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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 days

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

[3.4K] title from ‘too sweet’ by hozier, just a stressed out steve, a willing girlfriend and a lot of filth. written in two hours and not edited in the slightest i’m sorry do not perceive me.

As sour as Steve had looked when he came home from work, he tasted twice as sweet.

He’d called you on his lunch, voice strained and low and you could picture the stitch between his brows, the downturn of his lips as he grumbled to you down Family Videos landline.

Robin was off sick, Keith was in a foul mood, two kids came in and stole a copy of a porno that was sitting behind the desk and the return pile sat at the height of Steve’s waist.

“Can’t wait to come home,” he had sighed down the line, voice rough and mournful and making your thighs squeeze together just right. “Wanna see you so bad, y’know?”

And you did know.

It seemed to take an age before you heard his car pull into the driveway, brakes squeaking slightly because the rent on the apartment came before any repairs to the BMW now. It’s why you’d poured a whisky for him, neat and no ice, no water, just the way Steve liked it. You considered dinner, home cooked and waiting on the kitchen table but something else took hold in your thoughts.

You could order pizza later.

So Steve came in the door with his shoulders slumped and his keys rattling from his fingertips, his green work vest already discarded and probably balled up in the backseat of his car. That frown was there, the one you’d wanted to soothe away all day for him, creasing at his brows, turning down the corners of his soft and pretty lips.

He thawed when he saw you, barefoot and in an old sweater that was too big for you, legs naked and your skin still warm from the shower you’d taken your time in. Steve held out a hand, groaning in delight when you stepped to him, all soft smiles and softer sweater, allowing him to pull you into his chest. His noises were doing things, rough sighs and low moans that made you think with what was between your legs, his purrs vibrating from his chest to yours as he curled his arms around your lower back.

It was easy to return the affection, pushed onto your tiptoes as you carded your hands into the hair at the nape of his neck, the smell of his cologne that you watched him spray that morning barely clinging to his skin. You nosed at his throat anyway, everything about him smelling like home and when Steve let out a low grunt at your adoration, you used one hand to pull at his jaw, bringing his lips to yours.

It was more than an average kiss ‘hello’. In fact, it made his brows shoot upwards and his breath hitch, the arm still around your waist faltering before he caught up with the pace you had set and tucked you in tighter to his body. He let you lead, eyes fluttering shut as he sighed softer than he had all day, letting you steal the noise and keep it for yourself.

Steve fell pliant for you, pretty lips giving in to yours as you kissed him slow, needy, lazy. Your tongue traced the seam of his mouth, teasing, testing, his breath ragged when he opened for you, trying to catch up. You pulled away then, pleased with the rosy cheeks and blown out pupils that stared back at you.

“Go sit down,” you told him, voice soft, quiet. There was a spell cast, not to be broken, not until Steve did too. “I’ll be through in a second.”

If Steve knew what you were up to, he didn’t say. No questions asked, the boy blinked and stumbled into the doorframe before righting himself, heading for the sofa. You’d long switched the television off, the lamp by the armchair dimmed low, the candles you liked to collect all lit and scattered across the coffee table and the fireplace mantle.

You returned with his whisky, the glass glinting amber in the candle light, your smile too coy. Steve raised his brows as you handed him his drink, his gaze too caught on your bare legs. He reached out for you, warm palm travelling up the back of your thigh, wide enough to curl around it and bring you between his knees.

Exactly where you planned to end up.

“What have I done to deserve this, huh?” He asked, whisky on one hand as he leant his chin on the soft of your stomach, eyes wide and dark as he looked up at you.

You scoffed, soft and light, your hands carding through his hair. You pushed it from his forehead, nails scratching at his scalp, beaming when he closed his eyes like he couldn’t help it, lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks. “What? Bring you a drink?”

Steve hummed, distracted. “Was thinkin’ more along the lines of deserving you.”

Love sick, that’s what you felt. An awfully sticky thing that glued itself to your heart at his words. You didn’t know what to say, especially not when he was looking at you like that again, all brown sugar eyes, honeyed and soft. So you bent instead, nose bumping his before you stole another kiss, gentler than before, lingering and as sweet as him.

You let him take one sip of his whisky before you dragged his shirt from his body, hair wild as you pulled it over his head, cheeks flushed and eyes surprised.

“What—?”

You didn’t respond, merely dropping to your knees instead and popping the button on his Levi’s. Steve swore, a dirty, throaty sound that made your stomach flip because you knew that he knew where this was going.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Fuck. You don’t have to do that—”

The sound of his zipped caught in the air, the rest of the evening quiet. The closed curtains and the flicker of the candle light made the small living room feel even tinier, a warm bubble where you could hear every little noise Steve made for you. His hand travelled up your forearm, fingers curling at your elbow and squeezing. Steve looked half gone already, lip parted and shiny from your previous kisses and you knew he’d taste like cedar and smoke now.

“What if I wanna?” You told him, pouring, just a little. Because what man could resist a pretty thing like you on your knees, lips soft and begging? You pushed yourself up, leaning into the space between his hips, your mouth skimming along his jawline, tongue licking into the corner of his mouth all sweet. It was barely a kiss, but it was somehow dirtier. “What if I told you I wanna make you feel better? That I’ve been thinking about your cock in my mouth all day?”

Steve groaned, falling into you, head on your shoulder, teeth biting down on the junction of your neck. “Fuck— baby. Baby, y’cant, you can’t just say shit like that.”

You grinned, amusement hidden from him as Steve continued to mouth at your throat, nose nudging down the collar of your sweater so he could kiss more skin. “I can’t?” You asked.

“Gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind,” he mumbled. He lifted his head then, cheeks pink and eyes looking heavy lidded, pupils black and too big. He looked delirious on you. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed heavily, tongue licking at his lips. “You really been thinking about that?”

You nodded, making your eyes a little too wide, too innocent, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and it was a cheap shot, an easy target— but fuck, it worked every time. Steve’s hand slid to your ass, lifting your sweater out of his way and squeezing a plump cheek, only your underwear to be found underneath.

“So can I?” You whispered, mouth parted, brushing against his. You shared your breath with him, nose pushed to his warm cheek, hands coasting over his thighs as you prepared to tug down those too tight jeans.

Steve sounded too breathy when he answered but he still played your game, too far gone or not. He was watching your mouth when he spoke, transfixed by the pink gloss there, the way he could see your tongue between them. “Can you what, honey?”

You smirked.

Steve knew what you were asking. He just wanted to hear you say it again.

“Can I suck your cock?”

You heard it then, the hitch in his throat, the too harsh exhale. Steve looked at you like you were everything, like you’d hung each star and you were ever wet dream all at once. Lips pressed together to deal in his moan, his filthy words, he nodded, hair falling into dark eyes. And when he trusted his voice, albeit rougher and lower than before, he spoke.

“Yeah, honey, go ‘head.” He lifted his hips when you tapped them, jeans and boxers shoved down just enough for his cock to spring free, already hard and hitting his stomach. “You’re so— you’re so fucking sweet, y’know that?”

You smiled, all coy, faux shyness as you leaned your cheek onto his thigh, denim and coarse hair against your skin. Steve gasped when you wrapped a small hand around him, fingers barely meeting around his girth and you stroked once, twice. “I am?”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer before your tongue followed, a lazy, wide lick from the base of him to his tip, already dark pink and slick for you. Steve’s hips canted up, head thrown back against the cushions and you adored the way you got to watch his jaw tense, neck straining as he calmed himself down.

“God,” he blew out a breath, eyes trained on the ceiling because if he looked down and saw the way you were kissing a line up his cock, he’d fucking lose it. “Yeah, baby. The sweetest, Jesus Christ.”

You took it easy on him then, easing him into it until his shoulders sagged and his head tipped back up, his pretty face more flushed than ever but Steve watched you as you took him into your mouth, his jaw unhinged as you sucked the tip of him, licking over his head.

His hand found the back of your head, holding but not pushing and he groaned something fierce when you scratched at his bare thighs, nails dragging over the muscle there. “Tha’ s’it,” Steve moaned, unabashed, totally gone. “Keep suckin’ me, honey, yeah— please. Can you take more, huh? Take a little more for me, please, baby.”

You didn’t need to be asked, begging or not, but it certainly made it all that sweeter. Steve’s hand was cupping your jaw, thumb stroking over the corner of your mouth as you widened it, tongue licking out over his cock as you took more of it into your mouth, inch by inch until he was touching the back of your throat. It made the boy go a little wild, gasping and panting, curses mixed in with praise that was filthy enough to make your own toes curl.

“Holy shit, jus’ like that, yeah,” Steve was slurring, words meshed together in a quick mumble, his breathes too heavy for him to care. “You feel me in your throat? You’re so fuckin’ good for me, babe, Christ— yeah, yeah, lemme see your tongue, yeah. Stick it out for me, honey, oh shit—”

You did as asked, pulling back with wet eyes and warm cheeks, your lips shiny from your efforts. You kept a hand around Steve’s cock, slowly pumping him as you stuck your tongue out flat. You knew what he wanted, it was why his cheeks were so pink, the tips of his ears too. Something he found too vulgar to ask for, always scared you’d shy away from it.

You never did.

You tapped the head of his cock against your tongue, the wet slapping sounds nothing but pure filth, your own breathy noises too much for him. Steve could barely keep it together, eyes screwing shut as he bucked upwards, swearing and groaning something awful as he watched his cock slide over your tongue. You let him move, hips thrusting as you held him to your mouth, parted lips slipping over his shaft, and warm tongue tracing the throbbing vein down the length of it.

“M’gonna come,” Steve gasped and he was shaking his head, hips pressing back down into the safety of the couch and he sounded overwhelmed, eyes glassy. “Fuck, no, no, no— I—”

“No?” You pouted, understanding. Pulling away, you leaned up again, wet lips sliding over Steve’s and he kissed you feverishly, tongue licking into your mouth to search for your own. He groaned, whining when you squeezed a hand around his cock. “Too much? You don’t wanna come yet, huh?”

Steve shook his head, hair falling into his eyes and his chest was heaving, his hands curling around your sides and he was pulling at your sweater, lifting it from your frame. “No, no— shit, not yet, please.”

You let him strip you, sweater discarded by his own shirt and your bare chest only made him swear a little more, eyes on your tits, your peaked nipples and suddenly he wanted nothing more than his cock between them. He felt drunk, delirious, suddenly too happy to care about how quickly he came.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he told you with a very serious expression. His hands travelled up, palms cupping your breasts, thumbs flicking over each nipple with careful precision. “M’gonna die and it’s gonna be because of you and your mouth and those tits and—” Steve choked on a laugh when you did, lashes fluttering as you took his cock back in your hand. “—and m’gonna be a very, very happy man.”

Grinning, you rolled your eyes at his declaration, as dramatic as they were. He was as hard as steel in your grip, his hips rolling up into your touch and didn’t want to wait much longer, his poor cheeks bright red with the exertion of holding back. So you gave him a kiss, light and sweet, too sweet for the current situation but it made Steve all the more wild. You were murmuring low and soft to him, holding his cock to your tits as you stroked him, words whispered between cute little pecks at his lips, his warm cheeks.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna come, handsome?”

“Mhmm.” A whine more than a word. “Please.”

“Where do you wanna come?”

A swear, guttural and hoarse. A twitch of his dick at the thought of his options. “Fuck, I— uh, I dunno.”

“Here?” You asked him sweetly, pushing his length between your breasts, rubbing your own nipple so he could watch it harden again. “All over here? Paint me nice ‘n pretty?”

Steve couldn’t form words now, which was exactly what you’d wanted.

Your mouth made its way to his ear, voice dropping lower than before. “My mouth?” You whispered. “D’you wanna come in my mouth, Stevie?”

A jerk of his hips, a whine and a grunt as his cock kicked up once more. He was so fucking close. Steve let his forehead fall to your shoulder, too hot and too helpless and too fucking desperate. He clung to you, hands wrapping around your bare waist and he didn’t know what he wanted more. He could sit back and watch you drop back down to your knees, pushing your pretty tits together as he jerked himself onto them, knowing he could watch the way he dripped down your body.

Or he could get you to open your mouth, pink tongue back out and waiting, you doe eyed and watching him. He always got dirty with that, asking you in the sweetest voice to let him see it all in your mouth, asking you to swallow it like a good girl before showing him your clean tongue after.

If Steve didn’t choose he was going to fucking explode.

So he tugged at your waist, gasping as he wrenched himself from you, falling back into the sofa. He took his aching cock in his own hand, pumping it once before squeezing tightly, willing away the need to come right there and then. He patted his knee, his eyes glassy and hooded as he looked at you.

“C’mere, baby, come sit.”

You did as told, happily, easily, willingly. Your own chest was thundering, excitement itching at your too warm skin because whatever Steve wanted you’d give him. Your thighs were slick, underwear sticking to your folds in the most obscene way because Steve’s sounds were too much to cope with without being touched too. He looked a riot, the prettiest kind. His hair mussed and cheeks flushed, lips pink and slick from your kisses, his eyes a little wild.

He helped you onto his lap, legs spread over his knees and his dick standing hard and to attention between you both. You waited patiently for his instructions, to hear what he wanted from you and Steve let his head fall back onto the cushions once more as he watched you from hooded lids. His jaw was flexing with each stroke he gave himself, hazy gaze roaming over your tits, your stomach and then lower.

And then—

“Lemme see you, baby?”

Your stomach flipped. A sweet voice, a prettily asked question, some filthy words. You smiled at Steve, lips twisting to hide your absolute glee because you knew what wanted, what he wanted to do and you were more than happy to give it to him.

You didn’t say anything as you hooked your fingers into the crotch of your underwear, gasping a little at how wet they actually were. You tugged them aside, white cotton stretched over your skin as you held the material away from yourself. With your spread thighs, you let Steve have the filthiest view, all glistening skin, a swollen clit between wet folds. You didn’t look down, you didn’t have to. You could hear the slick, fast sounds of Steve fucking his own fist, his frantic, hitched breaths.

“That’s it, yeah,” he sounded gone, drunk. “So good—”

Instead you watched him watch you, his eyes set on your pussy, gaze on fire as he enjoyed the show and when you swept your fingers over the centre of your folds, Steve swore, his free hand on your thigh clutching you tighter.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured, his teeth catching his bottom lip. He was close, you knew he was. “Such a pretty pussy, Jesus Christ, can’t believe I was gonna come without gettin’ to see her.”

You hummed, all delight and amusement. You cocked a brow even though Steve was still staring at your spread legs. “I’m dirty?” You cooed. “You’re the one who’s gonna come all over my cu—”

And he did.

Steve came with your name on his tongue, making it sound like the dirtiest, holiest thing you’d ever heard. He was gasping, choked sounds leaving his pretty lips as he fucked his fist, come spilling over his knuckles and onto your folds, leaving you and your underwear even stickier than before. His head fell back onto the sofa as he caught his breath, an impossible thing with his heaving chest but you curled into him almost immediately.

You let go of your stretched out underwear, your own breath hitching when you felt the warm, stickiness cling to your cunt. Steve pulled at you as you moved closer, your hands soothing over his jaw and cheeks, thumbs rubbing over his flushed skin as he kissed you, head lifting lazily, moaning at your touch, your lips, the feel of your bare stomach pressing his half hard cock to his own.

He was sticky with it all, with sweat, his own release, your affection and touch.

It was too much and entirely not enough, not of you.

Steve’s lips clicked as he pulled them away from your own, albeit grudgingly. You tasted sweet, like strawberry lipgloss and him. He was still panting when he spoke, his messy hand held away from you as he took your chin in his other. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, swollen from all your efforts and he watched the way it popped back into place, making you smile.

“M’gonna finish my whisky,” he mumbled softly, eyes searching yours. He was met with excitement, knowing, a whole lot of adoration and fondness that he felt for you too. “You’re gonna check my pulse—” you laughed, too bright and joyous for the gloomy light of the room. Steve grinned, cheeks aching. “And then we’re gonna go upstairs and I’m gonna return the favour.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot #Steve Harrington blurb

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daosies · 3 months

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"stop looking at me like that."

"like what?"

they can't help but stare at you.

luka, jing yuan, gepard, dan heng ♡ gn!reader

warnings: graphic descriptions of love (crude imagery), pre-established relationship, reader is a nameless (dan heng's part)

notes: Can u tell my fav based on how much i write for them? (Its luka)

no matter where you are, luka's azure gaze will always find its way to you. even when he's in the midst of one of his matches, luka can't help but sneak a tiny (that, in reality, is not so tiny) glance at you, eager for your approval.

such a "tiny" glance lands him on the floor, his opponent landing a punch square on luka's jaw. pain reverberates throughout his body, sending waves of heat rushing to his face.

"ouch," he groans, narrowly avoiding another hit. he recovers quickly, his gaze now fixated wholly on his opponent.

adrenaline courses through his veins, his movements smoother than usual as luka apprehends his opponent in a matter of seconds. even as he's in the midst of putting someone in a headlock, his vision blinded by the lights of the fighting rink, luka's eyes find you.

he doesn't know how to explain it—his eyes are just naturally drawn to you. no matter where you are, luka will find you, and he will adore you. even if the spotlights blur his vision, just your silhouette is enough to satisfy him.

(maybe, when he was created, and when the aeons pieced together bits of his eyes, they carved his irises with the intention of beholding you. maybe, when luka was blessed with sight, it was because the aeons wanted him to witness you.)

even now, as the referee raises his arm in order to declare his victory, luka searches for you in the crowd. his grin widens as he waves at you with his free, mechanical hand. luka adores you; it's evident in the glimmer of his azure eyes and the way he immediately rushes to celebrate with you.

"i didn't think you'd come,"—but he'd still search for you anyway—"i'm so glad you did!" luka rubs the back of his head bashfully, the adrenaline pumping throughout his body beginning to wear off. only now does luka realize you're there, and that you just watched him fight!

his eyes never leave your frame. luka observes you under the muted lights, fluorescent bulbs flickering as if they became anxious in your presence. he supposes that he's not your only admirer, with the way the lights dim and the crowd's cheers fall silent, the way the world quiets to heed your words.

(what he doesn't realize is that the lights never dimmed, that the crowd never quieted. luka felt things that never happened, he envisioned a spotlight on you that never existed—but to him, it did. the world really did wait for you.)

"you were great out there, luka!"

you smile, and luka feels something flutter within him. his heartbeat travels from his chest, suddenly echoing throughout his body, making itself known even in the tips of his fingers and the rush of his ears.

something flutters within him, and luka thinks he's fallen for you. again.

"interesting move," jing yuan states. he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand, his lips curling into the slightest of smiles as he stares at you shamelessly.

"you weren't even looking at the board."

he chuckles. "you got me."

despite being caught red-handed, jing yuan's amber gaze never leaves your face. his eyes trace over the flutter of your lashes, the bridge of your nose, memorizing the features he's already so used to. the features that you're sure he's seen a thousand times before.

even with your piercing glare, jing yuan continues to marvel at you, not bothering to hide the way his pupils scrutinize your frame. he stares at you like he can see your soul, like—within the depths of your irises—he can see your dreams, your wishes.

"move a piece," you say, unamused. "and stop staring."

"i'm not staring," jing yuan responds matter-of-factly. he continues to observe you, never tearing his gaze away. you shrink under the general's gaze, suddenly becoming self-conscious of the way you sit and the way you exist.

jing yuan notices this, and he frowns.

"why are you doing that?" he asks. his index finger comes up to poke your forehead, urging you to ease the furrow of your brows.

"'cause the so-called chess master isn't making a move," you comment blandly. jing yuan chuckles.

"just pretend the so-called chess master,"—he still doesn't look down at the board—"is thinking. and isn't looking at you."

"you're making it kind of difficult to do so," you respond, unamused.

"give me five minutes." jing yuan pauses. "actually, ten will do."

"make a move!" you exclaim impatiently, pointing at the table in order to redirect jing yuan's attention. he feigns ignorance to your frustration, opting to observe the pout of your lips instead.

"cute," he mutters, not caring if you hear.

"are you even listening?"

"yeah," he says; it comes out more like a dreamy sigh rather than a proper response. with soft, adoring irises and a sickly sweet smile that makes you wonder if it's fake, jing yuan looks as if he has been possessed by cupid himself.

"ugh, why do i even try with you?"

jing yuan hums. "twenty minutes."

gepard swears he isn't staring at you on purpose.

but the more he looks at you, the more he notices. he notices the way you furrow your brows whenever you concentrate, the way your eyes twinkle when talking about something you enjoy. gepard notices the way you bite your bottom lip whenever you're frustrated, the way you tilt your head when you listen to someone speak.

aeons, he thinks, watching you exist, aeons. gepard swears he isn't staring at you on purpose—it just so happens that his gaze is on you. it just so happens that his gaze is always on you.

it's not his fault, really!

"hello? geppie?" serval says, waving her hand in front of the man's awestruck eyes. he blinks in embarrassment, his mouth hanging slightly agape as he looks down at the countertop, observing the splinters of wood with utmost attention.

"yes, serval?" he replies, struggling to find his voice. he winces at the way it sounds, the way his voice seems to dismember itself in your presence. gepard hates the way he acts around you, the way he becomes conscious of things like the way he walks, the way he talks.

it's humiliating, really, the way you reduce gepard to a flustered mess. he hates the way your eyes make him weak in his knees, the way you smile at him with that smile of yours. it makes him want to love you and love you, loving 'till the end of time, 'till the stars fall.

gepard wants to love you so much it hurts. he wants to love you to the point where his love turns into a knife, carving his heart out, taking it apart by its chambers. he gives you one chamber, then two, then three, then four, and all of a sudden, he's missing a heart—but what does it matter, whether or not he has a heart? in the end, it belongs to you.

"looks like someone's got a crush," serval says with a smirk. her vibrant cerulean eyes follow her brother's, fixating on your expression as you flip through pages of a travel guide gifted by the nameless. she doesn't notice how your lips tug into a frown, how your brows furrow ever so slightly.

gepard does, though. gepard seems to notice everything about you.

"don't say it here...!" gepard exclaims, trying to keep his volume low. serval, on the other hand, has no regards for secrecy. she slaps her hand against the counter, getting a good, hearty chuckle from her brother's beet red face and the way his eyes are wide with panic.

"right, right!" she laughs, clutching her stomach (gepard doesn't get why she's acting like he just made the best joke in the universe—it's not that funny). the floorboards creak with her movements, as if they too were finding amusement in gepard's predicament. the captain's gaze is not lingering in front of him for long, though, because in a matter of seconds, he finds himself staring at you. again.

he thinks you look ethereal basking in the daylight, the golden glow clinging to your skin. gepard thinks that, like him, the sun adores you. it's in the way its rays trace over your features, adorning your eyes with fragmented light, slipping your irises in between its shattered reflections and making you its own.

your eyes glimmer.

"dan heng!" march 7th yells, slapping the aforementioned man's back harshly. "stop staring and get working! [name] doesn't like useless men!"

dan heng bites his tongue, swallowing his words (and insults) as he returns to wiping down the train's furniture. it was your idea to help pom pom out by dedicating a day to clean up the express, which dan heng thought was admirable.

they're thoughtful, he muses, absentmindedly scrubbing at a coffee stain left by one of himeko's five thousand mugs. really thoughtful. but dan heng already knows that—it's in the way your voice drops to a whisper whenever he's reading, the way you always buy him souvenirs and beverages from places you visit.

although you're a nameless like him, you often travel on your own accord, making stops as you please and wandering the universe as if it were yours.

(maybe it is, dan heng thinks, entertaining the idea, maybe the world really is yours. frankly, he wouldn't be surprised if it was. it would make a lot of sense, actually. how is it possible for things to be so beautiful, if not belonging to you?)

"useless men?" you suddenly echo from down the hall, appearing around the corner with a mop in hand and a bucket in the other. dan heng rushes to you, his palm outstretched as he urges you to give him the bucket and split the weight.

"o-oh," march stutters, suddenly becoming speechless, "f...fancy seeing you here!"

you raise a brow. "i live here?"

"is that so?" march echoes, laughing stiffly to herself. "how funny! i didn't know you could hear what i was saying..."

"only the 'useless men' part," you say, shaking your head. "what's wrong with useless men?"

"well, for starters," dan heng answers, "they're useless."

"that's okay," you respond. "sometimes, being useless is fun."

is their type useless men? dan heng wonders to himself, suddenly feeling insecure. should he put this bucket down? will you find him useless, then?

"so... you like useless men?!" march asks, pointing accusingly at you. dan heng grimaces—just why does march have to be astute in the worst of times? why did she figure out who dan heng liked, if she usually struggles adding decimals?

you blink owlishly. "uh, not really? i'm just saying they're not that bad."

dan heng's grip tightens around the bucket's handle. i can work with that, he thinks, suddenly strategizing.

"what's your type, then?" march questions, stepping closer to you. "blonde, perhaps? ginger? blue?"

she didn't say black hair, dan heng thinks, about to reach for a tuft of his own.

"maybe dark hair?" you respond, your eyes narrowed in thought. "i like it when they make it obvious they like me, though."

"like if they stare at you a lot?" march asks, leaning in.

"yeah!" you reply. "that'd be cute!"

"oh, good!" march exclaims, pleased with herself. "dan heng here does a lot of that!"

"what?" both you and dan heng say in unison. while your tone is confused, dan heng's tone is disbelieving, as if he really did not believe that march just outed him like that.

(march did, in fact, just out him like that.)

you exchange glances with the man, but much to your surprise, he's already staring.

something tells you he's been staring for a while, it's just that you only noticed now.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #gepard x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #luka x reader #gepard x you #gepard landau #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #dan heng x you #luka hsr

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fiendishfables · 2 months

Note

Can I please request dom! Lucifer eating you out? I just know that man is very talented with his tongue

a/n: say less, really; short and sweet lovin' from Luci

warnings: nsfw, eating out, cursing, dom dom Luci

words: 676

additional notes: Thank you all so much for 110+ followers! It means the world to me that you guys enjoy my writing so much!

"Luxury of the King."

Dom! Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

The white, silk sheets beneath you rustled softly. Gentle puffs of air left your lips, saliva coating their plush surface in a light layer. The familiar black dots began aligning along the edges of your vision. Chest rising and falling with erratic patterns; a light sheen of sweat adorning your brow, seeping lightly into your hairline. You felt and looked like the epitome of an absolute wreck.

And it was all because of the man who's head was currently buried between your legs.

Despite your clear state of overstimulation, he was a relentless predator. Well, his forked tongue, rather. It worked against and inside you, like you would be the last thing it ever got to taste. Flicking against you, tasting all of the sweet nectar you had to provide for him. He was determined to eat you dry.

"I-I'm sorry, darling. You just taste s-so...fuck...so damn good."

His mouth continued its assault against you, making sure to take his time and devour you all in the same set of actions.

If he could just stay in between your legs all hours of the day, oh how he could die a happy man. No worries or strife, just you splayed out for him, presenting yourself as a canvas for his tongue to travel. He gulped at the thought.

You truly were the best luxury a king like himself could have.

Lucifer knew he didn't deserve you. He always asked himself how he got so damn lucky with happening upon you, but he never got too curious upon questioning, nor greedy when it came to your services. This was enough to take him all the way to Heaven and back. What more could he possibly ask for, other than your lovely company?

He noticed how your hips were now beginning to move more, as if trying to get away from his relentless tongue. Just the thought of your sweet taste being abandoned from his warm, forked muscle made his pupils slit and eyes narrow. In response, he placed a gentle yet authoritative hand on your lower tummy, pushing your trembling hips downwards to the mattress; that's where they were to stay until he was done with you. You were a gift from Heaven he was sure, and Hell be damned if he didn't savor it. Just thinking that seemed like madness. Lucifer wanted to taste everything you had to offer him. Every. Single. Thing.

"Stay still. Don't you dare try to move away from me." He growled, voice dropping much lower than its normal octave, causing you to flinch in surprise. His head had come up and out from between your legs, almost enticing a whine from your throat at the loss of stimulation, yet a sigh of relief at the same time for the smidgen of a break you were currently being blessed with.

The sudden change in his attitude was a bit of a surprise, but you'd be lying if you said it wasn't hot as hell. The puppy dog side of your boyfriend was what you were most used to, so seeing him act this way instead was a very nice change of pace. You could never be scared of him; your safe word was always at your disposal if you felt he was being too demanding or rough, and he knew it too. So unless you used it, he would continue with his advances.

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes and offered the best nod you could manage with the state you were in, letting your head fall back to its original position on the fluffed pillows, lungs grasping for any sort of air they could muster up.

He gave a low nod back, a sly smile gracing his lips as he licked around them in order to clear off the remnants of your juices that he had yet a chance to devour like the other servings he managed to obtain.

"Good..." He said with a pointy smirk, before lowering his head once again to get right back to work.

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diejager · 9 months

Note

Hiii I wanted to know if you could do a ghost x hybrid!bunny reader?

Where she’s unaware she’s going through her heat cycle (her first) an she’s giving off a dandrufflike sex pollen, so she goes around the base trying to find him. The recuites are following her like dogs an eventually when he finds her (cause she got lost) he realizes that’s what’s going on and helps her out with her problems ☺️

And honestly if you could do anything with ghost x hybrid!bunny reader I would love love looove it 💗💗

Thank you so much for writing! 💗🐰

Bunny

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Bunny Hybrid! Reader

Cw: non-con drugging (unintentional really), sex pollen, heat cycles, bunny hybrid reader, Wc: 1.4k

Fun Fact! Bunny was originally and still is a British term of endearment for girls and young women.

For someone who’d joined Price’s TF for months now, you still couldn’t find your way through these winding halls and sharp corners that made the British base. It was like a maze to your twitching nose and droopy ears, always sending you down the wrong hallway or turning the wrong corner simply because they looked identical, and there wasn’t a plan for the whole base. You’d know, you had asked Price for one after getting lost trying to find the Mess Hall and having the fortune of stumbling into Gaz after wandering the halls of your temporary base.

You, once more, got lost on your way to the gym, the last place you had to search to find Ghost. You had searched the armoury, jumping between soldiers (mostly recruits who’d been sent to your base to train. Most sergeants and higher-ranked soldiers were given their small batch to overwatch.) while looking for your lieutenant, ignoring the dark stares the recruits sent your way. Their pupils dilated and face flushed when you walked past them, bumped shoulders and talked to them.

While your search for Ghost in the armoury had been fruitless, the other - as equally flushed as the recruits when you spoke to them - sergeants and corporals about him, they advised you to look for the gym and training grounds, knowing the lieutenant would be there if he wasn’t in his room, his office or the armoury. With a grateful nod, you skipped down the corridor, having randomly chosen a path while completely lost. In your small, dazed mind, body heat skyrocketing, skin perspiring and cheeks flushed, you were oblivious to the longing stares people gave you when you walked past them and the number of recruits that had followed you.

They marched in synchronisation metres behind you, acting like a single-celled organism composed of many that followed its prey or another of their kind. Their hands were clammy, their skin heated to a burning red on their ears and cheeks, their hairline stuck to their skin, and their eyes were wide like lost puppies following a treat.

You lost your way, having to stop and catch someone for directions. Coincidentally, a fellow operator was heading towards the training area, having to meet a teammate for their next briefing. She led you down a familiar hall (was it? Every wall looked the same to you, every spot and crack looked the same on every wall, it had your head spinning in every direction. You were still confused as to why others easily found their way around the whole base.) and pointed out some rooms for you to use as checkpoints when you travelled these halls alone. You thanked her profusely when you found the wide doors to the area you were trying to reach, grasping her hand and giving her a sweet smile, ears flopping at your optimistic movement.

When you reached for the door, you peeked your head through the door, squeezing out when you saw how crowded it was. Ghost preferred solitude and quietness, such a busy and filled room would be a nightmare for a reserved man. He dreaded interacting with people unless he had to (or unless you were part of his loving Task Force 141). Your scent streamed into a wide area, urging heads to turn your way, glazed eyes landing on your head, nose twitching and ears framing your face. They fleeted the room when you left, head tilted towards your scent, ripe and sweet.

You turned to look for the gym, remembering that it was on the other wall, the words gym displayed in bold letters on the door’s sign. You smiled giddily, practically jumping towards it, knowing it was the last place you had to look at. You found him the second you pushed past the door, his broad back standing out around smaller figures around the room even if he seemed to curl into himself on his place on the bench. You went straight his way, the soles of your boots thumping on the slick, shiny floor. It gave you away to the lieutenant who’d heard you walk towards him.

“Ghost,” you smiled, stopping beside his turned body, his sinfully slim hips twisting his skin-tight shirt that stuck to his abdomen like a second skin. “I was searching for you, L.T.”

He muddled silently at you, dark chocolate eyes wandering over your body, over your plush thighs, your round hips, your small stomach, your pressed breast, your naked collar and your face. He flickered to the men that filed in after you, a group of hungry, happy trigger recruits after someone way higher than them. He reeled in the need to growl, watching the way their eyes craved you, fucking you in their mind in every position possible.

Then his eyes rolled back to you, seeing your flushed cheeks, dilated pupils and sweet grin. The scent that fell from your body was downright delirious, a sickeningly sweet musk that rolled off your body in waves of thin particles of your scent. The stare in your eyes was dazed, dream-like in the way that you gazed at him. It riled him, made him hungry and predatory.

”You’re in heat, bunny,” he greeted back, voice coming out deeper and raspier than he intended, the low vibration in his chest appearing by itself from his restrained hunger.

He couldn’t fault the recruits that followed you like lost, hungry pups. You were delicious in the haze of your heat (the first one you’ve ever had, he thought. You’d spoken to him once about never having felt the full brunt of heat, they were supposedly painful and made the hybrid needy from what he’d learned. That scared you.), your scent enveloping you in a cocoon of arousing odour, pheromones that attracted males of your kind of human males to satiate your needs.

He couldn't, doesn't mean he wouldn’t because he would. He was faulting them for staring at you so shamelessly, eyes hungering for you. He wasn’t a perfect man, he was far from it, he was the worst kind to be deemed a perfect model. He was imposing, dominating, possessive and deadly, he was a ghost, the dead that came back alive, having no name or face to call his own. Just like the recruits, he wanted you, to take you for himself in the privacy of his dark room. He wanted to bite into those, soft, fluffy ears of yours, always drooping around your face, but never restraining you in combat (you fared surprisingly well, nearly as merciless as him, in combat, tearing down men twice your size with a knife if needed. You were ruthless to your enemy or those that aimed to hurt your little TF.). He wanted to make you cry, to grab your round tail and yank on it until you begged him to stop. He wanted to bite into the scarless skin of your neck, a perfect place for his mark.

Bunnies liked marks, no? They loved affection and being taken care of, didn’t they? Although you were a hybrid - mostly human with some bunny genetics in your body - you still had some rabbit-like behaviours. He’d seen how you preferred veggies over meat, though you did eat meat on occasion to keep up with the growth of your muscles. He’d seen how you liked soft and smooth things, you had many blankets and personal items you were gifted or bought. He knew you liked jumping and scouting, a bunny's natural curiousity made it peek from beneath the tall grass at things that caught its attention.

He, however, hasn’t seen how you act in the throes of painful heat, would you submit to a needy, aroused bunny that would ask anything of him; or would you jump him and demand attention, using him as you like. He stopped himself from wandering down that dark path, or at least for now until he got both you and him to his room for privacy.

“C’mon bunny, let’s go,” he stood up, bag slung over his shoulder while his other hand rested on your lower back, the dip of your vertebrae and the start of your jerking tail.

He glared at the cowering recruits as he moved between them, they has separated to form a path for you and Ghost. Black-painted skin, dark eyes and a skull-drawn balaclava made them flee, tails tucked between their legs. He held you closer to him, your hip flush to his as he led you to his quarters. That would teach them who you belonged to (perhaps you would show them who he belonged to).

#cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #ghost x reader #bunny hybrid reader #heat

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b1rds3ye · 9 months

Note

Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI, awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #könig x reader #könig x you #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery checks the mailbox*/

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beenbaanbuun · 1 month

Text

opposites attract w/ addams!matz

it’s finally here… i spent so long on this and im finally happy enough with it to give it to you guys!! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it <333

words - 7.2k

genre - smut/fluff

warnings - sugar mommy!seonghwa, mommy kink, sugar daddy!hongjoong, daddy kink, cute!reader, sub!reader, dom!seonghwa, switch!hongjoong, unprotected sex, creampie, double penetration (2 in 1), clit play, cum eating, collaring, partially clothed sex, seonghwa in a tulle robe, mentions of seonghwa in a dress, i’m so horny for seonghwa guys, mentions of drinking but everyone is sober, pet names (mommy, daddy, mi amor, cara mia, dove, love, lamb), i think that’s it?

——————————————————————————

The fire crackles to your left as you lay before it for warmth. The grizzly bear rug - which you’d affectionately nicknamed Jongho, once you’d finally gotten used to the morbid thing - is soft beneath you, and you have to stop yourself from slipping away into a peaceful slumber atop it.

Although you assume your desire to sleep has more to do with the book in your hand than it does the rug. It had been carefully placed atop the side table next to the chez and since you had nothing better to do, you decided to read it. Only it seems it was written when Shakespeare’s great-great-great grandfather was still a twinkle in his father's eye, so comprehending a single word of it is proving to be more difficult than you originally anticipated. For all you know, you could be reading a recipe book and you’d be none-the-wiser.

For that exact reason, it doesn't take long for you to slam the book closed in frustration, tossing it to the side. It boinks the back of Jongho’s head, bouncing off and landing somewhere on the parquet floor. You can’t be particularly bothered to check where it’s landed, knowing that if you do, you’ll be liable to clean up after your mini-tantrum. The longer the location of the book remains a mystery, the longer you can stay swaddled in the blanket of warmth that Jongho and the fire are providing you with.

“Little dove?” A voice calls from the doorway to the sitting room. Your head perks up and you glance over to where Hongjoong is leaning against the stone archway with a glass of whisky in hand. You smile at him, which he returns, “I didn’t even notice you were here. When did you arrive?”

He takes a few steps into the room before coming to a halt upon spotting your body that had previously been hidden by the chez lounge. You’re lying on your tummy, head in hands and feet kicked up in the air. It’s quite obvious you’re not trying to seduce him with the way you're staring up at him with innocent eyes. In fact, once he spots the book tossed a couple of feet away, he can tell that your behaviour is more on par with a petulant child than a seductress. If it weren’t for your outfit, he’d perhaps find you adorable, but that’s the last word he’d use to describe that tiny little tennis skirt you’re wearing.

The hem had flicked up at some point, revealing just a little more thigh than you realise. If Hongjoong looks carefully he’s almost sure he can see the crease of where your ass cheek meets your thigh. He averts his gaze, if only to stop himself from pouncing on you and instead, he lets it travel down your soft legs. His eyes don’t get far, however, as seconds later his pupils come to rest on the thigh-highs you wear. The way they dig into your thighs so prettily, your soft flesh spilling over the top, draws him in.

He gulps down the rest of his whisky to calm himself.

“About fifteen minutes ago,” you shrug before laying yourself completely flat against the bear you seem to adore so much. Your fingers curl into its fur and you stretch your legs out behind you. Hongjoong almost finds you cute, but the way you move only brings more attention to your thighs. He notices the purple marks that had been left between them only days prior have faded, for the most part, although the memory alone makes his cock throb, and he quickly manoeuvres himself so he’s sitting on the chez with one leg firmly over the other to hide the growing tent in his black, pinstripe slacks.

“Why didn’t you call for us, my dove?” He places his empty glass down on the side table, the cubes of ice clinking musically against the sides, “you know we would’ve come running to you.”

You flip onto your back, rolling just a touch closer to Hongjoong’s feet. A shiver runs through you as the cold patch of Jongho’s fur rubs against your skin, and you almost want to shuffle back to the patch you’d already spent the last quarter of an hour warming up with your body. You refrain. It’s nice to be close to Hongjoong, and besides, you can get a better look at him from this angle. Always so handsome, every single pore in his body oozing eloquence and grace. If you ever get to meet the demon who created such a tempting individual, you’d have to thank them personally.

Hongjoong feels the same way, desire and temptation filling him from top to bottom as you reveal the front of your outfit. The corseted top you wear hugs your breasts oh so perfectly, accentuating them in a way that would have a Victorian harlot gasping with jealousy. If you were, in fact, a harlot, Hongjoong would be willing to pay whatever it took for just a peek at your body.

“Seonghwa doesn’t like it when I don’t use my indoor voice,” you mumble through pouted lips. The way they pucker reminds him of all the pretty little sounds you let slip through them when he and Seonghwa are taking you apart. They play a symphony in his head, dizzying him as he further succumbs to your temptations.

“You should’ve come to seek us out then,” his voice is a little gravellier than it had been just a moment or two ago, his desire to ruin you only growing stronger by the second, “You know, rather than just lying here and waiting for us to stumble upon your little tantrum.” he gestures over to where the book still lays discarded on the ground.

You roll your eyes and let out a grunt of dismay.

“It’s not a tantrum,” you whine childishly, “I’m just bored, and that book was dumb.”

He hums as he watches you sulk with your face pressed up to the rug. You’re incredibly charming, actually, and all he wants to do is reach down and pull you into his lap. Perhaps whisper comfort to you as he toys with you a little. Turn you into a gooey mess, both mind and body. He pushes those thoughts away, yet the way you look at him draws them back. You’re the picture of innocence with glistening eyes, body spread out on his rug as if you’re too dumb to care about the amount of skin showing. Perhaps you are; it doesn’t seem like you’ve even noticed that your skirt has now lifted enough for him to see the front of your white cotton panties.

He wants to tear you to shreds.

“Bored, hm?” he grunts out through gritted teeth. His hard cock is aching at this point. It’s a white-hot ache that sits deep in his balls. He can feel that they desire nothing more than to be emptied into you.

“Bored and restless,” you sigh as you let your fingers intertwine with Jongho’s fur.

Hongjoong hums in understanding, a grin rising to his face as you so graciously drop all the answers to his problems in his lap. He almost gets down onto the floor himself to kiss you, but somehow manages to hold himself back.

“I have an idea, little dove,” he says. “How about you go upstairs and see Mommy?”

And just like that, time seems to stop. The suggestion brings all of your attention to Hongjoong who is staring you down like a lion on the prowl. There’s a dangerous smirk on his lips, the man baring his teeth as if he’s about to go in for the kill. You gulp as you push yourself into a sitting position, feeling every part ‘prey’ as he seems predator.

“You think it’ll help?” you take in a sharp breath, “i-if I go and see… Mommy?”

“Of course, I do, little dove” he leans in close and grabs hold of your chin between his fingers. His fingers are a little cold to the touch, which sends a shudder through your body. The reaction you have makes him chuckle, “Now be a good girl and run along, won’t you? Daddy won’t be far behind.”

The second his grip loosens on your face, you’re scrambling to your feet and rushing out of the room. Your socks almost make you slip on the lacquered parquet. Hongjoong chuckles as you balance yourself before disappearing into the stairwell. You take the stairs two at a time, footsteps thundering through the house. There's no doubt in your mind that Seonghwa will give you a lecture about your volume the moment he spots you, but that’s at the back of your mind right now. All you can think about is what’s to come.

You step foot on the landing, practically skipping down the hallway until you reach the open doorway to an all-too-familiar room. You knock desperately, not bothering to wait for a response before pushing it open and stumbling inside of the master bedroom.

Immediately your eyes hone in on Seonghwa, lying on the bed in all his glory, nothing but a black tulle robe to cover his lithe body. His wet hair hangs over his forehead in elegant waves, dripping droplets of water down his nose as he relaxes. Despite your desire to have him take you in any way he deems fit, you can’t help but stop for a second to admire the view.

“I thought I heard you coming,” his silken voice beckons you in like a siren. You follow it, stepping closer to your doom with every step, “although it wasn’t difficult. I’d be surprised if the people living four towns over couldn’t hear you.”

He locks eyes with you, dark pupils drawing you even further in. You shuffle toward him until you’re standing by his nightstand. A pretty hand reaches out to rest upon your waist, fingers dancing across the pastel material of your corset. Seonghwa reaches around the back to where the ribbon holds it in place and gives it a playful tug.

“I was just excited to see you,” you defend as he continues to play with the bow at the base of your spine, “Daddy sent me.”

The fingers pause for a millisecond before going back to what they were doing. They pull at the ribbon, tempting it looser and looser the longer they play. You have no doubt the bow will slip open any time now.

You can’t find it in you to care.

“And why did Daddy send you to me?” His lips are pretty as he talks, plush and pouty with a natural red tint to them. He looks vampiric; black eyes, glassy skin, crimson lips. You move closer still until the mattress presses firmly against your thighs, “were you misbehaving?”

You shake your head at the suggestion. Bar the book, which Hongjoong wasn’t even there to witness you throw, you’d been nothing but a good girl. Perhaps a little disrespectful at times, but nothing Hongjoong couldn’t have handled quickly and efficiently by himself.

“No?” Seonghwa tugs you onto the bed as he speaks. The hand that rests on your body works hard to rearrange you until you’re straddling him prettily. He admires the way your tiny little skirt bunches up at the top of your thighs, revealing the wet patch at the front of your panties. His eyes can hardly tear themselves away, and his dick begins to stir beneath the translucent fabric of his robe, “perhaps he just thinks a good fucking is what you need, my lamb. Is that it? Do you need your Mommy to help look after you, hm?”

This time you nod. You’d love nothing more than for Seonghwa to take care of you - he always does it so well. So slow that you can’t help but become dizzy with desperation; so soft that you can’t help but feel like a precious artefact being studied under Seonghwa’s watchful gaze; so loving that you feel nothing but safe in his grasp, able to turn off your mind and just enjoy him.

Seonghwa.

And upon that revelation, the man finally lets the bow slip open. Your corset loosens, gaping a little at the top. Your tits help to hold it up, but as Seonghwa begins to work on loosening the ribbon, you feel it start to slip away.

“Arms up,” he says as he grabs the material. You do as he asks, and he wastes no time in setting your top half free. You know better than to try and hide yourself from him, so when you lower your arms once more they remain glued to your sides - just as Seonghwa’s eyes remain glued to your chest. “Pretty little lamb,” he whispers, his face remaining stoic but his words soft. You can tell he means them.

“Do you want to take your skirt off too?” You nod, “Go ahead then, lamb; mommy can't do everything for you.” And whilst you’re under the impression that Seonghwa can - and mostly does - do everything for you, you obey. Slipping off of his lap, your hands work on the zipper, easing it down until the skirt can no longer stay up. Without so much of a touch from you, it slips down your thighs, exposing your white panties completely. You remove the skirt the rest of the way, throwing it on top of your corset to create a messy little pile of clothes upon Hongjoong’s pillow.

You look to Seonghwa for further guidance, your restless mind seems to enjoy being told what to do. It craves the softness that you so often get from him. The gentle touch and the gentle words that soothe you. The strict instructions that stop you from having to think for yourself, Seonghwa and Hongjoong - Mommy and Daddy - taking care of you entirely. It’s exactly what you need right now.

“My darling lamb,” Seonghwa whispers as he holds his arms out for you. You shuffle forward slightly, allowing him to tug you into a horizontal embrace, “Whilst I do love you in the family colours,” you know he means black - he and Hongjoong so often dress you up in expensive black lingerie before a night of intimacy. they love making you ‘theirs’ in any way possible, and wearing the ‘family colour’ is just another way to do that, “I must admit that the way your pretty pussy slicks up these dainty white panties is a lovely sight.”

His hands work together, arranging your body in his grasp until you’re lying just perfect for him. Your head sits in the crook of one elbow, leaving his hand free to play with your hair. The other arm lays on the soft flesh of your tummy. You relax into his touch, despite the fact that his hand is already beginning to move south. Still, he makes every movement so intentional that when his fingers do eventually reach the wet patch on your panties, it only makes you relax even further into him.

“So wet, lamb,” he murmurs into your ear, “who caused this?”

Obviously, he knows the answer, but he can’t help but take the opportunity to tease you. To see you squirm under his gaze as he waits for your answer is so entertaining to him. He knows it’s even more entertaining when you begin to stutter as pleasure wracks through your body; he begins to draw lazy circles against your clothed clit.

“Y-you and daddy,” you reply, voice breathy as Seonghwa increases the pressure on your sensitive bud, “you a-always make me so wet, Mommy…”

He chuckles as he feels your hips twitch against his fingers. You want more, and whilst normally Seonghwa would have you wait for it, teasing you until he’s decided you're ready for it, he can’t help but want to indulge you in your desires now. You're so good for him, he thinks to himself as he changes the pace a little. As your face screws up in pleasure, a smile rises to his own.

He continues at that pace, gauging how you're feeling by your facial expressions and the pretty sounds you make. When you bite your lip or furrow your brow, he knows you want more and so he adds more pressure until your mouth gapes wide and little high-pitched moans come from the back of your throat. That's how he knows you're happy. That is what he always aims to achieve because his pleasure, and Hongjoong’s for that matter, often comes from yours. Making the sweet little creature that they’d so lovingly taken under their wing happy is all they truly desire.

And you are, happy that is; falling apart under Seonghwa’s gentle touch will always be where you’re happiest. It's even better when he finally slips your panties to the side and puts his warm, delicate fingers directly onto your clit. You let out a heavy sigh as he spreads your lips with his index and ring finger, giving his middle finger an open pathway to the little button that is practically throbbing with the need to be played with again. And when he touches it, this time directly, it's even more electric than it was before. A bolt of pleasure shoots through you and you struggle to pin yourself to the bed. Your spine arches as you let out a loud whine. Fuck, it feels so good, and he’s barely even touched you yet.

Seonghwa begins to rub circles again, only this time without any barrier to dull the sensation. Magical, is the only word that you can use to describe the way it feels, each tender touch sending shocks of lightning through your body. It's like you don't have control over it as your hips buck against his hand, socked feet desperately rubbing against one another as it will do anything to help you ground yourself. Nothing can help now, not when Seonghwa has you feeling so high with just a few simple touches.

It doesn't take long until you feel it building up inside of you, racing to the top of that peak quicker than you can comprehend. You can feel your hole clenching around thin air, desperately trying to grip onto nothing. Perhaps Weonghwa would finger your next, preparing you for whatever is yet to come. You think you’d like nothing more than to be spread open with his lithe fingers, and it's that thought that finally pushes you over the ledge.

Your orgasm hits as the door swings even further open and Hongjoong walks in just in time to see you squirming under Seonghwa’s touch. He smirks at the sight of his darling husband taking such wonderful care of their little love, caressing your hair as he guides you through the intense feeling that is flowing through your body so rampantly. His fingers slow to a stop at just the right second, leaving you a panting mess in his arms.

“What a time to arrive,” Hongjoong says, voice clear as a bell as he makes his presence known. Seonghwa, of course, noticed him the second he walked in; the pair always did seem to have this weird, almost telepathic thing going on. They told you it was just true love at work, which was something you wholeheartedly believed, “It always is such a beautiful sight to see you cum, my dove. I could watch it forever and never get bored.”

Seonghwa hums out a chuckle at that, “Now isn't that a novel idea, lamb!” He presses a kiss to your temple, “Perhaps we’ll have to do that one day; a full day of making you cum over and over and over again”

“Maybe, Mommy,” is all you can spit out in response to their teasing, nodding along as if you're not dreading the idea of a whole day of overstimulation. The two men smile at your eagerness to please despite your obvious displeasure. Perhaps they’d suggest it again when you aren’t as lust-drunk as you seem to be now. Their only goal at this moment is to satiate you, not fulfil their own fantasies. They could wait a little while to put those into play.

Hongjoong shrugs off his jacket before clambering onto the bed, effectively trapping you between the two of them. Just like Seonghwa, he takes a moment to play with the hair that frames your face. He twists a strand between two fingers before tucking it behind your ear. Upon closer inspection, he can't help but notice the H pendant that dangles from your lobe. He wonders if Seonghwa has noticed the matching S sitting in your other ear, yet. It always does make the tall man so happy to see you wearing one of the many gifts they shower you in.

“I have something for you,” Hongjoong says, the earrings acting as a reminder of the box he’s had stored in the drawer of his nightstand for what seems like forever, now. They had been waiting for the right moment to present it to you, but right now seems as ‘right’ as any, “would you like to see it?”

You watch as he leans over to pull open his drawer, fetching a black oblong box from its confines. The box itself is nothing of note, but he passes it to you with such care, and you just know that whatever is inside of it is special. Your eyes meet with his, asking for permission to open it. He gives you a single nod in return.

You slip the lid off of the box.

“Oh,” you whisper as you lay eyes on what appears to be a collar of some sort. A thin velvet band that locks with a clasp at the back and finishes with a delicate bow at the front. Intricate lace frills surround the velvet, giving the collar more volume, yet keeping its soft appearance. A pastel pink pearl drips from a tiny metal ring that sits at the centre of the bow. Behind it is a petite chrome plate embossed with the letters ‘H&S’ in a fanciful font. It's beautiful, and you can't help but tell them that.

“You like it?” Seonghwa asked, tilting your chin up so you were looking him in the eyes. With the most genuine smile you can muster, you nod, “I’m glad.”

You feel Hongjoong close in beside you. He reaches an arm over your body to pick the collar up with a gentle hand. The velvet shifts in the dim light that shines from the chandelier above, and it changes colour right before your eyes, from black to a beautiful shade of magenta. You seem to recall Seonghwa wearing a similar dress once upon a time. It was black, just like your collar, but whenever he moved, the fabric rippled and in doing so, caused it to shift into a deep crimson. He and Hongjoong had waltzed together that night. It's nothing out of the ordinary for them, but that night sticks out to you specifically because of the sheer beauty of Seonghwa's dress.

“We wanted to give you something to remind you that you are ours,” Hongjoong tells you, voice as soft as the velvet on the collar, “because you are. From the moment we saw you, we knew you were ours. From now until forever, dove.”

And with that, he presses the fabric to your throat, dragging his fingers along it until they reach the clasp at the back. He fastens it, fingers lingering for a moment before pulling away empty-handed. You struggle to hide your smile as your mind fumbles over itself, repeating ‘theirs, theirs, theirs,’ over and over as if the fabric pressing into your jugular wasn't enough of a reminder of that fact.

With your newfound sense of belonging that you hadn't even realised you were missing, you find it easy to lean forward and take what is rightfully yours. Your eyes flutter closed as you steal a kiss from Seonghwa. Upon feeling your lips bump against his, lacking the grace or elegance he was used to when initiating kisses himself, he can't help but let out a surprised squeak. He soon finds his feet, though, taking control back in a matter of seconds and pushing you back against Hongjoong’s solid body. The clothed chest acts as a support for Seonghwa as he wraps a hand around your throat, softly stroking the jewellery as he deepens the kiss.

A tongue slips between your lips as a hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties. You struggle to focus on the way Seonghwa licks into your mouth when Hongjoong tugs the white fabric down your thighs, fully exposing you while the two men remain at least somewhat covered. You shift your legs slightly to aid him in his mission of removing them fully, never once pulling away from Seonghwa. You might’ve mentally praised yourself for multitasking if it weren't for Seonghwa shifting his body slightly, hard dick now pressing against your lower stomach through the tulle of his robe. Just one flick of the wrist and it would be fully exposed, ready to slip inside of you.

You moan into Seonghwa’s mouth.

He pulls away, panting desperately as he regains breath.

“Hell above, lamb,” Seonghwa utters, adams apple bobbing as he exclaims, “You really are a most devilish creature under that innocent exterior, aren't you? Pouncing on me like a little bear cub, hm?”

You go to answer, a touch of snarkiness on the tip of your tongue. Barely a sound leaves your lips, though, as a finger presses into your core and your words turn into a long, drawn-out whine. The finger bottoms out pretty soon, and that's how you can tell it’s Hongjoong’s; shorter than Seonghwa’s by a mile, yet ever so slightly thicker. As he adds a second almost immediately, you can't help but moan at the stretch.

“Fuck, Daddy,” you keen. Your head tips forward, landing with a heavy thud against the exposed part of Seonghwa’s chest, “your fingers feel so good.” He curls them inside of you, tempting a tiny squark from your lips. Then he does it again, routinely twisting them as he pumps them in and out. The sound they make as they swim amongst your gooey wetness is quite frankly obscene, but you find it hard to feel humiliated when so much pleasure flows through you.

Then you feel a second pair of fingers line up against your core, bullying their way in alongside Hongjoong’s. The stretch makes you choke on your spit, gurgling slightly as the longer pair brush against the squishy membrane of your g-spot. Like Hongjoong had moments before, Seonghwa begins to curve them slightly, petting your walls as his husband continues thrusting in and out.

The stretch is immense, almost reaching the familiar girth of Seonghwa’s cock. Like his fingers, it was long and whilst not necessarily thin, it didn't quite match up to the girth of Hongjoong’s. For that reason, you usually take Seonghwa first, but as you feel yet another finger press into your core, you can't help but wonder whether they’re prepping you to take Hongjoong first instead.

The fingers work together to open you up, spreading you wider than usual. You don't complain, letting them do whatever they choose with your body while you lay there limp and ready for them to take in whatever way they deem fit. They know your body well enough for you to give them full control. You trust them with yourself fully.

Hongjoong slips his three fingers out, and before long you can hear slurping above your head. Seonghwa’s fingers stutter within you, and you can’t help but feel a little curious. You flick your gaze to Seonghwa’s face, jaw dropping upon seeing his lips wrapped around Hongjoong’s digits, licking them clean of your juices. His eyelashes flutter gracefully against his porcelain-smooth cheeks, and even with his husband's fingers down his throat you can’t help but think he’s beautiful.

Hongjoong pulls them loose with a pop and dries the mixture of your juices and Seonghwa’s spit against his suit pants before he unzips them, his cock springing free almost immediately. It’s angry and red with precum flowing freely from the tip as if it’s about to explode if it doesn’t get something soon. You reach an arm out to touch it, but Hongjoong darts a hand out to catch it.

He tuts.

“Patience, little dove,” he whispers with a smirk, “Mommy may have let you take what you want, but I still expect you to do as I say.”

He wastes no time in shifting down the bed, gracefully moving until the head of his cock is lined up with your core. You half expect Seonghwa to pull his fingers free, but he doesn't. Hongjoong’s blunt head presses into your still-stuffed hole, only just breaching the pink rim. It's a painful stretch with Seonghwa’s fingers still inside of you, but Hongjoong goes slow, allowing your cunt to accommodate him at its own pace. With Seonghwa still petting that one spot, you find it fairly easy to let pleasure take over, the pain becoming more and more bearable until it fades into nothing.

It feels like it takes an age for Hongjoong to bottom out. Despite his cock not being tremendously long - perhaps even a little shorter than average - it seems to go on forever as he pushes it into you. The delicious stretch combined with the constant assault on your g-spot sends you hurtling towards another orgasm. All it takes is for Hongjoong’s pelvis to finally come to a standstill against yours, his thick cock fully sheathed within your warm, wet cavern, and you're coming undone. Your walls tighten around him, pressing Seonghwa’s fingers up against the shaft of Hongjoong’s cock. The latter bows his head and lets his jaw go slack. A guttural moan falls from his throat as he tries his hardest not to cum on the spot.

“My darling lamb,” Seonghwa chuckles into your ear as he slows his fingers to a stop. You're grateful for the break in stimulation, although you know it isn't bound to last, “you’re so sensitive tonight. It makes me wonder how you might react when I’m inside of you too. I bet you’d like that, yes? Mommy and daddy inside of you at the same time?”

You nod, although you don't quite let the true meaning of his words sink in. All you know is that you want them both, so incredibly bad. Your passionate, commanding Hongjoong hand in hand with your caring yet fiercely protective Seonghwa; they’d keep you with them forever if you let them. You’d live in their macabre bubble, surrounded by their morbid warmth and ghastly traditions. Your days would be filled with them; Hongjoong could teach you to fence or play chess, and Seonghwa would no doubt teach you about all the deadly plants he keeps in his greenhouse. You’d spend your evenings watching them Waltz in front of the fireplace, a funeral march playing from their old megaphone. Perhaps you’d join them from time to time, pressed to Hongjoong’s front as Seonghwa directs your movements from the chez.

And once the evening activities have drawn to a close, they’d drag you upstairs to bed to take you apart piece by piece. Each night they would push you to the edge of sanity before slowly bringing you back down to earth. They’d treat you like the most precious thing on the planet; a ruby to be polished and protected.

You want it more than anything. Seonghwa and Hongjoong - mommy and daddy - forever and always.

“Want you, Mommy,” you whisper, choking on your own words as Hongjoong begins to pull out slowly until only the tip is left sitting within your velvety walls. You cry out as his hips snap forward, propelling his entire length into you once more. It feels so good, and Seonghwa takes the hint to begin moving his fingers once more. It drives you insane. Chants of ‘please, please,’ fill the air, although you aren't quite sure what you’re begging for.

Seonghwa looks to Hongjoong, who lifts his head to see the silent question on his lover's face.

“One more, Cara Mia,” he grunts out as he pistons his hips into you, “she’s so tight.”

“Of course, Mi Amor,” Seonghwa hums and a mere few seconds pass by before you feel a third finger press against your entrance. You squirm as he pushes it inside of you, wriggling its way inside beside Hongjoong’s cock and his other two fingers. It's a snug fit, but you find it much easier to get used to than the initially painful stretch of Hongjoong’s member.

And even with the third finger added, they do much of the same, Seonghwa gently massaging your walls as Hongjoong pounds into you. The force of his hips increases with each thrust, making your mind go hazy. It's only made worse when Seonghwa begins to spread his fingers within you, making you squeal. His hand that still rests behind your head quickly comes to sit upon your fluffed-up barnet, petting it soothingly as he stretches you out even further.

You're babbling nonsense at this point, but neither man pays it any mind as they work you open past what you thought to be your limit. They're encouraged by the tiny pleas, keeping up their pace as you’re faced with a third orgasm. Perhaps that was what Seonghwa was waiting for because as he feels your walls tighten around his fingers, he begins to slip them out. You whine at the loss, even though Hongjoong is still working hard to fuck you through your orgasm, whilst somehow still staving his own off. Seonghwa just hushes you with a small peck to the lips.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, shifting you and Hongjoong ever so slightly. Just enough so he can slip behind you, his warm chest pressing up against your spine. For a moment, you wonder what he's doing, but then the chiffon of his robe moves to expose his cock and you’re struck by a sudden realisation of what both at the same time actually means.

That would explain why they were so determined to stretch you out…

Hongjoong’s hips slow to a stop with his member still deep inside of you as you feel the head of Seonghwa’s brush against your entrance. You moan as he forces the tip in with only a small amount of resistance from your stretched-out pussy. The unpleasant burn of being opened up is there again, but you bite your lip and let Seonghwa push himself into you alongside Hongjoong. You know the pain will dissipate soon, having already experienced it once with Hongjoong just a short while prior, but holy fuck does it hurt right now.

A helpful finger - although, in your dizzy state you can't quite work out who’s it is - finds its way to your clit, rubbing firm yet somehow also delicate circles on the little bundle of nerves. As you focus on the pleasure you get from that, it’s fairly easy to forget about the unpleasant ache between your thighs, and within minutes you’re once more able to relax into the ministrations of the men.

You whimper as the taller man bottoms out much quicker than Hongjoong did; perhaps he was just desperate from having to watch his husband fuck you for a while first. His tip gently brushes against your cervix, pulling a gasp from your lips as you feel him grazing against the sensitive muscle. He shushes you in your ear as he slowly begins to move. His thrusts are lazier than Hongjoong’s, slower and gentler just as they always are. It suits him; he always had been more restrained and patient than his shorter counterpart who is also beginning to thrust into you once more.

The contrast between the way the two men treat your body, as well as the determined finger upon your button, is enough to drive you crazy. You’re left as nothing but a moaning mess between them, squirming as they fuck into you at different paces; Seonghwa slow and gentle and Hongjoong quick and animalistic. You’re putty in their hands at this point, purely there for them to use and pump full of cum.

It doesn't take long for Hongjoong to do just that.

“I’m close, my dove,” he groans into your ear, “your precious cunt is squeezing me so tight; I can't hold on any longer.”

Mere moments later, his hips stutter to a stop, his dick still deep inside of you. You know exactly what’s coming, but it still doesn’t stop you from moaning as you feel the thick, warm liquid fill you to the brim. Seonghwa only fucks it deeper, forcing the feeling of fullness upon you. You expect it to vanish any minute; Hongjoong will pull out and the cum will flow out with him.

He doesn’t, though; more accurately, Seonghwa doesn’t let him.

Just as you feel Hongjoong begin to retract his softening cock, the hand that lies against your pubis, fingers dancing upon your clit, shoots out to catch his hip. He whines, more pathetic than you’ve ever heard him before; it’s a beautiful sound, and you can’t help but clench around them when you hear it.

“Cara mia, please,” he whimpers, jaw opening wide in a silent moan as Seonghwa continues to thrust into you, cock rubbing repeatedly against Hongjoong’s own oversensitive member, “it’s too much.”

You’ve never seen him so submissive before, and you have to admit you find it hotter than you feel you should. The two of you moan out in unison, the combination of Seonghwa’s languid movements combined with the control he has over the both of you is enough to send you spiralling to the end. You can feel it coming, but with the lack of stimulation on your clit, you can’t quite get there. You open your mouth to protest, but then Seonghwa’s tip pushes through the milky cum to brush against your cervix, and your mind is once again empty.

“But you can take it, Mi Amor,'' Seonghwa taunts from behind you, voice low and velvety in your ear. In a last-ditch attempt to keep any semblance of your sanity, you let your hands shoot out to grab at Hongjoong’s black shirt. It’s damp with sweat beneath your hands, but as you squeeze the soft material between your fingers, you can’t find it in you to care. “You can take it so our little lamb can feel good; keep her stuffed full until her Mommy can cum inside of her too.”

Hongjoong nods wordlessly, too focused on panting his way through the overstimulation to form any words. Through hooded eyes you watch his face contort with pained pleasure, eyes squeezing shut and brow furrowing as your fluttering walls and Seonghwa’s twitching cock torture his sensitive shaft. He looks so beautiful, and while you know you’ll probably never have the chance to overpower him in such a manner, you're happy you can at least bear witness to it now.

And with the knowledge that Hongjoong will behave, Seonghwa moves his fingers back to your clit. They dive straight in, tweaking the throbbing bud in a way that draws a loud cry of pleasure from your lips. Your walls tighten around both men’s members; an action which has them simultaneously moaning in your ears. Knowing just how much of an effect you have on the two men encourages you to constrict them within your walls again.

It must feel good since that's all it takes to have Seonghwa come to a standstill inside of you, ropes of his cum emptying into your womb and mixing with Hongjoong’s. It's beautifully warm as it shoots up against your cervix. That alone is enough to have you clenching down on them once more.

Seonghwa grunts as you milk him dry, and the moment he's finished spilling his load inside of you, he taps Hongjoong’s hip to get him to pull out of you. Perhaps it's that - the final drag of their dicks against your walls - that pushes you careening off the edge into your final orgasm of the night. Your entire body tightens as your vision turns white for just a moment. You can feel your back arch and your hips buck as Seonghwa continues to toy with your clit, but it's like your mind is separate from your body, unable to control anything that it does in response to the mind-blowing climax.

He takes his fingers away at just the right moment, not wanting to push you any further than you already have been tonight.

Still, it takes a moment or two for you to come back down to earth, the remnants of the orgasm sending endorphins racing through your body as you try to catch your breath. It seems the men on either side of you are in the same boat, heavy breathing the only sound you can hear. It's pleasant to feel their chests rising and falling against you, but the comfort you gain from it doesn't take away from just how empty you feel now.

And perhaps it's that or the sudden crash of adrenaline that makes your throat tighten and tears begin to build up upon your lash line. The first one falls, pretty quickly, but it doesn't get very far as Hongjoong kisses it away. His lips linger against your face, relishing the way your hot skin feels against them.

“Why are you crying, my lamb?” Seonghwa whispers against your ear. His fingers lift up to brush against your face, swiping away another stray tear, “are you that happy?”

“Empty,” you correct, voice stuffy as you allow yourself to cry, “but, I guess happy too. How could I not be when I’m with you two?”

They both hum in amusement as they crowd you with their bodies. You’re stuffed between them; the weird pastel meat in an equally weird gothic sandwich, and you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Not when you know now that you’re theirs, and they’re yours - the tag of the collar that dangles against your throat reminds you of that fact. You pick it up between your fingers, toying with the cold metal.

“I can’t do anything about you feeling empty, I’m afraid,” Seonghwa says, “but I’m certainly pleased you’re happy, my little lamb.”

“You could stuff me back up?” You say, only half in jest. Hongjoong scoffs and shakes his head in a desperate refusal; clearly, he’s still too sensitive.

Part of you wants to take advantage of that and tease him a little. It would be so easy to shuffle and ‘accidentally’ brush your thigh against his cock. If you’re careful, you’ll definitely be able to avoid suspicion, and if you get caught you doubt you’ll get much more than a warning. Still, as you look upon his face and see nothing but adoration, the thoughts seem to vanish into thin air.

You let go of your collar, pressing the hand against his cheek instead and use it to hold him in place as you peck the tip of his nose. The metal of the collar clinks as he scrunches his nose up in mock dismay and gently pushes you back into Seonghwa’s chest. You giggle, and its music to their ears; so soft and bright that if it belonged to anyone else, they would’ve found themselves put off by it.

Since it belongs to you, though, it's become their favourite sound.

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