#silver chain harness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

borathae · 6 months

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"He asked for two things. Your strap and to be treated with care. You can't say no to him. Not when he looks so adorable with his pretty, sparkly doe eyes gazing at you and his dainty, little waist fitting perfectly between your fingers."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, winter holiday!AU, Smut, BDSM

Warnings: sub!Jungkook, Mommy Dom!Reader, he makes her cum against her will (with consent obviously), and she gives him some spanks as "punishment", that's the only rougher part 'cause otherwise this story is very soft, he dresses up for her in a jockstrap & leather harness, he also wears bunny ears & a tail buttplug, emotionally intense love making, Lotus position, pegging, praise, good boy kink, she calls him slut but in an adoring way, loving dirty talk, voice kink, rimjob, face sitting, oral (f.receiving), 69nin, handjob, nipple play & sucking for both, nipple clamps with chains + choker, multiple orgasms (f. & m.receiving), his orgasms are very intense, he's deep in subspace, subby boy tears, the softest aftercare, they're in love and kinky

Wordcount: 8.5k

a/n: i wanna give him the world. he is my babyboy and i wanna coddle him and love him and give him all the attention in the world! my cutie pookie :( enjoy besties, i fucking love him 🤍 ps: these are two ideas from Kinktober 22 which i turned into one ruining smut :(

You and Jungkook were on vacation. It was a cold destination this time around. Canada in the winter. Jungkook rented a cozy wooden lodge with a view of the mountains and lakes. The bedroom was located at the best spot of the house with one wall being entirely made out of glass and a view of the starry sky. You could also close the blinds, so you and Jungkook have been sleeping in on most days.

Work has been left behind in Seoul. Jungkook didn’t even take his work phone nor laptop with him and you didn’t even think twice about packing your study books.

You have been neglecting each other lately, not willingly, but because life is stressful and cruel. So you swore to each other to make this holiday about two things. Nourishing your relationship and relaxing. Both things have been going splendidly.

You sleep in, cuddle and make out, go for breakfast in the resort’s restaurant, either go skiing or use the resort’s thermal spas and then let the evening play out however you feel like.

Tonight you felt like going to bed with a good horror book and Jungkook felt like using the bathtub. The book is amazing. It’s scary and totally captivates you.

The bedroom door opens, in steps Jungkook.

“I’m back.”

You don’t notice him at first as the book completely engrosses you.

Jungkook struts to your side of the bed and stops.

“Hello”, he coos.

No reaction from you. You are completely lost.

He huffs out air and pouts. He really wants your attention.

He tries by calling your name, then your petname. Both don’t work.

“Mommy?” he tries next, tapping your shoulder.

“Yes Bunny?” your attention is on him instantly. You look at him, “oh wow.”

Jungkook is wearing a skin-tight jock strap in white which truly accentuates the shape of his dick. He paired it with a white leather torso harness and a pair of nipple clamps. Silver chains are tangling from them, connecting with a white leather collar which he seemed to have pulled tight enough that he naturally holds his head high.

“Bunny…” you choke out, placing the book aside without bothering to use a bookmark. Yes, this is how truly mesmerised your sweet husband has you.

A pair of floppy bunny ears is tangling from his head. Jungkook turns for your viewing pleasure, revealing his plump buttocks and the fluffy bunny tail between them. Judging from its position, it’s attached to a buttplug.

“Holy shit Bunny, you look so sexy. Bunny”, you gasp and get on your knees, reaching for him greedily.

Jungkook turns again, allowing you to pull him closer by his waist.

“Bunny. Oh my god, Bunny.”

He giggles, pulling a little pose.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Of course I like it. I, I fucking love it. Holy shit, you look so sexy. Bunny”, you babble, running your hands all over him. His hips, his waist and stomach, his sides and chest, his arms and shoulders. You can’t get enough of him.

Jungkook tingles from the touches, watching you with half-lidded eyes. This is the kind of attention he wanted from you. All of it and all of it and all of it. He’s so greedy for it.

“You look so handsome. Oh Bunny. Is that what you were up to? Did you even take a bath?”

“No”, Jungkook confesses and snickers, “I lied so I could prepare the surprise.”

“Wow, you’re such a sneaky Bunny. I never would have figured. Gosh look at your ears”, you say, playing with them carefully, "I’m gonna burst, this is the cutest thing ever. You’re my actual Bunny now."

“Mh-hm I am”, Jungkook says, and gets on bed. He does a little bunny jump, making you laugh with it. He laughs himself, doing it again with a cute butt wiggle at the end.

“You’re too adorable. Oh my goshyoucutieyou”, you lull your words as you press them out through gritted teeth. You squish his cheeks, frowning deeply, “I’m gonna squish you to death”, you growl, acting as if you were squeezing his face even if you apply not an ounce of pressure. The cuteness aggression is hitting you hard. You love this man so abysmally much that you are angry.

“Mommy, stop it”, Jungkook giggles, stubbing your palm with his nose.

“No, you stop it. You’re so handsome and cute that it’s making me mad.”

“No Mommy, don’t be mad at me”, Jungkook pleads and pouts.

“You’re so cute. Fuck, I’m done for”, you say, dropping into your pillow with your arm thrown over your eyes, “I need a minute. You’re too much.”

Jungkook feels so good that it gets difficult to stay still in one place. He wants to bounce around and giggle. It feels so good to be your husband!

Jungkook loves your attention so much. You give the best reactions to his surprises. Jungkook always imagines how you may react to them, but then you always surpass it. He won’t ever grow tired of being your only center of attention and praise and heart eyes. All of it. Jungkook wants all of it.

He bounces on the mattress in little movements, closing in on you that way until he can climb on your lap and place his hands on each side of your head.

You drop your arm from your eyes, looking up at him. The bunny ears tangle, the chains of the nipple clamps do as well. The contrast between his cute headgear and the sexy nipple accessories makes you weak in the knees. And that says a lot because you are currently lying down.

You reach up and twirl the chains. Jungkook shifts, feeling the slight tug. It tingles like crazy.

“What am I supposed to do with you, mhm?” you speak to him in your fond Dom voice.

Jungkook loves this voice so much, fighting the urge to moan like you trained him to do. Not willingly of course, but Jungkook realised that whenever you talk in this voice and he makes pretty sounds, you praise him even better.

“You’re looking so cute with your little bunny ears, but then you're dressed like such a slut.”

Jungkook moans softly, arching his back.

“See? That’s what I mean. You’re such a cutie and yet you’re such a slut”, you coo and tug on the chain.

“Mommy”, Jungkook is arching his back again, sticking out his butt.

“Mhm, Bunny? What do you want me to do with you?”

“Peg me.”

“Peg you? Is that why you're wearing a pretty tail for me?”

“Yes, Mommy. I, I cleaned out and then prepared myself for you”, he says and climbs off your lap just to turn around and show off his butt this way. He is resting on his feet, sticking out his butt as best as possible. He wiggles his hips, looking over his shoulder.

“Mhm look at you. The tail fits you so well Bunnybaby.”

“It’s really deep, but not as deep as your cock could go”, he says and turns back to you. He sits in perfect posture, tilting his head to the side, which forces his bunny ears to flop cutely. He runs his hands up your body until he can rest them on each side of your head. He lowers himself, letting his pretty eyes run over your face, “I want your cock so bad, Mommy.”

You twist the sheets and speak through gritted teeth, “the things I want to do to you, holy shit.”

“Mommy…” Jungkook sighs and chases you. You tilt your head up, meeting him in the middle. The kiss feels so good to both of you. Moans mix with each other, lips know exactly how to move and your fingers dig into his dainty waist instantly. He fits so perfectly between your hands. His skin is soft and warm while the leather straps of the harness are rough. The contrast drives you crazy. He feels so fucking good to hold.

Jungkook mewls into your mouth. He lowers himself to his elbows just so he can be closer to you. His fingers shift from the pillow to the crown of your head, giving you a gentle yet greedy massage. Your touch feels so good. Jungkook became so needy as he prepared himself for you and now his skin is extra sensitive. He hopes that you never stop touching him.

You run your fingers from his waist to his buttocks, feeling them up greedily. The jockstrap pushes them up and makes them feel extra plumb. You need to squeeze them. Once. Twice. The desire is too big. You land a little spank with both hands. Just harsh enough that his butt wiggles.

Jungkook squeaks and flinches, breaking the kiss with a shy giggle.

“Mommy”, he gasps, scrunching his nose.

“My Bunny”, you rasp, gazing up at him as your fingers knead his buttocks, “my pretty, sexy Bunny.”

“Yeah, I’m your Bunny”, he says and cups your cheeks to pull you back into the kiss.

You allow him gladly, giving him a chance to think that he is controlling the kiss. He’s so good in showing you the tempo and level of passion he currently needs. You can busy yourself with feeling him up. That’s so much more fun either way. You intentionally leave out his tail for now, knowing that this will make him impatient in the long run. And when Jungkook gets impatient, he becomes a whiney, squirmy mess and you love that state of his'. You dance your hands to his hips and up his waist. Just to the middle of it, then you run them to his back to feel up the harness there. The straps and metal hooks are so hard in contrast to his soft, perfect body.

You linger especially long on the spot where four straps meet and create a small opening in the middle of them. It exposes Jungkook’s spine and you can’t stop tracing it and scratching his skin on each side of it.

Jungkook breaks the kiss after a few seconds, sighing his words, “this feels so good.”

“You’re so soft there.”

“Oh god”, he shudders, pressing himself closer, “Mommy, I want to be treated gently tonight.”

You smile, running your fingers to his neck just so you can play with his undercut.

“You’re my precious prince, Bunny. You can get whatever you want.”

“Then I want to be fucked and loved and, and get all your attention.”

“You’re already getting loved, Bunny”, you whisper, swirling your fingers to his shoulders, “and you’ve got all my attention”, you add as you feel up his choker until you reach the hook where the nipple chains connect with it.

“Then I want more. More and more”, he says, rolling his hips on your lap, “oh god”, he chokes out, chasing your lips. He is still talking as he is kissing you, resulting in messy, amazing kisses, “I’m imagining that your strap’s already there, Mommy. I want to be filled with you so bad.”

“You’re so greedy”, you chuckle fondly, kissing him back with your heart racing unbearably. Sometimes you wonder if there will ever come a day where it will beat a little less for him. You always come to the conclusion that there won’t ever come such a day. On the contrary, day by day, your heart is racing faster and faster for this man.

You trace the chains until you reach the clamps. You outline them, going slow and careful to make sure you remember the feel of them and get him squirmy in the process. And it works. Oh it works too well. Just moments later and Jungkook arches his back to get closer to your touch. The passionate kiss breaks because he needed to be whiney.

“My nipples are sensitive.”

“I know, Bunny”, you coo, flicking the small hoop which connects the chain to the clamps.

“Please touch them. I, I made the clamps tight for you.”

“For me?” still no touch. Just gentle play with the chains to give him a little stimulation.

“Yes to, ah”, he chases your lips, speaks as he does, “to make my nipples swollen for you.”

“You’re such a good boy, Bunny”, you praise, touching his waist. You give him a little push, forcing him to scoot back on your lap so you could sit up. He is taller than you like this, looking down at you with big, sparkly eyes and his hands on your shoulders.

You give him a fond smile and tug him closer, lowering your lips to his right nipple.

“Oh my god”, Jungkook gasps, throwing his hand over his mouth. Like this, his arm cages in your head, giving you a sense of comfort. He squeezes his eyes shut, moaning into his hand.

The nipple clamps grip most of his dainty nipples, leaving your mouth their very tip to explore. You don’t mind. This part has always been the most sensitive for Jungkook and you can wiggle your tongue between parts of the clamps as well to explore his heated up nipple.

His hips are squirmy on your lap, his back keeps chasing you in small arches.

You abandon his right nipple for the sake of his left. You don’t want it to feel left out. Jungkook wants all your attention and you are hellbent on giving it to him.

“Mommy, oh my god, you feel so good”, Jungkook moans, dropping his hand from his mouth to instead cradle the back of your head. He slings his other arm around you, hugging you gently. He buries his nose in the crown of your head, giving you small kisses between his needy moans. This is better than anything he could have imagined.

His cock is so hard in the jockstrap, his hole keeps clenching around the tail plug and reminding him how needy he is. Your tongue is lapping at his nipple, your lips are kissing it. You change between his left and right, making him wish that he could melt with you. It feels so good.

“Thank you, Mommy. You make me feel so good”, he mewls, trembling blissfully.

His tail keeps poking your lap. You can’t feel its fluffiness as you are wearing sweats. It’s getting harder and harder to stay clothed. His body is burning up and it is torture not to feel his skin against yours.

“Shit, Bunny”, you lull against his chest, lapping at his nipple greedily, “I wanna feel your skin on mine. It gets so hard not to.”

“I can help you undress.”

“You’re such a good boy”, you croak and kiss his nipple one last time because then you lift your head and arms, “do it quickly.”

Jungkook follows obediently. He takes off your jumper, working carefully in order not to hurt your face. He throws it on the floor, letting his eyes run over the white tank top you are wearing. You are going braless and the top is cut in a way which makes your tits look especially pretty. Your nipples are poking through the material, making Jungkook gulp.

“Yes, the tanktop too”, you say, pulling him back to reality.

“Sorry, your tits look so good in the top”, he mumbles in a raspy voice and begins undressing you. It’s the voice he gets when you affect him deeply in a way other than your touches. When your looks and body mesmerise him and drive him crazy, he talks in this deep, raspy voice. You’re obsessed with it.

He throws the top on the floor and cups your breasts instantly, playing with your nipples gently. His palms feel warm and his skin soft. Jungkook has the most perfect hands, manly yet with the most tender of skin. His touch feels so good.

“Mommy, you’re so pretty”, he is back to whining. How adorable.

“Thank you, Bunny. You’re making me feel so good right now”, you say, arching into him.

“So pretty”, he whispers and leans down to suck on your nipples. He doesn’t stay on one for too long, sucking and licking them eagerly. It feels fantastic. His mouth is so incredibly warm and wet.

“Bunny, my pants”, you are sighing the words, ending it with a breathy chuckle, “focus for me, come on.”

“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. I love your nipples so much”, he says, kissing your neck as an apology. You roll your head to the side, allowing him better access. He is purring as he kisses you, suckling on your skin every now and then to really make it tingle.

“You’re too greedy, Bunny.”

He giggles shyly, “sorry”, he mumbles, earning himself a little buttocks squeeze and a fond chuckle. He lifts his lips from your neck, crawling off your lap to take off your sweats. You lie down for it to make it easier for him, watching him with fond eyes.

Jungkook throws your sweats on the floor as well, running his eyes over your exposed body.

“Wow”, he whispers, touching your thighs, “Mommy, you are so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Bunnybaby”, you say fondly, wiggling your head into a more comfortable position. Like this, you are resting on two pillows, allowing you to see him better, “get on my lap and turn around for me.”

He follows without hesitation. He is resting on all fours, giving view to his bubble butt and the white fluffy tail between his buttocks.

“Closer.”

He listens, shimmying up your body until his knees are resting on each side of your waist and his toes almost touch your arms.

“There we go, I gotta really bask in you”, you praise, “the tail looks so real”, you say.

“I feel so pretty with it”, he confesses, gasping softly when he feels your fingertips dance up his inner thighs.

“You are so pretty with it, Bunny”, you say, feeling up the jockstrap on the spot where his balls meet his taint. He’s so hot to the touch.

Jungkook twists the sheets, moving his butt closer to you in reaction. The touch is just one small change away from where he needs it most. He is so desperate for more.

You touch the tail, give it a gentle squeeze and a little flick with your fingers.

“So soft”, you say and laugh softly, “shit, it’s so cute how it’s just sitting there.”

“When you touch it, I feel it move”, he says and moans, “please Mommy, don’t tease me please.”

You wiggle his tail, making him press out another plea for more. He’s so pretty when he begs.

“Such a pretty tail”, you coo and grab it, “can Mommy take it out?”

“Yes Mommy, please”, he allows you, clenching his hole in excitement.

“It’s a shame to take it out though. You look so pretty with it”, you say and tug on it, purring in enjoyment when the plug starts slipping out without resistance. He’s so good for you, “no clenching. You’re seriously the best boy”, you say, rewarding him with a slow fuck. There’s the smallest natural resistance whenever you reach the girthiest part at the bottom, but it’s barely noticeable. Jungkook is stretched out so well for you.

“Oh god”, Jungkook gets out, placing his hands on your shins and arching his back. The plug is big enough that you are fucking it against his prostate and it feels like heaven to him. When he walked, he felt the plug shift inside him and said sensations continued as he sat on your lap and made out with you. It resulted in his prostate slowly getting more sensitive and for the current slow fuck to feel almost unbearable.

“It feels so good”, he moans, dropping his head. His floppy bunny ears tangle weakly, showing just how ruined you’ve got him.

“Come closer for me.”

Jungkook obeys.

“There we go, such a good boy”, you praise and reward him by pulling out the plug. His hole gapes for a second, before fluttering closed. Lube squeezes out and runs down to his balls, soaking the jockstrap in the process.

“Please back”, Jungkook begs, clenching his greedy hole. He spent so long being plugged up, that having nothing inside feels like agony.

“You weren’t lying, Bunny. This plug is huge”, you rasp, eyeing it hungrily. It is the perfect hybrid between plug and dildo. Three inches in length, shaped just like a cock with veins and a bulbous head, it ends in a girthy base and a smaller shaft where his rim sits. The white fluff of the tail is soaked in lube where it was pressed against his hole, “that must have made you so desperate. Mhm, Bunny?”

“Yes”, he mewls, arching his back to get closer to you, “please, Mommy don’t tease me please.”

“You’re cute”, you say and place the toy aside. You grab his buttocks and use your grip to pull him onto your face.

“Ah!” he squeaks, lifting himself quickly, “sorry!”

“You did the right thing. Fucking sit on me again”, you order him, tugging him down.

“Oh go-god”, he falls with a shaky moan, squeezing his thighs around your waist when his hole presses down on your tongue, “Mommy, thank you….”

You are sticking out your tongue, wrapping your arms around his middle to move his hips for him. His hole is grinding on the flat of your tongue, getting cleaned from the lube whilst at the same time burning up in pleasure. He tastes artificially sweet at first until his natural taste begins to linger on your tongue. You love it like nothing else, licking him greedily.

“Mommy”, he moans, falling into pleasure he thought never to experience. Which is quite ironic to say because you made him sit on your face a million times before. He should know how it feels to ride your face and yet he still can’t ever believe that it is happening when it does. It always feels like the first time, leaving him dizzy and short of breath.

“Fuck”, your growl vibrates against his sensitive rim, “you taste so good”, you get out and pull him back down, tightening your arms around him as your tongue begins lapping at his hole. It sounds wet and sloppy, feels like paradise.

Jungkook has to gasp and tremble. His hands slip from your legs against his will, forcing him to catch balance in the sheets. He grabs them and twists them, choking out your name while his nose scrunches up in pleasure. His legs are shaking. It’s embarrassing that they are so quick to shake, but it feels so good.

“I can’t get enough of you”, your voice is like electricity against his hole. It’s moments like this, when Jungkook is reminded that he has the biggest kink for your voice. He clenches his hole rhythmically, feeling you growl into him. His clenching intensifies, forcing you to break away, “relax for me. Come on, be my good boy.”

He obeys instantly. He can’t be a bad boy when you’re talking like this. You slip your arms from his middle and place your hands on each of his buttocks, using the leverage to pull him apart. His hole – once so dainty and small – opens up and exposes itself to you. His rim looked so tiny at first, but reveals its true readiness the farther you part him. Jungkook sighs and trembles, letting you know how good it feels to be so freely exposed. He doesn’t feel embarrassed about being so vulnerably open in front of you. As a matter of fact, it turns him on to be that exposed.

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking pretty”, you lull, inspecting his pretty hole greedily.

It flutters at the praise, his breathy voice whispers a weak “Mommy”. It feels so good to be exposed to you. It feels so, so good.

“Lower yourself for me, pretty boy”, you order and stick your tongue out.

Jungkook obeys, letting out a whimper when it results in his stretched out hole to slip down on your tongue. He tries so, so hard not to clench in reaction even if the rest of his body tenses up. He always tenses up when the pleasure overwhelms him. It’s the only way to remotely control how you make him feel.

“Holy fuck”, he whispers, gasping for air repeatedly while his eyes widen and stare at the ruffled sheets. He is getting fucked by warm, wet tongue. His eyes go out of focus, his head tilts back slightly, “Mommy…holy fuck”, he breathes.

You growl, nodding your head as your praise. He comes into contact with your nose, squishing it slightly. Breathing gets difficult, but it’s so worth it when it means that Jungkook is whimpering and trembling above you.

You wiggle your tongue, enjoying the tightness of his rim greedily. He stretches so well around you, squeezing you in the best way.

“Mommy, I need to- ah!” he moans loudly, shuddering in ecstasy, “I h-have to be loud, I’m s-sorry. Ah!”

You let him know that this is what you want from him by moaning gutturally and giving his hips a small push to show him that you want him to move. Jungkook obeys without hesitation, fucking his hole on your tongue in small movements up and down.

And as he fucks his soft hole on your tongue, he keeps being loud. His fingers keep twisting the sheets and his head can’t decide whether to roll back or tangle weakly. One second he is throwing it back until it gets too much and he drops it again. It forces his bunny ears to flop all over the place, making him look so adorable.

Not that you can currently see. Your vision is blurred, as are your thoughts. He tastes so good, smells even better. There is nothing better in this world than Jungkook. All of him, every single inch, drives you crazy. You let him fuck himself on your tongue until your lungs protest for air and only then you guide him off of you. Your tongue flops out, his hole clenches desperately. Spit covers your face messily, but you couldn’t give two shits. Not when you need him so fucking bad.

You make up for the loss of contact by sucking and kissing at his rim, flicking your tongue over his sensitive parts as you pant for air.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god”, Jungkook is chanting. His head keeps tangling. Any other position was too exhausting. His thighs are squeezing you so much that it hurts just a little.

“Bunny, mhm Bunny”, you growl, pulling him closer even if he protests at first. It is instinct. He doesn’t want to squish you.

“P-please I’ll suffocate you”, he stutters, furrowing his brows as a squeaky moan leaves him. You are trying to fuck your tongue back into his hole, going obsessively rough with it. It gets him so wet, both his hole and his pretty little dick. There is a wet stain on his jockstrap by now. Jungkook can feel the cool air of the room turn it colder than the rest of the fabric. He wants to cup his cock and rub it, but he holds back because he has to twist the sheets instead.

“Please I’m too, too heavy.”

“Shut the fuck up mon amour, I ain’t made of glass”, you spit in what you lovingly call your street-days-dialect, “fuckin’ sit on me wit’ yo’ pretty hole. Make Mommy happy.”

Jungkook feels even the last piece of his sanity crumble. He can handle a lot, but he can’t handle it when you get aggressive with him. He always wants to be a gentleman with you and then you tell him to be quiet and act up. Jungkook gives up, letting you win the fight and therefore pull him down on your face.

You growl into him, making the wettest love to his little hole while your fingers dimple his inner thighs.

Jungkook mewls softly and shudders. His strength forsakes him. He falls to his elbows, resulting in his hole to leave your mouth for just a moment until you pull him back again. You keep lifting your head to meet him, anger fucking his hole with just your tongue. You soothe the punishment with wet kisses and sloppy licks. Jungkook swears that you are currently rewriting his definition of pleasure with just your tongue.

“Mhm”, his voice sound so pretty when he moans, “mhm, mhm, mhm…ah, aha.”

And he can’t stop doing it. He breathes heavily, gasps, moans and hums and you soak up every little sound of him as your starved mouth feasts on his hole.

His jockstrap can barely contain his cock by now. His velvety tip has already slipped out at the side, dripping onto your chest in a constant rhythm. You can feel the wet mess by now. From all the wiggling and squirming you are doing as you eat him out, it has smeared all over your tits by now, covering parts of your nipples as well. You can also feel the warmed up chains of his nipple clamps dance over your tummy as Jungkook keeps shaking above you.

You slide your right hand from his inner thigh and touch his cockhead.

Jungkook squeezes his thighs around you, almost kicking you in the face as his foot twitches in surprise. He drops his head into your thighs, forcing his hot breath to soak your panties.

“I’m close”, he gets out, mouthing at your clothed pussy, “oh god, I can’t hold it for long. Ah!”

“Shit Bunny”, you tilt your head back, giving yourself a chance to speak. Your hand is back on his right thigh, edging him “we gotta stop this or I’ll keep going until I’ve got you cumming.”

“That, that wouldn’t be bad”, he stutters, chasing you while his fingers try to tug your panties to the side, “please, Mommy”, he begs and drags his tongue through your folds. He couldn’t help himself. The scent of your warm, wet pussy was in his nose and it is so close to his mouth, “please”, his voice sends vibrations through you.

“Fine, fuck”, you lick your lips, rolling your hips up as his tongue keeps lapping at you, “I can keep going or I’ll fuck you. You decide.”

Jungkook lets out the first sob of the evening. Even now – when you sound so ruined by all of this – you find strength in yourself to tease him and mess him up. You are so cruel without even doing anything. Jungkook wants to keep sitting on your face so fucking bad, but the thought that he could miss out on orgasming around your strap makes him hesitate.

“I want Mommy’s cock”, he decides in the end, lifting his lips from your pussy, “please.”

“Very well. Do you have the strap here?”

“Yes, your red suitcase”, he answers you and buries his tongue back between your folds. He keens happily, lapping at you with a hot, dripping tongue.

“Okay, Bunny. Good boy”, you are keeping him with you as you run your finger over his rim, “get it for me.”

“I don’t know if I can. My legs are so weak”, he confesses and whimpers, kissing your clit as a weak apology “I’m sorry, Mommy”, he adds, drawing quick circles.

“Fine”, you give in, “get off of me. I’ll get it.”

“Mommy”, he mewls, burying himself deeper between your legs.

“Bunny”, you warn, swallowing down the gasp he almost licks out of you. What he does feels fucking amazing, but you have to stay strong. It’ll be so worth it.

“Mhm mhm”, Jungkook hums, sucking on your clit while his nose is buried between your folds.

“Fuck”, you hiss, arching your back, “Bunny, come…on”, you give his buttocks a soft spank, “don’t be like that. Come on, get up.”

“Mh-hm”, he shakes his head, pushing your thighs apart as his mouth laps at your pussy more vigorously. Your panties dig deep into his fingers as he keeps it pulled away from you, your hips smother him as they thrust up against your will.

“Bunny, listen- ah”, you gasp and moan, dropping your hands from his ass to instead twist the sheets. He makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to function, “Bunny-ah listen to, to ah fuck, listen to me. Fuck, ah.”

Jungkook moans into you, connecting his tongue with your clit as he keeps sucking on it. It results in a mixture of rough sucking sensations broken up by the hottest wetness ever. Mixed with his needy moans and his pretty nose fucking your dripping hole and you are quite frankly, done for.

You roll your eyes back and drop your back.

“You fucking brat”, you choke out, orgasming on his tongue with such intensity that you forget how to moan.

Jungkook whimpers needily, licking you through your orgasm until a sudden harsh spank to his ass forces him to throw his head back.

“Ah!” he lets out, clenching his hole aggressively. A spank on it follows. It stings and forces tears to Jungkook’s eyes.

“You little, disobedient brat”, you spit. Your voice is distorted from the pleasure he made you feel, raspy and deep. Jungkook feels his senses blur. Holy shit, he has such a kink for your voice. You spank his hole again, forcing the fire to burn deeper by pressing the pad of your thumb against it and applying pressure.

He writhes on top of you, struggling to stay on his elbows.

“I told you to listen. Is it so hard to follow a simple order, mhm?” you growl.

“I’m sorry”, he whimpers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh god, Mommy.”

“Good. I fucking hope you are”, you spit and give him one last spank to really get the message across.

Jungkook shudders, leaking onto your tits.

You soothe the burn with a gentle finger, changing your voice as you speak.

“Now get off of me”, you say in a sweet voice, messing with Jungkook’s poor heart.

“Mommy, please”, he begs and rolls off of you. He drops to his back, licking his lips hungrily, “wanted to make you feel good, oh god”, he whines, exhaling shakily as his hands come down to play with his cock. He does it instinctively, writhing on the sheets with one of his legs propped up.

“Don’t you dare make yourself cum”, you warn and stumble out of bed with weak knees. You manage to walk to your red suitcase and squat down even if you are dizzy. He’s got you really good with his mouth. You don’t have to look for long because you keep your toys organized.

“Where is the lube, Bunny?”

“I forgot it in the bathroom. I’m sorry, Mommy oh god. I, I can get it.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get it”, you say and leave the room.

You decide to slip on the strap in the bathroom, using a grinder on the inside to make it enjoyable for you. You look at yourself in the mirror for a moment. The strap is similar to your skin colour and curves just right to stimulate his deeper pleasure spots. It looks so good on you. And with that thought in mind, you hurry back to Jungkook.

He is kneeling on the floor when you come back, keeping his head lowered. His cock is stuffed back into the jockstrap and his hands are on top his thighs with their palms facing up. His bunny ears, although only fake, look so sad as they tangle from each side of his head.

“What are you doing down there? Gosh, Bunny”, you gasp, hurrying to him.

“I want to apologise. I, I should have gotten the strap and, and the lube. I’m sorry, Mommy”, he says honestly and bows.

“Gosh, you stupid noodle stop that”, you say, pulling him back up with nothing more than two fingers under his chin, “you’re my precious prince and Mommy’s here to treat you, yeah?”

“So you, you won’t punish me?” he asks.

“Of course not, Bunnybaby”, you reassure him.

Jungkook releases a shuddering breath, “Mommy”, he chokes out, gazing up at you with sparkly eyes.

You give him a playful smirk, “unless you want me to punish you, mhm? Didn’t have enough of getting your hole spanked?”

He giggles, lifting his shoulders to his ears, “yeah, that was fun”, he confesses, scrunching his nose up.

“Cutie”, you say, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Jungkook moves into the kiss with closed eyes, opening them when you pull back. They shift to your cock for a second and linger.

“You like it?” you ask him, gripping it by its base while your other hand still holds his chin.

“Yes”, he gets out, parting his lips, “you look so pretty with cock, Mommy.”

“Thank you, Bunny.”

Jungkook closes the distance between his lips and the tip of your strap, kissing it while his devoted eyes gaze up at you.

Your breath hitches in your throat. He looks so pretty like this.

“I love Mommy’s cock”, he whispers and flicks his tongue over the tip, ending it with a droopy smile.

You feel yourself melt, ruffling his hair gently enough not to rip out the clips from the ears.

“Get back on bed, Bunny and let me fuck you.”

“Can you fuck me in lotus position?”

“Of course I can. Everything my Bunny wants, my Bunny gets.”

“Don’t say that”, Jungkook mumbles and giggles. He is so happy. He feels especially soft tonight and you know exactly how to handle him to keep him in the headspace.

You take a step back and walk to the bed, climbing on top of it. You fluff up the pillows so you can rest back into them. Once you are comfortable, you move your legs into the right position. Jungkook followed you as you did all of that, climbing onto bed after you. He is now waiting for you to get your legs comfortable.

Your eyes meet.

“Come closer”, you order as you spread a generous amount of lube on your strap.

Jungkook follows excitedly, positioning himself on top of you. He places his hands on your shoulders, looking down at you.

You smile up at him, connecting your fingers with his hole to spread the lube. He shivers, sighing softly.

“My pretty Bunny”, you whisper, “I can’t get enough of you in those ears.”

“They’re connected to my hair.”

“I know, I felt the clips”, you say and push a finger into him, watching in delight how his eyes go out of focus and his lips fall open.

You curl your finger as you fuck it in and out of him, gazing into his eyes as deeply as possible.

“You’re so soft inside”, you praise, poking his walls, “my pretty Bunny’s soft everywhere.”

“It’s hard to concentrate”, he confesses, scrunching his brows.

“Want more?”

He nods his head, “yes please.”

“Shit, you’re such a good boy”, you mumble and slip your middle finger into him as well, “the shit you pulled before wasn’t like you. Mhm, why did you act up Bunnybaby? Mhm?”

“Wanted Mommy to feel good”, he lulls his words, finding it hard to look into your eyes. Your fingers fill him out so well.

“You wanted me to feel good”, you repeat, massaging his prostate.

“A-ah.”

“Shit Bunny, when you say it like that it almost makes me feel bad that I punished you.”

“No, it was so…good, ah holy shit this feels so good, ah”, Jungkook gets out and moans, closing his eyes.

“Mhm, I know”, you purr, slipping your fingers free just to make him mewl desperately. You grip his hips, giving them a gentle tug, “take it at your pace, Bunny.”

Jungkook grabs your cock and lowers himself. He manages to get as far as the tip and then moves up again.

“More lube”, he says.

“Hurts?”

“Yeah, it’s too dry.”

You lube up your cock more, spreading the access on his hole, “try it again.”

Jungkook lowers himself. Your tip slips past his rim easily.

“How’s that?” you ask him, caressing his tensing buttocks.

“Mh-hm”, he lets out, furrowing his brows. His frown worries you.

“Are you okay? Bunny, take it slow if it hurts”, you tell him.

Jungkook frowns harder, sinking down more.

“Bunny, take it slow for me.”

“Mommy, please be quiet. I need to concentrate”, he whines and pouts with big eyes.

“Oh you-”, you laugh, throwing your head back, “you little brat.”

“I have to concentrate”, he murmurs and sinks down the last inches. Now he is sitting on your lap with you cock all the way up his ass, “ah”, he lets out in a sigh, dropping his head in the crook of your neck. His arms hug you, his legs wrap around you. He begins rocking himself on your lap, moaning into your neck quietly.

“Is that better?” you ask him, caressing his lower back. You can feel his muscles shift and tense under his skin. Just as you can feel his thighs tense as he moves on your strap.

“Yeah”, he mewls, nodding his head, “oh god, you’re so deep.”

“I know, Bunny. You’re taking all of me”, you speak softly, grabbing his pretty butt to help him with the movements, “you’re such a good boy taking me like that.”

“Oh fuck, ah fuck”, he whimpers, hugging you tight against him, “I’m so stuffed with Mommy. Ah! Ah”, he shudders, increasing his movements. He still keeps you deep inside, grinding on your lap as his legs tremble around your waist. He doesn’t need to bounce. As a matter of fact, what he is currently doing feels so much better than any bouncing ever could. Because your cock is so deep and really stays at one area, it can stimulate all those sensitive spots inside and Jungkook has way too many of them. And they are way too fucking sensitive on top of that. Every second with you feels like ecstasy even if he hasn’t orgasmed yet.

“Yeah, you are. So filled with me”, you whisper, squeezing his buttocks, “so filled with me. Such a good boy for me. Such a good boy.”

“Mommy”, Jungkook whimpers, falling into you. It forces your back deeper into the pillows and allows him to grip the edge of the headboard. It hurts his nails, but he barely notices it. Everything feels way too good. He is so far gone. Not only in the pleasure, but also the safe headspace. He is on your lap, he can feel your naked chest against his, smells your warm scent, has you holding him and on top of that, his leaky cock grinds against your stomach while your strap stimulates every single spot inside him. There is not a single thing which isn’t right currently. This is perfect and it’s ruining Jungkook to the point where he genuinely has to sob.

“Breathe Bunny, it’s okay”, you soothe him, closing your arms around his torso whilst burying one of your hands deep in his hair.

The hug soothes him so much and makes him sob again because he is so close to you.

“Can I cum? Please”, he begs squeakily, “make me feel…so good. Everything feels so good. Oh god”, he gets out, ending it with a high-pitched whimper and his body trembling in your lap.

“Whenever you are ready, Bunny. I’m right here”, you allow him, hugging him safely.

“Now”, he gets out, “oh god, Mommy now”, he moans and feels how your strap makes him cum. It starts deep in his ass. Right where the silicon toy kept grinding against his pleasure spots. Describing the orgasm as hot wouldn’t be enough. It is so much more than that. Jungkook feels it everywhere and he feels it so deep that it gets very hard to stay conscious. His body twitches and convulses on top of you and you know that he has no control over it. His cock doesn’t release, but throbs so aggressively that it slips out of his jockstrap again. And his voice sounds so consumed by his orgasm that you feel yourself gasp for air as well. You know exactly how good he feels right now, holding him through his high until those shakes slowly die down.

“Good boy, oh my good boy”, you praise him, hugging his waist with your left arm while you let your right hand slip to his cock. You pick it up to jerk it off.

“Ah”, Jungkook arches his back so he can press his chest closer, his trembling arms close around you as his fingers grab a bundle of your hair, “ah, ahm, ah, o-oh.”

He didn’t cum with his cock. He knows that he didn’t, so getting touched by you right now, forces him straight back to the start.

“Oh god, ah, fuck. A-ah, ahm, ah”, he is struggling with producing moans, resulting in them to sound just a little strained but so fucking honest. Only you can make him moan like this. Only you can get him that ruined so it is even difficult to make sounds. And yet, he still tries to because it’s the only way to handle you.

“Good boy, my good boy”, you praise him as you jerk his cock, rolling your hips up to keep his hole stimulated as well. You don’t want any of that sweet, sweet pleasure to die down. You need him ruined and you are going to do it in the gentlest of ways. This kind of way always hits the deepest.

It’s easy to ruin someone with a rough and fast fuck. You just got to pound them hard enough and they’ll feel destroyed.

The proof of a good fuck is how well you can destroy someone with minimal movements. That’s where the real talent lies. And you? Oh you. You are one talented motherfucker.

“Feels so good”, Jungkook is whimpering even if he can barely produce moans. Your shoulder is wet because he keeps spilling tears. He thinks his eyes might be stuck after you made them cross, he can’t seem to find his focus again. His head is dizzy and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. You are ruining him with nothing but a slow handjob and your hips grinding up into him.

“Yeah, feels amazing”, you agree, “I’ve got you Bunny.”

Jungkook sobs, convulsing on top of you as if you just thrusted into him with all your strength. His cock throbs between your fingers, his fingers grip for your desperately. He doesn’t know where to touch, what to hold of you to make all of this easier to bear.

“Mommy”, he tries to call your name, maybe that will make it easier, but it doesn’t.

“I’m here, Bunny. I’ve got you”, you soothe him, sliding your left arm down his waist until you can press your fingers against his hole. You massage his stretched rim, giving him a reminder that he already orgasmed once and that he is terribly sensitive now.

“I can’t do this”, he sobs and convulses, “oh god please”, he pulls you closer, needing your warmth to survive.

“Break? Or need it closer?”

“Closer ple-please.”

You hug him strongly, tightening your grip around his cock just as you increase the pressure on his hole.

“Closer.”

The hug gains in intensity. You can barely move your hand up and down his cock, deciding on putting your attention on his tip instead. You massage his wet slit, giving it just a little bit of a stretch as you fuck the pad of your thumb into it. Your fingers are around the base of his tip, massaging it in rhythmical squeezes.

He begins panting, releasing loud noises each time he breathes out. He can’t stop. They leave him in sync with his body convulsing on top your lap. He drops each time he exhales, sagging his shoulders with it before his harsh inhale forces them to lift again and with it also Jungkook. Just a little, but it’s so intense for him that he is a little scared.

“Good boy, my good boy. You’re my good boy”, you praise him and kiss the shell of his ear.

Jungkook climaxes. He can’t tell you that he does, he also can’t change his voice before it happens, it just takes over. It starts at his slit this time around. The gentle fuck you gave it was too much. From there, it took over his whole cock until your strap did the rest.

Jungkook thought that the first orgasm was intense, but this is on another level. He claws at you in hopes of making it easier, even buries his teeth in your shoulder as his body shakes uncontrollably. But nothing helps. The fire feels endless. It is as if Jungkook never orgasmed before.

“Yes baby, my good boy”, Jungkook can hear you choke out and judging by the sound of your voice, you are orgasming with him. The thought makes it even more intense for him and by the time it finally starts to get easier, Jungkook has to sob.

“My Bunny, oh my Bunny”, you speak shakily, holding him so tightly while your lips litter him with kisses, “good job, my good boy. You did such a good job. I know Bunny, let it all out. You did so well.”

“It feels so good”, he presses out, “so good, Mommy”, he wails, pressing you closer with his fingers deep in your hair.

“I know Bunny, oh I know. My good boy, you took all of this so well.”

“Oh god”, Jungkook shudders, “oh god.”

“My good boy”, you keep praising him. It makes it so worthwhile to come back to you, “I love you so much, my good Bunnybaby.”

“Oh god, Mommy”, he gets out, trembling uncontrollably one last time before some of his clarity comes back. It’s difficult to come back sometimes. Jungkook loves being in subspace, so sometimes it’s hard for him to accept that he has to get back to reality again. It would make Jungkook feel really awful to be forced out of it entirely the moment the sex ended and you never make him feel this way. You always help him come back in such a nice way. You make him slip out of it far enough that you can do aftercare with him, but also allow him to stay in it deep enough that he can feel fuzzy even long after the main sex act ended.

“My good boy, you’re such a good boy”, you praise him, rubbing his buttocks gently, “how’s the stretch?”

He shakes his head.

“Doesn’t hurt?”

He nods his head.

“Then we’ll stay like this for a little, yeah?”

He nods his head again, hugging you tightly.

“And once you’re ready, I’ll give you a nice warm bath before we’ll have yummy dinner and lots of snuggles in bed. Yeah?”

He giggles, nodding his head.

“Yeah Bunnybaby, let’s do that”, you say, giving him a gentle squeeze, “fuck, I adore you.”

“I adore you too”, he whispers, “thank you so much for everything.”

“Mhm Bunny”, you sigh, kissing his shoulder as you pull him closer with the harness twisted in your fingers, “mine.”

Jungkook sighs in overwhelming happiness, pressing himself closer as his heart bursts for you. Yeah, you really make it so worthwhile to come back.

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beansprean · 9 months

Text

I adore Derek’s new gothpunk e-boy aesthetic and am sprinkling my own weeb hc on top!! I love him 😍

(Feel free to use his nakey self if you want to draw other fits on him, just don’t erase the watermark!)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Derek smiling nervously, left hand at his side and the other held up like ‘nya’. He is wearing a black studded collar, a scoop neck black shirt with crying anime eyes, bleach stained light jeans cuffed over black combat boots, and a puffy camouflage jacket with a hood. He also has fingerless gloves and several chains attached to o rings looped around his belt.

2. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark blue long sleeves shirt with thumb holes, frayed hems, and elbow patches under a tattered white tee shirt with horizontal rips that says "blood lust rave" in dripping black font. Beneath are black jeans with a studded belt and red suspenders hanging tucked into knee high burgundy leather combat boots. He has on several gold and silver rings, a tattoo choker, a studded collar, a long necklace with a few rings, and a dark red beanie.

3. Repeat. Derek is wearing a black and white striped long sleeve turtleneck under a black Otoboke Beaver tee shirt and loose black jeans tucked into white platform boots. He has several silver rings a silver chain around his neck, and another looped through several o rings around his belt.

4. Repeat. Derek is wearing a loose dark red striped sweater with a rip at the neckline affixed with safety pins, dark wash skinny jeans with multiple rips down the thighs and knees over fishnet tights, and checkered high top sneakers. He has dogtags, a pentagram necklace, and a studded collar around his neck and multiple chains, padlocks, and handcuffs hanging from his belt with o rings.

5. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark loose sweater with thumb holes, a ripped off collar connected with safety pins, and fishnet material from the waist down. It's tucked into loose black skater pants with dangling hooks and suspenders and an askew studded belt, unzipped at the calf to show red material underneath. Black converse peek out beneath the flared cuffs.

6. Repeat. Derek is wearing a white collared shirt under a black tee shirt that says “vampire weekday” in slashy red font and black jeans with red splatter on the knees tucked into red ankle boots. He has on several rings, a few chains and a padlock around his neck, and a studded belt.

7. Repeat. Derek is wearing a short sleeve dark grey button up with a white scallop pattern and rolled sleeves, unbuttoned past his sternum to show off the gold pendant around his neck. The shirt is tucked into dark wash jeans with a snakeskin belt, cuffs rolled to mid calf, a few inches above shiny burgundy ankle boots.

8. Repeat. Derek is wearing a pale lavender turtleneck with black fishnet sleeves that hook around his fingers like gloves tucked into black skinny jeans with a studded belt. He has a thick black studded collar with an o ring and a matching harness strapped across his chest, the center o ring attached to a leash he holds in his left hand. He has several chains attached to o rings at his belt and his jeans are tucked into huge black gothic platform boots with several straps.

9. Repeat. Derek is wearing an oversized black hoodie over distressed and ripped up jeans and scuffed brown hiking boots with the laces double wrapped around his ankles. His hoodie has some red lacing down the arms and at the cuffs, and at the center is a red square with a crying anime girl rendered in black with white lineart. Red text in Japanese on either side reads "lonely vampire"

10. Repeat. Derek is wearing black briefs. /End ID

#wwdits #derek wwdits #paper doll #goth fashion #punk fashion #eboy fashion #shadowsart #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

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her-satanic-wiles · 7 months

Text

October 5th

Collaring, Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2k

Warnings: Collaring and leashes; established relationship; power play?; dom!Terzo; sub!Reader; piv; vaginal sex; protected sex; clothed man, semi-naked woman; vaginal fingering; masturbation; choking; positive degradation; spanking; cunnilingus; squirting; cumswap (sorry not sorry); nipple play; free use?; body worship;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Terzo was already sat on the bed waiting for you when you entered the room, your frame decorated with black lingerie and harnesses. Terzo, after a long day at the Ministry filled with meetings and stressful actions, was still fully clothed in his suit, albeit missing the jacket. His legs were open as they often were when beginning a scene like this - he liked this posture because it made him feel powerful. In his right hand was a thick, black, leather collar, with a circular ring screwed into the middle of it. He fully intended to put you in that tonight.

“Come here, tesoro.” He requested softly. His voice was deep and smooth as it usually was in the bedroom, and it had you melting. You obeyed him and bent slightly at the knees, allowing him from his seated position to clasp the thick collar around your neck. Following a chaste kiss to your red lips, he then clipped a silver, metal leash to the collar. “On your knees for me.”

You placed yourself in front of him as gracefully as you could, your eyes never breaking the contact with his. You knew better than to make any movements or decisions. Papa was in charge now. Papa would tell you what to do.

“Touch yourself.”

Your hand immediately went down to your clothed clit and began to rub over the black cotton that covered it, teasing yourself for Terzo’s enjoyment. You immediately began bucking your hips in time with your movements chasing as much pleasure as you could from the muted touch. Your noises were soft but genuine, the pleasure was great but not enough to have you screaming. Terzo’s hand grasped onto the other end of the collar tightly, though his eyes were transfixed by your hand, obsessed with the way that it was moving and giving you the pleasure that he asked for.

“Does your hand feel good, tesoro?” Terzo asked, very much affected by your little show.

“Yes, Papa. Fuck! Not as good as yours, though. I l-love the way your fingers feel on me… inside of me.”

“Hmm.”

Your other hand moved from your thigh up to your breast, grasping it and playing with it to put on the extra show for Papa. Your fingers found the erect nipple poking through the delicate lace of the bra and began pinching and playing with it, giving Terzo an extra moan of satisfaction. All the while the pupils of his mismatched eyes were blown out, and staring at you with nothing but lust and adoration. You were pleasing him, you could see by the very prominent bulge under his trousers.

“Papa!” Whimpering his title was a sure fire way of getting him riled up. He wanted to seem powerful today, he wanted to remind himself of his position. Seeing you on your knees at his mercy was a sure fire way of doing that.

As the pleasure became too much you stopped your ministrations on your breast and instead clutched onto the loose chain of the leash, and your hand moved faster and faster over your clit, still trapped under the fabric of your panties. Meanwhile, your hole was clenching around nothing, screaming out for your fingers to fill it. But Papa hadn’t told you to move your panties, or even put your fingers inside you. So your hips continued to buck against the air desperately searching for the friction you craved.

Terzo loosened the leash (though it wasn’t particularly tight to begin with) and wrapped it a little around his hand. That same hand came to caress your cheek, the cold metal of the leash contrasting with the warmth of his touch. His thumb found its way into your mouth, and he watched with carnal interest as you began to suck on it, gliding over its length like you did with his cock. He exhaled deeply and mindlessly spoke, “Just like that.” At this point, his voice was hoarse and gravelly, but that word was so quiet you almost missed it. But you didn’t - and your fingers began to work over your clit even faster as you sucked his thumb.

He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and you gave the tip one final lick before he took his hand away altogether. “Will you cum for Papa, tesoro? Will you show Papa how good you feel being watched by him as you pleasure yourself, hm?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Are you close?”

“Mm-hmm.”

You continued to work yourself into a frenzy, rubbing quickly over your clit and applying more pressure. You looked at Terzo whose eyes were glued to your vulva, obsessively watching you work yourself over. At no point did he touch himself. He just watched. And that was the thought that drove you over the edge, and made you cum for him, stilling as your orgasm washed over you and had moans spilling from your lips.

“Che brava ragazza per tuo Papa. On the bed, tesoro. Ass in the air.”

You crawled across the floor then climbed into position, getting yourself ready for him as he had asked. You arched your back and placed your head onto the bed, allowing the roundness of your ass to really pop, and this earned you an appreciative smack to one of your cheeks.

He hummed admiringly. “My beautiful bitch.”

Another smack. This time, the hit was followed by him groping your offended cheek and pushing them upwards, in turn spreading your labia apart and over the gusset of your panties. “So wet for Papa. What a gift for me, eh? I was blessed by the Dark One, no?” With his hands still pulling your body apart, he dove into your cunt, licking the wet fabric of your panties and playing with your sensitive clit. The gusset was already soaked with the wetness of your previous release, but now it was just drenched. Terzo wasn’t much of a fan of this, and quickly moved your panties to the side, giving him full access to your sodden folds.

His tongue came down on your folds again, but this time there was nothing to dampen the sensation, causing you to cry out in sensitivity. As soon as his tongue was on you, however, it disappeared but soon replaced by two fingers poking at your entrance, sliding in with no resistance and immediately getting to work. Because of your position, his thick fingers curved downwards in order to hit that spot inside you that had you screaming. “Una ragazza di facili costumi, sì? Letting Papa do whatever he wants to you. Are you this much of a slut for my brothers? Or am I the only one who gets the privilege?”

“J-just you, Papa. I spread my legs only for you. Oh fuck, Papa, just like that, please don’t stop!”

“Do my fingers feel that good, tesoro? Good enough to have you wailing like that? Merda! Listen to yourself.” He began to finger you harder in order to make his point, the squelch of your heat getting louder with his roughness. “Acqua empia direct from Sathanas himself.” He bent down to lick and suck at your clit again. “More delicious than any wine.” The way his fingers were moving inside of you and how hard he sucked on your clit, you could feel yourself tipping over the edge. Without moving much, he spoke again. “Cum, tesoro. Bless me.”

After his instruction, you came for a second time biting into the sheets on the bed; your cum squirting from your body and onto his face. You could hear him slurping everything up as though he were drinking from a water fountain, moaning at your taste. He left you briefly to lie in front of you, propping himself up on his elbow. He lifted your head to meet him and kissed you deeply, transferring the cum he collected into your mouth. There was so much of it, it spilled down both of your chins and wiped away what remained of the paint around his mouth. When he pulled away from you, sinfully pink and swollen lips peeked out from behind the dramatic makeup, and had you gasping for air.

“Now it is Papa’s turn, sì?”

He stood and rummaged through his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. He handed it to you for you to open, and while you removed it from its packaging, he unbuckled and unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from its confines. “Get Papa ready, per favore.”

You placed the rolled condom in your mouth and moved towards his dick, using your lips to unroll it onto him all the way down to the base. He hissed at the feeling. “Puttana.”

He knelt behind you, still fully clothed and ready to go. His hands gripped your hips, gave you one, hard spank, and thrust all the way to the hilt, not waiting for your cunt to adjust to his size. “Take it all.”

He immediately got to work, his hips snapping against yours quickly and hitting that spot right at the back of your pussy making you scream out each time. “Fuck, Papa!” You called. “Use me for your pleasure!”

Terzo always felt so good inside you, he was so thick and long and stretched you out so well. Usually by the time he was done with you, you were an aching, shaky mess on the bed, unable to breathe or even think.

You arched your back for him again, and moved your hips to meet his thrusts, making your ass jiggle more than it usually would. A string of Italian expletives fell from his mouth, each one telling you how much of a whore you were for him and how Hellish your pussy felt.

“A filthy succubus sent from Sathanas to tempt me into sin.”

His hand moved to your side to pick up the leash that lay forgotten on the bed, and he tugged it hard enough to make you rise onto your hands. He tugged once more, a little tighter this time to restrict your airways and make it difficult for you to breathe. He would periodically loosen his grip to let you gasp for air before he tugged it again and choked you.

Your own hand came down to play with your clit one more time.

“Always so tight for me, tesoro.” He watched the cream from your pussy gather at the base of his cock. “Always so wet and pliant.” Release. “I wish you could know how divine you feel. How this cunt gives me new life.” Tug. “I could conquer the world with you hanging off my dick. Fucking shit! Così stretto.” Release. “Perhaps I’ve been worshiping the wrong god all along.” Tug. His thrusting became faster and more erratic. The one hand that remained on your hip held on even tighter than before, like he was too scared to let go or you might disappear and leave him unsatisfied. Release.

“Papa! You - fuck! - You’re gonna make me cum!”

Tug. “Tell me, tesoro! Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“No one could compare, Papa!” Release. “No one could ever make me cum as hard as you. I’m yours! I’m always yours. Fuck, Papa, I’m so close. Please!”

“Cum on my cock, tesoro. Give Papa your pleasure!”

Your cunt tightened around him to an almost suffocating level. It was so difficult for him to move inside you as you hit your third orgasm of the night, choking underneath the collar he put around your neck. More of your sweet nectar spilled out from your cunt and drenched his pants in it, soaking the sheets underneath you. This caused Terzo to thrust one final time inside you before emptying his load into the condom, the very same thing he cursed when he realised he wouldn’t get to see his seed drip out of you the way he wanted to.

When he was spent, he collapsed onto the bed next to you, breathing hard. His lips found yours again and pulled you in for a desperate kiss, tongues rubbing together with need. That was when he finally removed the collar from your neck and replaced it with his hand. The collar was thrown to the floor in disregard and made a loud clunking sound as it made contact with the wood. Terzo didn’t care, he just pulled you into him and held you, his lips still kissing at yours claiming the intimacy you both needed. He was yours, and you were his. And that was how it was to remain.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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dirtybg3confessions · 3 months

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Confession: I want Shadowheart to go all dom on me. I want her to put me in a an elaborate silver chain body harness and put a collar on my neck. I want her to walk around me, looking, apprising her new toy as I kneel in front of her all of my body on display. I want hwr to tut at me and adjust my position to her liking as she takes her time runnjng her hands across my body as I try tk remain still. I want to rub my pussy on her boot h till i comr and she would press it harder into me. I want to eat her out as she tugs on my leash almost choking me. She could be such a kind but relentless dom, demanding absolute perfection from me and i would do anything for her

#baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dirty confessions #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart

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blondedmuse · 1 year

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DELIRIOUS

part ii of pure heroin.

finnick odair x reader

synopsis. ꩜ your days seem to blur together but Finnick makes time still—at least for a night.

author's note. ∿ I am so sorry about the delay for this chapter. I have exams in two weeks so I have a bunch of studying to do up till then, so I can't promise the next chapter will be on time either...angst warning but again I think that's warranted for like all chapters

word count. ⨾ 2.5k

"You don't understand, he's anything but a darling, I'm telling you!" You complained to Cinna, standing on one of his podiums as he measured whatever part of your frame he needed to. Cinna was your stylist, and one of the few people you could call a friend. Cinna was assigned to you in your games, who you quickly bonded with. He was kind, understanding, humorous, and above all, a great stylist. He was easy to get along with, generous and genuinely funny. Funny in the way where he made your stomach hurt and your eyes tear up, missing the dry, clammed up humor that every capitol citizen used as conversation filler.

"I mean the rumors about his eyes are true, they're like angels. But his heart-"

"Is cold?"

You furrow your eyebrows. "You've met Finnick?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "No."

"Funny," You replied, your lips pressed into a line.

Truth be told, you didn't have to react the way you did. While your watch held much more sentiment than anyone else but you would ever know, it's not like he stepped on it himself. But that was the effect morphling had on you. It made you ecstatic yet absolutely miserable. The euphoria in your veins was ephemeral, the vile that poisioned you was everlasting. Like any other victor, you needed morphling after a while. The highs were sky-scraping and the lows were hell. And when you ran into Finnick, you just happened to be in the comedown, about to crash.

But before its repercussions could take their effect, you took whatever nose candy you could find in your bag, sedating you into stability—at least for a little bit.

"I'm thinking gold." Cinna suggested, shuffling through the pages of his notebook.

"Didn't we do gold for the last dress?" You asked, your memory hazy.

"Silver," He answered. You opened your mouth about to spit a witty retort but Cinna stopped you before you could get the words out your throat.

"And don't try to tell me they're the same thing," He joked.

You didn't say anything, you only raised your eyebrows, your lips turned upward in a cheeky smile.

"You wound me."

"You love me," You tease.

He laughs. "Don't be so sure. Anyways, come look at this," He invites you over and you stepped down from the podium, walking over to the mannequin where your mock dress laid.

"I was thinking a sheath silhouette with cutouts on either ribs, bejeweled chains covering the missing material while connecting the fabric, as well as a harness and strap for the dress. The sleeves would reach your elbow, draping over your arms with a likeness to a cape."

You sighed. "Anything else?"

He smiled. "It's an open back." And you returned it.

"You do love me."

"Only the best for my favorite victor."

Cinna stayed true to his sentiments. Unlike the other stylists you’ve had, he made sure you looked beyond beautiful, used nothing less than high end textiles, and above all else: he made sure you were comfortable.

While the banquet was two weeks away, you were already apprehensive and beginning your disdain. Your dress, however, was one less thing to worry about.

Time passed strangely when you visited the Capitol. The two weeks you dreaded felt like days as they seemed to blur together. Everyday was the same like routine.

You’d begin each day irritable, your body aching in bed sheets that weren’t yours, left with remnants of the night before. You’d spend a day with your given lover, go out and make appearences, do whatever the wealthy citizens of the Capitol did in their free time. When the sun set into the same crevice it rose from only hours before and the night sky set in, you were free to let loose, have some fun. You lit yourself on fire, the substance that flowed through your body was all the same; only some longer lasting than others. But in the end it was all evanescent.

You’d end up in the bed of your client, lover, whatever name you’d decided to use for the night—and it was fun. You felt good. You could go as far to call it Pure Heroin. But like any other drug it was fleeting and momentary, and when it had run it’s course you were left empty and sustaining withdrawal.

The night of the banquet arrived quicker than planned and unlike the regime you’ve involuntarily created for yourself, you felt as though you were having anything but fun.

You looked like it though. Your look for the night lived up to the expectations of luxury as you plastered a smile on your face. You looked like you were having the night of your life.

Despite the lengthy list of victors and elitists, all eyes were on you once you arrived, and they never really left; briefly catching stolen glances and lingering glares.

Each step of yours left an echo that never went unnoticed as you made your way to your seat, especially by the blonde haired boy you’d ran into weeks before. He watched as your face twisted slightly once you’d noticed your seat was assigned next to his and how your expression immediately changed when someone had started to spark a conversation with you.

He watched and he wondered what was under the surface of the spectacle that was you he observed from a far.

Were you having a bad day when he’d run into you or were you just that ill-mannered, just that presumptuous? And if so? He wanted to see how much—how nasty he could get you, how much he could rile you up in return for last time.

You were talking with another guest when you felt a presence behind you.

“God, sweetheart, that’s an interesting getup.” You turned around, having to abstain from rolling your eyes. Once your gaze met Finnick’s, his lips turned up in a wicked smile you knew meant something more.

His gaze shifted to the person you were talking to. “Doesn’t she look-”

“Irresistible? Indeed she does! I’ve practically had my eyes on her all night.” They beamed, clearly knowing where their passions lie.

Finnick laughed. “Sure. Irresistible.”

He was insincere with his words, you knew that, but the way they sounded when they left his lips left something indescribable in your stomach. You had no time to dwell on it, as seconds later everyone had begun to take their seat, the banquet beginning in its own time.

You sat in yours, placing the until napkin in your lap, and you thought you could prepare for a nice night. As mush as you disliked the Capitol and its extravagance, you couldn't help but entertain it. And you were sure Finnick wouldn't mind ignoring you. You'd think it'd be polite.

A guest across from you whose name you learned to be Aurelia asked you to tell the table a story, because of course, such a fascinating victor such as you would have so many. And right as you were about to speak, you heard it; the smooth and silvery, yet self-righteous voice beside you.

"Actually, I might have something up my sleeve," He interrupted and everyone at the table turned to him. The table was small, no more than eight people, so he could captivate everyone—even you. You noted the smug smirk on his face you wondered was invisible to everyone else. Maybe you were past politeness.

Aurelia urged him to tell his story while her question towards you was left in the dust. And with each question directed towards you, it managed to stay that way. He'd find someway to steal the spotlight and make the show his.

The conversation had drifted in many directions, now ending up in a comparison between a few districts and the Capitol. And eventually, someone at the table found their interest in you again.

"Which do you like better, District one or the Capitol?"

This was a question you knew Finnick couldn't answer because he'd never been. At least you'd assume so. While you wish the question had more substance to it, it gave you a moment to engage with the others at the table if you were going to have to sit here for how much longer.

"I think-"

The sound of a utensil clanging against a wine glass interrupted you like Finnick had been doing all night. You found it amusing how frustrating this night has been and apparently Finnick did too, hearing him chuckle beside you.

You didn't hear it for much longer as the politician who was hosting the banquet—whose name you couldn't even try to remember—had begun a toast. His voice was underwater as you drowned his words out, still smiling as if you resonated with each one.

"And to our lovely victors that could be with us here tonight."

You raised your glass along with the others, clanking them together like second-hand nature. Before you could toss your drink back, letting bubbles of champagne burn your throat, you watched it spill from Finnick's flute on to your dress.

For the first time this night the attention could be yours, yet you were too appalled to say anything, only grabbing your clutch and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You were glad it was empty, free to clean your dress without forged sympathy. You were able to let your emotions go, unfiltered and unsheltered no longer under the viewing pleasure of others.

You were sure you went through at least a roll of paper towels before you heard the bathroom door open, not daring to look up until you were done wiping your dress for what you hoped would be the last time. Once you did look up however, your frustration turned to indignation as Finnick Odair leaned against the door while his face read with concern.

"What is your problem?"

He smiled. "I thought you left.” And it dropped. “Guess not."

You wanted to scrutinize him, you really did. But you held your tongue, deciding to have some humility.

"What?" He cocked his head to the side. "Is your head hollow?" You admit his words only added insult to injury but they sounded better coming from his mouth. You hated it. So, you turned back to your reflection in the mirror, opening your clutch to dig for something you knew would pacify the animosity.

Finnick stood at the door way, watching, like he did earlier that night. Only now he was confused at your apathy and how you seemed to ignore him so easily. There was something so engrossing about you in the way that you treated him. You weren't friends, but you didn't throw yourself at him, treating him like a piece of meat the way everyone else seemed to do.

Lost in thought he hardly missed the small bag of narcotic you pulled from your clutch that he was all too familiar with. And in that moment, he wanted to make sure the white dust stayed in its bag—at least for tonight.

"You know, I think I owe you an apology." He spoke and you craned your head to face him.

You raised your brows. "You think?"

"I know," He admitted, stepping towards you.

"Who would've thought you knew anything?" You retorted, fully facing him now and you could see his dimples form just like they did the first time you met him. Only this time it wasn't sarcasm, maybe something more genuine.

"Well I know a few things," He replied. "I know I'm definitely sorry for spilling champagne on this beautiful dress."

You crossed your arms, holding back a smile. "You should be. It's still wet."

"Maybe some fresh air would dry it?"

You narrowed your eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

"Come with me," He proposed, holding out his hand. "I know you don't wanna go back in there. Not with your dress still damp."

"Which is your fault, by the way," You reminded him.

"I know and I'm sorry. Again," He apologized once again, still offering his hand out to you.

"Alright let's go," You accepted his offer but not his hand, grabbing your clutch from the counter and walking ahead of him. Finnick followed suit but before he left he grabbed the bag of coke from the counter and pocketed it, making a mental reminder to trash it later.

"Where to?" You asked. The two of you were out of the bathroom now, roaming the halls of some Capitol building.

"You'll see," He replied, wary of his surroundings.

"You're not trying to kill me right?" You joked and Finnick stopped in his steps once he reached a grand staircase.

"Worse," He answered. "I'm trying to help you."

You furrowed your brows as he grabbed the small train of your dress, lifting it so that you could walk up the stairs without tripping over yourself. A staircase and another long hallway later, you found yourself on the top terrace of the building. The view was breathtaking and the tranquility was a stark contrast to the commotion of celebration.

You walked to the edge and leaned on the balcony so much so you almost wanted to fall off. Not so much that it was a liability, but in the way you wanted to fully immerse yourself in the scenery, forget about everything else and focus on the green of the trees or how the streets looked under the moonlight.

"I'm not gonna fall off," You told him before his warning could ever be expressed.

"I- I didn't think you were," He lied. Straight through his teeth.

"You did."

"I did." He laughed. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Catch me in a lie so easily. Like it's second nature," He explained taking a spot on the balcony right next to you.

"You said it yourself. We're the same—similar at least. We both have the same reasons to lie. You lied because you want me to think you care.” You said, your eyes unmoving from the landscape infant of you.

"But I also see more than you think I do. I saw how you pocketed my coke before we left the bathroom and threw it out in the second floor hallway." You turned to face him. Now he was just like the rest; bewildered and baffled that you were more than what met the eye.

He bit his tongue and quirked his head, silent for a moment before speaking.

"You caught me." And for the first time that night you smiled because you knew he was being honest. You couldn't care less for his compliments and niceties because you knew they weren't reserved for you. You'd like to think they were, though.

"Can I ask why, though?" His question tip-toped around the fact of the matter, but you knew exactly what he meant.

"It makes it easier," You replied. "Being here."

He didn't tell you but he understood, maybe not all of it, but just enough to not have to ask anymore. So he left you alone and did something he would've found absurd two weeks ago: he enjoyed your company.

MAIN MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

#finnick odair #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick ordair fluff #finnick ordair angst #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #the hunger games #the hunger games catching fire #mockingjay #peeta mellark

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wackus-bonkus-maximus · 10 months

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twin telepathy au

mirror image on ao3

summary

The voice in Adrien’s head is strangely familiar. It also tells him the truth (when no one else will)

excerpt

Enough’s enough, Adrien, said the voice in his head. Count sheep or something. Adrien frowned into the darkness, harnessing all his focus and concentrating on the presence that had suddenly joined him in his mind. It was so familiar, like an extension of his own thoughts—a separate half of himself existing only within his head. But then other times it would refuse to answer, or tell him quite irately to piss off, and make Adrien question whether or not he was actually hearing things. This was one of those times. You are hearing things, the voice said as though in answer. Doesn’t mean I’m not real. Adrien reached for the silver chain around his neck, his fist closing around the two rings resting warm against his sternum. “As real as me?” Yes, idiot, the voice replied with a bite. As real as you.

inspired by the twin telepathy au comics by @moonieratty!

#hopefully this works i know ao3 was down earlier #ml fanfic #miraculous fanfiction #adrien agreste #felix graham de vanily #felix f*th*m #twin telepathy au #it's finally here guys!#ty moonie #i love the comics ahh #absolutely obsessed with these two #canon divergent after s5 #but also kinda canon compliant?#well you'll see i guess #lol enjoy!

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enbyenvy666 · 17 days

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personal pornstar part 3/? cis!ver

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

after a little spending spree courtesy of your pro-hero sugar daddies, you send the pair some pictures of your new clothes, as well as a couple other outfits, leading to a late-night sleepover.

established!kiribaku x masc!reader part 1 | part 2 cis!ver trans!ver | part 3 trans!ver

CONTENT WARNINGS - 18+ MDNI, reader wears lingerie, threesome, anal sex, top!kirishima, switch!bakugo, bottom!reader, semi-rough sex, mating press, sexting/sending nudes, cuck chair lol, aftercare, no beta we die like men w/c - 3.2k

a/n - I figure out how to add the song this fic is named after!!

The payments you were receiving for spending time with Kirishima and Katsuki were relieving some of your financial stresses. You had bought new nice clothes with the money Katsuki gave you earlier that week, even sending him pictures of the clothes you tried on to get his opinions.

Once home, you wanted to use the rest of your day off to do housework, but as you went to put away your new clothes, you couldn’t resist the urge to try them on again, posing in front of your thin, floor-length mirror. A form-fitting blazer on top of a black button-down that had a rose pattern sewn into it in a kind of thread that looked black until in the right light it would shimmer silver. A classic silver wallet chain added a bit of spice to your new black slacks, all of which not only looked good together but also looked good on you.

Unbuttoning some buttons here and there, and rolling up a sleeve or two made you feel like a kid playing dress-up again. Sitting down on the edge of your bed, still in view of the mirror, you looked over your reflection one more time, grateful for Katsuki’s help. You also realised he hadn’t seen you in the completed outfit yet.

Holding up your phone, you posed in front of the mirror. A couple of buttons undone on the shirt, showing off your collar bones, legs crossed at the knees and leaning your weight on one hand planted on the bed beside you. Holding your phone up beside your face, you were looking at it as you took the photo, making sure it was in focus.

After sending it to the group chat with the two heroes, you started to strip off the nice clothes, hanging them up in your closet to avoid creases. Your phone buzzed on the bed, and you giddily picked it up, excited to see their reactions. What you had received back surprised you, but it didn’t disappoint.

It was a mirror picture of the both of them, similarly in a floor-length mirror, but you could tell theirs was wider as you could see what looked to be a significant portion of their shared bedroom. Both were in their base hero costumes, bare of the extra things like gauntlets and masks.

Katsuki was taking the picture, with the phone held up to his chest while he was looking down at it. Kirishima stood behind him, his muscular arms wrapped around Katsuki’s thinner waist, his bare chest against the blonde’s back. Kirishima had his lips pressed to Katsuki’s temple, but his sparkling jewel eyes were staring directly into the camera. As you were admiring the picture, you received another text from Katsuki, saying how he wanted to see you in that outfit in person.

With an almost childlike excitement, you continued to carefully put away the new clothes, wanting them to stay pristine until you saw the heroes again. As you put on some comfier clothes, your foot knocked on a cardboard box that sat on the floor of the closet, gathering dust. That procrastination curiosity got the better of you and you opened it, wondering what you could have put in there.

Oh…

Lacy underwear, thigh highs, garter belts. Impulse buys you got when you were feeling good about yourself but never had a reason to wear. Underwear that was made purely of leather straps around the crotch, waist and thighs, meant to mimic the look of shibari. A lace garter-jock strap-thigh high combo, leather harnesses, classic lacy thongs, all gone to waste.

But the giddiness and excitement from Kirishima and Katsuki gave you an idea.

The sun was setting by the time you were ready to send them a collection of pictures. Trying on the different pieces and trying to find the perfect angle and pose for the pictures. Showing your supple body in scantily clad underwear that barely covered your most intimate parts. Eventually, you had a nice collection on your hands, and without hesitation, you hit the send button.

But then the realisation hit. Here you were, sending them risqué pictures out of nowhere, when there wasn’t much of a build-up other than you sending a nice, somewhat sexy picture of yourself, and the two of them sending one back that you may have taken out of context. They had just gotten off work, they were probably tired and just wanting to relax, and you were sending them borderline nudes. Oh god, where’s the unsend button?!

Before you could even try to delete them, you saw the three little dots of Katsuki typing. They disappeared and reappeared a couple of times, making you chew on your bottom lip nervously. The dots disappeared, and you waited for them to reappear, but they didn’t return. With a sigh of defeat, you limply fell back on your bed.

Your phone began buzzing in your hand, the ringtone singing louder than you expected. Fumbling the device between your hands as you sat up, trying to recover from your freight before you answered. Katsuki’s contact name was on your screen, and it only served to make your already frightened heart beat faster.

“Hello?” You answered meekly, phone to your ear, cringing at the way the metal piercings scraped against the screen from you placing it there too fast.

“Oi! Do you know what ya doin’ t’me?” He shouted into the phone, but you swear you could hear the twinge of a smirk.

“S-sorry, I was just-” Your cheeks were warm, unable to hold down your cheeky smile.

“You know exactly what you were doin’. I’m callin’ you a cab.” In the background, you could hear Kirishima playfully scolding Katsuki.

“Really?” You gawked into the phone.

“Uh-huh, and you better wear one of those outfits f’me.” Looking around your bed at the various sets of lingerie and sexy underwear, you bit your lip.

“Which ones?” You asked, feeling a tingle between your thighs as your mind started to wander to dirtier thoughts.

“Dealers choice,” he huffed.

“Get here fast.”

———

Katsuki was waiting by the door, ripping it open the second he heard you shut the cab door. He dragged you inside as soon as you were within reach, slamming the front door closed before slamming his lips onto yours. Backing you up against the wall, his hands groped your hips, desperately grinding his own against you.

“Katsuki,” came Kirishima’s warning voice. He was standing on the nearby staircase with stern yet playful eyes, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. Katsuki pulled away, your lips popping, as he glared at his partner with a low grumble.

“Katsuki,” he mocked. Kirishima could only chuckle and shake his head, slowly descending a few more steps.

“Be gentle.”

“He said he likes it rough,” the blonde smirked, pulling you off the wall by your hips, your arms wrapping around his neck to keep yourself steady.

“Dontcha baby?”

You smiled meekly and nodded, fingers fiddling with the baby hairs at the back of his neck. With a smirk and a huff, he stepped back and took your hand, leading you towards the stairs. Kirishima ended up leading the way to the bedroom, and it was just as nice as it looked in their picture.

The bed was made, ready to be tussled and disturbed. A couple of candles on the bedside tables created a soft glow around the room, and a rattan chair sat in the corner, facing the bed. You weren’t able to admire the room any longer as Katsuki pushed you down onto the bed, standing over you with a smirk.

With a knee between your thighs, he slipped his hands under your shirt, pushing it up until he revealed the lace garter belt around your waist. His tongue ran over his lip, quickly pulling down your pants to reveal the sheer thigh highs clipped onto the garter belt with thin straps. Kirishima stood behind Katsuki, watching his partner rush to undress you.

Finally, bare of clothes except for the lingerie you had hidden underneath. Kirishima had his arms slinked around Katsuki’s waist, both of them staring down at you. It was like the picture, but now the two pairs of red eyes on you felt even more intense. Like two predators watching their prey. But you weren’t scared, you trusted them. As a silent signal, Kirishima stepped back, leaving a lingering hold on Katsuki’s hips until he finally let go, letting the blonde do as he pleased with you.

Katsuki began to tug on his belt, aggressively undoing it as his almost glowing eyes wandered over your body. Your thighs pressed together, feeling vulnerable under his intimidating gaze. You watched him undress, leaning back on your elbows as button after button came undone. You hadn’t even realised Kirishima disappeared from your sight until the drawer beside the bed slid open. Finally breaking your glare from Katsuki, you turned your attention to Kirishima, who was digging through the top drawer of the nightstand.

A bottle of lube and wet wipes were placed on the tabletop, Kirishima smiling softly at you as you watched him, his lips parting to show the pointed tips of his teeth. It was comforting, if only for a moment. While you were distracted, Katsuki had completely stripped off his clothes and swooped down, trapping you between his arms. With your neck craned to watch Kirishima, Katsuki used the opportunity to place a hot kiss on your neck, teeth dragging against your skin. You gasped and moaned as you grabbed onto his shoulders, back arching up until your torso was flat against his abs.

His cock felt hot and heavy against your thigh, yours barely contained by the matching lacy panties you wore. With your attention back on him, his lips travelled up your neck until they met yours, his hands running over your bare skin, stopping for brief moments over the garter belt and thigh highs, until his fingertips slipped under the elastic of your panties. Featherlight touches against your cock were accidental, his focus on the underwear itself.

He broke the kiss to retrieve the lube, squirting some on his fingers. His dry hand pushed your thighs apart and pulled your underwear to the side. The lube felt cold on your hole, gasping at the wet feeling as he slowly but firmly started to finger you open. Katsuki bit his lip as you mewled below him, rolling your hips in hopes of the digits slipping in further. You had almost forgotten about Kirishima until you heard the chair in the corner creak as he shifted himself on it to get a better view of Katsuki prepping you for him.

After fitting three fingers inside you, Katsuki pulled them out and slicked up his cock with lube, pressing the tip to your tight ring of muscle. With little resistance, he penetrated you, cock stretching your walls. Moans and curses flowed from your lips, twisting the bed sheets in your fists. He was quick to set a fast and rough pace, hips slapping against your thighs. Each thrust had his cock brushing against your prostate, sending pleasureful shocks through your nerves like electricity.

His strong hips made the bed creak, his grip shifting to your thighs to push your knees towards your shoulders. Without Kirishima’s calm and grounding touches, your body felt electric and like you were in another world. Eyes rolling back, back arching and moans turning to mindless babbles as each thrust against your prostate brought you closer to coming.

But Katsuki’s hips began to slow, your orgasm falling with it. Your eyes snapped to him, and through blurry vision, you could see Kirishima behind Katsuki, guiding him to lean forward. As he leaned over you, pushing your knees further against your shoulders and his cock slowly thrusting at a new angle, Kirishima held a strong grip on the blonde’s hip, lining up his cock to his husband’s hole. He could barely hold Katsuki still long enough to insert himself, but once he did Katsuki started to thrust even faster inside you, fucking himself on Kirishima’s cock.

Kirishima stared lovingly at the back of Katsuki’s head before he aggressively grabbed his hair, yanking Katsuki upwards. The blonde’s face was twisted in pleasure, Kirishima nibbling at his neck as his powerful hips set the pace. He had taken control of the whole situation, his staunch hold on Katsuki reigning him in, and he seemed to like it too, maybe even love it by the way he grinned.

“Fu-uck!” Katsuki groaned, his raspy voice sending a throb to your core. He still had your knees against your shoulders, so as much as you wanted to run your nails across the muscular landscape of his body, you could only clench the bed sheets. Each forceful thrust from Kirishima was felt inside you, your underwear growing dark as precum leaked from your cock, soaking the lace fabric. Drool dripped from the corner of your lips as you let out a chorus of moans, Katsuki’s grip on the underside of your thighs growing tighter, leaving crescent moons to dot your skin.

“Ka-Kats-ki,” you stuttered, eyes clenching shut as your peak grew closer, toes curling. Katsuki moaned at you calling his name, biting his lip to muffle the sound. A couple more muffled moans from him had you peaking your eyes open, catching the two heroes locked in a passionate kiss. When they broke apart, they stared deeply into each other’s eyes as Kirishima finally let go of Katsuki’s spiked locks. It was as if they were silently communicating with each other as Katsuki pulled your calves against his shoulders before leaning down, his chest almost against yours if your legs weren’t in the way.

Kirishima started thrusting intensely, forcing Katsuki’s cock deeper inside you. It felt like he was rearranging your guts with each stroke until the coil snapped as you stained your underwear. Clenching around Katsuki brought him closer to coming, Kirishima feeling the way his partner’s hips stuttered as he tried to match the pace of his hips. With a Herculean grip, he held Katsuki’s hips in place and started pounding him. Each thrust from Kirishima caused Katsuki’s cock to stimulate your prostate as it pressed against the sensitive spot perfectly at that angle.

With your lips parted as you whined and moaned, Katsuki kissed you, his tongue against the back of your teeth. Another orgasm started to build, barely coming down from the high from the first one, as you started clenching down on Katsuki’s cock once more. This combined with Kirishima’s superhuman speed brought Katsuki to cum, the feeling of his seed filling you bringing you to cum as well. Katsuki’s hole tightened around Kirishima and with a few more staggering thrusts, he came.

The combined panting of Katsuki, Kirishima and yourself harmonised in the room, everyone slowly coming back down to earth after being sent to cloud nine. Kirishima pulled out of Katsuki with a shiver, which allowed the blonde to pull out of you, just in time as your legs started to ache. Katsuki lazily rolled down beside you, sweaty back hitting the cooler sheets. Kirishima retrieved the wet wipes he left out earlier, cleaning himself off first before nudging Katsuki’s thighs apart to clean him.

In response, Katsuki pulled the red-headed hero down to kiss him once more. You looked away, feeling almost as if you were intruding. Your underwear being pulled down had you looking between your legs, where Kirishima was attempting to remove the soaked garment. You sat up, reaching down to take them off yourself.

“You don’t have to-” You were silenced by his hand cupping your cheek delicately, his smile just as soft.

“It’s okay, just relax,” he spoke, waiting for you to lay back down before he continued to remove the lingerie. Most of it had been stained by cum and lube, and most likely couldn’t be salvaged. Katsuki must’ve caught your frown, as he playfully squeezed your thigh before he climbed off the bed.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he said as he disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. The wet wipe felt cold against your abused hole, but it was better than feeling slick and sticky.

“What time is it?” you asked once Kirishima was done cleaning you, looking around for a clock. From the bathroom you heard a tap squeak before the water hit the tiled floor, the rhythm broken up by Katsuki cleaning himself up under the stream.

“Don’t worry about it,” Katsuki called over the water.

“I have work in the morning,” you replied as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, searching the room for your discarded clothes. Kirishima was fluffing about around you, stripping off the pillowcases and tossing them aside. Before you could ask him why, Katsuki peered out of the bathroom, scowling at you but the threatening look was diminished by his wet hair and water droplets running over his rippling biceps.

“Shitty Hair has late patrols, he can take you,” he explained shortly. With your brow furrowed and head tilted in confusion, he sighed.

“You’re staying the night, get in the shower.”

You blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing before Kirishima’s large hand found your back, leading you to stand up. Deciding not to fight it, you let the redhead lead you into the ensuite, where the shower was running, steam clouding the air.

“Kats likes it a little hot, turn it down if you need to,” Kirishima whispered to you before leaving you to bathe. The caddy hanging from the base of the tall showerhead was stocked with various skin care products like scrubs, moisturisers, and shampoo that, when you squirted it onto your palm, smelt like Katsuki’s hair. There was also a bottle of 5-in-1 body, hair, face, shave and moisturiser which you correctly assumed to be Kirishima’s. When you were done, the redhead was waiting and gave you a fluffy towel, pressing a chaste kiss to your wet hair as you passed him.

The bed sheets had been changed, candles blown out and only a lamp lit the room. Katsuki was now dressed in only his underwear as he carried the soiled sheets away. By the time you had dried yourself off, Katsuki had returned, now holding some folded clothes, which he handed to you. It was an old shirt and sleep shorts, both baggy on you, but smelt like the explosive hero. He dragged you to the bed, pulling you close on the crisp, clean sheets. You tried to ignore the fact that he was barely clothed, but you still felt your cheeks grow warm.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he smirked as he pulled you to his bare chest. “Red is a human heater.”

Speak of the devil, Kirishima exited the bathroom, a towel hung low on his hips as he used a separate towel to dry his red locks. He strutted through the room, displaying his gorgeous body decorated with scars from his years on the hero scene. Digging through a dresser, he found a pair of sweats and a faded t-shirt, slipping them on before climbing into the bed. He pulled Katsuki until his back met his chest, Katsuki pulling you along with him. After switching off the light and snuggling into the bed, Kirishima sighed, all the tense knots in his muscles slipping away.

“Goodnight Kats, goodnight baby,” he called into the dark room.

“Night Ei,” Katsuki replied, words slurred as sleep quickly took him.

“G’night,” you whispered into his chest, melting into his arms as your eyes drifted shut, the soft hum of the washing machine down the hall lulling you to sleep.

#bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #kirishima x reader #gay #kirishima eijiro x male reader #eijiro x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x male reader #kiribaku #bakugo katsuki x male reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #SoundCloud

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kydrogendragon · 5 months

Text

Dec 10 - Silver and Gold

(Ao3 Link)

The gold earrings on display shone like the early morning sun. The red ruby nestled in the center called to Morpheus from across the way as Hob and he had made their way through the local shopping mall. They were originally on the search for gifts for Hob’s friends and colleagues. He had spotted these as they had passed the storefront and refused to leave Morpheus’s mind.

They had gotten a few shops ahead before Hob was pulled into a lengthy conversation with a group of his coworkers. Morpheus had politely ducked out, claiming he had to use the restroom only to sneak his way into the jeweler’s shop.

The earrings were magnificent up close. They were light in his palms. The ruby wasn’t a real one, apparently, but a gem made to look close to a ruby. It was close enough to the naked eye. Two small black gems lined the base of the rectangular earrings and made Morpheus smile. They were Morpheus’s colors, after all, even if he had no right to claim the title of Dream of the Endless. The ruby had been his dreamstone. Daniel wore the Emerald now, after all, and preferred creams and whites for his palette, whereas Morpheus had always leaned towards blacks and darker colors.

He did not have his own source of funds, not yet, but he did have a card - a credit card, Hob had explained - that would allow him access to some of Hob’s own funds. He was to start work at their local library at the start of the next year and would be able to pay Hob back for this purchase. Morpheus was tempted to wait, but the uncertainty that this specific pair would be here come that time swayed him otherwise.

Morpheus held the earrings in his hand and made his way to the counter, only to stop in his tracks. There, towards the back corner, a male and female torso made of fabric and stuffing and metal stood displaying a matching set of chains that had Morpheus’s mouth parting in awe. A complementary pair of silver and gold chain harnesses draped across the fabric chests in a tantalizing fashion.

A silver band circles low on the mannequin’s neck with dozens of long, trailing chains falling down the length of the torso, wrapping around the sides and place where hips would be, ascending up the length of the back to the other side of the main silver band. Morpheus steps near, reaching a hand out to trace down the lines of cool metal. He swallows, images flash in his mind. Him, lying against the silky sheets in Hob’s bed, the black contrasts his pale skin decorated in lines of glittering silver.

His eyes dart to the jewelry’s golden mate and nigh salivates at the thought of Hob’s tan skin adorned with the thicker metal. Study golden chains wind together in a similar fashion to the silver. A looser golden band still encircles the neck, but the loops of chains trail over the shoulders and a subsection trails down the chest and back like a clasped cape. The lines would frame Hob’s pectorals and shoulders in the most lovely of fashions, Morpheus is certain of this.

Morpheus closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath. He should not think this way. The earrings are a stretch enough as is. To wish to lay claim to Hob, to wish to mark him as his in such a way is already too far. There is no guarantee that Hob would accept his suit as is. He cannot indulge in buying such frivolous things with no certainty that they would be used, after all. It would be foolish and a waste of Hob’s money. And where would he hide such items in the meantime? Hob would surely question his purchase. Hiding things would only cause a divide between them. No. Morpheus should not. He could not. He would simply purchase the earrings for they are easily concealed in the pocket of his jacket and all would be well.

Morpheus buys the set.

It is Christmas Eve. Morpheus stands in front of the full length mirror in his separate bedroom, just across the hall from Hob’s. The silver chains drape down his form in a way that reminds him of the elaborate garb he’d wear at times back when he was Endless. He trails a hand down his chest, his breath hitching at the press of cool metal into his still sensitive skin. In a way, it felt like armor. It shielded his naked form, his desires and attractions behind threads of silver. Sliding on his shirt over the harness, he smiled. Even unseen, Morpheus could not deny the effect it had on his mind. He felt more confident, even if it was artificially so. Perhaps he might even work up the courage to give Hob the earrings he wrapped.

They had gotten closer over these past few weeks. He was not oblivious to Hob’s gentle touches and how much more frequent they’ve gotten. He is also not blind to the lingering stares he’s received from him from across the room. Morpheus is, at least mildly certain, that there’s a chance Hob would return his affections and desires. But, as Morpheus well knew, what one dreams of does not always mean it is what one wants.

Taking hold of the wrapped gift, he places it gently in the pocket of jeans and pads into the living room.

Morpheus gripped the top of the couch for dear life as Hob, kneeling at his feet, worked his jeans down his legs. He sighed as the pleasantly warm air of their flat hit his bare skin. The rough pads of Hob’s fingers trailed down his pale flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Morpheus looked down and felt his heart flutter.

Hob’s eyes were dark and wide as his hands explored the expanse of his skin, now scattered with dark coarse hairs that had finally started taking root. He shuttered as Hob’s hands brushed against the hair’s natural flow, producing the slightest tugging sensation. It was a new feeling and Morpheus was unprepared.

Leaning forward, Hob pressed his warm lips against his thigh, mouthing at the soft flesh. He moved up and up, kissing his way closer and closer to the ever growing aching heat of his own cock. Morpheus hissed as Hob licked up his clothed length. Hob smirked, his eyes catching Morpheus’s own. Finally, Hob’s hands reached up, his fingers curling over the band of his underclothes.

“This okay?” he asked, eyes searching Morpheus’s face.

Morpheus leaned down, hands moving from the couch to the sides of Hob’s face. He pulls him forward, catching Hob’s mouth on his own. He feasts at his lips, the urgency of lust and desire overtaking him. He tasted sweeter than ambrosia, more addictive than the touch of Delirium. He wanted. He wanted more than he ever had. Hob moaned into his mouth and Morpheus took advantage. His tongue swiped forward, caressing the soft skin of his upper palette. He felt as Hob’s own pressed against the underside of his tongue. Morpheus trusted his hips forwards.

Hob chucked, sending a shiver down Morpheus’s spine at the vibration. They parted, panting against each other. Hob’s hot breath against his face made him smile. The humanity, the reality of it all was tipping towards overwhelming. For eons, Morpheus had been a creature firmly rooted in the land of the unreal and ever-changing. Even at his most solid and tangible, all that he was could never be contained in such a small vessel. As such, the carnality of the flesh was never one he could truly experience. Not in the way that he can now.

“I take it that’s a quite enthusiastic yes, then?” Hob laughs against his cheek. Morpheus’s eyes flutter close. Oh. Oh, wasn’t that just music to hear. The swirl of want, the heat pooling in his gut mixed with the butterflies taking flight in his stomach and the light in his chest. Laughter, in a moment so intimate. He had never experienced such before.

Was this love? Love as humanity experiences it?

“Yes,” he whispers, unsure if he could speak much louder with how throughout Hob Gadling has managed to steal away his breath.

Hob’s eyes soften as he pulls back just far enough to nuzzle his nose against Morpheus’s own. A kiss, so gentle and soft, a stark contrast to the heat and passion just moments before, is pressed against his lips. Morpheus can feel his heart clench as the tenderness.

“To the bedroom, then?” Hob mumbles against his lips. “I want to take my time with you. If you’ll let me.” Morpheus nods. With a smile, Hob takes Morpheus’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze as he leads them down the hallway.

Hob pauses at the end, his head looking between the two closed doors. “Um,” he says, turning back to Morpheus. He quirks a brow. Surely… surely Hob was not having second thoughts? “Should… uh, mine or yours?” He waggles a finger between the two rooms and Morpheus can’t help but huff with laughter.

Pulling Hob close, he kisses him. “Yours… ours, perhaps,” He whispers, leaning back to gauge Hob’s reaction. “If… If that would be what you would like?”

Hob’s eyes shine. The soft overhead light quite literally casting a golden glow in his now watery gaze. He reaches out, tan hands cupping the side of Morpheus’s face. He presses into the warmth. “Always,” Hob says, voice soft. “Whatever you want, whatever you’ll give me, I’ll always want it. Always want you.”

Morpheus grabs a fist full of fabric and yanks him close, their chests pressed against each other as Morpheus all but devours him. He trails his lips down, kissing along Hob’s jaw and down the open expanse of skin at his neck. Morpheus paused, sucking and biting at the soft flesh just at the junction of his collarbone, earning him a shaky gasp.

“I will not let you go, Hob Gadling.” Morpheus growls into his skin. “I am greedy and will demand all of you. This has not changed. You must know this before we continue.”

Hob chuckles. “Oh love, if you think that’s going to turn me away from you, you must not know me.”

Love.

Morpheus manages to reach around and open the closed door to Hob’s- No. To their room. He walks Hob backwards, their limbs and lips tangled against each other. The backs of Hob’s knees hit the side of the bed and Morpheus follows him down onto the soft mattress. He feels as Hob’s large hands cup his hips, thumbs nudging under his shirt, rucking up the fabric. Morpheus smirks as Hob’s breath hitches.

“Dove, what am I feeling?” Hob’s voice is rough as he stares up at Morpheus with something near awe in his eyes. Shifting to straddle Hob’s hips properly, he leans up, staring Hob down as he lifts the edge of his shirt up. Silver glints in the low light of their bedroom and Hob keens. He reaches out, hesitantly drifting over the silver chains that flowed over his figure.

“Does it please you?” Morpheus asks, trying his best to hide the wobble in his voice. He knows, given Hob’s reaction, it does. But this is all new territory for them, after all.

Hob leans up, one hand behind him to stabilize, the other pulls Morpheus closer. He rests his forehead on Morpheus’s. “It’s wonderful, Morpheus.” Hob trails his hand down the side of his face and down to his chest, resting on the slight bump that the chains underneath create. “I’d love to see more, if you’ll let me.”

Slowly, wanting to see the desire in Hob’s eyes grow, Morpheus slips his shirt over his head, revealing the silver chained harness he had picked up weeks earlier. He luxuriates in the darting of Hob’s eyes and the whimpers that escape his lips.

“God’s Wounds, love,” Hob manages, his fingers curling around the delicate strings, following their circular path around Morpheus’s torso. “When did you get this? Where did you get this?” Hob’s eyes dart up to his. “And just how long have you been planning on seducing me like this?” He adds with a chuckle.

Morpheus purses his lips, looking down as Hob gives a gentle tug at the circular chain that rounds his neck. He leans into it, with a slight sigh. “At the mall, when you were too preoccupied with your fellow professors. I-” He hesitates, his mind flashing to the matching box that rests in his nightstand drawer. “I have one, for you as well. If… if you would like.”

Hob’s grip tightens as he bucks into Morpheus’s weight. Groaning, Hob says, “Get it.”

Not without a few desperate kisses, Morpheus manages to untangle himself and make it back to his room, his old room, now, and quickly swipes the box from the drawer. He lifts the lid, smiling at the thicker gold chains that lie inside, before padding back to their bedroom.

Hob’s since stripped himself of his remaining vestments and has taken position lounging across the bed on his back. One hand rests behind his head, the other rests tantalizingly close to his erect cock. Morpheus can’t help but notice the moment he enters the room, now clad only in his undergarments and the silver chains, Hob’s prick jumps in interest.

“Christ, you’re a sight,” Hob sighs, sitting up. His eyes find the box in Morpheus’s hand and he smiles. “That one mine, then?”

Nodding, Morpheus makes his way to the edge of the bed and sits. He plucks the decorative gold harness from the box and lifts it for Hob’s inspection. Tan hands take it, rubbing the cool, smooth metal under his fingers.

“Put it on me?” Hob asks, shifting to sit closer to Morpheus.

He nods and crawls his way to sit behind Hob on his knees. He lifts the mass of gold chains, turning it around to orient it properly, before placing it over Hob’s head and down onto his shoulders. Morpheus guides the chains to lay flat, his fingers dancing along Hob’s warm skin until every piece is in place. Turning around, Hob meets Morpheus’s eye, smiling.

“Well, how do I look?”

He looked ethereal. Gold and finery was made to rest upon Hob’s skin. The chains hugged his shoulders, drawing one’s eye to the lines of muscles and strength he has honed over his many centuries of life. He looked worthy of capture in statues of old. He should be painted, this image forever immortalized, so all would know the beauty and glory of Hob Gadling.

“I would burn your clothes and dispose of any other garments so that you would only wear this. Your body was meant to be worshiped and seen, decorated in such riches, and I intend to lay my offerings and prayers upon your flesh.”

Hob’s face flushed a most lovely red. “Jesus wept, Morpheus.” He pulls him in, mouths meeting in an uncoordinated fashion. “I need you. Now. Please, Morpheus.” He whispered against his lips.

With a growl, Morpheus pushes Hob back against the bed, the soft, downy duvet hugging Hob’s edges. He crawls over his body, leaning down, letting the two colored chains graze and shift on one another. The gentle shifting sounds of metal on metal mixed in with the sighs and whimpers of Hob’s voice as Morpheus worked kisses along the length of his body.

Morpheus kissed and sucked along every inch of skin that rested between the golden chains, savoring the sweet noises Hob produced. The thick patches of hair, Morpheus found as he worked his mouth across his chest, clung onto the sweat and scent of Hob. It was delectable. Morpheus found himself moaning as he lapped up the natural taste of his lover. The course hairs brushed against his face, caressing his lips. It was as if every piece of Hob’s body reached for his touch. It was a heady thought.

“Please, Morpheus,” Hob begged, hands wandering across any bit of Morpheus’s body they could reach. Fingers wove themselves through the thin chains, pulling, rubbing, sliding.

“Patience, my lover. Patience.” He said, lips hovering just over his navel now. Hob groans, hips thrusting forward, searching for any sort of friction, any touch. Morpheus just chuckled, pressing his tongue into the hole of Hob’s belly. Hob’s breath hitched.

Continuing his exploration, Morpheus sucks and bites as the soft flesh of his stomach, working purple bruises into the skin. He glanced up, smiling as the discoloration had already begun showing around Hob’s neck and chest. Hob was his. He would not allow him to go unmarked as such from now on. Not after learning how beautifully Hob sings from his touch.

The tip of Hob’s cock presses against the edge of Morpheus’s jaw as he works one more mark into the edge of Hob’s hip. Hob cries out, rocking his hips forward against the sensation. Hob’s scent was stronger here. It was quickly dissolving any self-control Morpheus possessed. With another growl, Morpheus lifts his head, moving down to hover just above Hob’s leaking prick.

Hob’s eyes meet his. Tears have formed, some having already trailed over his cheeks. He was panting and red. Sweat clung to his brow and hair. He looked absolutely debauched. He was perfect.

Giving no warning, Morpheus ducked his head and took Hob into his mouth. Hob cried, canting his hips up, seeking more of the wet warmth of Morpheus’s throat. Morpheus grips Hob’s hips, pushing him flat into the mattress. He flicks his tongue across the slit, savoring the salty taste of pre that had dribbled out. Morpheus’s eyes fluttered close and he slowly worked more of Hob’s length into his mouth. His cock was hot and heavy against his tongue. It stretched his lips and jaw. What Hob lacked (not that he was truly lacking) in length, he more than made up for his girth. He was nearly impossibly thick and Morpheus couldn’t help but grind his own straining cock into the mattress at the thought of Hob pressing into him, splitting him open.

“Fuck, Morpheus!” Hob cries, his hands finding hold in Morpheus’s inky black hair. Morpheus moans, the noise vibrating through Hob’s length, as he bobs up and down, slowly easing more and more of him inside. This body had not taken a cock into it in any fashion, but the notion was not a foreign one. Many dreams covered such activities in detail. And he, himself, had enjoyed such positions, both taking and receiving. But here, now, with the heat and sweat and spit, with the humanity and animalistic desire of it all, Morpheus was woefully unprepared for how much he wanted.

Before Morpheus realized it, his nose was pressed against the curly hairs around the base of Hob’s cock. His jaw was aching and the tip of Hob’s length was pressing into the back of his throat, threatening to gag him, but he still pushed forward, nuzzling against the soft skin. Hob tugs his hair, pushing him impossibly closer with a grunt. It stirs something in him. Heat pools into his gut rapidly and he pushes his hips against the mattress again.

He whines as Hob releases his grip and guides Morpheus’s mouth off of him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pull. You okay?” He asks, his eyes narrowed in concern. Anger, of all things, is the first emotion that hits Morpheus, followed closely by a wave of affection.

“I am unharmed,” he says, voice hoarse. “But I believe I would quite like you to do that again.”

Hob’s brows rise. “Oh?”

Morpheus nods.

Chuckling, Hob smirks and leans back against the bed. “I can do that, then. Tap me twice if it’s too much or you need me to stop, okay?”

Morpheus nods and lowers himself back down, taking Hob back into his mouth. The weight on his tongue and the stretch of his lips felt good. It calmed something in him as he worked back down his length. He sighs as Hob’s hands find their way into his hair and gives it a testing pull. That flood of warmth returns as he bobs earnestly. Slowly, the grip in his hair tightens and Morpheus feels as Hob guides his movements, controlling the speed and depth as which Morpheus takes Hob in.

He grinds into the bed. His cock is aching and he can feel the wetness from where the top of the head is straining against the fabric. He feels light, almost floaty, as Hob works him up and down his length, chasing his own pleasure. The grip on Hob’s hip lightens as he goes lax, mind focusing on the stretch and the weight and the glide. He feels so full and so light and so wonderfully perfect. He was made to be here, lying between Hob Gadling’s legs for his pleasure. Morpheus barely processes the jolt of his own orgasm when Hob thrusts once more, hard, into his mouth, slamming Morpheus’s nose against his pelvic bone.

Warmth floods Morpheus’s throat. Hob’s spend coats him from inside. It’s perfect. He strokes the underside of his cock with his tongue, coaxing out every last drop for Morpheus’s consumption. Hob’s hands have gone lax, his thumb gently stroking the sides of his head. Slowly, ever so slowly, Hob sighs and lifts Morpheus’s head up. His softening cock falls from his lips, leaving a trail of spend and spit down his chin. Morpheus’s mind still feels floaty, but it doesn’t matter when Hob’s hands are holding his face between them and he can still taste Hob on his tongue.

“C’mere,” Hob mumbles, pulling Morpheus up close. His limbs are wobbly, but he manages to heave himself, with Hob’s help, up against his chest. He’s vaguely aware of Hob’s lips against his forehead. “So good, so good for me. Fuck, that was amazing,” he mumbles against his skin. Morpheus wraps his arms around Hob’s center and nuzzles closer.

“Good?” Morpheus says, voice low.

“Extremely good,” Hob sighs, content. “Just gimme a mo to recover, then I’ll make sure to return the favor.” Morpheus feels one of Hob’s hands trail down his side and rest on the band of his underwear. “Can’t leave you hanging, not after that mind-blowing orgasm you’d given me.”

Morpheus flushes as his mind begins to process the sticky feeling against the skin of his softened cock. “I… I do not believe that will be necessary.” He mumbles.

“None of that, now. I still want to get my mouth of you, after all. It’s no trouble.”

“No, I… I do not think that that is… needed. I have-I…”

Hob tilts his head forward to get a better look at Morpheus’s reddened face. His eyes flow down his body, stopping at the glaringly obvious large wet mark, and smirks. The floaty feeling Morpheus had had began to fade rapidly as Hob nuzzles into the top of his head, laughing.

“My dick really that good?”

Morpheus huddles in further, hoping if he gets close enough, he may just disappear inside Hob or the bed.

“Cockiness is unflattering, Hob Gadling.”

Hob just laughs harder, but pulls Morpheus close to him. He shifts, turning on his side to better tangle their legs together.

“You love me for it, though.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Morpheus peaks his head out from where it had been nearly crushed in Hob’s armpit. Hob’s eyes are twinkling with delight and mirth. Hob was not wrong. He did love him for it.

“We’re definitely keeping these,” Hob says, running a finger over the silver metal. “If it gets me such an enthusiastic blow job, especially.”

Morpheus huffs, but tilts his chest into Hob’s touch. “I have no complaints to such.”

“Good. We’ll just have to make sure you last long enough for me to return the favor.”

Morpheus grabs the pillow to his right and smacks it into Hob’s head.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #ky writes #the sandman #december writing list #kydrogen's december drabbles 2023

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tripthelightfandomtastic · 4 months

Note

Happy Wild Wednesday im still down bad for our wonderful Daniel so have this thought:

So we all have seen Josh's body chains/harness in the Falling Sky music video.

We've seen Sammy's chain from the European leg of Starcatcher

Can we just speculate what Danny's would look like if he had one??

My mind immediately goes to leather with silver hardware. Something that clings to his chest/shoulders and is just stunning.

Can you imagine how SCRUMPTIOUS he would look after playing a show in it???? How PUMPED his arms would look, the sweat dripping down his body???

I need him to rail me in the imaginary harness situation please and thank you.

Something along these lines would be incredible and I need it NOW

#wild wednesday #gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner

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sparkbeast20 · 5 months

Text

Info about my MC (Tia) for What in "Hell" is Bad?

Reminder: This for a game (WHB) that is rated 18+

Minors DNI

Name: Tia Simbulan

Age: 25

Sex: Female

Birthday: August 16

Height: 150cm/4'11

Color: Light Blue and Yellow

Philia: Teratophilia

Item/Artifact: A black feather

Note: Tia is fine sleeping with other devils, with this list she has a closest too.

Lover(s): Glasyalabolas, Ronove, Mammon, Satan, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Belial, Dantalian, Buer, and (Michael and Raphael)

Gifts/Accessories from them: Noose that she turn it to her belt (From Glasya), Chest harness (From Ronove), Her Phone (From Satan), Tartaros Ai bot keychain (From Mammon), Choker (From Buer), Pen (From Dantalian), Notepad (From Belial) and Gold and Silver bracelet (From Michael and Raphael)

A bit about her:

Before the incident, Tia was a happy go lucky girl who was tomboyish but loves cute things like plush and animals.

But all that change when the incident happened her parents was killed. That's when she became more timid and shy. She only feels conformable talking to Minhyeok and hide behind him when she gets overwhelmed by things.

It took Minhyeok to use his charm to help her get a job with their local vet.

Tia does watch porn, but after she does. She feels awful cause she feels like she should be this sexual. She always hates that she like danger, or more so, like the idea of thrill. (This may due to that fact she saw her parents that day.)

Current now:

Now, in hell after adjusting she is more open though with the devils she is close to.

Tia often is bubbly and cheerful with Satan, Mammon, Buer and Ronove. And she plays cute and innocent with Glasyalabolas, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Michael, and Dantalian often a way to tease them. She loves the thrill and get all excited with rush of her life threaten. She does know to show it when need it.

Before: This was when she lost her parents, and she wasn't responsive at the police station.

After: This is during her time in hell when walking about the main town of Hades.

WHB lines based on the game: Common lines and Lobby lines

Dark desire:

Tia's dark desire stem from feeling that she isn't her own person, and that she let people tell what to say and when she does have a opinion, she get's shut down immediately. And this gravely affected her self-confidence and self-esteem.

Some people call her useless and a waste of space... She might not show it. But she believes them. Hence she feels that it's only right for her is to be useful to others... In anyway possible.

Thus, she feels trap by chains and let people… touch her. It got better due time, but she has this desire to let her lovers do what whatever they want to her… even if they break her, physically and mentally.

However, her lovers knows this and doesn't let her push herself to the edge or what they called it. "Her point of no return"

How her Dynamic is with her lover(s)

Glasyalabolas: She wasn't expecting to like him with how his personality is, let alone fell hard for him. Trouble seem to follow Tia which caught Glasya's eye and the two start to develop their feelings towards each other.

Ronove: [Save for later, since he hasn't appear in any story aside from Dantalian's Comic]

Mammon: After the event of Chapter 2, Mammon finds Tia getting flustered whenever he refers to her as his master. Mammon was devil she needed, and that he'll praise her and make her believe that she is loved... He'll make sure of that.

Satan: He does love it when Tia is being open and freely of her wants and desire, however he does know at times. He has to pull her back when she starts to lose herself.

Leviathan: He always feels jealous of Tia's love towards other devils, but when these two are alone, even if he doesn't voice it. He does enjoy they're time together. And he was a bit proud that he was the one who awake Tia's choke kink.

Beelzebub: He loves to tease her, he loves to push her to the edge that she'll ruin him in ways that he wants. But in the end of the day, they're quiet moments in bed after sex are one of his favorite. Cause he can hold her in his arms even for those moments. He wish it can be like this as always... But he knows that he always have to leave.

The rest will be added when I meet them in game. And with Belial, I have to figure out Tia's dynamic with him for now.

Sexual desire:

Tia likes it rough, and dangerous. Which Ronove, Satan, Dantalian, Beelzebub, and Glasyalabolas can prove.

She also loves soft, slow, and gentle sex. Which Mammon, Belial, Buer and Ronove can prove.

Her favorite rare activity is Primal play.

She also likes roleplaying.

Art of my MC (Both are drawn by my friend Toki ^3^) And by @/hanbanart from twt, @/yuuka29 from tumblr

#whb mc!tia

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beansprean · 10 months

Text

Our sweet lil devil boy ❤️😈

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Full body of Guillermo as a little devil, with small horns, a long forked tail, claws, pointed ears, and small leathery wings. His horns, tail, and wings are flesh colored and tipped in reddish pink. He is floating on a black background, looking nervously over his shoulder at the viewer. He is wearing a red leather harness, red and black bikini bottom wth a heart shaped hole for his tail, thigh high high heeled boots, and shoulder high fingerless gloves. He is holding a large ornate silver pitchfork with five sharp tongs and a circular red jewel on the tip of the handle, which extends backwards through his legs as if he were riding it like a witch's broom. Behind Guillermo is an ornate golden circle covered in red lace and hung with delicate golden chains tipped with red teardrop jewels. /end ID

#wwdits #guillermo de la cruz #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described #so excited to see him tonight 😍

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bhaalsdeepbat · 3 months

Text

Unholy Flesh

SFW | AO3 | Baldur’s Gate 3 Word Count: 4,381

Excerpt: It was the killing fate written in the blood of the creatures that sprung from Mercy’s sculpted flesh. The sorcerer flattened their foot against the ground, stilling the rock of the chair. Mercy leaned over in the chair, the nails on their right hand growing unnaturally long and sharp. They ignored the weight of the silver chain wrapped tightly around their wrist as they held their hand out. The tips of two nails pressed against the soft skin of one the throat of one of the sleeping twins. It would have been a mercy to kill them. It would be a mercy to kill them. A/N: This is the next part of Never Love an Anchor. This chapter just establishes more of what's going on and explores the relationship my Durge has with Astarion while otw to leave the hellspawn pups on someone's doorstep. This is a totally self-indulgent au where I wanted to explore nontraditional family structures bc these two idiots are not raising these kids. CW: Accidental Pregnancy, Cryptic Pregnancy, Traumatic Birth, Gore, Blood, General Durge Shit, and they talk about infanticide but,,,,clearly these babies are making it

The evening was calm. The night air provided a cool comfort against Mercy’s warm cheeks as they waited on the cottage porch. The sorcerer was wrapped in their cloak. Dark, loose tendrils of black fabric on the front draped across their shoulders and around their neck, its warm lining soft against their freckled skin. Mercy was perched in a rocking chair, its wood creaking with each push of their dark boot against the ground. Beside the sorcerer, the twins were swaddled in soft blankets, each in a different color to differentiate the little shits. The wrapping was still messy, the blanket tails tucking out where the vampire spawn and the sorcerer gave up trying to figure out the art of swaddling an infant.

It had been two days since the birth, and Mercy was still struggling to comprehend everything that happened. They had no idea they were even pregnant when Mercy had arrived at the cottage with Astarion. It was meant to be a small break to recuperate from the adventuring that occupied a majority of their time together.

What was meant to be a reprieve quickly turned to shit.

The sorcerer hadn’t felt well the day they went into labor. They were exhausted, bone tired, and their stomach churned uncomfortably, but Mercy initially brushed it off as one of the many symptoms plaguing them since their addled mind and broken body were toys the Gods played with, then discarded like trash.

Mercy could never forget the fear of having their body taken from their control, but the years put enough distance for the memory to lose some of its edge. Dulled by time and new memories filling the cracks in their addled mind, the birth of the beasts sharpened the echo of their powerlessness to a point and stabbed them deeply in the gut with a goading twist. As their heart ached with the betrayal of their own body’s failure to warn them, they were reminded that they were always meant to be simply a vassal, never quite in control of their own body, let alone their own future.

The last few years were a taste of true autonomy. Mercy and Astarion had traveled across Faerun, both hungry to see the world once denied to them. They went where they wanted when they wanted, traveling in the cover of darkness without a plan, and without the threat of Bhaal punishing them for straying off his intended path. The couple tried to be heroic, two beasts unleashed, stalking the other monsters of the night who harnessed their own power against the innocent.

However, Astarion and Mercy were also the chaos in the night, causing brawls in the bustling taverns, robbing unsuspecting patriars stumbling drunk through the streets, and generally lying their way into a free room to hide from the sun in. It was a life lived freely, a life the sorcerer was growing used to, putting distance between themself and their past.

Mercy was stupid to think their life would ever be fully free of Bhaal’s influence.

The sorcerer’s blood was quiet, free of the compulsion of their blood whispers, but the same intrusive thoughts accompanied their hard won freedom, a reminder that they were sculpted from divine flesh. Mercy could feel Bhaal’s essence taunting them where it lay dormant in the twins. The sorcerer may have escaped his leash, but not the curse of their unholy flesh. Bhaal rescinded his blood inheritance, but it would seem he still had use for Mercy’s body.

The sorcerer watched the infants slumbering in their makeshift crib. Mercy’s eyes narrowed as they lifted a hand to touch the scar marring the right side of their face. They traced the line from the corner of their eye, dipping beneath the blue iris and curving down across their cheek. They couldn’t remember much from before, but they could remember their own twin sister’s face the night their own Urges first stirred.

Their sister’s necklace - a silver chain holding a ruby the shape of a teardrop - felt heavy where it was wrapped around their right wrist. It was a souvenir from their duel with their sister destined by blood. It was a destiny doomed to repeat, trapping the Bhaalspawn in a vicious cycle of violence and death that would never garner them Bhaal’s favor.

It was the killing fate written in the blood of the creatures that sprung from Mercy’s sculpted flesh.

The sorcerer flattened their foot against the ground, stilling the rock of the chair. Mercy leaned over in the chair, the nails on their right hand growing unnaturally long and sharp. They ignored the weight of the silver chain wrapped tightly around their wrist as they held their hand out. The tips of two nails pressed against the soft skin of one the throat of one of the sleeping twins. It would have been a mercy to kill them.

It would be a mercy to kill them.

Mercy’s jaw clenched as they pulled their hand away, hand returning to normal. They pulled it against their chest, then leaned back in the chair, putting distance between them and the Bhaalspawn.

The memories of the birth were laced with the aroma of life and death, permeating with the heavy scent of blood. Mercy could smell it, as though they were still on the makeshift bed of sheets, bleeding out in front of the dying fire, their wretched brain struggling to stay connected to their suffering body. They were alone.

They were scared.

As they delivered the first child, the sorcerer screamed and sobbed, a choice with their body once more taken from them. It was an anguish momentarily stifled when they had been sure the little girl, a tiefling with a tail just like Mercy’s, had arrived stillborn. The relief was quickly devoured by the pain and surprise of the twin ready to claw her way into the world. The second girl - more Elf than Tiefling - had the sorcerer’s talons, nails distended into hard, unnatural points.

There was so much blood.

A firm hand on their shoulder shook Mercy from the grip of their disconnected memories, forcing them back into the body that had failed them, and back into the moment. The sorcerer tensed, electricity sparking in their hand defensively. Their lips turned down into a snarl as they turned their gaze toward the man now standing beside them.

Astarion’s thick brow arched, but he kept the hand on Mercy’s shoulder. He rubbed it with his thumb, soothing out the tension with the familiarity. The sorcerer slowly lowered their raised hackles, relaxing into the comforting touch. They averted their gaze, the blue electricity around their hand discharging with the flashes of three motes of light.

“What are you doing?” Astarion’s voice was level, lacking any of his usual theatrics and laced with exhaustion. Dark circles darkened his tired, sunken eyes. His eyes were dull, lacking the usual light reflecting from his piercing gaze. His angular face was gaunt, the hard lines etched with equal parts concern and frustration that followed him since he found Mercy half dead on the floor of their home.

Worry knitted Mercy’s brows together, chest tightening with shame. They pursed their lips into a tight line, searching his eyes for any sign of judgment, but all they saw was the reflection of themself. The sorcerer quickly averted their gaze.

Astarion sighed as he ran his hand across their shoulder and down their arm, drawing out the contact before he finally pulled away. “I’m not judging you,” he assured them. “I just know you wouldn't be proud of that choice.”

“Maybe, but we don’t have many other options.” The sorcerer sounded small, their voice deflated to a lower octave.

It was a conversation they had before, one the two found themselves stuck in whenever Mercy found themself spiraling in their self-doubt. Too much innocent blood stained their tainted hands for them to be useful for anything but spilling more blood. Giving life and raising it was not something suitable for hands skilled and trained in the art of murder. Their Urges were gone, but a part of them still found satisfaction in a good hunt, in feeling the life of someone who deserved it fading beneath their hand.

However, there weren’t many options for the newborn Bhaalspawn. Leaving them in the care of another would just spell disaster. The thought was accompanied by the image of their own unsuspecting adoptive parents, the young couple’s blood spilled, bodies savaged by Mercy’s adolescent hand, laid out in offering to a God that would never love them.

“There are options, though,” Astarion cut in, the heel of his boot clicked against the wood of the porch flooring as he circled around the sorcerer, then crouched down in front of them. He took their left hand in his own, holding Mercy tightly when the sorcerer refused to meet his gaze.

For a moment, Mercy let him hold their hand, the two sitting in silence as the sorcerer mulled over his words. “I don’t think you realize how slim our options are,” they finally spoke up, pulling their hand away to rest their arms on the rocking chair’s armrests. They kept their gaze lowered for a moment, then finally lifted their bright irises to meet Astarion’s.

“Please,” Astarion dragged out the word, eyes narrowing as his tone sharpened. “Don’t act like I’m being naive. I was picking through slimmer options before you even graced this planet with your presence, my love,” his voice softened, as did his gaze, as the pet name fell from his lips. “I think you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be right now.”

The sorcerer shrunk beneath the jab. They balled their hands into tight fists and glanced at the sleeping beasties disguised by the innocence of infancy. They remained silent, struggling to put their worries into words. Instead, they turned their wide, uncertain gaze toward Astarion, searching his own for anything to quell the tide of emotions storming inside.

Astarion seemed to understand whatever Mercy left unsaid. He inclined his head, lips pursing as he thought for a moment, then placed his hands on their thighs. He gave the sorcerer a comforting squeeze. “We have a plan. It’s not ideal, but it is a plan.” He paused, eyes glossing over, clearly still distancing himself from whatever fears were making a home in his husk. “Besides. If it doesn’t work out, we can always circle back.”

Mercy watched him closely, still tense, but weighing his words. It was a difficult circumstance he clearly understood, but the hope he had for their flimsy plan had the sorcerer leaning into the comfort he offered. They tugged the sleeves of their cloak down, covering the silver hanging dangerously from their right wrist, before reaching out to cup Astarion's cheeks. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, his cheek cold against the palm of the sorcerer's hand.

He turned his head to kiss the inside of their palm before pushing himself up onto his feet. "I was being honest when I said I think they deserve a chance. I'm not a monster." Astarion offered Mercy his hand. Once the sorcerer took it, he helped them up onto their feet. "I don't want the little beasts…but they're already here. It'd be different if we had some warning and could…nip it in the bud, so to speak."

Mercy found reassurance in the admission. They gave his hand a grateful squeeze, communicating their gratitude silently as the sorcerer turned their gaze towards the infants. "Okay…" They nodded to themself, trying to find the resolve needed to move forward. "We should leave soon, then. I don't want to waste time finding you a place to stay before the sun rises."

Astarion twirled two fingers with a playful flourish over to where their bags were packed and waiting outside the entryway. "I'm ready when you are, my love."

Mercy smiled at that, though it faltered when they spoke. "Do you want to carry them?"

Astarion's own expression went cold. "Respectfully, my dear. No. For once, I would rather carry the bags."

Mercy found themself snickering at him. They covered their mouth with their hand, hiding the smile behind their sleeve. Astarion's own expression seemed to relax as he watched them. The sorcerer found themself clearing their throat, suddenly self-conscious. "Fine. I’ll take…Tail and Talons."

"Tail and- Gods above. They're going to need names," Astarion groaned with annoyance. "Better names. Tail and Talons." He shook his head with faux haughty disapproval as he walked over to their bags and pulled out some fabric to make a wrap with.

"It works. I don't see you coming up with anything better." Mercy shrugged, brow arching with the exasperation seeping into their expression.

“Honestly, it's because I’d rather not,” Astarion cut in with an airy giggle meant to disguise his creeping discomfort.

"Well, I'm not naming them." They crouched down by the basin the infants were in and collected both in their arms, not afraid to disturb the sleeping beasts.

Astarion just chuckled, shaking his head as he held the fabric out and began to help the sorcerer secure the twins to their torso. They were a firm, cold weight against Mercy’s body. The sorcerer grimaced, shifting their weight around on their feet uncomfortably.

Astarion watched Mercy closely, focusing his keen perception on the wrap. Once he was satisfied with how secure the twins were, he folded his arms and turned his attention back to Mercy. A smug, half-smirk tugged at one corner of his lips when he met the sorcerer’s gaze. “Cute,” he quipped.

With a soft huff, Mercy rolled their eyes at him. A soft, rosy flush in their pale, blue cheeks betrayed the sorcerer’s feigned annoyance. Astarion snickered to himself as he moved to collect the two hastily packed bags. He slung one over his back before digging through one of the pouches of the other. He pulled out an amulet hanging from a gold chain. He shouldered the second bag, then offered the necklace to his partner.

The pendant was circular with a hinged cover plating the top. Mercy took the enchanted item and popped the top, revealing an interior mechanism shaped like the face of a clock. Instead of numbers, gems in different colors lined the edge of the exposed face of the mechanism. The sorcerer took a claw and gently nudged the hand at the center around, pointing it to the emerald.

“Ready?” Mercy flashed a small smile, flashing their sharp, predatory teeth.

With a firm nod, Astarion moved closer, fitting himself to his partner’s side. An arm draped loosely around Mercy’s waist. The sorcerer leaned into the touch as they gently closed the cover on the necklace. Rays of a spectrum of green lights glistened playfully from within the mechanism. The light began to extend out in pulses.

Mercy’s own magic manifested, blue electricity crackling around their body, static adding weight to the air, then discharged out in sparks that raced out and across the property, before eventually diving into the earth. Invisible lines etched beneath the property came to life, Mercy’s magic tracing the inscription until the magic circle was fully alive.

The transportation circle beneath them was bright, its blue light a beacon in the dead of the night. Astarion’s arm tightened around Mercy’s waist, pulling them tighter against him as the magic began to change the scenery around them. The dark forestline rippled, then faded away like water colors. The dark silhouette of the forest was replaced by dull brick buildings and stone walkways. The crisp, sharp scent of Autumn was replaced by the pungent aroma of city life. Baldur’s Gate sprawled out around them, filling the landscape where the forest had filled the endless expanse of the periphery of their world.

Mercy slipped the necklace around their neck. Astarion moved in tandem, easily becoming an extension of the sorcerer’s body. He gently took Mercy’s braid and guided it over the chain, then let it hang loosely behind the sorcerer. Mercy glanced at him, appreciation apparent in the momentary softness of their expression. It was quick, a moment of comfort, before their eyes narrowed and they steeled themself once more.

The pendant - a gift from Gale shortly after the gathering at Withers’s request - had placed them in front of the Elfsong Tavern. The building stood in its familiarity, almost like it was frozen in time. Ivy still crept along the gutters and draped down the wood and stone. The lively noises of mortals relishing the joys of the night filled the night air.

“Ah. The smell of home,” Astarion commented with a displeased pout, nose wrinkled. His hand twisted in the fabric of Mercy’s cloak, betraying the way his body was tensing.

Mercy patted the hand awkwardly, then settled theirs on top of his own. Mercy interlocked their fingers with Astarion’s. The sorcerer's clawed digits curled, fingertips pressing into the palm of his hand. They gave him the grace of silence, allowing him to feel whatever was beginning to stir within him, and took the lead. With feigned confidence, the sorcerer guided Astarion towards the entrance of the tavern.

Mercy pulled their hand away as they pushed the door open, then slowly pried themself from the arm wrapped around them. When he released the robe, he followed at the sorcerer’s heel. Inside the tavern, the dirtier scents of the city were replaced with the fragrance of spilled mead and stewed meat. A fire roared in a nearby fireplace, chasing away the night air and blanketing the interior in a welcoming warmth. The two caught the stray glances of a few of the tavern patrons, their eyes never lingering long on the infant sleeping against Mercy’s chest once they caught the sorcerer’s expression: a cold glare and slight curl of their lip, baring dangerously sharp teeth.

The tip of Mercy’s tail flicked with frustration as they approached the bar near the back of the building. Behind the bar’s structure, the barkeep was filling a mug with mead from a large barrel behind them. He placed it down on the polished tabletop and slid it across to a large, hardy woman enjoying the evening in solitude. When his gaze met Mercy’s, his eyes lit with recognition and a little bit of fear despite the babies strapped to the sorcerer’s body.

A smirk played at the corner of Mercy’s lips at the thrill of being feared. They sauntered over to the bar, confidence in their gait. “Good. You remember me.” They placed one arm against the bartop and flashed a shark-like smile.

The barkeep stood straight, body tensing. His eyes narrowed until his fearful gaze became a defensive glare. “I thought we were rid of you two.”

Astarion laughed, full bodied and mocking, as he laid both forearms against the bartop and leaned over. “That’s on you for being so hopeful.” He smirked, his crimson eyes shining with vicious playfulness.

Mercy glanced up at Astarion, locking their gaze with his to read whatever play it was he was about to make. They could see a playful confidence in his dangerous smile, like he was certain he knew what strings to play on the barkeep. They inclined their head, a subtle nod of understanding, before dragging their gaze, slow and deliberate, back to the barkeep. “We need a room,” they stated plainly.

The barkeep glanced between the two, then down at the infant strapped to the front of Mercy’s torso. The sorcerer’s smile faltered, a scowl threatening to twist their features as they dared the barkeep to say anything. He clearly thought twice, eyes quickly rising to look at Astarion, too afraid to meet Mercy’s gaze. “Fine. T-Two-hundred a night,” he stammered.

Astarion was quick to cut in, ready to take over. Mercy happily obliged, content to sit back and watch as the rogue began to run his mouth. “Two hundred a night for your dear old friends?”

The barkeep laughed at that, though his voice wavered, confidence only temporarily boosted before he caught sight of Mercy’s cutting glare. He cleared his throat. “Two-hundred a night or find another place to sleep.”

Astarion feigned a scandalized expression. His hand flew up to cover his heart. “You would kick the Hero of Baldur’s Gate to the street? With their newborns?” He was intentionally loud, drawing more attention than necessary, but he knew how to milk a situation for all it was worth. “Have you no heart?”

Mercy could feel Astarion’s smug satisfaction when the barkeep stammered, shrinking under stray glances from suddenly interested patrons. The barkeep glanced between the sorcerer and the rogue, then finally deflated entirely. “Fine. Gods, fine.” He turned to the keys hanging on the wall behind him. He grabbed one, then tossed it onto the counter, a little afraid to get too close to Mercy.

The sorcerer exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring with the force as they snatched up the key. “Next time, just give us the damn key,” they growled. They eyed him for a moment, delighting in the way the barkeep froze, breath caught in his throat. Mercy shook their head, snorting at the man’s pathetic display as they turned away from the bar.

Astarion waved a playful goodbye before turning on his heel and following after his partner. He reached out to grip onto the back of their cloak, keeping close as the two made their way up to the room. The weight of the beasts pressed on either side of Mercy’s being, holding them in the present when the familiar halls began to stir memories of longing, of memories of greatly missed friends and their ironclad bonds forged in the fires of circumstance.

Astarion took the key from Mercy’s hand. He glanced at the number engraved onto it, then moved ahead to guide the sorcerer. He paused outside the room with the matching number; the room that once belonged to Duke Stelmane. “Are you kidding me?” He frowned, glancing between the key and the door.

Mercy bumped his arm with their shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s a free room,” they reminded him. “A little death in the air will make us feel more at home. It’ll be fine.”

A little laugh drifted past the smile parting his pretty lips. Astarion inclined his head as he unlocked the door. “You’re right. Silly me.” He pushed the door open, then moved to allow Mercy to enter first. “Just do me a favor and don’t drink anything you find in the room.”

“Why? A little poison in my wine could be quite the treat.” The sorcerer passed the threshold quickly, then ventured further into the private room.

The room had been cleaned and mostly refurbished, but returned to what the sorcerer assumed was the room’s prior state. Before Stelmane’s untimely demise. The stench of death that once clung to the floorboards was gone. The bloodstained boards were ripped up, replaced with fresh wood to hide the horrors that happened within those four walls. Mercy stood in the center of the room, a little surprised by how little of Duke Stelmane’s death - and of the life she lived there - remained in the room.

The click of the door’s lock sliding into place was an aberration in the silence that fell across the room. Mercy turned, attention honing in on Astarion. He was still in his own thoughts, his gaze cast down as he lifted a hand and carded his fingers through his loose curls. The strands straightened with the pull of his fingers, but immediately bounced back into their perfect coils, as though they had been untouched.

The sorcerer watched in awe, momentarily stricken by his beauty. A moment that quickly faded when they felt Tail begin to stir. Mercy’s heart stopped, gaze falling down to the little girl resting against their chest. The twins had slept through the last two days, their bodies more like little corpses than newborns. Neither of the twins had opened their eyes once since they were born. It was creepy, but Mercy was appreciative of the peace that came with the beasts’ unnatural slumber.

The sorcerer exhaled their relief when Tail fell still. Mercy’s shoulders slumped under the weight of the children hanging from them. “Fuck…that was close.” They rolled their neck, then turned their attention back to Astarion.

Astarion was watching just as closely, only relaxing when Mercy caught his gaze. He dropped both bags to the ground. “Well, then…” He pursed his lips with a brief pause. “Would you like to get some rest before sunrise?”

“No. I can’t wait until sunrise.” Mercy’s brows furrowed, restlessness creeping under their skin as they looked down at the sleeping Tail. The sorcerer couldn’t wait any longer. Two days with their thoughts had been enough and they were ready to pounce into action.

Astarion blinked slowly, a little rattled by what he couldn’t decide was fearlessness or stupidity. “May I suggest not waking an owlbear while it's sleeping?”

“You may, but I’m not guaranteed to consider the input.” Mercy extended out a hand with their palm facing up. “The key.”

Stupidity, Astarion decided with a pause, then produced the key from his pocket. He curled his fingers around theiron, holding it against his palm as he set his closed knuckles against Mercy’s outstretched hand.

“If you’re going to be impatient, I am coming along.” He released the key, then moved to press his palm flat against Mercy’s. He laced their fingers together. “Better odds for you if she has two targets of her ire.”

“Fine.” Mercy sighed, but acquiesced. They leaned over, giving the back of his hand a quick, grateful kiss, then turned their hands over so the weight of the key fell into Astarion’s palm. The sorcerer withdrew their empty hand, arm falling to relax at their side. “If you’re joining me, make yourself useful and take Talons.”

“Ugh.” Astarion’s face scrunched dramatically with his visible discomfort. Despite the theatrics, he wasted no time circling around his partner. He carefully unwrapped the child anchored to Mercy’s back, lifting the small waist and cradling it awkwardly against his chest. He kept his mirthless gaze on the sorcerer. “Jaheira is not going to be happy about this.”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #the dark urge #durge #durgestarion #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #never love an anchor #bat writes #in which durge has to go home with their tail between their legs to tell their new mother what happened #AND TO PLEASE FIX THIS BECAUSE DURGE CANNOT

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