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definestupor · 1 year

Text

in the throes of mindbreak

Content Rating: Explicit; MDNI

Words: 6880

Synopsis: Your life has been wrought with recent changes: uprooting yourself, becoming an adventurer, meeting God… Discovering a new kink on top of these changes has been difficult, especially when you’ve never really taken to sex in the first place. When you found out you would be spending the night at a nice inn, and could afford individual rooms to boot, you immediately took to making some relaxing plans for that night. You did not, however, account for those plans being uprooted when your best friend decided to knock on your door.

Content Warnings/Tags: Omorashi, wetting, piss/watersports, desperation, kink discovery, light degradation and praise, shame kink, light bondage, self bondage, restraints, collars, light Dom/sub dynamics, consensual, masturbation, hands free masturbation, pillow humping, clothed sex, non penetrative sex, cum in clothes, premature ejaculation, stimulation free orgasm, accidental voyeurism, ruined orgasms, multiple orgasms, mindbreak, accidental waterboarding (brief), unsafe (mostly just because of that prior thing), brief transformation, brief pain kink, oral sex, piss drinking, overstimulation, tears, doms breaking character, grey-aroace character, bisexual character, genderqueer character, trans male character, fantasy, original setting, changeling, tiefling, drow

[This is a ttrpg OC fic that doesn't really require any backstory, though it does reference a couple in-game things. (See the readmore on my pinned for a brief TLDR on Nyklos and Ry.) Have fun! Full Fic under the break.]

You are so, royally fucked.

It had started a few days after you finished crossing the Plane of First Lives. The meeting with the Old God had been a paradigm shift for you. You were struggling to adjust to your new life as an adventurer. The intensity of everything had gotten to you, badly, and so you reached out to one of your party members for help. Thiav had shared some of their “special stash” with you: dozens of little vials of alcohol, all magically enchanted with some random effect. A roulette wheel of sins. At that moment, it seemed like a perfect way to blow off steam. You both began taking shot after shot. One of them made your voice higher for a few minutes. The next one let Thiav see a broader spectrum of color, which had freaked both of you out for a moment. Another one had caused you to belch fire. Thiav took another one and began to glow. And then one of them, the last damned one of the evening, had made you completely lose control of your bladder, and you had let out perhaps the single most embarrassing sound you’ve ever made in your life as you soaked yourself. You and Thiav made a promise to forget about that moment immediately.

…You have not.

To put things bluntly: You’ve never been one to care about getting off. Your needs have always been mild, and the desire to involve others is nonexistent. Between the Creation Army and your desire to live a low-key life, sexuality has never really been on your radar. It had all seemed trivial to you. But after that shot, something changed. You felt it. You understood it. You wanted more. And the fact that it took pissing yourself to get to that point thoroughly disgusted you. It was… gross. Shameful. Embarrassing. And you needed more of it. You hated that you needed more of it.

At first you tried to deny that you were into it, but that didn’t last as long as you would have hoped. (One incident of seeing Ry squirming as he searched for a bathroom in a passing town made sure of that.) Once you accepted it, though, it was like the floodgates had opened. You started experimenting; things escalated. Occasionally you’d just let yourself get desperate before getting off, taking in the sensation of the added pressure from your bladder. Then, you’d start volunteering for watches, daring yourself not to leak during them. The last time you kept watch, you absolutely soaked yourself and had to jump in the nearby river to wash yourself and your clothes before the others woke up. Ry didn’t believe you when you told him you went for a spontaneous swim.

Now, you’re in too deep, and it’s honestly a little pathetic. You keep needing more extreme situations to feel the same high, and a part of you worries that you’re eventually going to be caught. And a part of you might also be enticed by that idea, but when you’re thinking with your brain and not your dick, you know that you don’t need any more reason for your party to be put off by you. You’re treading on thin ice as it is. But still, it’s currently so hard to not think with your dick, and so when you found out that you would be having a day off of travels in a town tonight and could afford individual rooms at the inn, schemes were already forming.

Now, you’re sitting on the floor of your room, and everything is starting to feel a bit more “real.” Your hands are hovering over the dog collar in the bottom of your bag.

You had snached this from Ry’s room right before you got evicted back in Everwise, which now feels so long ago. He didn’t have a dog. It looked high quality. Expensive. You’ve previously wondered if it was a sentimental token of an old pet, but you’re fairly certain now that he probably used it for pretty similar purposes to what you currently have in mind.

It’s made of leather, and it feels sturdy in your hands. Just mentally dissecting it is exciting you, almost to the point that it’s morphing into anxiety, and you have half a thought about bailing… But a pang just below your stomach reminds you of how much you’ve been preparing for this, how much you’ve been looking forward to this, and so you proceed by placing the collar around your neck and clasping it tightly.

You check yourself in the mirror, and it doesn’t look foreign on you. It matches your clothes, your skin. Though, so much of this identity and the clothes you wear were inspired directly by Ry, so it’s not much of a surprise. You’re currently in your tiefling form. Ry crafted this identity for you. He named you. Wearing the collar feels natural. You stick your index finger through the metal loop just below your Adam's apple. The pressure distributes evenly around your neck. You immediately feel warm. This feels so right.

There’s a flask on the nightstand. You take a deep breath, reaching for it, then throw your head back as you down it. Your lower body aches in protest. It’s only water, but you’ve hydrated so much already, and you’re craving release. You’re already so needy. The thought haunts you.

Right, next is the rope. Back to your bag.

...

By the time you’re set upon the bed, you’re so full and desperate that you can’t help but whine. It’s a shameful display. You’re spread eagle, face down, on the mattress–rutting helplessly over a bundle of towels you’ve set up beneath you. You’ve tied your wrists to the headboard, preventing yourself from moving from your spot or from holding yourself. You’re blindfolded by a piece of scrap fabric and sort-of-gagged with some knotted rope, and you can’t help it as drool puddles under your cheek. With some extra rope, you even tied Ry’s collar to the front of your belt. Every time you squirm it adds just a little more pressure to your neck.

Every step of the setup was haunting, adding to layers of shame and embarrassment. Your face is red, but not from pleasure–instead, from the sheer lewdness of it. It was so easy to get yourself into such a writhing state. You just might melt. But you can’t think about melting–not when you’re so desperately trying to hold yourself back from wetting both yourself and the bed.

You groan, and your own sound goes straight to your throbbing clit (you’ve decided on having a pussy tonight) and you can’t help bucking your hips hard into the towels beneath you, which in turn nearly chokes you and sends pleasure throughout your entire body. You know that you should be quiet. The walls here at the Coalshire Inn are thin, and the other members of your traveling party are right on either side of you. But you can’t help sounding so pathetic when the sounds are liquid ecstasy to your ears. It’s embarrassing. It’s awful. It’s what you deserve. It’s perfect.

There’s a moment in your ruthless grinding when you’re hit with a cramp in your gut, and your arms instinctively shoot downwards before being halted by your binds. You arch your back to take some pressure off of your bladder, and your collar is tugged in turn. Your shitty homemade gag barely stops your teeth from grinding together as you do your best to ride out the urge. The longer you can hold, the better the release will feel. You’re determined to reach your absolute limit. So you hold the arched position, the physical stress spreading to every inch of your body in your attempt to regain control over it. Your nerves are on fire with need. Every touch of the fabric is too much. It’s overwhelming.

It becomes even more overwhelming when you hear a knock at your door.

Fuck. Fuck. You forgot to lock it. You were so antsy, distracted by your needs.

“Nyklos? Can we talk?” Fuck fuck it’s Ry.

You do everything you can not to let out another pitiful whine as you get another bladder pang in the middle of your dilemma, and instead do your best to speak around the gods-forsaken rope in your mouth.

“‘Onth coh’ ihn—”

“Uh, didn’t catch that. You eating?”

“Noh—”

Your heart threatens to leap from your chest. You can’t even think of what to say.

“Here, I’m just gonna come in,”

“Noh!”

But it’s too late. The door was already creaking before Ry finished his sentence.

There’s a moment of silence when the creaking stops, when the gears are turning in Ry’s head, when you realize how exposed you are even with your clothes on. You try your best to raise your shoulders to hide the collar from his view. It feels like time has stopped. You wait with baited breath.

“Well, I, uh,” Ry offers a polite cough, but it doesn’t do much to ease your nerves. You hear the door close behind you, and you aren’t sure what to think when you hear his footsteps approaching you.

You try to duck your head below your shoulders to hide your face. Your entire body aches as another bladder pang hits, and you shudder to avoid leaking. You won’t be able to hold the inevitable off for much longer, but hopefully you can convince Ry to leave you alone before you end up sulking in your mess. Ry has known you for four years, ages longer than the others, and that almost makes it worse. For a moment, you wished that Thiav had walked in instead, and the two of you could just laugh it off. But Ry knows you. He is your best friend. You can’t piss yourself in front of him. You just can’t. He means too much to you, you can’t throw that away–

“Are you… crying…?”

You don’t realize you are until he points it out, at which point you realize he’s right beside you, standing by the head of the bed. His hands gently reach to your face, removing the blindfold. You feel him attempting to wipe your tears away, but you’re quick, and your arm has already done the job. You tilt your head up to match his eyes, staring right back wide and doe-like, but that’s when you notice his eyes start to roam, first to the pathetic attempt at a gag in your mouth, and then to your neck. There’s an instant shift in his demeanor, as his eyes glaze over.

“Holy shit.”

You feel your body convulse in desperation after the words hit your psyche. You immediately rock your hips down. You’re past the point of appearances. You suddenly don’t care how pathetic you look, you refuse to piss in front of him. But you’ve had yourself arched for too long, and the sudden shift does more to aid your body than to help you. You immediately feel a spurt of warmth force its way out, and the sound yet let out is choked and mangled. You writhe into the mattress to stop the leak, convulsing and squeezing your legs together, as you pray that your vocal chords will lighten up… But by the end of the ordeal, you know that there has to be a small wet spot.

You risk making eye contact with Ry again, hopeful that he didn’t notice. You’re sure that the tears are beginning to well again.

His eyes are still focused on your upper body, thankfully. His face is dusted a deep shade of purple, giving warmth to his gray skin, and his eyes look distant and feral in a way you’ve never seen before. He moves his hand to cover the lower half of his face, to obscure the fact that he’s biting his lip, but you already saw it.

It takes a moment for you to realize your mistake, but you do. It probably wasn’t hard for Ry to mistake your desperation to piss with your desperation to get fucked, not with you squirming and moaning and humping the fucking bed after only making eye contact with him. You may as well have just given him an invitation. Which–holy shit–he’s taking it? You aren’t sure how to comprehend that.

“...Can I stay?” He asks in a low whisper. His voice has dropped an octave. You’ve never heard Ry speak this softly.

Your brain is urging you to tell him no. Anxiety rises in your chest. You nod. You’re enamored. You’re fucked.

He mumbles something else, something that you don’t quite hear, and you can see moving his arm behind his back.

“If I’m too much, tell me to fuck off, okay?”

You snort a laugh at the idea of Ry being “too much.” You shouldn’t have. There’s a sudden yank on the back of your collar, which in turn causes a tug on the front of your belt, and you can’t help but let out a genuine gasp at the feeling.

Ry leans down to speak directly in your ear.

“Turn over.”

The demand sends a shiver down your spine. You oblige, and your bladder protests as you shift your weight. The rope twists above your head as you reposition your arms, and being on your back offers you a new kind of exposure. You’re deeply aware of how helpless you look, and the mental image of yourself goes straight to your clit, hard amongst the wetness in your pants. You lightly buck the air, flexing just ever so slightly to relieve some of the discomfort.

“Good girl.”

Just as you let out a groan, there’s another tug to the back of your collar, choking the sound. Now that you’ve got a good angle to look at Ry, you realize that he’s using his mage hand to do it. You’ve never seen this side of him. He seems so calm and collected, like he’s going through a well-rehearsed script. Something inside you desires more. You uselessly buck your hips again.

He’s looking down at you with an amused expression.

“Needy today, aren’t we?”

You lower your eyebrows into a scowl. Ry snorts a half-chuckle. He straightens his back, moving away from you, and you're just about to shoot him some kind of look when you notice that he’s crawling on the bed atop you. There’s a moment of alarm, where you’re afraid he’s going to start grinding on you, and you’re terrified of him noticing the wet spot… But instead he opts to sit himself in a much more dangerous position, right below our stomach, and you’re so so gods damn happy that Ry is as light as he is, because it’s taking every ounce of your focus to combat the newly-added pressure.

“I am curious about something, though,” Ry smiles, and the mage hand dances around your neck. He continues to foreplay, completely oblivious to your struggle. The touch is feather-light. Ethereal. You’re slowly losing your mind.

“This seems awfully familiar,” he continues, even though his words are suddenly the last thing on your mind. It takes him reaching down and lifting your jaw up with delicate fingers before you realize he’s talking about the collar. His collar. Fuck.

“‘Orry.” The word is a squeak with how tense you are. You feel a little bit of unhelpful relief though when you feel the mage hand untying the gag. You use your tongue to maneuver it out of your mouth. Ry catches it in his free hand.

“No need. It suits you.” Ry’s smile is genuine for only a second, before it twists into something a little more like pity, “It compliments how slutty and desperate you are.”

He doesn’t know the half of it. You squeeze your eyes shut and groan. You wish he hadn’t removed your blindfold, exposing what little affect your eyes add to your entire depressing scene. You can’t help it when your hips start moving again of their own accord, even though they’re getting no relief grinding in the air. If anything, it’s painful, as Ry’s weight becomes more apparent with each movement.

“Do you like being degraded like that? Being told how pathetic you look right now?”

And you do. And it’s so much, actually, that you really can’t tell if you’re closer to cumming or pissing yourself, because while the latter has been brewing for a while now, Ry’s words are making your stomach flip at an exponential rate.

“Ry, fuck,” An ugly sob, “I’m close, I’m–”

Your words are cut off by a pair of fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and making you gag.

“You better not be,” is all he says, and it sends you to the point of no return. Instantly, your body goes stiff to counteract it. You can hold off a little more, surely? You haven’t even received any kind of stimulation. How pathetic are you, to be cumming from nothing at all?

The thought sends you spiraling, and despite doing your best to hold still, to void your body of any friction or stimulation at all, you’re cumming. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your breathing hitches in your throat. It’s far from the best orgasm you’ve ever had–what, with you ruining it in the last moment–but you know you must look so fucking undone right now that you can’t help but let it turn you on even more. You’re thinking this all up until the point that your bladder relaxes for just a moment, and you have to focus back in, recollecting yourself as you shudder to a stop. Just a leak. Just a leak that was… definitely too much. You’re partial to caring. Fuck it. Nothing is going to save you at this point. You’re doomed in the end, one way or another. At the very least, you can see how far you can push things before that happens.

“Fuck,” You can tell that Ry is trying to be a dominating force right now, but you have completely broken his character with that last stunt. Now, his face is hot, and he keeps opening his mouth to form words without finding them. His fingers have moved themselves from your mouth, which now form a fist with which he’s gripping the sheets below.

“Keep going,” You reassure him. You’re scared what will happen when this ends, and you’re certainly not done yet.

“Fuck, Nyklos,” He takes a moment to regain some composure, cocking a smile that’s only mostly convincing, “I guess I’m going to have to punish you for that, aren’t I?”

Your heart does a flip. Ry shifts backwards a little bit, and it’s unfortunately right then that you realize that you leaked a lot more than you thought you did.

His half-lidded eyes go wide in shock, and yours match them with a healthy dose of fear. But those shocked eyes are quickly overcome by a dark wave of desire that seems to encapsulate him, and you feel your face grow hot once more. Ry shifts his weight once more, as if second guessing himself.

“Did you piss yourself?”

You can’t break your eye contact with him, and your soul sinks backwards as you watch him piece all of the clues together. The towels. The restraints. The tie on the belt. The spontaneous swim you took a few days ago. And the look you’re giving him in return is nothing but telling, you’re sure of it.

“You wanted to piss yourself.”

You want to simply disappear. You’re not even done pissing yourself. While that last leak offered a little release, you’re pretty sure the dam is about to break with the next one.

Ry lowers his head to brush against yours. His hair feathers across your face. His breath is hot on your lips, and the proximity is killing you.

“Fuck that’s… That's actually really hot.”

Well.

You can’t even form a coherent thought before you close the gap and kiss him, deeper than you’ve ever kissed anyone in your life. It’s your first real kiss. You’re having your first real kiss while laying in a pile of your own piss and cum, and not even being technically finished with either of those things. You’re so fucking pathetic. Disgusting. You can’t help when your hips start bucking up against Ry, who returns the favor instantaneously.

He breaks off the kiss to breathe, “I’m,” a small breath, “still gonna have to punish you, though.”

You can’t help but whine. You’re already so close again. You aren’t used to being touched like this. The smallest sensations are setting you off.

Ry lowers his face to whisper in your ear, “You know…” he begins, before contemplating his next words. He’s still rutting playfully against you.

“Yeah?”

“I’m, uh.” You can feel the heat radiating from his face, “I might actually need to go a little too. Can I?”

You feel your brain break.

Short circuit.

All thoughts end, replaced with carnal desire and need.

There exist only so many ways you can ravage Ry with your restraints, mostly resulting in an attempt to devour him in a kiss that results in you just licking aimlessly on his neck, before he sits up and out of your range with a sly smile.

You’re lost in yourself. Completely unraveled.

Ry scoots forward, and your heart races. He positions himself right over your face, and you feel your soul escape your body.

“Eat me out.”

His clothes are still on, but you’re too desperate to care. You wriggle a little, doing your best to lean up to his crotch, mouthing him through his pants. You can feel your own residual wetness that has soaked into them as you do, and you taste your own acidity. You are completely captivated, hypnotized by your own desire.

And then it hits you. Slow spurts at first, and then a stream. Your mouth is surrounded by the wetness as it seeps into the fabric, into your mouth, down your chin, embracing your face. For a moment, you can’t breathe, and you try to pull away, but Ry grabs your horns like handlebars, forcing you deeper into his mess as he lets out a guttural groan.

You suddenly can’t breathe at all. The wet fabric is suffocating you, and your best attempts to intake a breath are forcefully halted. You’ve come close to drowning once before, and the sensation hits you like a brick. You’re being waterboarded by your best friend’s piss, and he has no idea. Thats so fucked up. Your wrists thrash helplessly against their binds, and your body twists and turns and jolts before you begin to lose strength.Your lungs burn, and you can’t help as they keep trying to intake air to no avail. You’re so panicked and desperate to breathe and horny and pathetic, and it’s so overwhelming that you lose complete control over any part of your body. With no further fanfare, threatened with unconsciousness… you’re pissing. The stream is so strong you can hear the unflattering hiss as it forces through the fabric of your pants, and you’re at a complete loss to stop it from happening. It's so hot, the warmth is carried down your legs, before seeping into the towels below you, which are soon soaked through. You feel it filling in every crevice and pooling under you with the dip in the bed. And even after Ry finishes, even after you can breathe again, you’re letting out nothing but choked sounds and ugly whimpers as you are overwhelmed with nothing but sweet relief. It's so disgusting and repulsive and you’re loving every second, basking in an incomparable pleasure, and it’s in that moment that you feel your body convulsing, and before you know it you’re cumming too.

You’re pretty sure your soul leaves you too, because you’re on cloud fucking nine. Your stream throbs as you cum, and your entire body pulses with the motion, interrupting your already embarrassing sounds. The pulse of your stream, in turn, alongside with the wetness surrounding you, is riding you up to another orgasm, and you’re not even done with your first. When Ry tugs on your collar, you further unravel, and your choked sounds become sobs. You’re cuming again. And you’re still pissing. And you can’t help it. It’s so much. It’s too much. You feel like your body is blacking out. You have no feeling, no control. You can feel your physical form being ripped from you, as your limbs threaten to stretch into their true changeling form. You have no identity outside of what’s happening to you. Only the intensity of relief.

You’re in this feeling for what feels like an eternity, or, at least what feels like must have been close to two minutes. Your body still moves of its own accord, not bothering to take your commands after you’ve tortured it for so long, but you do get your senses back, and your body regroups back into your preferred identity. Ry has moved off of you, to the other side of the bed. You do your best to tilt your head, and feel drool drip from your cheek. He’s kneeling beside you, with his hand in his pants, rocking into it desperately. He’s not as loud as you, but he isn’t quiet either, whispering out high pitched “ahs” and “ohs” with every rut. He doesn’t seem to notice you watching, too engrossed with the motions of your body and the puddle beneath you. You’re in bliss just watching for a few moments, as your body works out it’s last few jerks.

“Now who’s needy?” You try to deliver the line smoothly, but your voice is gravely and weak. You're shaking.

“Shut… Shut up!”

It’s adorable when Ry whines. He’s so adorable.

“Hm.” You chuckle, and Ry gives you a pout.

After a second, though, he slows down his pace, and his eyes begin to focus on you more like you’re a puzzle than a sexual partner.

“Actually, you know what?” He asks.

You’re not sure, but you’re too blissed out in your own mess to care.

“This isn’t fair,” he answers himself, “You don’t get to be done until I’m done.”

Your clit gives an eager throb at the regained confidence, and it’s almost painful how sensitive you are to it. Ry’s domineering confidence has intoxicated you, and you are nothing if not subservient to it.

You let out a small yelp when he places his hand on your wet abdomen, trailing his hand down further until it’s resting atop your clothes and between your legs. His entire hand is engulfed in your wetness and the puddle beneath you, and it’s so embarrassing and intimate it’s hard for you to take stable breaths. He presses down and you holler into the air. If anyone was sleeping, they weren’t now. It’s the first real stimulation you’ve had tonight, even though your pussy is numb and your clit is hypersensitive, recoiling to any touch. It’s overstimulating and it hurts, but it feels good, and you want so much more.

You can’t stop your vocal performance, yelping in pain as Ry works on you. Tears are welling in your eyes. You don’t have strength in any part of your body to deny him, nor do you want to. He’s still refusing to reach under your clothes, and it’s a good thing, because you’re pretty damn sure you would black out if he did. Once the sensation becomes numbing, you change tactics, bucking up into Ry’s hand each time his palm dips to rub at you. It takes strength you don’t have, and your body aches, but it feels so good, and you’re approaching your fourth orgasm of the night.

The moment you feel yourself crossing that bridge, however, Ry pulls his hands away, and you cry out something incoherent, not able to form words.

“Me first, remember?” Ry whispers, low, like a growl. The bass in his voice clouds your brain, and you’re so completely certain that you need him to ruin you.

“Hit me.” “What?” He’s caught off guard.

“Please. Just hit me.”

There’s a hesitant slap across your face, as if Ry thinks waterboarding you to the point of nearly passing out with his piss was a completely acceptable thing to do, but a slap is just too far.

“Harder. Fuck. Punch me, something.”

“Like, where—?”

“Anywhere. Face,”

“Eyes?”

“Sure, I—”

And then there’s a fist in your face, hitting just across the bridge of your nose and into the opposite eye. The pain is sudden and bludgeoning, and you don’t care what’s bloodied, blackened, or bruised in the morning with the adrenaline running through you now. Your eyes are squinted shut.

“Again.”

“What?”

“Aga–aaah!”

Ry doesn’t have to be told twice that time, and you feel Ry’s hands digging into your greasy mullet and nearly fucking uprooting an entire fistful of it. You groan, and you hear Ry’s breathing get heavier above you. You can feel him trying to resist grinding on you, but he’s failing. The wet slap of his body against yours is audible.

“F-fuck, you really enjoy all of this, huh?”

“I need to be punished,” you breathe, “For almost cumming before you.” you reply. Some of the syllables catch in your throat.

He yanks on your hair again, pulling your head up. You can do nothing to resist the motion, even if you wanted to. And then you can feel his teeth on your neck, sharp and elven. He gently nibbles just above the collar, not quite threatening to pierce skin, but simply reminding that he could. And that’s when he starts sucking, and it's an unfamiliar feeling, but not entirely unwelcome. You feel the path of skin get more sensitive, and it’s nice and numbing at the same time.

He only releases to whisper in your ear, a low, “I’m getting close.”

You whine, trying to buck up into him, even though it's still a little painful. He chuckle’s into your ear as he meets each attempt eagerly. You want to embrace him, but trying to tug your hands forward only alludes to the rope burn already present on your wrists.

“Use me,” you’re eventually able to get out, “Use me to cum.”

Ry grunts, increasing his speed before pausing to recalculate. In a moment, he gets off of you, and you can see him on his knees on the mattress, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers. Anticipation paralyzes you as your eyes fixate on the increasingly exposed areas of his body. His hair is unkempt, and you can see his t-dick standing alert, throbbing. It’s such a clear admission of how aroused he is. How aroused you made him. How you’re really in control.

He starts on your chest, frotting right in between your pecs before using the headboard to leverage himself to hump you like a proper pillow.

You can feel his attempts getting more and more frantic, before he once again pauses to reposition himself, this time over your face.

“Suck me off.”

You will, gladly. You need a little bit of assistance leaning up far enough, but luckily Ry is once again there to help, by yanking your horns so your face lands directly into his musk. He takes away one of his hands to part his lips, exposing his little cock.

You’re cautious at first. You’ve never done this. You don’t know what feels good.

“Suck. I won’t break.”

So you do. You take him between your lips, and give a little suckle. And Ry honest-to-gods whines. And you do it again, harder. And Ry has to support himself from going limp. And you’re having so much fun pushing his buttons, being the cause of him slowly spiraling, that you’re completely caught off guard when a small spurt hits your bottom lip, and you realize he’s leaking again, and your brain once again turns to mush. Suddenly you’re no longer just sucking his cock, but fully running your tongue down his lips, mouthing at him, sticking it inside of him and devouring all that you can. It’s a new low, even for you. It’s disgraceful the lengths that this kink has sent you to, how far you’ll go to get off. It’s deprived. And when he spurts again and you can taste and feel the acidity running down your throat, you’re so immediately close to cumming a fourth time that it’s sad. But if Ry wants to use you as a urinal, fuck it. You’re not going to pass up that opportunity. You’re hypnotized by the idea.

You run your tongue between his folds, and you can taste all kinds of wetness. He leaks twice more and each time nearly sends you over the edge. Tears, good ones, are forming in your eyes. You are so fucking depraved. Your body is going to absolutely hate you later.

“Fuck, Nyklos, I’m so fucking close,” Ry whimpers, more to himself than to you with how barely audible it is with you between his thighs. And you can tell he’s telling the truth, with how his muscles contract around you, his dick twitching against the roof of your mouth. You slide your tongue inside him, before slowly trailing it out along the underside of his cock. When you reach his tip, Ry yanks on your horns to force you further into him, and he rocks his hips erratically. As you go to do it again, his muscles contract around your tongue, and you feel the wetness spill out of him as he cums, whispering your name in a small, overworked voice as frequently as he can muster.

“F– Fuh– Nyklos. Nyklos. Nyklos–”

You’re doing this to him. Fuck. Fuck.

Ry doesn’t lose himself completely in his orgasm though, which you only realize when you feel a hand roughly palming you through your pants. As he finishes his orgasm and you expect him to pull away, you instead find your mouth filling with his piss. It becomes immediately clear how much he was still holding back after earlier, and you sputter underneath him, flailing against your binds as you once again struggle for breath as it begins to leak from your nose. Ry relents, though, and you’re left spitting it back up onto your chest, and swallowing what you have to. Before you can fully process it though, Ry is again pressing into your wet bottoms with his palm, rubbing you out over the fabric. You can’t decide if you’re bucking yourself into his touch or away from it, with how sensitive you currently are, but it doesn’t matter, you’re so close to the edge regardless, and you’re stuck so perfectly in that state of almost close enough that it's mind numbing. You can’t imagine what the look on your face is like. You almost don’t want Ry to send you over the edge. You want to stay right here.

There’s a tug on your collar, and your eyes fly open to see Ry up close with you. His mage hand is still rubbing you out. With his free hand, though, he cups your chin gently, and before you can process it you’re getting pulled into a deep kiss. Ry’s tongue enters your mouth, pressing against yours, and as you share his flavors back with him, you can’t take the overwhelm anymore. You’re cumming again. And you’re so exhausted that it’s mostly quiet and just pathetic little catches of breath as Ry pulls away with an exhausted grin.

You can’t move a muscle. Ry unties your binds with his mage hand, and you let them flop down in relief. For a moment, you’re just left shaking.

He flops down beside you, letting his hands trail your body reassuringly as you catch your breath. He unties the rope leading from your collar to your belt, before removing the collar in its entirety, and it’s been there for so long that you still feel the phantom of it. The sensation is interrupted by a hand on your neck, lightly caressing the spot. Ry nuzzles into your neck, opposite his hand, and starts leaving light, lazy kisses on your skin.

“Good girl…” he hums.

You sigh, and you feel heat rising to our face. You still can’t move.

“Good boy,” you counter. Ry freezes. You chuckle. “You like that, huh…? I bet you’d love being collared and leashed… Paraded around like–”

“Nyklos?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up now unless you have the energy for another round.”

You snort. You wish you did, but moving from this spot seems like a chore enough. You want to sleep, but you know you need to clean up–even if you don’t have the energy just yet. So, idle chat it is.

“Sorry.”

Ry gives a big sigh, which you can’t help but mirror. You’re starting to get cold in the fluid around you. The novelty of your circumstance is wearing off, and the reality of everything that has happened is beginning to set in. You’re blushing feverishly, but Ry seems unfazed.

“Everything okay?” Ry asks. He’s moved the hand on your neck to massage your shoulder. “I wish I could draw us a bath or something.”

“Oh gods,” you groan, “We’re going to have to take a walk of shame out of town to clean up, aren’t we?”

Ry chuckles, “Just to the outhouse. There’s a water pump. We should be fine, though. Everyone’s asleep, right?”

You severely doubt that, but you don't really have another option.

“Why were you coming to see me, anyway?”

Ry stops massaging.

“Honest answer?”

“Yeah.”

“I, uh… Well, it’s late, right? And I didn’t want to walk to the outhouse alone.”

The gears take a moment to turn, before your neck cranes so that you can look Ry in the eyes. He’s avoiding your gaze.

“So when you…”

“Yeah.”

“You really had to…”

Ry nods.

“Shit,” You take a moment, “I hope I didn’t– I mean, you know–”

Ry puts his finger on your lips, preventing further word vomit.

“I meant it when I said it was hot, you know,” he smiles, “So don’t apologize.”

Alright. Cool. Cool.

This revelation is fine. It surely won’t have further consequences.

There’s a brief silence. Silences with Ry have always been comfortable, and this is no exception. You’re used to sharing a small space with him. It’s not the first time you two have cuddled on a bed like this. It’s just that this time, there are some charged emotions. You can work with that.

He repositions himself to wedge his nose in between the crook of your head and the mattress, humming into your messy hair.

“Hm… We should get cleaned up, though,” he murmurs, “And then you should join me in my room.”

The offer is tantalizing. So warm and inviting.

“What about this one?” As much as you don’t want to deal with it, you also don’t want to leave evidence. Or have some poor housekeeper clean up after you.

Ry groans. “I’ll clean it in the morning.”

“I’ll help, then.”

He chuckles a “thanks” into your hair, and it feels perfect.

You have to force yourself to sit up, and your entire body aches. A moment of perfect comfort violently transitions into you feeling as if you just slept on a pile of rocks. You rub your wrists and rotate them. The ache feels good. It takes you a moment to gather enough strength to push yourself off of the bed, and you can feel the soaked fabric beneath you shift until you’re free of it, and left dripping onto the wood floor. Your clothes are heavy and cold. You do not look back to observe the mess.

Ry follows, a little more enthusiastically. As he moves in front of you, he takes a moment to glance behind, observing both you and the bed. He gives a whistle that makes you cringe, before grinning ear-to-ear at that nonverbal response. He’s still naked below his waist, but has folded his pants up and is holding them to conveniently censor his bits. You realize he has no intention of putting them on when he makes his way towards the door.

“Um–”

“What, like what you see?” He reaches for the door knob, but doesn’t hesitate to wiggle his ass in front of you.

Gods, you want it. You’ve got the perfect cock in mind to destroy it with. You–

“Nyklos?”

You cough.

“Yeah. Coming.”

When Ry opens the door, you’re prepared to be as subtle as possible in your attempt to escape the inn… But that doesn’t quite work when there’s already a dragonborn standing there, holding up a piece of parchment and a quill pen. Thiav, you realize, freezes when they see the two of you. The both of you do the same.

There’s a moment where their eyes move over the two of you, taking in the details of your afterglow, before they hand Ry the piece of parchment, and nonchalantly turns to walk down the corridor.

Ry takes a moment to read it, giving a singular belly laugh, before holding it up for you to see.

#omorashi #bladder control #mindbreak #b0ndage #dnd nsft #stupor creates #everyone say thank you to my fellow platonic dnd player for beta reading this and letting me use their character thiav lmao #this is an omo fic first and foremost! the other stuff is secondary

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