice deceivingly sweet as he pulls at the plug slowly, letting the widest part stretch Bucky to the point where his toes curl. He stops touching himself immediately, throws his hands wide on either side of him as he attempts to find anything to ground himself. There’s nothing. He soars.

“Pussy’s ready to make me a Daddy, ready to take every load I can pump into it. Look at that…”

Bucky’s whine gets louder, longer. He keeps his thighs spread wide, lets Daddy play with him, slipping the plug halfway out of his ass before letting his hole eat it up again. He’s getting fucked by that plug, and while it feels like everything he’s been wanting for all damn day, he knows the senator’s cock will feel infinitely better.

“Gimme a baby, Daddy. Fuck it into me so…so deep, ngh,” he whimpers, face turning crimson as his own words hit his ears. What is he saying?

Steve growls, growls, as he reaches for his belt, undoing it swiftly and impressively with one hand. “Hell yeah, gonna knock you up so good, ain’t I?”

Bucky’s response is simply a wail, a pitiful noise that grows messily frantic when his eyes are blessed by the sight of the senator’s cock. It looks so heavy, so meaty and girthy. Bucky wants it inside of him now , wants it to hurt so good. He wants to be bred by that cock, wants to come on it. He feels mindless, lit up from the inside out, needy and achy. He finds himself nodding his head, in response to the senator’s question, in response to all future questions, all without thought and newfound, dumb enthusiasm.

“Mhmm, so good, so good. No pills, no…no protection— wann’it raw, Daddy. Give it to me raw.”

Bucky doesn’t know what he’s turned into, what this roleplay has done to him.

Steve’s groan meshes deliciously with his chuckle, dexterous fingers pulling the plug free from the grip of Bucky’s ass, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

“Dirty fuckin’ bitch, of course I’m gonna give it to you raw. From here on out it’s only raw. From this moment on you’re always gonna be heavy with my kid. You think there’s any goin’ back after this? Fuck no, you’re gonna make me a daddy over and over and over and—”

The stretch the plug provided him with, that he worked towards all day, feels as if it does very little to prepare him for the size of the senator’s cock. He should have known to size up over the course of the day, that he should have chosen a larger plug if he was going to use just one.

“Hold your legs, press ‘em— yeah, there you go. Get your pretty little body in that baby makin’ position,” Steve guides him roughly, pressing Bucky’s thighs to his chest, big hand pressing against his belly. “Gotta watch this pussy get bred up, as a Daddy I gotta make sure’m doin’ my job.”

Bucky feels lightheaded as he wraps his arms around the back of his knees, his vision turning blurry around the edge when it gives him the perfect view of his neglected and rock solid dick, of the senator fucking into him, still donning most of his work clothes. What a picture he must make: Bucky’s dress hiked around his middle, lithe legs still clad in stockings, back pressed against the dining room table as their forgotten dinner is scattered around him, damn near gagging for a United States Senator’s cock.

It’s indecent, scandalous.

He feels so fucking hot, so desireable, even though he feels entirely gone in the head.

“Pussy’s soakin’ already. How long have you been thinkin’ about this? Huh?”

“So fucking long,” Bucky whines raggedly, the senator taking his time sliding inside of him, of course making a show of it.

“Yeah, bet’chu have,” Steve chides, fingers splaying wide against Bucky’s belly as he sinks further into Bucky’s willing ass, other set of fingers rubbing at Bucky’s rim, smearing spit he just pursed his lips and sent down. “Let Daddy in, lil’ mama. C’mon, let Daddy have it.”

No, he’s going to come. He’s going to come. Steve is barely bottoming out and Bucky is going to come because of the astronomical build-up of this moment and because of the senator’s filthy fucking mouth. And because of how stretched he is, how no part of his pussy is untouched, the senator squeezing himself inside of Bucky so perfectly, oh god.

The stir in his core, in his balls, has no time to build; it spirals and bursts within seconds.

“Coming, m’gonna—! I’m coming, oh god I’m—”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky. Already?! Fuck.”

Steve doesn’t even let him lay there and take it. He curls his hands around Bucky’s middle and ruts into him with newfound energy and fuck, it makes Bucky shout through his teeth, makes him whine just like being fucked through an orgasm always does. He can’t even touch himself given his position and the jolts of his body from Steve’s punishing thrusts, and he’s forced to just take it , wave after wave of pleasure knocking against his limbs and his insides.

In half a minute he’s messy with his own come and left sucking in air like he was being chased.

And Steve doesn’t stop.

“Steve …Daddy…!”

Steve rumbles, eyes locked onto Bucky’s belly, his messy dress, as he fucks him, on the rivulets of come left behind from his explosive climax. “Squirtin’ all over Daddy’s dick, just like you should. Atta girl. They say that helps with… fuck, with makin’ a baby— you comin’. How many times can Daddy make you come tonight?”

“Oh fuck…fuck you, I…oh my god…”

Bucky can never recover appropriately from an orgasm he’s been fucked through. It’s like Steve fucks his mind too, his brain, when he does this, fucks it so roughly he’s left loose-limbed and exposed. He feels raw, feels like he’s right there on the edge of too much, too much. The recognition that he is going to need some major aftercare tonight is his last thought before one, two, three long, deep strokes perfectly rubbing against his sweet spot have his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Yeah, baby. Tonight’s the night, ya know that? Daddy’s gonna knock you up on the first try, first try. This belly’ll be all sorts of swollen, won’t it?”

A shock rips through Bucky’s system upon hearing those words, one that sparks an impossible fire in his dick, in his groin, in his chest. He whines at the force of it, at what hearing those words does to him without any sort of hesitation. Of course the senator notices.

“Oh yeah, sugar— gonna be heavy as fuck with my kid. This belly—” Steve bunches up the come-covered dress as he talks, as he uses it to fuck into him.“—it’s mine, just like this pussy is.”

Steve reams into him steadily, his cock digging into his sweet spot repeatedly. It’s impossible, is ridiculous, the way he makes Bucky’s body feel lit up from the inside out even after such a shattering orgasm moments before. No one else does this to him, no one will ever do this to him, not when his Daddy makes him feel so thoroughly fucked out. The images flashing in his mind are pure fantasy, ones that Steve masterfully and filthily paints, yet Bucky feels as if they’re real, as if his belly can grow big, as if he can get pregnant.

And god help him, he likes it.

He gasps for air, his body going weak alongside his mind. He loses his grip on his legs, elbows slipping along the soft material of the stockings with slick sweat, neck arched weakly against the dining room table. Steve takes over for him immediately, smacks at his hands and presses Bucky back, bending him further in half, taking a brief moment to tug Bucky close towards the end of the table. It makes the senator’s cock feel ten times larger, makes Bucky squeal, makes his noises grate against the front of his throat as Steve fucks them out of him.

“These tits?” Steve growls, digging his hips into the underside of Bucky’s ass, grinding in tight with each trust. “Fuck, these tits, baby, they’re gonna be so big. And Daddy loves big tits."

Bucky hiccups. “Daddy…they’re not… not—”

“Oh, they’re tits, Buck. They’re gonna be swollen and round too, gonna have Daddy’s mouth all over ‘em. Got no choice but to suck on ‘em every time I goddamn see ‘em.”

As if he needs to prove his point any further, Steve bends at the waist and joins Bucky on the table smoothly, dishes clattering to the floor. His thighs are left spread wide around the senator’s thick middle, a sensation Bucky will surely never tire of. The way Steve fucks him feels damn near feral this way, god, it’s close and tight and the older man’s breaths sound like they are being punched out of him with every brutal thrust. It finally sounds as if this sex, this wild roleplay that Bucky spent months planning, is finally getting to Steve.

And that makes a second climax feel within reach.

Bucky barely has time to squeal before the senator is yanking at the already low neckline of his dress and his mouth is on his nipples, his tits, sucking hungrily at his pecs, cock heavy in his ass. He can feel the senator’s balls in this position, can feel his heavy sac smack against his ass and it makes him feel dizzy with dick.

Steve holds onto his tits, one in each hand, squeezes at them as if they are indeed heavy and swollen and purrs.

Bucky can’t breathe.

“Mhmm, get used to this, sugar. Get used to Daddy’s mouth on these pretty tits,” Steve mumbles, tugging one pebbled nub between his teeth and sucking. Bucky’s dick jumps, genuinely jumps where it’s trapped against their torsos, and his moan is ragged and worn out, exhausted. Bucky can’t believe he’s going to come again and his mournful noises reflect that sentiment.

As soon as Steve hears his sob, his purr turns into a groan.

“Already comin’ again, Buck?” Steve asks, panting against his mouth, hands finding a home as both of them wrap loosely around his throat. When Bucky can’t formulate an answer, when all he can do is hiccup and tug at the parts of the senator’s dress shirt that he can reach, Steve nips at his bottom lip. “‘Course you are; you’re gaggin’ for this Daddy come.”

He is. He’s mindless and boneless and laying there taking the senator’s cock like it’s his job, like he’s getting paid to get fucked so willingly. He isn’t, he reminds himself, head bouncing with every thrust Steve rocks into him without mercy. Bucky really does feel like a slut. He smiles.

“The first one was for you,” Steve whispers against the curve of his mouth, his sweat dripping onto Bucky’s neck.. “This one's for me. Ask me for it, ask Daddy to come in this pussy. Ask Daddy for that baby you want so fuckin’ bad.”

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate. In fact, he lets out a growl of his own, albeit a pathetic, pup of a noise. If a second orgasm is being forced out of him, he’s going to earn it. And if he’s so lucky enough to have a surprise roleplay work out this well, he’s gonna send it home.

“Put that fuckin’ baby in me, Daddy,” is what he ends up biting out, spreading his legs wide and lifting his head to meet Steve’s eyes. His tongue darts out, lapping at the senator’s plump bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. The older man’s groans sound almost pained when Bucky leans into the hold around his throat. He knows exactly how to get what he wants.

He sticks out his bottom lip, whimpers.

“Want that Daddy come. Please Daddy, please— can I have your baby? Will you give me that baby? Daddy…”

Steve’s groan sounds more like a roar when his fingers tighten, when Bucky feels his breathing hitch, feels the shallowness of his breaths. Bucky feels like a doll, limp and useless as Daddy uses his grip to fuck Bucky on his cock, thrusts going sloppy.

“Practicin’ that fuckin’ baby talk already, fuckin’ hell. Take it, Buck— take that Daddy come and make that baby.”

He’s gasping, all sensation narrowed down to the big hands around his neck and the fat cock in his ass, and when he hears and feels the senator begin to moan raggedly into his cheek, when he grinds in deep, Bucky soars.

He’s pure sensation. His ears ring, his vision blurs, his limbs tremble. He milks Steve for everything he’s worth and that’s all that matters to him, is what pushed him over the edge and into another orgasm, a much more intense one. Steve is in his ear, against his lips, whispering filthy thought after filthy thought as he drops his load in Bucky’s worn out pussy. He sucks breath after breath into his lungs and by the time he’s done spurting between their bodies, on this poor dress, his thighs drop like stones onto the table beneath him, his arms doing the same.

It takes more than a few minutes for this feeling of pure sensation to give way to the present, for the fog to clear long enough to feel the kisses that the senator presses against his chin, his lips.

Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before. The closest he’s ever come to this was the first time Steve fucked him on the desk in his office.

“I’m… holy shit, I can’t…m’gonna need…” Bucky hears himself mumble mindlessly, giggling when it sounds ridiculous to his ears. His brain feels like it’s full of air, weightless and empty. Steve joins Bucky in chuckling, hands squeezing all over his body: his shoulders, his neck, his chest.

“You’re gonna need a lot of things, Buck,” Steve mumbles, pressing a set of chaste kisses against his lips before sighing and settling his feet back onto the floor. He’s still quite hard within Bucky, cock rigid, and for a moment he wonders if Steve wants to go another round.

Having almost passed out after two rounds, he surely wouldn’t survive a third. He thinks he’d take that risk.

“We’ll take a bath,” Steve tells him, hands running up Bucky’s sides to pull down his dress. “Let me go grab a fat piece of that cake you made and you can feed it to me in the tub.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Oh, excellent. As if I haven’t done enough for you today already.”

Steve gives him a light smack on the cheek for his attitude. Bucky bites his lip.

“No, don’t move,” Steve tells him in a hushed voice as he slips from Bucky’s body and steps back. “I’ll carry you.”

“Oh…okay.”

The senator doesn’t bother tucking himself back into his pants and Bucky doesn’t know why he feels himself blush, not after tonight.

“Plus,” Steve starts, voice dipping into dangerous territory as he saunters towards the kitchen. “Gotta keep those hips up, gotta keep you on your back. Better chance for makin’ that baby…”

#howdoyousleep kinktober 2022 #howdoyousleep #my writing #senator and intern #senator rogers and intern barnes #this was hyped but it wasn't beta'd so all mistakes are mine #this fic is 10% housewife roleplay and 90% breeding kink lmao

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djeniryuu · 2 years

Text

BANG CHAN FIC RECS (2023)

Last Updated: 12 Jul ‘24

P.S.: Please let me know if any of the links aren’t working

a - angst, f - fluff, s - smut, ✔- completed

♡ - personal favourite

* - newly added

Stories by Year:

2018-2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024

Oneshots:

⇢ 9:54 (4.3k) - (a, f) » merman!chan

⇢ 21:51 (1.2k) - (s)

⇢ Bad Idea (10.2k) - (f, s) » stepdad!chan

⇢ Be That Guy (7k) - (a, s) » breakup!au

⇢ Beck and Call (8.2k) - (s) » host!au

⇢ Between ft. Lee Minho (5k) - (s) » threesome

⇢ Bubblegum ft. Lee Minho (8k) - (s) » threesome

⇢ Chan + Minsung Foursome ft. Lee Minho & Han Jisung (4.9k) - (s) » foursome

*⇢ Daddy’s Tour (1.2k) - (f)

⇢ Date Night Gets Rough (2k) - (s)

*⇢ Death by a Thousand Cuts (4.2k) - (a, s) » breakup!au

⇢ Do You Like Me? (1k) - (f)

⇢ Drabble!Domestic Fight (0.6k) - (a, f)

⇢ Empty Heart (0.9k) - (a)

⇢ Hate & Hurt (With All My Love) 12.5k - (a, f, s) ♡ » friends with benefits, childhood friends

⇢ It’s Not Living (1.2k) - (f)

*⇢ Kinktober Day 2 (0.9k) - (s)

*⇢ Kinktober Day 12: Daddy Kink (1.2k) - (s)

⇢ Let Me Let You Go (1.4k) - (a)

⇢ Myth (1k) - (f, s)

⇢ Only Love Can Hurt Like This ft. Lee Minho (1.1k) - (a)

⇢ Our Girl (3.9k) - (f, s) » neighbours!au, single dad!chan

⇢ Outsourcing ft. Lee Minho (5.8k) - (s) » threesome

⇢ Perv!Chan (0.7k) - (s)

⇢ Poster Parents (1.7k) - (f)

*⇢ Runaway (1k) - (a, f)

⇢ So You Can Feel Me Even When I’m Not There (3.6k) - (s) » established relationship

⇢ Southside Nocturne (6.3k) - (a, f, s) » friends with benefits, roleplay

⇢ The Neighbour (14k) - (f, s) » neighbours!au, strangers to lovers

⇢ Tolerate It (0.9k) - (a)

⇢ Tough Cookie (4.7k) - (a, f) » strangers to friends (?)

⇢ Us First (3.1k) - (a, f) » married!au, husband!chan

⇢ Vanilla (3k) - (a, f) » breakup!au, established relationship

⇢ Waiting for Us (4.9k) - (f, s) » best friends to lovers

⇢ Wolf by the Tail (13.5k) - (s)  » criminal!chan, doctor!reader, psychological

⇢ Zip (3.4k) - (f, s) » friends with benefits

Series:

TBA

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dmbakura · 8 months

Note

Do you think an evil Tav that has no issue with dooming 7k people but cares about Astarion would be able to realise that the ritual's not good for him? I feel like they easily could go "Why should I take away his chance to be in the sun and not feel hunger over a sense of moral righteousness or the concern over the possibility he'd be like Cazador?" and I'm trying to find reasons to roleplay it otherwise asdakfj

I think it's perfectly believable that an evil Tav would be against ascension for Astarion for reasons that aren't caring about what happens to the 7k souls.

My durge V for example (granted he isn't really evil-evil, but regardless) is immediately skeptical of the ritual, being a warlock himself who got roped into a pact that took waaaay more from him than he thought possible. He doesn't trust that Raphael told them the full terms of the contract and thinks it's utterly stupid trying to hijack a ritual like that without even fully knowing what you're signing into. In his eyes, there is always a hidden cost that outweighs any potential benefits. Even if it didn't cost 7k souls, he views dealing with Mephistopheles as an abysmal idea.

Aside from that, maybe a more malicious or controlling (even if well intentioned) Tav maybe thinks the power will be too much for Astarion and wants to keep him "weak" for his own good?

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lostelfwriting · 4 months

Text

Fic Masterlist

Split into 3 categories: Fluff, Smut, Angst

All my FLUFF fics

(((Dream/Hob unless stated otherwise))) ((("~Xk" is the wordcount in thousands)))

Palm-Sized Cosmic Entity: ~2k, Tiny Dream and Caretaker Hob

Palm-Sized Immortal Knight: ~2k, Tiny Hob and Dream who is in denial about curse-breaking

the sun burns brighter with you by my side: ~3k, Human AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, CW: panic attack

Dream a Dream of a Little Me: ~2k, Hob wants to know how Dream looked as a baby, CW: implied Mpreg

Ice Skating AU: ~10k total, mostly fluff with plot

A Nice Christmas: ~3k, Christmas fic, Dream learning how to relationships

The Joining: ~1k, subfic for Phin's Soiteria, Wedding fic (well, a wedding-like bonding ritual)

Angel: ~2k, Songfic, Grief and Healing

The White Stag: ~2k, Fairytale AU

All my SMUT fics

(((Dream/Hob unless stated otherwise))) ((("~Xk" is the wordcount in thousands)))

Dancing with the Brutes, Fucking the Stars: ~27k, Professional Dom Hob/Dancer Dream, CW: self-worth issues, depression

if you just let me (have you, love you): ~25k, Porn Stars AU, BDSM and proper communication

A Miracle in Us: ~WIP, Mpreg

Reunited in Heart, Touch, and Bed: ~4k, Angst, Smut, and Fluff, CW: overstimulation, rough sex

Arcana vs Bandits: ~4k, Football AU with Smut, CW: major injury

Might Be Just a Dream...: ~6k, Human AU, Hob/Corinthian/Morpheus Threesome, CW: masochism

Glory to Dream: ~1k, Glory Hole fic, Dream/strangers under Hob's supervision

Messy: ~1k, Immortal Throuple, BDSM, trans,sub Dream, trans,dom Calliope, dom Hob

Piece Out (Or In): ~5k, Human AU, Shameless Smut, Crack Treated Seriously, Sexy Chess Game

To Hold and Dream: ~8k, A/B/O, Human AU, Student/Teacher, Unexpected Heat fic (1st chapter)

Today: ~1k, Slice of Life but kinky, Long-Term Chastity (voluntary sex slave!Hob)

The Other Ritual: ~2k, subfic for Phin's Soiteria, TW Body Horror

control my thoughts, don't let them hurt me: ~6k, BDSM, Rewards, Domestic Control

Make Me Feel Powerful: ~2k, BDSM, Rough Sex, TW: Consensual Non-Consent (Roleplay)

Queen Brat: ~3k, Lucienne/Titania, Platonic BDSM, Domme Lucienne, sub Titania

stubornness pays off: ~1k, Piss Kink fic

Human Rescue and Rehome Program: ~7k, Alien AU, Alien Dream, Alien Kidnapping

Marked by Death: ~7k, CW Body Horror in the 1st Chapter, Human AU with a Twist, worship, overstimulation, rough sex (2nd chapter)

Helping Himself to His Bad Dreams: ~3k, TW Rape/Non-Con, Dream assumes that Hob wants to have sex more often, so he forces himself to have sex with Hob while Hob is drunk. It hurts them both.

All my ANGST fics

(((Dream/Hob unless stated otherwise))) ((("~Xk" is the wordcount in thousands)))

Bury Me with a Rose, We Both Have Thorns: ~32k, Human AU, Hanahaki Disease

Dreamling Whumptober 2023: ~31k, many different whumps

Falling, Fallen, For You: ~7k, A/B/O, Kid fic, Dream being bad at feelings, Happy Ending

Friend of the Sea: ~7k, Mermaid Hob/Prince Dream

The Dust Settled around Us: ~8k, Human AU, Post-Apocalyptic

Black Smoke and Hurting Hearts: ~4k, Firefighters AU, Human AU, Rescue Mission

To Hold and Dream: ~8k, A/B/O, Human AU, Student/Teacher, break-up and getting back together (2nd chapter)

the precarious space at the end of the world: ~2k, the end of the world, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Happy Ending

If I Am Nothing, If I Am Trying: ~6k, Human AU, Homophobia, Time is a Bad Parent

we become daydreamers: ~17k, A/B/O, Human AU, Homeless Omega Hob, Rich Alpha Dream, Grief and Trauma

Safety is a Person: ~6k, CW Mpreg, Dream finds out he's pregnant while in the fishbowl; Hob to the rescue!

The Last Punishment I Will Need: ~1k, no ship, Corinthian-centric Whump Fic

your happiness lies in my dreams: ~3k, Human AU, Abusive Relationship

you are here to stay this time: ~1k, Post-Comics, Bad Coping Mechanisms

Marked by Death: ~7k, TW Body Horror, Injury, Brutish Medical Practices, Human AU with a Twist (1st chapter)

The Hunt: ~9k, A/B/O, Human AU, Angst and Fucked-Upness, TW Unmated Omegas are forced to participate in The Hunt where Alphas can… anything. Hob is an imposter who tries to protect the participating Omegas.

Telling Bite: ~1k, TW Implied Non-Con, Burgess forces Dream into prostitution.

The Black Void I Cannot Fix: ~4k, TW Implied Non-Con, human!Dream gets roofied at the New Inn, doesn't tell Hob, tries to fix himself, Hopeful Ending

#my writing #the sandman fanfiction #fic masterlist

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kyu-nee · 3 months

Text

Calling for a SKZ roleplay!

Hi!! As you can see my name is Kyu, currently 24, and starting my summer break for the year! With only my part-time job to keep me busy during the summer months I am very free to amble about all day thinking of my eight favorite brainrot men and dreaming up little plots for them. Since writing fanfiction is nice but not as engaging and entertaining as roleplaying, I'm looking for someone who might want to chill out, go a little (a lot) nuts over them and write out some scenarios! 🍃

Talking about my roleplaying style: I'm a novella writer. That means you are getting at least 1-7k+ replies from yours truly, and it also means I am thirsting for someone who goes just as crazy with the internal monologue, the backflashes, the in-depth character exploration as I do! If I'm fed two listless little paragraphs in response to a 5k post then my motivation just flags. My grammar is (this comes off as snobby, I know) flawless except for the occasional typo or slip of the keyboard, and I like to think of my writing as rather engaging. What I really need from a roleplay partner is communication, activeness and friendliness, though. I'm very energetic sometimes and can ramble for hours about possible what-ifs in our roleplay, so I would very much like someone who wants to become friends, strikes up conversation as much as I do, and generally doesn't mind rants and fawning! 🍃

As far as topics and genres go: I love me some fluff and romance but angst, hurt, comfort, drama, misunderstandings are sooo good! I'm all in for dead dove themes and smut also, so long as we have a decent plot for it to fit into! If we get to talking I am also more than happy to provide a list of my kinks and no-nos for you to skim over and see if we'd be compatible in that regard. My absolutely favorite verses to play are omegaverse or hybrid verses, in which I am a strong stickler for the version where omegas/prey hybrids are naturally AFAB no matter their gender. 🍃

I play on Discord in private servers for easy organization and comfort!

Let's get to the (I assume) interesting part for you! I am generally all-in on every single member/member ship (NOT looking for any oc/member or self-inserts as that doesn't vibe with me at all and I don't like the notion of it) but of course I have some favorites, those being MinChan, MinSung, JeongChan, ChanBin, ChanSung and JeongLix! Still, I am very open to suggestions as I love all of my boys and am excited to play them, also as a pack, OT8, or any variation including however many of the members! 🍃

There are some plots I've been mulling over, most of them little snippets or vibes more than actual plotlines, but I'll try to piece them together coherently for your perusal once we get to talking and sort out or preferences! 🍃

Please shoot me a message that possibly also introduces yourself and I'll get back to you with haste! Will not be considering Likes/Reblogs since that low level of initiative and engagement is not what I'm looking for!🍃

Have a lovely day and thank you so much for reading through all this! 💖🍃

#active rp #discord rp #rp wanted #rp #skz #stray kids #skz rp #stray kids rp #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #skz felix #seungmin #jeongin #skzoo

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lu-sn · 1 year

Text

fic recs: kink gone wrong

Wish I Was Good, Wish That I Could (edgarallanrose)

post-canon, attempt at consensual non-con, top drop, explicit, oneshot, 5K

“I want to say no,” Pete murmured into his mouth, as if saying something sweet. His tongue flicked out to catch on the back of Vegas’ teeth. “I want to say no, and I want you to fuck me anyway.” commentary: the slow build to the top drop is incredible. the backdrop of the fic is a very soft slice-of-life, and they talk about what pete wants well before they try it, and vegas doesn't register that he doesn't want it right up until it's too late. lots of vegas being horrified of the monster inside himself, which is always a good time (for me. not for vegas 😂)

All of It (ghosthouses)

post-canon, attempt at knifeplay, wound stitching, bloodplay, explicit, oneshot, 3K

"I can't believe I fucking did that," Vegas says. "That was so fucking stupid." (in which the knifeplay does not go according to plan, but they get through it) commentary: vegas makes an oopsie and almost starts spiraling about it -- but then pete throws in a "who cares" along with a dash of "what if u stitched me up homoerotically" and they get the show right back on the road

won't give up these ghosts (fleet_off)

post-canon, attempt at non-sexual death roleplay, hurt/comfort, explicit, oneshot, 7K

Vegas lays him on a patch of firm ground. From his cocoon, Pete hears the rhythmic thud of a shovel sinking into loose earth. Vegas is digging him a grave. (In which Pete finds playing dead relaxing, and Vegas decidedly does not.) commentary: is it so surprising that pete enjoys the safety and warmth and blissfully empty head that comes with pretending to not exist? that it could be his happy place? you want to read fleet's top-tier prose about it, i promise you. the accompanying vegas breakdown is a bonus treat

#not me and boots workshopping the tag “non-sexual death roleplay” LOL #fleet if u see this let us know what you would call it #all of these are “kink goes bad and vegas freaks out” fics but i am also collecting “kink goes bad and pete freaks out” fics if u have any #the problem is that in the handful of pete freaks out fics i've seen... vegas also freaks out 😂 which unfortunately is so in-character #soggy boi #kinnporsche #vegaspete #pete saengtham #vegas theerapanyakul #mine: reclist

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goddess-in-heaven-and-hell · 1 year

Text

Blessed Be - Gwynriel One-Shot in Celebration of Gwynweek2023

Gwyn’s future will be bright, I just know it. She is one of the strongest characters in the Acotar fandom, and I can’t wait to see what SJM has in store for her story. That being said, you know I’m a Gwynriel shipper - this one-shot is both a celebration of them getting together, as well as a celebration of Gwyn as she is growing into her skin.

Day 6: Future; @gwynweekofficial

If you don’t like having religion dragged into any type of sexual situation, this one isn’t for you! In no way am I trying to be disrespectful to any religion or religious practice... I just read too much priest smut lol.

Warnings: roleplay dynamics (priestess-sinner), bondage, wing play, orgasm denial, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, witnessing me going to hell for this

Word count: 7k oh my- get comfy

I mean it. Get off if you feel uncomfortable.

“Az, have you seen my veil?”

Gwyneth Berdara, Valkyrie and priestess of the Night court, stood in the center of her and Azriel’s shared bedroom, already clad in the dusty blue layers of her robe, her invoking stone around her neck, hair neatly clipped out of her face. The sun hadn’t yet peeked over the horizon. This time of morning was her favorite – quiet, consoling, the perfect opportunity to cast your gaze inwards and give thanks. She was ready for the dawn service underneath the house of wind to do said things with her sisters – if she could find her veil in time and pin it in place.

Azriel, still in a haze from the night, simply pointed to the bathroom from his place on the bed. This was one of the many perks of living with the Shadowsinger: your missing things never went missing for long.

With a swish of her robes, her auburn hair trailing behind her, she made her way to the bathroom, tracking down her veil with only a little pointer from the shadows. In a few minutes most of her hair was swept behind, only the very front of her hairline a shock of color against the soft, blue fabric. Right in the middle, Gwyn thought with a heavy heart while looking in the mirror, would be the place for her invoking stone. She felt the outline of it now, pressing insistently against the skin of her chest, taunting her with its presence. She hadn’t worn it again after her sister died. She wouldn’t start wearing it now.

Sufficiently pleased with her appearance, Gwyn moved back to her side of the bed with silent steps, not wanting to jostle Azriel out of bed just yet. He technically had more time to sleep before he joined her in training, but he also couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend more time with his mate in the early hours of the morning. Not that Gwyn complained – a sleepy, disheveled Azriel was such a deliciously devilish sight it made her hurry to service every morning without fail.

From the little table perched by the bed she pulled her copy of the Sacred Manuscript, flipping it open to the page she had marked the day before.

Azriel had asked her once why she sometimes studied the Manuscript and prayed in the quiet of her room before doing the same at the official service. Gwyn didn’t really know why – only that some days, her mind rested easier, her focus remained sharper, when she did some extra reading all by herself. Both her forearms perched on the bed, her hands joining together as she knelt before her Gods and Goddesses and gave her gratitude and prayers.

Praying had always been a part of her life. It made you feel small, almost insignificant against the big workings of the universe, in turn lifting some of the stress off your shoulders. At the same time it singled you out, made you feel special and protected wherever you went. She didn’t stop praying after Sangravah. Her Gods hadn’t left her, instead giving her a hardship to overcome with grace and strength.

Azriel sometimes joined her, having never been particularly religious beyond the basic rituals the Illyrians taught their race. Or he would watch with half-closed eyes, waiting for her to be ready and engulfing her in his arms one more time before he started the day himself.

This particular morning, he watched again, his gaze trailing over her face. Gwyn could sense he was more awake than just a second before. The bond pulsing between them was more than clear on that. It was the third or fourth time this week she noticed his unusually focused stare, but thought nothing of it, deep in her own thoughts.

With her mind sufficiently settled, her heart light with divine blessing, she kissed Azriel on the cheek and made her way downstairs, through the library and into the chapel.

If she had lingered one more minute in the bedroom, she’d have noticed the scent now emanating in waves from her mate. He had done his best to keep it contained while she was praying, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from her to save his life. Seeing Gwyn pray has been his very own form of torture this past week, one he could only escape through either feigning sleep, or venturing in the bathroom to take a very long, very cold shower.

Gwyn should gut him for even thinking the depraved thoughts that raced through his mind when he saw her dressed in full priestess attire, one more vivid and consuming than the other. He imagined her standing before him, her robes brushing against his knees as he sank to the ground in front of her. He imagined how she’d either bless him or punish him, and he honestly didn’t know which one he liked better. He imagined her astride of him, her robes discarded save for the invoking stone between her breasts, as she chased her own high – using him and his body for her own pleasure.

His desire burned so deep that he had no other choice than to take care of himself before getting dressed, hating every second of his own hand now that he knew how his mate’s hand felt instead. surely sensed his frustration, followed by a little spike of satisfaction, through the bond. He hoped she wouldn’t comment on it.

Azriel didn’t have to worry. They saw each other only sporadically throughout the day. During training, Gwyn stayed in the advanced group with Cassian while Azriel instructed the never-ending inflow of new recruits – some priestesses, some Illyrian girls straight from the camps. By the time he trudged upstairs to his and Gwyn’s bedroom after a long day of work, he was sure his mate had forgotten all about the mixed emotions she must have felt through the bond this morning.

“Hi, Shadowsinger!”, Gwyn’s melodic voice greeted him the moment he set foot into the room. He liked it. Loved it, even, to now come home to a room filled with love and light.

Azriel stalked through the space in only three steps before reaching the bathroom and finding his rightful place between Gwyn’s legs, who sat perched on the counter of the sink.

The deep, slow kiss he gave her in greeting spoke volumes about how much he missed her, craved her. Taking the edge off this morning apparently did nothing for a male when he was mated to Gwyneth Berdara. Gwyn wrapped her slender arms around his neck, prolonging the kiss. As if she couldn’t get enough either. Mate, mate, mate. His heart sang to hers.

“I like this kind of ‘hello’.”, she smiled against his lips, her fingers tangling through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp.

Azriel closed his eyes at her ministrations, only mumbling his answer in return. “You should wait until I show you how I say ‘I love you’.”

Gwyn snickered. “Hopefully by feeding me cake.”

Azriel opened one of his eyes, playfully glaring at her through it. “A damn cake? Are you really that easy to satisfy, priestess?”

Gwyn stopped her massage, much to Azriel’s chagrin, and placed her hands on his chest instead. “A little sugar goes a long way with me.”, her face neared Azriel’s again, her nose brushing his gently, “And it has a 100% rate of satisfying me. Unlike other things.”

Two scarred hands grabbed hers and flung them away from his chest in mock affront. Gwyn had already started laughing before he could open his mouth in defense. One fucking time of cumming before her, and he never heard the end of it. Even though his mate had gotten her orgasm through other ways after.

“I don’t want you to talk to me for the rest of the evening, Gwyneth.”, he put extra emphasis on her full name, showing her exactly that she overstepped dearly. Menace.

Gwyn just jumped off the counter, sashaying over to where he stood, arms crossed. She cooed at him while stroking his arms. The action could have been described as caring, if it weren’t for the big, shit-eating grin on her face. Azriel flexed when her arms travelled over his biceps. Just a little. Lest she forget that he was more than capable of making her cum.

“Poor baby. Getting so salty when I dare to question his manliness.”, she petted his forearm, “What might I do to make you feel better, my mate?”

Azriel had some suggestions lined up in his mind, the images from this morning right at the forefront. But he couldn’t possibly voice those. Not with her faith, not considering the immense compromise she’s already making by indulging him in some of his kinkier fantasies.

But he didn’t ban the thoughts quick enough. Just this one second of picturing Gwyn dominating him and his heartrate spiked, his scent with it. Gwyn noticed. She was too damn observant these days.

“Ohh.”, she breathed out, her head angled to the side and searching his face for answers. “That was what I felt this morning. It’s your scent, but muted. Why would you mute your scent from me?”

Gwyn had noticed the weird behavior from her mate. Noticed the prolonged stares and his quick change in demeanor when she caught onto him. But she was his love. If one person might deal with that kind of thing, it was her. The self-doubt started creeping up on her slowly, but surely.

“I just didn’t want you to be late for your service.”, Azriel said quietly. But the answer had taken him too long for her liking. What if he didn’t want her anymore and rather satisfied himself? Gwyn was more than elated with that side of their relationship, even venturing out beyond anything she could have imagined for herself. But was he?

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Are you unhappy with the way we are intimate?”

His face crumpled, she noticed with relief. He hides genuine emotion slower, or he doesn’t hide it at all with her. “Are you kidding me, Gwyn? Of course not!”

His arms uncrossed from his chest, instead drawing Gwyn into a hug. “I’ve never been happier my whole life. And that goes for all aspects of this relationship.” He kissed the top of her hair.

Gwyn was happy to hear that, especially considering that she had to ‘compete’ against an army of past lovers. But it didn’t explain his behavior. “I’m glad. But why did you suppress it then? I could have gone to service, then meet you before training.”

Azriel signed, contemplating, while his hands brushed up and down her back. After a while, he took a deep breath, and Gwyn was slightly scared at what was about to come out of her mate’s mouth.

“I was fantasizing about you in a different way. Didn’t want you to find out. Because you might have discovered the root of that fantasy if you paid attention.”

Gwyn furrowed her brows, craning her neck to look at her Shadowsinger. “Since when are you hesitant to voice fantasies?”

Sure, he was a private person. But not with her. And given the track record of her agreeing with whatever thing he wanted to try, he shouldn’t be hiding it. Gwyn scolded herself for the thought the second she had it. Just because he was her mate and usually open with any act of intimacy didn’t mean he owed her an answer for everything. Before he could indulge her in a reply, she stepped out of the hug, shaking her head. “I apologize. I don’t want to press you for answers if you are not ready to give them.”

She had already turned to go to bed when his rough hand found hers, gently tugging her back. His features were still set in contemplation, his mind probably working on the mildest way to communicate his wishes. “The sight of you praying,” he started carefully, “and the way you dress for services, that’s what triggered it.”

Gwyn’s breath caught in her throat. Never would she have thought that that was the reason for his fantasy. She raised her brow in question, hoping he’d elaborate.

“I was thinking about how – Gods, this is more difficult than I though.”, he chuckled to himself. Gwyn didn’t understand. The outfit she wore was common, modest. And she had worn it often, even before they were mated.

“Remember the book you read last week? About the couple who pretended to be boss and employee and then had sex while pretending?”, he asked instead. Now Gwyn was utterly confused.

“Yes?”, she said, flushing a bit at the memory of that book. And Azriel teasing her with its contents.

“Well, it’s like that. A kind of roleplay. Just instead of boss and employee, it would be priestess and parishioner.”, he started to speak faster now, as if he wanted to get as much of his thoughts out before she stopped him. “Usually it involves a dominant-submissive dynamic. In this case you’d be the dominant part. And you’d be wearing you priestess attire during the play. I know it’s weird and probably violates your faith in ways I can’t even imagine, but that’s what it was. I didn’t mean to hide it because of trust reasons, I only meant to save myself from embarrassment.”

Gwyn stopped his rambling with a raised hand, eyes wide. “Allow me to clarify: seeing me in my robe and veil turns you on and you’d like to have me dominate you while wearing them?”

Azriel nodded slowly, searching Gwyn’s face and the bond for any signs of judgement – be it good or bad.

“And it would be within a roleplay that made you a parishioner, and me your priestess?”

“Essentially.”, one of his beautiful hands reached back to scratch his neck. She never saw him display so many signs of nerves before. Never.

“I’m sorry. I’ll never bring it up again. I already feel better now that you know, and I’ll get it out of my system eventually.”, he pecked her cheek, conversation ended, and headed to change for bed himself.

Gwyn was still stunned, not quite knowing how to deal with it. She was thankful he didn’t press her for any thought either, because she had too many. She was flattered, confused, and intimidated all at once. That he wanted to use her faith that way didn’t bother her. After all, the Mother and her Gods supported sexual freedom among the priestesses, and that surely extended to the religion itself. But was she ready to command a force of nature like Azriel in bed?

She wanted to laugh at the mental image of her restraining him, taunting him like he had done so many times now. But the laughter never came. Instead, a wave of warmth filled her stomach, spreading through her chest and core. The longer she allowed herself to dwell on it, the easier the request settled within her.

When she lay in bed next to her mate after her evening routine, the room already painted in the comforting darkness of night, she was sure she could do it. At least to some capacity. “Azriel?”

“Mh?”

“I was thinking.”, she started, her voice quiet but determined, “I could do it. Be your priestess, I mean.”

She felt Azriel sit up straight next to her, the mental link to him going just as taunt as his body.

“You could?”, was all he asked, angling his powerful form in her direction to seek her gaze through the shadows.

“Well, maybe with a tiny modification?”

And that’s how, with some days of mental preparation, Gwyn found herself in front of the bathroom mirror, veiling herself like she normally would. She had tied her robes, like she normally did, her invoking stone resting against her chest. All perfectly normal.

What was hidden underneath the robe, though, was anything but.

Azriel and her had agreed, at the end, that they’d both switch between dominant and submissive. Her mate would start off in his signature role, then easing Gwyn into her power. They’d agreed on a vague storyline, too, and had spoken about some rules. Azriel’s eyes had been practically glowing when he talked her through his fantasy, growing more and more excited with every affirmative nod Gwyn gave. He had truly looked like a child on winter solstice. And after they were done discussing, he had undressed her slowly and reverently, and made love to her until they both fell asleep, tangled in each other’s embrace.

As Gwyn looked at herself once more in the mirror, she couldn’t help her own excited smile. As unusual as this would be for her, making her mate happy like that did something for her in return. And the fact that she had an ace up her sleeve helped with the nerves too.

She knew he was coming before the door creaked open, his heady scent cutting though the chill winter night. His shadows were first to reach her, as always, winding up her bejeweled wrist in silent greeting.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she faced her Shadowsinger.

He was leaning against the wall, clad in his usual all black attire, hair slightly disheveled from his day of work. Everything about him seemed perfectly normal, too. Everything but his eyes.

His gaze was intense, set on her form the second she stepped over the threshold, raking over her body in anticipation. Months ago, she’d have cowered under attention like that, especially from someone as powerful as him. Now, her spine straightened and her lips curled. Plan or not, she already had the upper hand right now, and she felt the power surge through every cell of her being.

She hadn’t even shown him the main attraction yet.

“What a pleasure to welcome you here, Shadowsinger.”, Gwyn greeted him in her best soft and demure voice. She tried to simulate the melody her High Priestess took on during rituals – feminine, but confident. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Azriel smiled for a split second, unable to keep his emotions hidden for once. Then, his features shifted into the cold mask of the Shadowsinger, and with a few self-assured steps, he stood right in front of Gwyn.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve received the blessing of a priestess.”, he spoke his part of their little play, voice already going raspy, “Especially from one as beautiful as you.” His scarred hand found her cheek, cradling her face in its warmth and comfort.

His words struck a chord in Gwyn that she was unable to name. The way he looked at her, like she was his salvation and only purpose in life, made her heart race. Azriel had a way with making her feel special, beautiful. Even before they were mated, his words helped in building up her confidence. Now, with him practically eating her up with his eyes… Gwyn smiled a little innocent smile.

And then grabbed his wrist with unrelenting strength. “I wasn’t aware that I allowed you to touch me, Shadowsinger.”

Surprise flitted across his face at her words and as she forced his hand off her face. Then, taking a respectful step back, he said. “I apologize, priestess.”

“Mh.”, Gwyn assumed a pensive look, stepping forward, which in turn made Azriel take another step back. Her hand found his chest, pushing him further until his back hit the wall, wings shifting to accommodate.

It was strange, how this massive male was so easily controlled by the priestess. Gwyn had to admit that she loved every second of it.

“Azriel Shadowsinger – I know it is a blessing that you seek,”, her fingertips travelled feather-light across the expanse of his chest as she spoke, “but given your rather infamous reputation, I think our Mother deserves a confession before she is ready to give the salvation you came here for.”

Gwyn stopped, looking at his face for any signs of discomfort, checking if this change of plans was okay with him. What she saw was a Shadowsinger in awe, eyes wide and focused like a doe in the headlights. She took the time to check if he was still breathing. And then, the connection between them opened, their bond pulsing with his need and her excitement. He must have had a dampener on it until now, only releasing it so Gwyn knew exactly how much he wanted this, needed this. “You’ll get anything you want from me, priestess.”

He made it easy for her then.

“But I’m afraid I have nothing to confess.”

Or not. Doing anything with Azriel was a struggle for dominance, she should have known he was in the mood to make her work for it. Admittedly, she did that to him from time to time too. Well, a lot of the time. Gwyn eyed up his Shadows who were watching raptly, waiting for something to happen. And a plan formed.

“Nothing?”, Gwyn whispered, raising on her tiptoes to make her lips brush lightly over his, eyes never breaking their contact. For all his defiance, he didn’t dare move to kiss her. “How disappointing.”

She nodded to his Shadows, praying they got her intention right. And in a split second, Azriel was moved from the wall to the foot of the bed, facing the room. His arms spread up to either side, restrained by his very own shadows. The tunic he was previously wearing seemed to have been lost in the process too.

Gwyn barely suppressed her smile. She was going to have the time of her life with this.

“I guess that some people need a little push to face their sins.”, she said, her eyes travelling languidly over his tanned, tattooed skin. Her hands reached for the ties of his trousers, daftly starting to work on them.

Azriel got cocky now, sure that if Gwyn untied his trousers, she’d find a way to ‘punish him’ using her mouth on him. What he didn’t know was that Gwyn anticipated that thought and had no plans whatsoever to be the one kneeling tonight.

“Like I told you, priestess, I have no sins to confess. As much as I would like to please you.”

Gwyn stopped her movement on his laces. She worked them open just enough to make a little room for the rock-hard length they retained, but didn’t touch him otherwise. Then she fell back, out of reach, sitting on the edge of their small armchair.

With steady hands, she untied the belt that held together her robes around her waist. And when the fabric slid to either side, revealing the lace underneath it, Azriel looked like he regretted his sassiness very much.

Gwyn had put on a light blue bodysuit underneath, basically see-through despite the delicate scraps of lace. The leg was cut so high, her hips were practically naked, showing off her long legs. Her invoking stone completed the look, resting perfectly between her breasts.

Some shadows came slithering forward, dragging the heavy robe off her shoulder completely.

Azriel let out a raspy sound at the sight of her that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, hazel orbs flying over her form nearly frantically.

“I take that back-“

Gwyn just raised a hand, and Azriel fell silent once more. “You will not be allowed to speak to me unless I allow it.”

Azriel swallowed, then nodded. She wasn’t sure he blinked even once after she let the robe fall open for him.

With a newfound confidence and grace, Gwyn pushed herself off the chair, swaying her hips on the way over to her bound Shadowsinger. She let her fingernails scratch over his abs, grazing the hairs that led to the part of him he desperately wanted her to touch. After giving him a lingering kiss on the neck, right where his shoulder joined a strong column of muscle, she gave her first order of the night. “Spread your wings for me, Azriel.”

He gaped at her, pupils blowing impossibly wide. And then his mighty wings started moving, expanding to either side of him, baring the sensitive membrane for Gwyn to command.

Gwyn hummed at the sight, letting her nails travel up and over his shoulder, reaching for the wing behind. “They are so pretty, aren’t they?”

With another quick agreement between her and his shadows, Gwyn suddenly stood on the bed behind Azriel, in full view of his wings, the feather he sometimes used for writing in her hand. She let the softest part of it touch the place where his wings connected to his back, brushing it up and down gently.

“So strong and beautiful.”, she murmured, letting the feather caress every inch of skin and membrane. The tips of his wings twitched already, Azriel’s breathing going irregular. Gwyn smiled to herself. “But so sensitive.”

She leaned forward, pressing kisses along the skin connecting his wings to his back, sometimes letting her tongue dart out to give it a little lick. Then, she honed in on his left wing, dragging her fingertips along the endless expanse of membrane.

Before her, Azriel let out a ragged breath. “Gwyn, please.”

Gwyn stopped her movement. A few minutes in and he was already begging? “I didn’t know we were on a first name basis.” Her hand wrapped around the strong column of his neck from her position behind him, squeezing slightly and leaning forward. Her lips poised right by his ear, she whispered, “You will address me as ‘priestess’. Any deviation will lead to a punishment. Did I make myself clear?”

Azriel nodded, as best as he could while his neck was held by her. But Gwyn decided he needed to taste his own medicine. Squeezing harder, she added, “I asked you a question, Shadowsinger.”

She felt him swallow beneath her palm, then his voice vibrated along her hand. “I understand, priestess.”

A little kiss on his neck as a reward, then Gwyn was back to teasing his wings. Alternating between the feather, her fingers and her lips, the priestess covered the whole expanse of his wings with attention. She honed in on the extra sensitive parts, dragging her nails over them again and again until the skin of his back was covered in goosebumps. Gwyn was sure he was close to cumming about two to three times, but whenever he started to shake and moan the priestess quickly withdrew her fingers. Need pulsed through the bond with an intensity she never expected. Just as he started to sag slightly, his Shadows having to hold him up, Gwyn decided to play nice for a second.

“I think I am ready to hear your confession, now, sinner.”

His head shot up, sensing his opportunity to cum. With his voice low and breathy, he finally played his part. “I – I confess to having depraved thoughts. I confess that I never needed anything more in my life than to fuck this special priestess of mine. Even though I am not sure she wants it as well.”

Gwyn’s own blood boiled at the admission. Probably because it was definitely not something he thought of just now. “That sounds sinful indeed. Tell me, Shadowsinger, have these thoughts been weighing heavy and hard on you?”

“They did – they do. Please, priestess. Relieve me of them.”, he ground out, probably sensing her own arousal through the bond as well. She needed to be careful with unbinding him, she thought as he started to tremble with need.

“With the Mother’s blessing, so will you be relieved.”, she whispered against his neck, giving it a few lingering kisses before resuming her caresses on his wings. His talons, sitting perched at the top of them, deserved some special treatment. She moved her mouth over to his right talon, brushing her lips over the hard surface. A swear escaped Azriel at the touch.

He had told her once that the talon might as well be the equivalent to his cock. If handled gently, he’d be able to cum just from that. Gwyn was about to test that theory.

Enclosing her mouth completely over the talon, she started to suck. Her tongue swirled over it, licking up and down and coating it in salvia. She knew it didn’t take long now. After just a few seconds of gentle sucking, he came undone. As Gwyn peeked over Azriel’s shoulder, she saw him explode, muscles contracting from head to toe and cumming right into his trousers.

He panted heavily, barely hanging onto the shadowy restraints. If this is what Azriel felt like whenever he made her cum in a vulnerable position like that, she began to understand his preferences.

Moving around the Illyrian to face his front again, Gwyn cupped his face with both of her hands and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, reaffirming her love to him without having to use her words. Azriel looked up to her, hazel eyes molten and wet with unshed tears. She flashed him an alarmed glance at the sight – the bond hadn’t informed her of any pain or discomfort despite the obvious frustration. Azriel just grinned back, shaking his head slightly. Warmth and love seeped through the bond – I’m okay, it seemed to whisper to her.

“The shadows will release you now. You’ll get rid of the rest of your clothes as soon as they do.”, stepping back, voice again going firm, she watched as the shadows did as she commanded. Azriel had regained most of his strength back and went to work as his hands were freed.

Gwyn moved over to the chair, sprawling on it with an ease she didn’t really feel. Especially after seeing Azriel’s length spring free, slapping against his stomach as he was either aroused again or never really stopped being aroused, she felt more than hot and more than ready to give in. But he would make her work for it harder, so that’s exactly what she was going to do to him, too.

Raising her hand, she moved her pointer finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. Azriel obeyed, if not dragging his feet at bit to be annoying. When he stood right in front of her, her finger simply pointed downward. The command was clear, and the Shadowsinger sank onto his knees before the priestess.

It was a sight to behold. The mountain of a male, scars littering his skin and power pulsing in every inch of him, had his head bowed in reverence, his hands resting on his knees. Between them, his hardness still looked to be kind of painful, oozing pre-cum that mixed with the actual cum from before. She didn’t allow him to clean himself, but he didn’t seem to mind too much. He waited, preternaturally still.

“Aren’t you so good for me?”, she said gently, watching his cock twitch at her words. Gwyn leaned forward, spreading her legs to enclose the Shadowsinger’s form inbetween her. Her hand sneaked out to lift his chin, his eyes instantly finding hers.

“I think you deserve a reward, mh?”

Azriel nodded slightly, lips parted.

“What do you wish for?”, she asked, feeling extra generous. His damned face did that to her. She didn’t understand how he stayed so firm and harsh when the roles were reversed.

Azriel’s eyes travelled from her face, all the way down her body, to her wet core. “May I please you, priestess?”

Gwyn’s own breath turned ragged at his words, her heartbeat quickening. She hadn’t even noticed her own need, so absorbed in every moved of his. But she tried to attain a façade of boredom when she nodded and scooted forward, right to the edge of the chair. “Make me cum.”

Azriel’s hands came forward to wrap around her calves, gently nudging her legs open even more. Then his lips began to trail a way from the inside of her knees all the way across her inner thighs. He was so soft, so reverend in the way he caressed her skin. Repeating the motion on her other leg, he began stroking his hands up and down her calves. Until his face was poised right in front of her core.

“Go ahead, Shadowsinger. Be good to me.”, Gwyn breathed, hopefully sounding more in charge of the situation as she felt.

His nostrils flared, probably taking in her considerable wetness. And then, he started kissing her. Gwyn’s whole upper body fell back on the chair, only her hips remaining in place to receive his attention. Even though his lips and her skin were separated by the thin layer of lace, she felt every brush of his mouth, his heat, on her. It sent fireworks right up her spine. After a few seconds, her bodysuit was already soaked, revealing the outline of her pussy to him.

He honed in on her clit, sucking it in between his teeth and then resuming his languid, open-mouthed kisses on her. Gwyn’s hand found it’s way to his hair, pressing him into her further. Azriel groaned into her wetness, applying more pressure now.

After another minute of the delicious torture, she reached for the fabric covering her crotch and pulled it aside. “Another reward.”

The next touch of his tongue nearly undid her all by itself. Azriel wasted no time, licking up and down her slit, circling and sucking her clit with never-ending patience. He grabbed onto her ankles and brough both of her legs to rest on his shoulder while he worked her expertly, drawing little moans and whimpers out of her in the process. His hot tongue eventually found her entrance, circling it and dipping in ever so slightly. Gwyn was so wet, she probably stained the chair underneath her.

As he began plunging his tongue deep inside her, stroking her inner walls, his hand came up to her core as well, rubbing her clit in tandem with his mouth fucking her. Gwyn was completely gone at this point and only needed one, two more brushes of his tongue to come undone.

With a loud moan, her walls spasming around his tongue, Gwyn arched her back off the chair and came right into his mouth. Azriel’s answering moan vibrated along her pussy, drawing out her own release even longer. It might have been the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. When she couldn’t take the stimulation anymore, she shoved Azriel’s face away from her.

“Go-“, forming words had become hard for the priestess, “Go and lie on the bed.”

Azriel stood on slightly shaky legs, obeying without any show of resistance this time. Gwyn took it as a sign that he was just as far gone as her, but she needed another moment to collect herself, to not break character and just let him manhandle her for the rest of the night.

After her breath had returned to normal, her desire muted but not gone, she stood from the chair herself. She peeled the bodysuit off her skin, now only wearing the stone and her veil.

Azriel waited for her patiently, lying on his back, wings spread underneath him. As Gwyn crawled up over his legs, her body brushed his cock, forcing a curse out if his mouth at the contact.

Gwyn tutted at him, now straddling him without connecting their intimate parts. “I don’t care for your filthy words, not when you are about to receive what you came here for.”

The Shadowsinger took her in now, completely bare on top of him. She must have looked possessed at this point, skin flushed with desire and heat, eyes glowing. Whatever he saw in her made him swallow again. “Please, priestess.”

Gwyn smiled down at him, brushing his sweat soaked hair from his face and caressing his cheek. She leaned down to connect their lips in a searing kiss, her tongue stroking his. When she drew back, a wicked thought crossed her mind.

“Shadowsinger”, she started and waited before he trained his eyes on her, visibly fighting with himself to remain submissive and not just fuck into her, “Do you know the prayer of forgiveness?”

The Shadowsinger nodded, biting his lip. If she’d have asked him for the moon on a string in that moment, he’d have flown up to the sky in seconds.

“Then recite it for me, for our Goddess. So that you might find your blessing.”

She smiled, actually curious if he’d remember.

“Holy Mother, blessed be-“, he started with a shaky voice.

“Stop.”, Gwyn’s fingers danced on his chest as he tried so hard to pray for her. “Be loud and clear, my love. Otherwise you have to start over.”

Azriel ground out a breath that would have been a curse had he not a little slither of control left.

“Holy Mother,” he started again, this time firmer, “blesses be Your divine power and blessed be the fruit of thy womb”

“Good”, Gwyn murmured absentmindedly. Then she sank down on his cock, not taking it in her yet but rather between her lower lips, rocking back and forth. Azriel lost it immediately, stopping his prayer and moving his hips at the first bit of friction he received all night. Gwyn shot him a stern look that made him go still immediately, letting his priestess control the movement.

“I justly deserve to be cast away from Thy presence.”, he continued, eyes switching between being closed in pleasure and cast up towards Gwyn’s face and body. “Yet-“

Gwyn sat up again, grabbing his slick cock with her hand and positioning it at her entrance. “Yet?”

Azriel fought for dear life. “Yet out of Your abundant love and mercy-“

Gwyn sank down on him, engulfing his length in her heat completely. She let out a loud moan while Azriel practically shouted the last word at her, abs contracting and shaking with restraint and pleasure. That she spread his own cum in herself probably didn’t help his situation either.

“You were saying?”, Gwyn giggled, breathless but so incredibly full it made her happy.

“Mercy.”, was all he said, before his memory gave out. The priestess was a forgiving female though.

“I pray for Forgiveness for my sins.”, she recited for him, slowly rocking back and forth and driving him absolutely insane.

Azriel repeated after her, then remembered the last bit of the prayer himself. Gwyn guessed it was some kind of survival mode that kicked in at this point.

“Let your wisdom pierce my heart, and let my heart be changed.”, he prayed quickly and with a voice close to gravel. “Please...”

His eyes found Gwyn’s, and if she hadn’t thought he looked at her like she was the Goddess he prayed to, she sure as hell did now.

“Please cleanse me, Gwyneth, with your sweet love.”

This was the last straw. Gwyn moaned loudly, now moving on his cock in earnest. Azriel’s head fell back on the sheets, done with his work, and let her use him – give him as much as she wanted and deigned appropriate. The priestess felt every ridge and vein of his proud length in her as she rode him with abandon, her necklace and breasts moving with her passion.

“Azriel, touch me.”, she groaned, already reaching for his hands and placing them on her body herself, too impatient to let his slow mind process her words on his own.

It didn’t take long for Gwyn to feel the pressure building in her lower belly, coiling tighter and tighter with every bounce on his cock. She was impressed that her Shadowsinger held it together that long when she knew he must be close as well, and had been close for the past half-hour.

“Gwyn, please.”, he pleaded from underneath her, now tilting his lips in time with hers, chasing his own high.

“Cum, Shadowsinger.”, her last command of the night was barely spoken when Azriel arched his back, shouting profanities and her name into the room and coating her insides with his essence. That was all Gwyn needed to feel before she, too, released the tightness within her. Gasping and panting for air, she let herself fall onto his chest, her head finding the crock of his neck to rest.

She felt to spent, so completely elated she might as well be floating on air. She watched with rapt attention how Azriel’s chest went from frantic movement to the slow and steady rise and fall she was used to. Then, she raised her head. “Why don’t we take a nice bath, mh?”

The house was listening in it seemed, as she heard the faucet turn on in the neighboring room. With care and slowness, she raised herself off Azriel, his cum trickling out of her and down her thighs. The feeling made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Gwyn went to pee quickly, then returned to the room.

The Shadowsinger hadn’t moved, just lying on his back with his eyes closed. Which was so untypical it alarmed Gwyn slightly. He needed some aftercare, and quickly, it seemed.

She leaned down to press soft kisses all over his face and chest, before grabbing his hand and tugging him up. When he finally glanced at her and moved his tired body to sit on the edge of the bed, Gwyn shimmied in-between his legs.

“You were fantastic, Az. So perfect.”, she cooed, hugging him into her so his face rested against her upper belly. Gwyn’s hands caressed every inch of skin she could find until his own hands came up to wind around her. “Thank you.”, he murmured against her, “Thank you for this.”

Gwyn untangled herself from him, tugging him to the bathroom in silent answer.

She spent a long while washing his body and hair, stopping here and there to give out kisses freely. If he had looked at her like a child on winter solstice when she agreed to do this, he now looked at her like she single handedly cured the world of all evil.

When they lay in bed that night, cuddled so closely they might as well melt into one another, Azriel seemed to have gained control over his mind once more.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”, he said, arms tightening around her naked body.

Gwyn grinned into his chest. “Ask the Mother next time you pray to her, she might answer with that level of devotion you displayed today.”

Azriel just snorted. Then fell quiet once more.

“I love you, Shadowsinger.”, Gwyn admitted.

A kiss to her forehead before he answered, “I love you more.”

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