#I want to draw more debauched stuff actually

[caffichai]

Regular Abyssal Hunter downtime activities

[morgana-ren]

on this lonely day of valentines, scrolling through your blog to catch up on posts is great. i'm not sure if you answered a question like this before- but what would your four think about being drawn? one thing i do when i get to know someone is sketch them out, since i like how unique faces are. my sketchbook is full of doodles of my friends lol

It's actually a very big, very intimate thing for all of them. It's often done between them all when they're trying to give a legitimate gift to each other.

Reaver is a very talented artist. He doesn't always use it for the... best things (his sketchbook is filled with porn sketches and bdsm and all sorts of deranged shit) but he's also highly capable of doing remarkable work with pencils and charcoal (it's also the only time you'll see him intentionally dirty his hands.) You can tell he's started to fall for someone when sketches of them that aren't pornographic start appearing in his private sketchbook.

He has been known to draw the lads as a small token of affection. For birthdays or special occasions, he will really go all out for it. Golden frames, lamination, some incredible work, really. While he can sketch something very quickly that is extremely high quality, when he takes its time, it can be almost heartbreakingly beautiful. Some of the portraits that Astarion has of himself that he values the most were actually done by Reaver.

He can be insecure about it, while also being very arrogant at the same time. It's very strange. Probably because it's one of the few portals into his mind that he isn't very good at covering. He can have a smile on his face but depending on what he's drawing, it's a good way to tell what exactly he's feeling and about whom.

He also fucking loves having artwork of him done, but because he's so goddamn obnoxious about it, the others rarely indulge. Especially because he can never settle for a normal portrait. He always wants some heinous, debauched shit. (He very much does love the regular portraits of himself that they've done, but he has a reputation to maintain.)

Corvus is a remarkable painter. A lot of the paintings in Reaver's house were done by him, and most of the ones on his ship as well. It's not quite something you'd notice at a glance, but he has a specific style and once you notice it, you can't unsee it.

He doesn't tend to do portraits of people, and no one is quite sure why. No one wants to ask, either. However, he will when he feels strongly enough, whether it's for a friend or a lover or his family.

He tends to like to paint scenery, such as his ship, or the ocean, or certain views of places that he travels. He has an easel and paints he keeps on his ship for when the urge strikes him. You can tell how he feels about something based upon how he paints it if you know him well enough.

He will also paint the other lads, although not quite as frequently as they do. He's more likely to paint Reaver's manor, or Wraithmarsh, or some place that means something to them. He loves getting portraits of himself done, however. Back again to the 'beautiful and he knows it' bit. He isn't opposed of getting 'tasteful erotic art' of himself done, or even sketching it himself, and he gets more willing the drunker or more feral he is.

Astarion actually wasn't much of an artist when he initially joined up with Corvus, but he learned simply for something to do when there wasn't much to keep him busy on the ship. He tends to steal Reaver's supplies now, so he works mostly with pencil. He didn't quite take to it as naturally as the others did, but he's gotten quite good watching Reaver work, and he's actually quite talented.

It's not exactly his chosen way to express himself (it's hard when your brothers are absurdly talented when you're making stick figures at first), but it's great for a quick gag or a gift. He also likes to add small details to Reaver's sketches and see how long it takes him to notice. Sometimes he'll draw stuff and sign Reaver's name at the bottom, and he can tell he's getting better when Reaver can't tell immediately.

When he actually tries, he is capable of creating incredible works of art. He's done some great candids of Corvus, and even some of Reaver that were supposed to be goofy ended up being pretty remarkable.

That being said, portraits of him are actually one of the kindest gifts you can give him. It means the world to him, since he can't exactly see his reflection anymore, and as the years pass, he forgets more and more what his face looks like. His brothers have a way of painting and drawing him in a way that makes him feel loved and adored, and you might think he's vain because he has so many portraits of himself hanging around, but truth be told, it's more indicative of how much he loves seeing himself through his brother's eyes.

Ilya is big into art, but it's very hard to get him to be honest about just what exactly he can do. It was one of his escapes when he was very young, and he sees the world in an artistic way. Sometimes he just does something out of the blue that you had no idea he knew how to do.

He doesn't specialize like Reaver and Corvus do, but he's a jack of all trades. He can sketch and paint and tons of other mediums, but it's almost like he has trouble picking. He even owns an art tablet, but he finds it frustrating and cumbersome. He's the most likely to get frustrated with his own work and is the least likely to do it in front of anyone else unless he's very confident in that particular medium.

He's fine if people want to paint him portraits, but truthfully, he just enjoys anything he gets from his brothers. He saves all of it, even though he would never let anyone on to that. He has small scrapbooks full of Reaver's 'joke' drawings and Corvus's abandoned half paintings and even Astarion's little doodles. If he's going to do something for them, he's going to start months in advance and they won't get it until it's absolutely perfect.

At the end of the day, they all love getting sketches of themselves. They're all varying degrees of very, very vain. If their lover wants to do something like that for them? Oh, they'd adore it. All of them would actually love if they showed an interest in learning or asking them for lessons too. Literally hinting that you want to sketch them can have them all up in their feelings and feeling very arrogant, and you might even be able to use it as a distraction.

However, if you have a sketch pad, don't expect it to stay private. They're all looking through it when they think you're not going to notice.

[undermattsun-archive]

tell me

(skate rat) miyas x fem!reader | w.c 1.6k

a/n: ok look i’m no brother fucker on main, but the lewding potential post-show me was too delicious, and if i’m not an opportunistic whore... so here it is the pt 2 y’all keep screaming about that i actually started writing no more than two hrs after posting show me bc i have no self control

another big thankies to @sugardaddykenma for giving this a read over big fat wet besitos for u

18+ university | please read ALL warnings

warnings: INCEST full on (i’m sorry god), dubcon/noncon elements, fingering, overstimulation, dumbification (lowkey), degradation, manipulation, a dash of gaslighting, a bit of humiliation, virginity loss (mentioned), crybaby!reader, little bit of mind break, reader is tired + slurs words a bit

just...them taking advantage of dumb reader

read show me first! (not necessary but appreciated + it would make more sense to do so) NOW with the third part make me !!

One hour, twenty-six minutes and who knows how many seconds have gone by since your brothers have decided to go into an entire good cop, bad cop tirade.

Their words barely making a dent in your mind as a soreness settles in your bones, the added discomfort of a mixture of sweat, saliva and cum drying on your skin with the debauched feeling of Kita’s cum dripping from your sore cunt keeping your mind thoroughly distracted.

“You’re never gonna see him again.” Atsumu-nii barks out.

“It’s better that way.” Osamu-nii adds gently.

“In fact he’s dead next time we see him.”

“Yeah, very much dead.”

“We told him to stay away from you, fuck.” Atsumu flops down beside you, Osamu follows sitting on your other side.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” You mumble, regretting your words the second you see the look in your brothers’ eyes.

“Not that big a deal?” Atsumu’s voice is no more than a low growl as he rises, eyes narrowing at the statement. “Kita’s a fucking bastard and you just let him between your legs like it was nothing. Are you stupid?”

Your eyes widen at the accusation as you scoot away from him, drawing your knees to your chest, letting your eyes fall to the rumpled blankets surrounding you.

“You let him cum inside you?” A gasp falls from your lips, embarrassment scorches through you as you realize the way your bare cunt is exposed by the way you’re sitting. You immediately shoot back, slamming into Osamu as you squeeze your legs shut, dread filling your lungs as Atsumu crawls forward.

“Our little sister really is dumb. Is that what you’ve been up to while you’re away?” He’s always been faster than you, proven by how his fingers are already around your wrist, yanking you towards him. You know that struggling is a moot point, he’s bigger and faster and so much stronger. But you can’t help but wiggle around, barely able to make him budge even a centimeter.

“No! That was my first...” you bite your tongue as Atsumu crosses his legs and seats you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he snakes an arm around your waist. He rests his chin atop your head, a thoughtful hum vibrating in his chest against you.

“Hear that Samu?” Atsumu squeezes you tightly as your eyes frantically dart around Osamu’s features, silently begging for him to free you from this situation.

“Yeah Tsumu, she really gave up her virginity to Kita.”

“Like an idiot.” They muse in unison.

“I- but-”

“But nothing. Now your nii-chan’s need to clean you up. Stupid little girl.” He mutters against your hair, smoothing his hands over your thighs, spreading them apart more and more. Stretching them until they’re caught by his knees, rendering you helplessly exposed.

“Umm.” Your legs twitch, the position all too embarrassing, the powerlessness of it parallel to when you were being held by Kita. Taboo, the position screams.

“It’s okay, dumb girls like you make mistakes all the time,” Osamu smiles gently, shifting over to lift the hem of your shirt, handing it to Atsumu keeping it pinned just above your belly button, “that’s why you have us.”

Confusion swirls as you watch your older brother's fingers disappear into his mouth, eyes watching as his tongue flicks over the digits, retracting them slowly.

“Ah! Wait!” You yelp out as he pushes his index and middle fingers past your puffy hole, a stinging pleasure making the taut muscles of your thighs twitch. Atsumu lets out another low laugh, steadying your legs, forcing you to keep still as Osamu continues to prod further. The blunt ends of his fingers pressing and dragging against the sore gummy walls.

“Too much, too much.” You gasp as Osamu’s fingers dig further into your cunt, shaking as you feel the tips of fingers brush against your cervix. Fat tears begin to roll down your face as you press harder back into Atsumu, as if you could find escape in the rigid planes of his body. 

His fingers continue to twist and scour, the sensation is all too overwhelming, making your throat tighten as you make futile attempts at clamping your legs shut, only making Atsumu snicker above you. You watch with panting breaths as Osamu finally draws out his fingers, covered in the milky white slick, evidence of the sins you committed just a few hours before. 

“What a sloppy cunt, you really let him make a whore of you huh?” Atsumu bites, the words cut into you, the betrayal in his voice making your throat tighten further. You can only manage to choke out a broken sob of a denial as Osamu brings his fingers against your lips.

“Say ‘ah’.” You shake your head frantically, face quickly being caught in Osamu’s other hand.

“Don’t be difficult, we’re helping you.” Disappointment, the disappointment crumbles what little fighting spirit you had in the first place, you can’t stop the tears from falling as you let Osamu slip slicked fingers into your mouth. Lazily you swirl your tongue around them, exhaustion starting to sweep over you. 

“All good?” Atsumu asks as Osamu pulls his digits from your mouth, smiling proudly at you.

“Let me make sure.” He lowers himself more onto the bed, bringing him face to face to your dripping cunny, he plants a hand against the taut muscle of your thigh, staring so intently at your twitching hole. “So fuckin messy.” It’s the closest to warning you get as he pushes his fingers back in, the yelp you let out sounding pitiful even to you. 

“We shouldn’t, d-do this.” You grip at Osamu’s arm, but it’s as if each tug you make has no effect. There isn’t a purpose to his motions, his fingers pumping in and out of you with reckless abandon, the wet, lewd sounds filling the room. 

“‘M just helping you.” Osamu breathes out, hot breath fanning over your sensitive cunt. With each push of his fingers you feel as though your whole body has been thrown under an unwavering waterfall, every stroke of his fingers feeling like the ruthless waters beating down on you. 

“Yeah, you’re the idiot who went and fucked Kita Shinsuke of all people.” Atsumu chides, running a hand across your belly, lips tickling the shell of your ear. He pulls one of your hands off of Osamu, intertwining your fingers, securing your hand against your heaving chest.

“M’Not an idiot.” Your panting whines swirling with the soft wet clicking made by his digits in your cunt punctuating your shame, your words weakly slurred together. “Samu-nii n-n’more.”

“Hm? What was that?” He teases his ring finger against your entrance, viciously scissoring his index and middle, making your body stiffen, the pain of overstimulation surging violently chased with flecks of pleasure. 

“Pretty sure she said more Samu.” Atsumu goads, slipping his other hand underneath your shirt to massage your tender breasts, the endless waves of exhaustion leaving you unable to deny yourself melting in his hold.

“More it is.” Without the slightest of stutters in his motions he stuffs in his ring finger, forcing your back to arch at the sting, the throbbing of your cunny is gut wrenching but the delicious curl of Osamu’s fingers is undeniable.

“Shlow down.” Your tongue feels thick in your mouth, head lolling back, knocking into Atsumu’s chin as you stare down with blurry vision at Osamu’s fingers disappearing into your wet heat.

“Think our little dummy means speed up, right sis? You wouldn’t want Samu to miss any leftover cum from your little slut stunt.” 

“I-I don’t?” You mumble, trying to crane your head to meet Atsumu’s gaze, the disconnect of his words is disorienting as you continue to slip into worn out haze.

“Of course not, that’s what we’ve been telling you.” He releases your hand in favor of sliding his hand up to grip at your jaw, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Hey Samu I think you can fit a fourth.”

“Yeah, me too.” Atsumu presses your head against his, leaving the two of you cheek to cheek as your eyes widen at the sight of your brother’s pinky swiping besides your entrance.

“Won’t fit.” 

“It will.” Osamu looks up at you, the familiar lazy half smile almost comforting as he begins to work his fourth finger into your thoroughly abused cunt. A jolt of biting pain mottled with bliss erupts through you. The feeling of being utterly stuffed, pushed past whatever limits you had, leaving you unable to even focus your eyes or make sense of whatever Atsumu whispers against you. 

The entirety of your body feels like an exposed nerve, as if you’ve been left out in the sun too long, simultaneously hyper aware and numb of all the little touches and strokes across your flesh. You can feel Osamu steadily pick up the pace with each thrust of his fingers, each stroke as if he’s trying to dig deeper, as if he’s trying to make your cunny memorize the shape of each finger. 

“Tsu-tsumu-niii, I thiiink…” Whatever comment you had is lost in your throat, the tiniest caress of Osamu’s thumb against your clit has your mind going blank, the entirety of your body coiling tightly, a mangled whine preempting the feeling of yourself gushing around Osamu’s fingers. Your body spasms, held tightly in Atsumu’s arms as you squeal out at Osamu unwilling to relent his movements, continuing to piston his fingers with reckless abandon.

“Enough, Ssamu enough.” Your vision goes spotty, watching with jagged breaths as he gradually withdraws. You spiral into unconsciousness one last shiver wracking through you as you watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, licking a stripe up his coated fingers. A dastardly grin the last thing you see as you black out.

[scuttling]

Promise

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 5,844 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Biting, Hickies, Dom/sub, Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Oral Sex, Oral Fixation, Unprotected Sex, Tie as Restraint, Dirty Talk, Mention of Somnophilia Summary: Two weeks after the events of 'Patient', Spencer is feeling a little bit like a third wheel. Sophie and Aaron come up with a plan to show him how much he means to them. Collection: Part 4 of 5 of Present, Perfect, Patient, Promise, Pretend series Note: This is a previously published work from A03, just moving it over to tumblr. Link to A03 or read below! For the last couple of weeks, Spencer has almost exclusively been staying the night at Aaron and Sophie’s. The three of them arrive at work together every day, go to lunch together every day, leave together every day, and no one has commented on that or found it strange in any way. He’s honestly a little disappointed; he’s happy, in love, and this is arguably the best time of his life, stuff he would most like to share with other people, but they either don’t notice or simply don’t care. It's frustrating.

He wears one of Aaron’s ties to work on a Friday, because he’d been in such a hurry to throw some clothes into his bag during a rare pit stop to his apartment that he didn’t grab enough, and he figured no one would notice, since they haven’t noticed anything else up to this point.

However…

“Hey. Hotch has a tie just like that, doesn’t he?” Garcia asks when he’s down in her cave looking over some age progression renderings she made for him. He looks down, runs his fingers over it, shrugs.

“Does he? I didn’t realize.” She sweeps her gaze over his face, tilts her head like she’s trying to figure him out, but ultimately, she just smiles.

“Maybe not. I see a lot of ties around here, you know? Anyway, see how…”

Later that day, he takes some case files up to Aaron’s office—purely for make out purposes—and they’re kissing pretty hot and heavy when Aaron slips his fingers around the knot of his tie and twists it, so it tightens around the base of his throat. He moans, a little startled, and very turned on, and Aaron hums against his lips.

“So fucking gorgeous when you wear my clothes, Spencer, but especially this. It’s so tempting, draws my attention right to your pretty throat.” His lips move there, brushing tenderly up the side, and he bites down gently, not enough to leave a mark, but enough that he feels it in his dick. “If I had my way, you’d be constantly covered in bruises here. Everyone would look at you and know you belong to someone.” Spencer licks his lips, exhales deeply.

“I wish you could,” he murmurs, sliding his fingers through the hair at the back of Aaron’s head. “Maybe—maybe just one?” He’s lightheaded at the thought, both of having Aaron’s hot mouth tease a bruise there and of being seen for the desperate, needy slut he is. Of the whole team, the whole office, the whole world knowing he is taken, happily, regularly, by not one but two beautiful human beings.

Aaron presses his hand against Spencer’s cock, which is extremely hard, giving away all of his secrets, and he huffs against his throat.

“Yeah. You want me to suck and bite your neck until you’re purple and aching, and then you want to walk right downstairs and show it off, don’t you? No doubts about who gave it to you, about who your daddy is. About who you belong to.” He nods, breathing heavily.

“Yes. I want them to see, I want them to know.” Aaron walks him back so he’s leaning against the edge of the desk, and he runs his hands slowly up and down Spencer’s body, brushing his lips so softly over his throat. It feels good, but it’s not what he wants, and Aaron knows it, the tease.

He shifts his hips, rubs against Aaron for friction, and when he finds his cock he gasps, fists his hand into Aaron’s jacket. He lifts his leg, pressing against Aaron’s thigh, and gets them to line up beside each other, sliding easily due to the fabric of their suit pants.

“Oh, fuck, Spencer,” he groans, hands falling to the desk on either side of his body. “Needy boy.” He tugs down the collar of his shirt a little more, bites down hard at the base of this throat, and Spencer moans, clutches at him, rubbing frantically.

Aaron’s mouth is hard, sucking deeply, and Spencer knows that what he’s doing is actually breaking blood vessels beneath his skin, but it feels like he’s sucking the life out of him, leaving him dizzy and achy and desperate for release. He twists his fingers in Aaron’s hair, tight, and humps his hips up against his hard body, his hard cock, and he comes so powerfully he sees stars, panting and shaking through it until he leans his weight back against the desk, his energy depleted.

Aaron pulls back, looks at him with dark, lustful eyes, and bends for a hot, wet kiss.

“Perfect, beautiful boy,” he rasps when the kiss breaks, and he unclasps his belt, takes out his cock, looks down at Spencer’s mouth; it’s all he needs to do to get Spencer on his knees, and he’s sure he looks filthy—his face is hot, and his collar is still loose, with what must be a huge, dark hickey blooming there—because it only takes a few seconds for Aaron to spill down his throat, his hand under Spencer’s chin while he swallows him down.

He helps him to his feet, and they kiss, work to right each other’s clothes and hair even though Spencer feels like his face is the real problem—his eyes half-lidded, his mouth slack and his tongue peeking out the way it always does when he’s satisfied. Aaron looks at him affectionately, probably at the dopey look he’s so capable of putting on his face, and he kisses him again, softer, then brushes his lips over his nose.

“I love you. Want me to come down and make you a tea?” he asks softly, so sweet, but Spencer just shakes his head, swallows.

“No, that’s okay. I know you’re busy, and I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Aaron sighs, sweeps a hand gently over his cheek.

“My time is your time. You’ve taken nothing I didn’t want to give.” He kisses him fully on the mouth, and Spencer hums happily against his lips. “Is there anything I can do for you before you head back to work? Or, I guess you should probably head to the bathroom first, to get cleaned up,” he amends, and he looks down at Spencer’s crotch like he would prefer to clean it up himself, slowly, with his tongue. Spencer shakes his head.

“No, thank you. I’m really alright. I love you,” he murmurs, kissing his lips, “and I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.” Spencer slips past him, out the door, and when he’s done cleaning up in the bathroom, he looks at himself in the mirror; he thinks he looks wrecked, debauched, but maybe that’s only because he knows that he is. He pulls down his collar, looks at the huge, dark, angry bruise Aaron left, smiles, and covers it back up.

Mostly.

When he takes his seat, Sophie looks up at him, sweeps her eyes over his face, his throat, and he can see her breath pick up. God, she’s so easy to get going, it’s not even fair. She makes eye contact, swallows, looks up at Aaron’s office, and then stands, locks her computer, and heads upstairs.

About ten minutes later, she’s back; he looks up at her, and because he looks at her so much, he notices all the little things that have changed—her hair, previously falling in voluminous waves, looks a little flat, and her chest is red, flushed, and when she logs back into her computer, he notices the edge of a purple bruise on the soft spot between her neck and shoulder, barely concealed by the white v-neck t-shirt she wears. She meets his eyes, sweeps her tongue over her lips, and buries herself in work.

He’s hard, again.

No one notices, again. They take a case in Orlando, a serial killer case like many before it, nothing so out of the ordinary that anyone should be particularly on edge, but Spencer is, and Sophie can’t figure out why. He’s retreated into himself, not as talkative, and snippy, when he does speak, so she doesn’t start the car right away when they climb in, hopes for a little partner/girlfriend heart to heart before they go canvassing for leads.

“Spencer. Hey,” she says softly, pressing her hand to his cheek when he won’t make eye contact. “Baby, what’s going on? You’ve been distant all day. I’m worried about you.” He presses his face against her palm, looks up at her with sad eyes.

“I hate when we’re on a case, and I know that you and Aaron will get to sleep together, and I’m stuck in my room by myself, all alone.” She sighs, because that can’t be all it is, but it makes her heart hurt anyway.

“Is that the only thing bothering you?”

“It’s not just that, it’s the bigger picture. You two are… out, for lack of a better word. People see you, they know you’re together, they know you’re in love. I feel like the third wheel, sometimes. People don’t know that I mean anything to either of you. They don’t know I love you, or that you love me, that we…” He shakes his head, presses his lips together like he wants to cry. “That when the three of us make love, I feel like the man I’m supposed to be. That I feel really seen for the first time in my life.” She puts her other hand on the side of his face, brings him closer for a slow, loving kiss, breathes against his lips.

“I’m sorry, honey. You’re right, none of that is fair to you, and we haven’t been very thoughtful or attentive to your needs around this. I promise things will change. I don’t know how, exactly… It’s complicated, I know you know that. But you deserve to be just as seen as Aaron and I are, so we’ll find a way to make it work.” She rests her nose against his, softly kisses his lips. “I love you so much, Spencer, and so does Aaron. You aren’t a third wheel, we’re all equal.” He nods against her cheek.

“I know, I do, and I love you both so much. I don’t want to make your lives harder, but I want more. I need more.” She pulls back, brushes her fingers through his hair, runs a soothing hand over his arm.

“Of course you do, and we want that too. You’re not asking for anything we shouldn’t have already given you.” She feels guilt like a pit in her stomach at the fact that they didn’t think of this, try to get ahead of it. Poor Spencer. “It will work out, baby, I promise. We’ll find a way. And I’ll sleep in your room tonight,” she adds, knowing it’s a small comfort, but she hopes it makes him feel better until they can make the big things right. “I’ve slept in your room before, when things were hard, it’s not like it’s a big deal.” He closes his eyes, nods tightly.

“Right. No one needs to know.” She frowns, because that’s not what she meant, but he pulls back, buckles up his seatbelt, and she does the same, at a loss for what she can do in the meantime to make him feel seen.

When she’s in Aaron’s room that night, getting ready to duck into Spencer’s, she has an idea, runs it by him. His face abruptly goes serious, dark, and he takes her face in his hands, kisses her roughly.

“Are you sure? Anyone could see—it’s not like we’re in a low-traffic city,” he warns, but she nods. She’s pretty sure, after talking to both of them, that this is something that Spencer would enjoy, that would maybe make him feel a little bit better about it all. She wants to do it.

“Yeah. We’re the only ones on this side of the hall, so I figure that’s as safe as we’ll get, in terms of the team, and… I’m okay, with anyone else. If it will make him happy.” She grips the hair at the back of his head, presses their foreheads together. “You’ll be there for me, right?”

“I promise,” he murmurs, caressing her face, and she sighs against his lips.

“Thank you. I love you.” He says it back, kisses her, and she takes a step back, grabs her stuff, walks to the door. “I’ll text you, let you know when we’re ready.”

“Okay. Remember your words. Use them if you need them.” She nods, leaves the room, knocks lightly on Spencer’s door.

“Hey, honey,” she greets, and he steps aside, takes her bag, closes the door behind them. She pulls him down for a gentle, slow kiss, smooths her hands over his body like she’s trying to commit him to memory. “Hmm. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” he says with a soft smile. “I was thinking about earlier, in the car, and I wasn’t fair. It makes sense that people can’t know until we figure things out; I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you.” She thanks the heavens above for the perfect segue, because she’d been struggling with a way to explain her idea without sounding like a babbling, horny idiot.

“It makes sense that the team can’t know,” she corrects, and she leans up for another kiss. “Or people we work with. But other people, people we don’t know, that would be fine, right?” He tilts his head, looks a little confused by her question.

“What do you mean? Like, if we went on a date together? And people saw us?” She nods a little.

“Yeah, something like that. Or even… you know. If people saw you kissing me, or they saw us having sex. That would be okay, wouldn’t it?” Her heart is racing, and his breathing picks up, she can tell; she can tell her words affect him just by the set of his mouth, the way his hands move to her hips and tighten there. It’s so fucking hot.

“Yeah, yeah. That would be okay. Would that be okay with you?” Aaron was right then, when he’d suggested that their boy might be harboring a hidden exhibitionism kink; she smiles, pleased, proud of their man for noticing.

“It would be okay with me,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to his. “There’s a chaise couch thingy on the balcony out there. I thought maybe you and I could put on a show for Aaron; and if someone else is out on their balcony, and they happen to see us, all the better. They’ll see how horny you make me, how hard and loud I come for you. How much I love you, need you, want you.” Her last words are spoken directly into his ear, and he shivers, lifts her up and presses her back against the wall.

“Fuck. Yeah, I want to.” His mouth moves frantically over her throat, his hands on her back, and he makes sure she’s supported before moving to pull her shirt over her head, so he can kiss and lick and squeeze her exposed tits. “Oh, god.”

“Yeah, Spencer. I can’t wait to feel you, to show the world what you mean to me. What you do to me.” He’s panting, and he puts his hands on her again, moves them to the bed, lays her back on it.

“Sophie, so good for me, always giving me so much. Always pleasing me, always.” She tips her head back, moans, and when he drags her pants down her legs, then her panties, she sighs, horny, happy, pleased. A little nervous. But she wants to do this for him more than anything.

“Let me text Aaron real quick,” she says, but she pulls his shirt off first, pushes down his pants and boxers, wants to see him, feel him. He hands her her phone, and her fingers are trembling a little as she types out the text.

Showtime.

Spencer is, of course, as sweet and kind and sexy as ever, when he lays her naked body back on the chaise, which is directly across from Aaron’s balcony. He looks into her eyes, makes sure she’s okay, and she nods, a signal to begin.

They very mindfully keep their eyes on each other, don’t pause to try to seek out Aaron—she knows he’s there, even though it’s dark, because he said he’d be—or to check for anyone else. They both decided it would be better that way.

Both hands cover her breasts, rubbing slow circles, stimulating her nipples, and she moans softly, letting her head fall back, moving her arms up on either side of it. He kisses her mouth tenderly, then trails his lips down her throat, between her breasts, down her stomach; he dips his head low, takes a gentle taste of her slick, throbbing pussy, and then one of his hands leaves her chest to press open her thigh, giving himself more room to work.

“So fucking beautiful. Wet and open—you really want me, don’t you, sweet girl?” His voice is a little louder than it would normally be, and she quickly realizes he wants to make sure it carries over to Aaron, so he can hear them as well. She tries to remember to be really loud, even though it goes against her instincts.

“Oh, yes.” He spreads his fingers where they rest on her tit, then pushes it up, harder, and she moans. “Mmmh, yeah.”

“So perfect for me. Horny, slutty, gorgeous girl for daddy.” She snaps her eyes shut, bites into her bottom lip; she hadn’t counted on him bringing out the daddy tonight, while they’re doing this. It makes her feel dirty, and extremely aroused.

“Yes, daddy. I’m so horny, s-so slutty,” she stumbles when he slides his tongue between her lips, then up over her aching clit. “Oh, god, yes. Yes, daddy.”

He takes his time, goes slowly, slips his tongue through her folds, nibbles them with careful teeth, and she is just a mass of flesh and nerve endings sinking into the sofa, squirming under his hands, whimpering and moaning at his every lick, touch. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion except her heart, her heaving chest, and her brain is already deliciously empty, like static on a broken television—it’s either her mind’s way of protecting her from the anxiety she knows she should be feeling at being this exposed, doing something so, so illegal and filthy and wrong, or it’s just Spencer.

She thinks it might actually be just Spencer.

He looks up at her from between her legs, so gorgeous, flushed, turned on, and he presses two fingers into her open mouth, which only makes her sink deeper into the place that’s all pleasure and need and wanting to please him. He pumps them into her mouth a few times, then pulls them out and sinks them deep into her pussy, making her arch and sigh.

“There you go, baby, that’s it,” he praises, dragging them in and out, in and out, in and out. He leans in to press the point of his tongue against her clit, divine sensation right where she wants it, and she comes around his fingers, moaning and gripping the edge of the cushion in her hands. “That’s a good girl. Good girl.” He shifts up, moves his hand up her body, slips his wet fingers back into her mouth so she’ll suck them clean.

She’s never felt so good in her entire fucking life. Aaron has been trying to resist shoving a hand into his boxers and jerking himself off, but his willpower is wearing thin.

Watching Spencer bring Sophie off with his mouth and his hands was... stimulating to say the least; she dropped into subspace so quickly and completely, he could see it from even a balcony away. Spencer is getting better and better at dominating her every day, better than him, even, because he has a refinement, a subtle nuance, that Aaron hasn’t found on his own quite yet.

It’s when he fucks her, though, that Aaron starts to lose his resolve. Maybe it’s because he’s truly just a spectator for the first time in their relationship, or maybe it’s because he knows—even if they don’t—that they’ve amassed a small audience, but he spreads his legs, rubs his hand over the bulge in his boxers, tries to keep breathing.

The tie thing is a tease, just truly unfair.

Before Spencer pushes into her, he reaches a hand down, pulls out a tie—one of Aaron’s, the one Spencer had worn to the office the day he’d marked him—and wraps it around Sophie’s wrists, knotting it tightly to keep her hands together, and he tucks it into the arm of the chaise so she’ll keep them above her head. She doesn’t make a sound, just stares up at him, subservient and willing, and it makes Aaron’s head spin. He can’t imagine what it does to Spencer.

With a couple of kisses, he’s inside her, up on his knees, his hands on her hips, and she wraps her thighs around his waist, lifts her ass up, and lets him pound inside.

“Oh, daddy. Fuck me,” she moans, and he licks his lips, pulls her against him with each thrust so he’s deep, fully sheathed inside her. “Yeah, just like that. All the way inside me. Tight, but I love it,” she pants, and he squeezes his eyes shut—so he won’t come, Aaron knows.

“Yes you do. Such a good little slut for daddy, taking my big cock even though it's tight. Your pussy’s mine, and I take what I want, don’t I?”

“God, yes. Take it, take it,” she mutters, and Spencer slowly brings his hands up to cover her throat, because she needs grounding and they can both tell. He slides his hands up and down her throat, not choking, just rubbing her there, and she moans, a wrecked and dirty sound. “Will you come inside me, daddy? Fill me up? Can I sleep with it inside me?” Aaron swallows hard, puts his hand in his pants and starts jerking his swollen, leaking cock. Spencer hums.

“Yes, baby, I’ll fill you with come. You can sleep with it. Maybe I’ll wake up in the night, stiff, and pump some more into you while you sleep. Would you like that?” She moans, bucks hard against him, nods.

“Yes, daddy. I’ll take whatever you give me. You do what you want to me. I’m just your pussy, just here for you to use. Use me.” He thrusts into her faster, his hands tight on her hips again, and he comes, snapping his body hard against hers.

Aaron knows he gets quickly spent and tired, but he jackhammers his cock into her a dozen times anyway, determined, and she comes calling Spencer, her hips stuttering against his until they both slow and settle. Aaron comes too, just a quiet grunt followed by a long, satisfied sigh.

Spencer unties her arms, kisses her wrists, and picks her up; it’s easy, because he’s still inside her, and her legs are still around him. A couple of people applaud and whistle from a balcony above, and Sophie tucks her face into Spencer’s neck, wraps her arms around him, and they go inside.

The two of you are incredible, he texts Spencer when he goes inside as well. I love you both so much. So perfect, so beautiful. Take care of each other.

We love you, too. I think tomorrow, you two should let me watch.

Aaron closes his eyes, exhales long, climbs into bed.

The next day, they somehow manage to work together as if nothing happened the night before, as if his two perfect partners didn’t fuck in front of a live audience, as if he didn’t bring himself off in public as a result.

It’s enough to keep him in a state of passive arousal all day, and he hopes and prays it’s not enough to give him an erection, because he doesn’t have time for it.

That night, though, is another story entirely.

Roles are reversed, as requested; Spencer sits on his balcony, in the dark, but they don’t look toward him, just the way he and Sophie didn’t look for Aaron. She said it helped, and he wants to keep her as comfortable as possible, knows this is a lot.

Aaron lays back on the chaise, and he gently palms Sophie’s head as she holds his hips, kisses and licks his dick; he knows she’ll fall hard sucking him off like this, and he liked how submissive she was for Spencer yesterday, would like to get her there himself too.

“Hmm. Good girl, baby,” he hums, brushing back her hair; she’d run her tongue over him all night if he let her, and it would get him off, too, but he wants to make it good for Spencer, so he reaches down and lifts his cock, guides her mouth down onto it.

She moans on him, wraps her hand around the base, presses her lips tight and bobs her head, slow and steady, and he tips his head back, rubs her arms, encouraging the treatment.

“Yes, baby, suck on daddy’s cock. You’re always best with your mouth full, aren’t you, my sweet, slutty girl?” She hums around him, shifts so she can get a hand between her legs, which is his absolute favorite, and moves faster, her hand and her mouth together, wet and hot, enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. He knows he won’t last long if she keeps that up, lets them both enjoy it for a moment before putting his hands on her cheeks and pulling her off gently. “Enough of that; climb up for daddy,” he instructs, and she slinks up his body, presses her mouth to his for a heated, eager kiss.

It lasts a while, because she feels so good, tastes so good, like him, and then they separate, panting against each other. “How do you want me, daddy?” He sits up, runs a hand up her body, and then guides her to sit back on his dick, making them both gasp. “Hmm, yeah. Thank you, daddy,” she murmurs, and she presses her hands against his chest and starts to move atop him.

She’s perfect, as always, fucking quickly, slamming into his thrusts, and one hand falls back to steady herself against his thigh; her chest is flushed and red, nipples hard, and he can’t resist, has to lean in and suck one into his mouth, roll it around on his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, mmm,” she sighs, wrapping her hand around the back of his head and holding him close. “You know my body so well because it’s yours, daddy. Yours to use, to fuck, to come inside.” He releases her breast and stares up at her, her breathing hard, her mouth open in a silent moan. She’s gorgeous, unabashed, riding his cock like she was made for it; he knows Spencer has to be touching himself as he watches her body work, her hips roll against him.

It’s relatively quiet, and he hears someone mutter, same girl, different guy, and he’s forced to really think about this for a moment, what they’re doing, the kind of line they’ve crossed. He wonders if this will be something done once, remembered fondly but out of their systems for good, or something they’ll need, will have to learn to navigate around safely, healthily. He thinks about how different it is for her, as a woman, compared to how it is for them as men.

She either feels none of the same apprehension or simply hides it well, because she only bounces harder against his thighs until she comes whimpering his name. He groans, puts his hands on her ass and squeezes it, urging her to keep going until the sensitivity passes, not to stop or slow. She knows what to do—another voice says riding it like a champ—just tosses her hair over her shoulder, scrapes her nails through the hair on his chest, moans long and loud.

“Mmm, yes, daddy, thank you daddy. Thank you for not letting me stop—I’m just here for you to use, to take your come. I’m your slut.”

“Yes, baby girl, you are a slut for daddy. You live to be fucked hard, destroyed by me. By us.” It’s the only time they’ve acknowledged Spencer, and Aaron can hear a faint groan coming from his direction. “One man is not enough for a needy, desperate slut like you. You need two. Separately, together—you belong to us both.” She runs a hand through her hair, bucks hard against him, reaches down to rub at her clit again; god, if she comes on his cock twice he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, and he leans up again, bites down on her nipple, and she cries out in pleasure, digs her nails into his chest, and comes again. He puts both hands hard on her hips, forces her down onto his cock a handful of times and then comes as well, pumping into her tight channel with a groan.

She pants, catches his mouth in a bruising kiss, and he gets her into the bedroom, lays her back on the bed, and watches her body move as she works to catch her breath, still shivering with aftershocks, clamping down tight around his cock. She touches his face, his hair, and he only pulls out when he hears a light but insistent knock on the door.

“It’s Spencer, baby, I’ll be right back,” he promises, kissing her, and when he opens the door Spencer flies in, grabs him hard, kisses him, then makes his way to Sophie; he touches her softly, stroking her hair, whispering words of praise until she’s shaking and the only thing that will soothe her is his arms wrapping around her, holding her close.

It’s the first time he actually notices how differently she sees them, as their sub. Aaron is the one who makes rules, gives orders, disciplines and corrects, and Spencer is softer, earning obedience with his actions more than his words. Aaron pushes her, overwhelms her, and Spencer is the one who helps her through when she’s overwhelmed, and it’s why this works, why it works when he’s dominating Spencer, too. There’s no clashing of personalities, it’s all complementary, all necessary. All important.

He has to find a way to make this right. “Strauss was… confused, to say the least,” Aaron explains to them at dinner a few nights later. “And I could tell she thinks I’m just a couple more twenty-somethings away from being a cult leader or something,” he says—only half joking, Sophie can tell, “but she knows, now. All that’s left is to tell the team, and then live with whatever repercussions may come.” She reaches out for both of their hands, squeezes them.

“Well, the team was okay with us when we disclosed, and this is a little more unconventional, but we know them. I don’t think we’ll have a problem. If anyone else has one, that’s beyond our control. It doesn’t say anything about us; people have always found a reason to dislike something different just because it’s different.” She glances at Spencer, who is looking so soft, pleased, that she doesn’t know how they didn’t see the signs before. He’s like a whole new person, now, their person.

"One more thing," Aaron says, and he's looking at the both of them, his face sweet and loving too. He crosses the room, opens a drawer, pulls out two small jewelry boxes and sets one in front of each of them. He crouches between them. "I know it might seem a little soon, but this isn't anything serious, just a reminder, a promise. I don't ever want either of you to feel like we aren't all equal here: equally valued, equally important, equally loved." Sophie opens hers—a delicate gold band with a small diamond in the middle—and Aaron pulls a third out of his pocket, thicker, simple, just gold, identical to the one Spencer opens. "Please don't ever think you can't talk to me when something is bothering you, and don't ever forget that I love you."

She leans over, kisses him, kisses Spencer, and they kiss each other, and the night gets away from them and they have sex in so many different positions and combinations it’s like Twister, but everyone feels fulfilled when they drift off to sleep, and that’s the most important thing.

Telling the team is… interesting, to say the least.

“Okay, thanks for letting us know,” JJ says, nodding, and Aaron, Spencer, and Sophie just look at each other where they stand. Spencer frowns, confused.

“What do you mean, ‘thanks for letting us know’? That’s it?” Morgan crosses his hands behind his head.

“Yeah. We’ve known for a while, but this is like you guys coming out, as bi or pan or whatever you two are,” he says, gesturing to the guys, “and then as like… what’s the word, baby girl?” he asks Garcia, and she waves her feathered pen at the three of them.

“Throuple. It’s like a couple, but, you know, three.” She smiles kindly.

“You knew,” Spencer repeats, and Sophie glances at Aaron, shoots him an indulgent smile. “You knew, all along?”

“Since the day you guys had your ‘partner evaluations,’” Prentiss admits with a teasing tone. “You two are extremely obvious. It’s like you can’t get laid without looking like two blushing, giggling little school girls after. So not sneaky.”

“I literally saw you two making out at Rossi’s party,” JJ says with a laugh. “I was going to tell Hotch I thought you were cheating on him, but Garcia convinced me not to. She was on to your whole thing before any of us.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Spencer asks, looking like he’s about to pull his hair out. Sophie knows he’d been so upset he couldn’t share their relationship with anyone, and they knew for most, if not all of it, so he’s understandably kind of losing it.

“What were we supposed to do? Order a cake and make you a banner that said, ‘Congrats on the threesome!’?” Prentiss jokes, and Garcia leans back in her chair to look at her.

“Throuple.” Prentiss waves her hand, accepts the correction, and Sophie reaches out for Spencer, smooths her hand over his back, presses her nose to his shoulder.

“Okay, well I think this turned out well. Let’s go make a cup of tea, baby,” she murmurs, and Spencer lets himself be led away, muttering about stupid friends that drive me crazy. Aaron follows behind them, presses his hand to her lower back, and Sophie sighs, content.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby. 

Day 4: Pink To Make The Boys Wink

Warnings: Bad Language words, SMUT (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this my second instalment for the Ransom advent collaboration between myself and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @jennmurawski13​. 

We hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist. 

 The bedroom was full of sinful moans and groans, and the debauched sound of skin slapping on skin as Ransom’s hands curled around your hips, pulling you down onto him, thrusting upwards to meet you.

“That’s it, Princess.” he panted, your head falling back in a groan as a deliciously hard thrust hit you right on your spot. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged and he suddenly sat up, drawing a gasp and a strangled cry from your mouth as his hands curled round your back, holding you to him as much as he could, his legs bent, feet planted firmly on the mattress. One hand slid up your spine and gripped the back of your neck, pulling you down for a filthy kiss as his hips continued pistoning up into you. You felt the heat beginning to rise in the low pit of your belly, the familiar sensation spreading between your legs and you moaned into his mouth.

“Ransom, I’m gonna…” your hands scrabbled at his back, nails digging into his smooth, taught skin as you groaned again, the coil in your abdomen reaching snapping point.

“Yeah, baby, come on my cock.” He growled, his teeth nipping at your ear. “Fuck you feel so good!”

With a final loud cry, you tipped your head back as you came, hard, Ransom’s hands gripping once more on your hips as he pulled you down harder, picking up the pace racing to his end. His hips jerked, his legs twitched and his head dropped forward to your shoulder, biting down gently as he let out a groan before he stilled completely, his chest heaving. Your hands danced up his back, sliding into his hair before he pulled away and placed a soft kiss to your mouth.

“Quick enough for you?” he smirked and you scoffed, slapping his shoulder slightly as he fell backwards, tugging you with him, pivoting so you were led on your side, his cock softening inside you.

“You’re such a dick.” You said as he kissed the top of your nose.

“You love my dick.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, and my love of your dick is what got us into this.” You said, your hand taking his and pressing it to your bump. His eyes lit up, the way the always did when he felt your baby moving within your swollen belly. You knew it stoked his ego, knowing that he’d knocked you up, marked you from the inside as his, the evidence that you belong to him in every single damned way right there for everyone to see.

“Well I would say I’m sorry but that would be a total lie.” He shrugged, and with a shift of his hips he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, his hands reaching up and locking behind his head. “What time are you meeting your mom?”

“An hour.” You glanced at your phone and turned back to face him, “I should shower and stick the laundry on before I go.”

“I’ll do it, the laundry that is.” He offered, “Although I could also shower if you wanted “he added, with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

“You think you can manage it this time, without shrinking anything?” You teased, your hand resting on your bump.

“Yup.” He popped the P “Especially now you stuck the instructions to the front of the machine.”

“Always better to play it safe. Besides, you shrink another of your sweaters I’m gonna have nothing to wear.”

“I shrank one. And maybe you could try wearing your own clothes.”

“The Spawn of Satan prefers yours.” You shrugged, rubbing your bump again before you heaved yourself out of bed and padded into the en-suite. You paused and turned to face him, your naked body on full show and his eyes darkened a little as you bit your lip “Thought you wanted to shower.”

In a flash he was out of bed and stalking towards you, causing you to giggle as he kicked the bathroom door shut behind him.

*****

Whites, brights, darks…

Ransom nodded to the three piles on the floor in the laundry room and shoved the whites into the machine first, dutifully following the instructions taped to the machine. Once it was on, he headed back into the kitchen deciding that he deserved a break. Fucking his wife all the way to heaven within ten minutes flat, not to mention the after party in the shower, plus then sorting washing, loading the machine and turning it on was tiring work after all.

He made himself a coffee before he headed back into the lounge and settled down with the laptop, checking the latest Newsletter from the Country Club before he ran down the training schedule for the Polo Team that month, checking when his time slots where, not that it really mattered. If he didn’t particularly like a slot he’d been given he’d just kick off until they swapped it for one he did like. Perks of being the star of the team, you got your own way…

He smirked a little as he could hear Y/N’s voice echoing in his head “Story of your life, you’re such a fuckin’ brat.”

Like he gave a shit.

His phone went off, signalling he had a text and he rolled his eyes as he saw it was from his mother, asking if she could expect him and Y/N for dinner that Sunday. Typing out a single word response- “no,”- he dropped the phone back onto the coffee table as he continued his reading, the TV fixed on some trashy talk show in the background.

He was surprised when the beeping of the machine telling him the cycle had finished hit his ears, and as he glanced at the clock he arched an eyebrow. He’d been that immersed in researching up on the youngest age kids seemed to be able to play polo, and where he could find a decent kids team, that he’d managed to actually while away almost two hours. He placed the laptop down on the couch and headed through to the laundry room, grabbing the basket from the side. Bending down, he pulled open the machined door and began to unload the items into the basket.

It wasn’t until he pulled out Y/N’s white Armani maternity dungarees that he realised something had gone horribly wrong.

“What the…” he straightened up, holding the expensive denim item up in front of him, squinting as he did so.

It looked pink!

Deciding it was the light in the room he walked into the kitchen and cursed loudly as they looked even pinker in the brighter room. He stalked back into the laundry room and began to remove the rest of the washing, and to his dismay it was all the same. His riding britches, 2 of her blouses, a few bras, panties, boxers, 2 of his dress shits, his thermal ribbed undershirt, several t-shirts, a polo shirt…

All. Fucking. Pink.

And more to the point, it had all definitely been white when he’d put it in.

Growling in frustration he tipped the washing out onto the floor and there it was, the culprit. One of Y/N’s thongs, a bright red one, poking out of the pocket of his white-now-pink corduroy trousers that he’d worn to the Fall Gala at the Country Club.

Fuck, he had totally forgotten they were in there after he’d kept them when he’d fucked Y/N in the cloak room. Unable to wait until he got her home as the sight of her in that little black dress, baby bump on show had driven him wild, he’d dragged her off for a dirty little rendezvous, and had ended up snapping the elastic around the waistband meaning they were totally useless. She’d been pissed when she realised and had to spend the rest of the night with nothing on…of course, at the time it had been a great source of amusement to him.

Now, well not so much.

He contemplated googling how to fix this, before he decided that he simply couldn’t be fucking bothered. It would likely involve some complicated soaking routine and frankly he had better things to be doing with his time.

Like researching…important…stuff. Man stuff. Man stuff for him and his baby boy.

Nonchalantly, he tossed the ruined items into the basket and set it on top of the machine with a shrug. He’d buy her some new stuff. And if she went ballistic at him over it all, then he’d just have to remind her that it was her fault her thong was in his pocket in the first place, the dirty little minx.

[wiypt-writes]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.  Day 4: Pink To Make The Boys Wink

Warnings: Bad Language words, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this all came about as myself, Sweater and Jenn saw a post about Ransom doing everyday things…and yeah, it kinda spiralled. The series will consists of one-shots and drabbles, all light hearted…and the occasional little bit of smut thrown in for your pleasure and we hope a nice countdown to Christmas after what has been an utter shit-show of a year.

We hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist. 

The bedroom was full of sinful moans and groans, and the debauched sound of skin slapping on skin as Ransom’s hands curled around your hips, pulling you down onto him, thrusting upwards to meet you.

“That’s it, Princess.” he panted, your head falling back in a groan as a deliciously hard thrust hit you right on your spot. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged and he suddenly sat up, drawing a gasp and a strangled cry from your mouth as his hands curled round your back, holding you to him as much as he could, his legs bent, feet planted firmly on the mattress. One hand slid up your spine and gripped the back of your neck, pulling you down for a filthy kiss as his hips continued pistoning up into you. You felt the heat beginning to rise in the low pit of your belly, the familiar sensation spreading between your legs and you moaned into his mouth.

“Ransom, I’m gonna…” your hands scrabbled at his back, nails digging into his smooth, taught skin as you groaned again, the coil in your belly reaching snapping point.

“Yeah, baby, come on my cock.” He growled, his teeth nipping at your ear. “Fuck you feel so good!”

With a final loud cry, you tipped your head back as you came, hard, Ransom’s hands gripping once more on your hips as he pulled you down harder, picking up the pace racing to his end. His hips jerked, his legs twitched and his head dropped forward to your shoulder, biting down gently as he let out a groan before he stilled completely, his chest heaving. Your hands danced up his back, sliding into his hair before he pulled away and placed a soft kiss to your mouth.

“Quick enough for you?” he smirked and you scoffed, slapping his shoulder slightly as he fell backwards, tugging you with him, pivoting so you were led on your side, his cock softening inside you.

“You’re such a dick.” You said as he kissed the top of your nose.

“You love my dick.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, and my love of your dick is what got us into this.” You said, your hand taking his and pressing it to your bump. His eyes lit up, the way the always did when he felt your swollen belly. You knew it stoked his ego, knowing that he’d knocked you up, marked you from the inside as his, the evidence that you belong to he him in every single damned way right there for everyone to see.

“Well I would say I’m sorry but that would be a total lie.” He said, and with a shift of his hips he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, his hands reaching up and locking behind his head. “What time are you meeting your mom?”

“An hour.” You said, “I should shower and stick the laundry on before I go.”

“I’ll do it, the laundry that is.” He offered, “Although I could also shower if you wanted “he added, with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

“You think you can manage it this time, without shrinking anything?” You asked, your hand resting on your bump.

“Yup.” He popped the P “Especially now you stuck the instructions to the front of the machine.”

“Always better to play it safe.” You smiled “Besides, you shrink another of your sweaters I’m gonna have nothing to wear.”

“I shrank one. And maybe you could try wearing your own clothes.”

“Baby prefers yours.” You shrugged, before you heaved yourself out of bed and padded into the en-suite. You paused and turned to face him, your naked body on full show and his eyes darkened a little as you bit your lip “Thought you wanted to shower.”

In a flash he was out of bed and stalking towards you, causing you to giggle as he kicked the bathroom door shut behind him.

***** Whites, brights, darks…

Ransom nodded to the three piles on the floor in the laundry room and shoved the whites into the machine first, dutifully following the instructions taped to the machine. Once it was on, he headed back into the kitchen deciding that he deserved a break. Fucking his wife all the way to heaven within ten minutes flat, not to mention the after party in the shower, plus then sorting washing, loading the machine and turning it on was tiring work after all.

He made himself a coffee before he headed back into the lounge and settled down with the laptop, checking the latest Newsletter from the Country Club before he ran down the training schedule for the Polo Team that month, checking when his time slots where, not that it really mattered. If he didn’t particularly like a slot he’d been given he’d just kick off until they swapped it for one he did like. Perks of being the star of the team, you got your own way…

He smirked a little as he could hear Y/N’s voice echoing in his head “Story of your life, you’re such a fuckin’ brat.”

Like he gave a shit.

His phone went off, signalling he had a text and he rolled his eyes as he saw it was from his mother, asking if she could expect him and Y/N for dinner that Sunday. Typing out a single word response- “no,”- he dropped the phone back onto the coffee table as he continued his reading, the TV fixed on some trashy talk show in the background.

He was surprised when the beeping of the machine telling him the cycle had finished hit his ears, and as he glanced at the clock he arched an eyebrow. He’d been that immersed in researching up on the youngest age kids seemed to be able to play polo, and where he could find a decent kids team, that he’d managed to actually while away almost two hours. He placed the laptop down on the couch and headed through to the laundry room, grabbing the basket from the side. Bending down, he pulled open the machined door and began to unload the items into the basket.

It wasn’t until he pulled out Y/N’s white Armani maternity dungarees that he realised something had gone horribly wrong.

“What the…” he straightened up, holding the expensive denim item up in front of him, squinting as he did so.

It looked pink!

Deciding it was the light in the room he walked into the kitchen and cursed loudly as they looked even pinker in the brighter room. He stalked back into the laundry room and began to remove the rest of the washing, and to his dismay it was all the same. His riding britches, 2 of her blouses, a few bras, panties, boxers, 2 of his dress shits, his thermal ribbed undershirt, several t-shirts, a polo shirt…

All. Fucking. Pink.

And more to the point, it had all definitely been white when he’d put it in.

Growling in frustration he tipped the washing out onto the floor and there it was, the culprit. One of Y/N’s thongs, a bright red one, poking out of the pocket of his white-now-pink corduroy trousers that he’d worn to the Fall Gala at the Country Club.

Fuck, he had totally forgotten they were in there after he’d kept them when he’d fucked Y/N in the cloak room. Unable to wait until he got her home as the sight of her in that little black dress, baby bump on show had driven him wild, he’d dragged her off for a dirty little rendezvous, and had ended up snapping the elastic around the waistband meaning they were totally useless. She’d been pissed when she realised and had to spend the rest of the night with nothing on…of course, at the time it had been a great source of amusement to him.

Now, well not so much.

He contemplated googling how to fix this, before he decided that he simply couldn’t be fucking bothered. It would likely involve some complicated soaking routine and frankly he had better things to be doing with his time.

Like researching…important…stuff. Man stuff. Man stuff for him and his baby boy.

Nonchalantly, he tossed the ruined items into the basket and set it on top of the machine with a shrug. He’d buy her some new stuff. And if she went ballistic at him over it all, then he’d just have to remind her that it was her fault her thong was in his pocket in the first place, the dirty little minx.

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Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 20: Pretty Baby Loves Getting Spoiled

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Chapter Summary: If the nuns could see her now, they'd probably die of shock. To be totally honest, she's not entirely sure she won't drop dead herself once she comes to her senses.

Author’s Note: Okay so I know it took like three months to put this chapter out lol and I'm sorry. I am a nurse now and I have been working a lot, and that on top of the fact that this chapter was sooo hard to write caused a big delay. For the record, it is alllll smut, which is actually the reason I had such a hard time writing it.

Basically I can't write anal to save my life so there you go. Hope you enjoy it though!!!

Word Count: 7,302

Warnings: Really hot hot drug-fueled smut (in which Reader enthusiastically participates but she is also under the influence so it is non-con); anal, oral, double penetration, degradation,

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

The girl between them gasped at Bucky’s crass words but had no time to respond before his mouth was on hers, stealing her breath with a kiss she felt deep in her soul, in her heart, in her core. Burying her fingers in his hair, she tried to ground herself, but it was so, so hard to do when everything was happening, when everything felt so good. 

Soft, soft, soft, soft—everything so soft, she would’ve melted into it and disappeared but for their hands on her, their unyielding bodies keeping her together.

Wet lips against hers, firm touches on her hips and ass and belly, the smooth silk of her dress gliding against her skin with every movement, Bucky’s hair slipping through her fingers—and, oh, the vibration of his moan through her mouth as she tugged on it a little harder than before.

And then he kissed her deeper, tongue sliding against hers and into her already open mouth—because there she was, open, and ready, easy for them, wanting whatever they had to give her because it felt good. Nothing had ever felt so good before, and her mind swam with it, dizzy, dizzy, dizzy—

She pulled back to gasp for a breath, eyes fixed on the ceiling fan and wondering if it was really spinning or if she was that high that she was hallucinating. Lips attached to her neck and at this point, she had no idea whose were whose, everything such a blur of sensation that she felt like she was underwater, moving in slow motion while everything else went faster around her.

Then there were hands on her breasts, pinching and rolling the flesh through her dress. Steve’s low growl vibrated against her ear. 

Head lolling back against his shoulder, she whimpered and writhed in their arms, trying to stay grounded with reality even though it was so hard as she hyper fixated on every single touch, every single feeling. Fingers twisting her nipples, teeth against her throat, erections pressing against her stomach and back. 

She was overwhelmed in the best way, but it scared her somewhere inside that she was so far gone.

“Look at our little doll, Stevie,” Bucky rumbled somewhere above her.

“Oh, she’s flying,” Steve remarked with a sharp pinch to her nipples that had her crying out. The boys on either side of her laughed, amused by her noises and reactions, the way her need bled through her skin, bursting out of her as they lavished her with attention.

“I wanna hear her sing.” Bucky and Steve shared a filthy grin over her shoulder before Steve captured her chin between two fingers, twisting her head so she looked him in the eyes.

“How ‘bout it, sweetheart? You want Bucky to make you feel good? Want him to make you come?” He slid his thumb over her lower lip, pressing until she let it into her mouth and she moaned around it, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He was enraptured by her gaze, those sweet, innocent eyes that he’s known for so long, bloodshot, pupils dilated, utterly debauched before him.

Ready for more.

He slid his finger out of her mouth and instead gripped her jaw, drawing her mouth to his with a bruising hold that made her whimper as he licked into her mouth, running his tongue along her teeth before nipping at her lower lip. His lips soothed the pain, more gentle as he kissed her once, then twice, and she melted against him, squirming and clutching at whatever parts of them she could.

“She wants it bad,” Bucky commented, dragging his fingers up her outer thighs, thumbs hooking the hemline of her dress up and dragging it along her hips.

Steve smirked against her mouth, pulling away and dropping a kiss on her nose. He held eye contact with her as he spoke. “Go on then, Buck. Don’t keep our girl waiting.”

She only looked at Bucky when she sensed him lowering himself onto his knees, and Steve held her face in place when she tried to look back at him.

“Steve, what—”

His voice was a low growl in her ear, fingertips still digging into her jaw bone. “Honey, you’re gonna keep your eyes right on him as he puts his mouth on your pretty cunt, and you’re not gonna look away. You understand me?” Bucky nuzzled his face into the apex of her thighs over top her dress, nosing against her through the shiny fabric and she whined. Steve gripped her harder, nipping at her earlobe, teeth clicking against her metal hoop earring. 

“Bucky,” she moaned, a plea so soft on her lips it sounded like sugar spun into big clouds of cotton candy, dissipating into the humid air around them. Steve smirked against her neck as Bucky teased her over her dress, ever so slowly lifting it up her skin until the hem tickled her hips. 

“Look at you,” Bucky said, gravel cutting through his words, so guttural compared to her honey-sweet tone. He held her dress up with one hand and traced around the hem of her panties with the other. “Who’d you wear these for, huh doll?” 

“Pretty blue lace,” Steve remarked, condescension lacing his tone as he admired the pastel color of her thong against her skin. “Perfect for you, princess,” he murmured against her hair. 

She didn’t respond, only squirmed as Bucky followed the trail of his fingertips with his tongue, tickling her most sensitive areas, torturing her until he mercifully slid her panties down her legs. “We should keep these,” Bucky said with a smirk, the underwear hanging off one of his fingers. The boys shared a rogue look, full of mischief, sinister and calculating, a threat she couldn’t see in the haze of her high.

“No, don’t,” the girl between them whined, wiggling hopelessly against them. “I like those, and I bought them on sale from Victoria’s Secret—"

“We’ll buy you more, honey,” Steve promised, giving her a squeeze around her middle. “As many panties you want in every color, would you like that?” She squirmed again. 

“I know she’d like it,” Bucky said, leaning into her, his lips ghosting over her clit. “Pretty baby loves getting spoiled, always has. Probably’d drop to her knees for any gift you wanna give her, ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

“No,” she protested, voice breaking, “No I wouldn’t—”

Bucky’s tongue circling her clit had her choking on her words, and when she tried to continue, Steve cut her off.

“You can’t lie to us, honey.” Steve pressed his lips against her pulse before continuing, his voice so cloying, so slick and tricky that it gave her chills for all the wrong reasons. “We’ll buy you better stuff than that, how’s that sound? You want pretty little things to wear just for us? We’ll buy you more expensive stuff than Victoria’s Secret, only the best for you.”

“High end brands, the prettiest little things. La Perla, Agent Provacateur,” Bucky added, “Anything you want.”

It confused her, the way her body tensed and trembled with want at his words, the ideas swirling around her intoxicated brain only amplifying the pleasure that Bucky gave her with his tongue. He chose that time to wrap his lips around her clit, giving a few sharp sucks that had her crying out and whining, wiggling around so much that Steve had to tighten his grip, jerk her head back down to look at Bucky.  

“Eyes on him,” Steve reminded her. She trained her eyes on him as he ducked down, lips caressing her so tender and loving until he reached her entrance. 

“Open up for me, doll,” Bucky crooned, lifting her leg over his shoulder. This made her lean back further into Steve, who kept one arm strong around her middle and supported the rest of her body with his own. Bucky gripped her thigh so her leg wouldn’t slip off, and then he got back to work. 

“I think you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Steve asked her, his tone so demeaning yet so smooth in her ear. “You’d like to walk around in things we got you? Knowing nobody else would ever see you in them but us—”

“I know I’d like that,” Bucky grunted from below, his lips momentarily detaching from her cunt so he could speak. She let out the softest noise in protest, hips shifting towards him, and he chuckled before going back to work. He used the tip of his tongue to trace along the seam of her cunt, so light on her delicate folds that it made her tremble. He kept the light touch as he circled her clit, again and again until her hips jumped and her hands flew into his hair as she tried to grind against his face. 

He pressed his tongue harder against her then, laughing open mouthed against her pussy at her desperation. Her little whines and pouty cries of pleasure spurred him on until he was suckling at her and tracing her cunt with one hand. He waited until she was right on the edge of her orgasm to slip a finger inside, and that sent her over with a shout. She almost lost her balance against Steve but he was quick to steady her. 

“That’s it baby, give it to him,” Steve growled, watching Bucky tongue at her clit until she was no longer shaking.

Bucky drew his head back then, giving Steve the perfect view of two of his fingers pumping in and out of her cunt. Steve clenched his jaw as Bucky scissored them, working her open slowly in the aftershocks of her orgasm. 

“Want you to do that for me again, baby doll,” Bucky said, meeting her eyes, glazed over with exertion. She pouted down at him, lower lips swollen from biting at it. “What’s that little frown all about, hmm?”

“‘M tired,” she answered shortly, voice thick with residual pleasure and exhaustion.

“Too tired, huh?” Bucky asked, laughing a little. “Hear that, Steve—one orgasm and our poor little doll is tuckered out.”

“You better perk up, baby,” Steve told her, his menacing words slipping through her head. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.” She whined, and he ran his fingers down her stomach, her pelvis, and past her lips, running the tips of his fingers through the mess Bucky made on her cunt. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, darling,” he told her, delivering a slap to her clit. She jumped, but Bucky’s hands and Steve’s body anchored her in place. “Look at Bucky down there, servicing you, working so hard to make you feel good. Don’t you like the sight of him down there?”

“Steve,” she whined, high pitched and breathy as he made her look Bucky in the eyes. Bucky looked up at her adoringly, his fingers still working in and out of her entrance while Steve circled her clit with a featherlight touch. 

“I know I like the way he looks. He loves getting down on his knees and worshiping you, don’t you, Buck?”

“I love it,” Bucky agreed, his voice eager. “I’d do anything for you, sweetheart.”

“And he really does mean anything.” Steve’s words held mirth as he degraded Bucky, as he pressed harder on her clit, fingers working themselves into a rhythm. “Take it from me, there’s only a few people in this world he’d get on his knees for.”

“Just you two,” Bucky whispered, pressing a hot kiss against her hipbone, staring up at them both with adoring eyes that she couldn’t help but lock onto, getting lost in the indigo depths of them, like drowning in a perfect reflection of the endless ocean, never to resurface, never to breathe again.

It scared her. But she was happy to drown, as long as it was him.

Her sweet Bucky, on his knees for her. Only for her.

A rush of emotion swept through her, the intensity of his gaze piercing her and breaking her down. He licked his lips, glossy with her arousal, and then leaned back in, eyes still on hers, as he licked around her entrance, around his own fingers, then running his tongue up around her clit, around Steve’s fingers, their appendages dancing together to bring her over the edge once more. Her cunt clenched and dripped around his fingers, and she opened her mouth in a silent cry and finally broke eye contact with Bucky as her eyes rolled back, fluttered closed, and she lost herself in the pleasure, not hearing their words of encouragement, not seeing the reverent way they gazed at her, only feeling the waves of sensation rolling through her core. 

By the time she came back to her senses and opened her eyes, she had clearly already been absent for some time. Bucky was on his feet now and the men were holding her to the side, each with an arm around her body, while they embraced each other in a deep kiss, tongues visibly tangling, sharing the taste of her between them. Steve kept one hand in Bucky’s hair, anchoring him to his mouth, while Bucky clung onto his shirt, drawing him closer until their fronts pressed together, at which point he ground his hips into Steve’s. This provoked a low moan from Steve that they could feel vibrate through their chests.

She had forgotten how erotic it was to see them kiss, and in her drug-addled state of mind, it only made her more restless, more turned on, wetness dripping down her thighs as she pressed up against them tighter. The feeling of their bodies against hers was as intoxicating as their affectionate display, their jeans scraping her bare legs, their arms tight around her waist. Bucky’s hand rested on her hip, gently squeezing, while Steve’s laid on her ribcage, just below her breast, surely able to feel her heart hammering inside her chest.

The boys pulled away from each other with a lewd wet noise before turning their attention to the impatient girl in their arms, squirming against them and biting her lip when they finally looked upon her.

“Look at that, Buck,” Steve said, a smirk on his face. “I think our girl likes watching us together.”

“Oh, I have no doubt, Stevie,” Bucky chuckled, leaning closer to her. “You liked watching Steve lick the taste of you out of my mouth, baby?” Shy, she hesitated for a moment, averting her eyes, but nodded after some consideration. “Of course you did, you’re our naughty little doll, aren’t you? Do you want a taste?”

She maintained eye contact this time as she nodded, and Bucky wasted no time planting his lips upon hers. He bit at her lower lip, sharp and stinging. When she gasped in pain, he licked into her mouth, giving her the taste of her own cunt that he promised her. 

While they kissed, Steve worked on getting their clothes off, taking off his own shirt before grabbing Bucky’s, separating the kiss. Bucky watched as Steve slid the straps of her dress down her arms, the thin slip so loose that it fell to the ground in a silken heap around her ankles. 

“Beautiful,” Steve whispered, looking over her body, bare but for her heels. 

“Shut up,” she muttered, looking down, bashful, avoiding his intense gaze, but Steve lifted her head by her chin, forcing her eyes to his. 

“Hey. I mean it, baby. You’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve got Steve actin’ like a big sap tonight, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured into her ear before placing a kiss on the side of her head. “Next you’ll have him revealing all his darkest secrets.”

“I don’t think she wants to know my darkest secrets,” Steve said with something that was almost a scoff, but less derisive than he usually might be, before ushering her backwards. “C’mon, get on the bed.”

“Wait,” she stumbled into him, tripping on her heels once more, still unsteady and uncoordinated without their hands holding her. “What about my shoes?”

“I think we’ll leave those on,” Steve answered, lifting her up so she kneeled on the bed. “Bucky loves the look of heels while he’s fucking you, ain’t that right, Buck?”

Bucky returned Steve’s smirk, removing his jeans and boxers in one shove and climbing on the bed behind her and running his hands up her legs. “That would be correct, Stevie.” He hugged her around the middle, pressing his cock against her ass. She stiffened at first before pressing her ass back against it. “It’s very sexy, doll.”

“Oh…” she murmured, struck at the idea that they found her sexy. That wasn’t something she had thought of herself before, not something she thought anybody else considered her. “You think I’m… sexy?”

“Very much so,” Bucky replied, one hand squeezing over her tits while the other trailed down her stomach, her thighs, before settling between her legs and playing with the mess on her cunt. 

“Buck, lay on your back,” Steve commanded, eyes twinkling with delight. As he sat up against the headboard, Steve faced their girl, circling her in his arms and looking her in the eyes. “Baby, I want you to ride him like you did before.” He kissed her sweetly, softly. “Can you do that for me?”

She frowned, blurry memories from that drunken encounter coming back. Remembering when they forced her to sit on his cock, her ass bruised from her spanking and brushing painfully against Bucky with every movement. She remembered feeling so weak from the pain, from the pleasure, that she couldn’t even move her hips on him, and she remembered Steve taking charge of her.

And now she was again, drunk and naked and at their mercy.

“I don’t know…” she said, even as Steve lifted her and positioned her to straddle Bucky’s thighs. Bucky steadied her by the waist when she wobbled and fell against his chest. Steve pulled her upright by the shoulders, and she felt a little disoriented at being manhandled so much. “Steve, I’m not sure…” She looked down, palms pressed to Bucky’s stomach, until Steve redirected her gaze once again.

“I know you can do it,” he whispered against her lips, a light little kiss. “I’ll help you if you need it.”

“Go on, sweetheart,” Bucky said, voice hoarse, lining his cock up. “Go ahead and fuck me.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she sunk down on him, not used to the way he filled her after going so long since the last time they had sex. Truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure she would ever be used to it. No matter how good it felt, it always seemed to short-circuit her brain.

“God,” she whimpered as she lowered herself until her ass met his thighs. “Oh, God, Bucky—” 

“I know, honey,” he grunted, gripping her hips tight, “Feels good, doesn’t it?” She nodded, leaning forward and resting her forehead against his. “Move, sweetheart. Ride my cock, you can do it.”

Tentatively, she moved her hips in a way similar to how Steve moved her the last time, holding Bucky’s shoulders tighter when it sent shocks up her spine. She did it again, increasing the movement with Bucky’s help, his hands clamped on her hips, and again, until he eased her into a natural rhythm of her bouncing on his cock.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Steve cooed from behind her, running a finger up the line of her spine. “You’re a pro, aren’t ya?” 

She whimpered, unable to focus on anything except the incredible fullness within her, and when Bucky pulled her down to lay on his chest, his cock now pressing harder on certain spots within her, like a beat of pleasure, a thrumming heartbeat directly in her core. Her head was filled with Bucky’s dirty words in her ear, the familiar sharp smell of his sweat and cologne, the spinning in her mind, the high that rushed through her still, every nerve ending lit aflame with their touch.

As Bucky fucked up into her, blurring the lines between every sensation washing through her, she was too preoccupied to pay attention to Steve behind her, reaching over into the bedside table and pulling out a bottle of something, nor did she notice him smearing something on his fingers before placing one large palm on the small of her back, keeping her flat on Bucky, and using the other to reach between her legs and— 

“Ohhh,” she let out a shuddering sound as Steve pressed his fingers against her asshole, circling gently at first, slowly increasing the pressure. They were covered in something cold and slippery and nice on her heated skin. “Steve, oh, God, what are you—” 

“Shhh, baby doll,” he soothed her, rubbing her back gently. “Let me open you up so you can take my cock. You’re gonna love it, it’ll feel good, I promise.”

It was then that he slid the tip of his finger in, just up until the first knuckle, but she tensed up, trapping him there. “Steve,” she whined, trying to sit up until Steve’s hand on her back stopped her.

“Relax, baby, it’s gonna hurt if you don’t relax. Buck, distract her, will you?”

Bucky took her face in his hands, forcing her to face him instead of burying her head in his neck. “Hey, baby girl,” he purred, his soft tone washing over her. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, dark with lust, drowning her all over again. “Just calm down for me, can you do that?” He kissed her sweetly then, his lips soft against her own, tongue sweeping out to brush against her until she opened her mouth for him. 

With her attention now on the kiss, Steve was able to sink his entire forefinger inside of her until she tensed again. He kept it inside, letting her get used to the feeling. “That’s so good, baby,” he praised her, “So good for me, that’s it. Just feel me inside of you, honey, tell me how it feels.”

Bucky pulled away from her then, taking a look at her, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, mouth opening with a little grunt as Steve withdrew his finger and went back in. “Tell him how it feels, baby,” Bucky encouraged her with a firm tap on her cheek.

Her eyes opened, locking onto Bucky’s, dark with lust, glistening in the low lights. “It, it feels—” She moaned when Steve thrusted his finger again. “Feels… weird... full,” she whispered, “It’s really big—a lot—oh, Steve—” Her words tapered off into a whimper as Steve set a rhythm with his finger, prodding her insides with each movement.

“If you think my finger’s big, sweetheart, just wait until I’ve got my cock in you.”

Bucky kissed her again before she could say anything, running his hands up and down her sides, back, and hips, trying to distract her from the feeling. “Just focus on how I feel inside you, baby,” he said as he and Steve rocked her back and forth between them. He rested one hand on her hip, his thumb stretching between their bodies to her clit to draw soft circles on it. “Feel that, honey, just think about how it feels.”

That was all she could think about, the rest of the world around her fuzzy. Even her hands and feet felt numb, vibrating at such a low frequency she could barely feel it. The vibrations grew stronger along her arms and legs, centering in on where Steve and Bucky had their hands, working her with slow movements as if they were playing a deep, tranquil melody on a cello. 

Bucky moved his hips under her, thrusting up inside of her while her torso swayed between them. She keened when his cock hit something so delicious and deep inside of her, thighs quivering where they sunk into the bed around Bucky’s hips.

“She likes that, Buck,” Steve chuckled, eyes stuck on the way her ass took his whole finger, the slide of Bucky’s cock in and out of her. He could feel Bucky moving inside of her with his finger and his mind spun at how it would feel when he got his cock in her. 

He was tense with anticipation, but he took his time, teasing her ass with his finger, pressing against her rim with another lubed up digit while Bucky worked her to her orgasm.

She came with a whine, and Steve could feel her ass clenching around his finger. He longed to feel it with his cock.

Bucky talked her through her orgasm, coaxing her with filthy words and loving praise. “That’s it, sweetie,” he cooed, one hand still on her clit while the other ran through her hair. “Give it to us, that’s right, come for us, baby.”

It tore through her body as she shook almost violently in their arms, eyes rolling back in her head as she gave herself over to the waves of pleasure. Finally, she laid flaccid against Bucky’s chest, face buried in his neck as she tried to catch her breath.

As soon as she relaxed, Steve thoroughly lubed up a second finger and worked it in slowly amidst her tiny whimpers and grunts against Bucky’s skin.

“Look at that, sweetheart,” Steve said in awe as he scissored his fingers in her hole. “Taking two of my fingers already sweetheart, such a good girl.”

She moaned weakly, allowing Bucky to lift her head and kiss her. He was still thrusting slowly up into her, moreso rocking her between Steve’s fingers and his cock than fucking her.

“Good girl,” Bucky purred, licking into her mouth. 

“Let’s see if you can take more, hmm?”

“No, Steve,” she cried, breaking off the kiss with Bucky. “Wait—” 

“Relax, honey,” Bucky said, cutting her off with a sharp thrust up inside of her that had her eyes fluttering closed. “That’s it, just feel us inside of you.”

She lost all sense of time as they brought her to the edge again, only for Steve to stick his ring finger in her ass alongside the others just before she started to come, and suddenly the feel of his fingers inside of her, inside of that hole that she had never so much as touched before, felt like the most amazing thing in the world, right next to Bucky’s cock in her cunt.

As her orgasm subsided and Steve continued to stretch her, she laid limp against Bucky, letting them do what they pleased with her body, too exhausted at this point to participate or protest. Steve’s fingers inside her ass started to feel weird again without the intoxicating cloud of her orgasm influencing her thoughts, but she had to admit there was something utterly erotic about being so full, feeling so stuffed with both of them.

“Once I have my cock in you, you’ll feel even more full, honey,” Steve said, a promise in his tone, and she wondered how much of her drug-fueled thoughts and emotions she had voiced out loud.

After what seemed like ages of Bucky idly fucking her, his pace slow so as to not work either of them up too much, and Steve working his fingers in an out of her to the point that it didn’t even hurt anymore, only felt so overwhelming and numb, she began to fidget, restless now that she was so aroused, but so little attention was being paid to make her come.

Although she had already come three times and indeed felt exhausted, she simultaneously felt that she could keep going forever, her body jazzed up, limbs shaky, the drugs in her system working her up and down like she was on a roller coaster.

“Steve,” she whined once she couldn’t take it anymore. “Bucky—”

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Bucky asked, kissing her forehead. “Too much for you?”

“No,” she mumbled into his neck. 

“You want my cock in your ass, don’t you, baby?” Steve asked, amusement in his tone. He swatted her ass lightly. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” she muttered, lifting her head up. She and Bucky looked at each other while she spoke to both of them. “Will it feel good?”

“It will feel very good,” Bucky replied, voice soft, almost like he was speaking to a child.

“You want it?” Steve asked. She hesitated, but nodded. Steve spanked her again. “Let me hear you say it.”

“I want it,” she said, still so shy, but it was enough for Steve.

“Then you’ll get it, sweetheart. We’ll give you whatever you want.”

He pulled his fingers out and slicked up his cock with enough lube to make it drip onto her ass. He drizzled lube over her hole, too, already so shiny and slippery, and worked a little bit into her with a few shallow pumps of his fingers. She whined and wiggled her ass back at him, making him chuckle and spank her again, leaving a shiny hand print on her flesh. 

“Patience, baby,” Bucky reprimanded her as Steve went back to make sure she was slick inside and out. “You don’t want him to go too fast, too quick. It’ll be a lot for you to handle, you need to be as relaxed and stretched out as possible.” One finger pushed a glob of lube inside her, then two, then three. She was relaxed and unresistant at this point, but still so tight.

“How do you know I’m not already?”

“Steve and I have been doing this for ages,” Bucky answered. “If it takes him this long to prep me so he can fuck my ass, it’s gonna take longer for you, honey.”

Her head shot up as Steve continued to push his way through her tight muscle with his fingers. “You guys have done this before?”

Bucky and Steve both laughed at her naivety and it made her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky said, running a gentle hand along her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed when Steve stuck his fingers particularly deep, ensuring she was lubed up enough inside. “Why? Are you surprised?”

“A little, yeah…” she sighed as Steve twisted his fingers. “I knew you guys kissed and stuff… But… I don’t know. I didn’t know the extent of your relationship.”

“Well we’ve never really told you,” Steve said.

Bucky smirked and kissed her softly until she was squirming again. “Maybe one day we’ll show you,” he whispered. “Would you like that?”

“Yeah,” she panted. “But right now I want something different.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked, amused.

“You said you’d give me what I want,” she moaned, petulance in her tone. 

“Fine,” Steve grunted, pulling his fingers out of her. “If you wanna whine like a brat about it, I wanna hear you beg me to fuck your ass.”

She scoffed with indignance, but Steve only spanked her and repeated his request. She relented after a few beats of silence. “Please fuck me, Steve,” she sighed. 

He placed his cock head at her hole, but remained still. “You’ll have to do better than that. Tell me where you want my cock, baby.”

“Please fuck my ass,” she whined, giving up, the drugs letting her mouth run, feeling so needy at this point as her body yearned for something to happen. “Please, I need it, I want you to fuck my ass, I want to feel it, Stevie, please—”

“Put the poor girl out of her misery, Steve,” Bucky cut her off. “She’s desperate.”

“Okay, Buck,” Steve chuckled, slowly pressing in. “But you always were too soft on her. Let her get away with too much shit.”

“Maybe so, Steve, but look at her now,” Bucky nodded to the girl on top of him, writhing in pleasure as Steve slowly stretched her. Although he had prepared her with his fingers, his cock was something else entirely, longer and thicker and filling her in a way she had never thought could be possible. “Moaning for it like a little slut.”

Steve laughed and then grunted as he sheathed his cock completely inside of her. He gave her a short time to get used to it, but his muscles strained with the effort of holding himself back. He yearned to pound into her, fuck her into submission, but he knew he had to be more gentle with her. He distracted himself with a hand stroking her back, massaging her tense muscles. “There you go, sweetheart, full of us. Just where you belong, isn’t that right?”

She didn’t respond, but Bucky felt her mouthing against his neck, sucking on the skin there for comfort. “Pretty girl’s so full of cock, doesn’t have a single thought left in her brain anymore, hmm?” 

Her teeth nipped against his neck, sharp, and it made Bucky laugh. “Biting me now, baby? Looks like our girl’s still got a little bit of fight left in her, Stevie.”

“We’ll fuck that right out of her,” he said, before sliding out and thrusting back in. It didn’t take long for Steve and Bucky to figure out a rhythm, sliding her back and forth on their cocks like a limp rag doll. And she let them—let them fuck her, use her, pound away at her like she was made for their pleasure. The men couldn’t believe how tight she was around them, her cunt like a vice gripping them, how wet and needy and pliant she got with two cocks inside of her. 

Because she was. She belonged to them, and now she was back in her rightful place.

She panted against Bucky’s neck, sounds leaving her mouth unchecked, moans and whimpers and whines. Tears came to her eyes from the sheer pleasure of it all, from every sensation running through her. She was so full, almost unbearably so. She thought they could possibly rip right through her if they went any harder, was shocked they hadn’t already, but something dark and twisted deep inside of her yearned for it. 

It was hard to breathe, but she wasn’t sure if that was the drugs or the sex or the crushing feeling of giving herself over to these men who she had known for so long and had so many complex emotions for.

With a grunt, Steve took a hold of her by her throat and pulled her up so her back was flush against his chest. She held onto his wrist, solid and unmoving, with both her hands—not to move his arm, but just to have something to hold. She gasped and choked as he cut off her air, trembling at the change in position and how the two cocks inside of her hit differently now. This also allowed Bucky a little room to breathe, and as he fucked up into her, he admired her naked form.

Lips bitten red, skin glistening with sweat, hair a rats nest all around her face, eyes glazed over and leaking tears, body jarring as they fucked her with rough, punishing thrusts. “You look like a perfect little doll,” Bucky said, hand tracing along her skin with a touch lighter than his words, voice gruff in the back of his throat. “Beautiful.” He pinched and twisted her nipples, listening to her muffled whines, choked off by Steve’s grip on her neck. “So sexy, sweetheart.”

“You look like a little whore is what you look like,” Steve growled in her ear. “Getting fucked stupid by us, hmm? Tell us you love it, baby.”

She could barely get the words out, but she managed somehow, choking as she babbled how much she loved their cocks, that she was so full, to let her come, to fuck her harder. Steve could hardly believe this was the same girl who had reluctantly given him her virginity all those months ago, but then again, her drug-blown pupils spoke for themselves.

He wanted her like this all the time. Broken down and vulnerable for him, craving his cock. Openly telling him how she loved him.

He buried his face in the back of her shoulder and fucked her harder. At the same time, Bucky circled her clit with one hand, applying enough pressure to make her scream, despite Steve choking her. 

The hand on her throat slid up to cup her jaw and he slid his fingers inside of her mouth to shut her up. She gagged on them before wrapping her tongue around them, sucking on them and moaning wantonly against them so he could feel the vibrations from her throat all up his arm. He felt the wetness from her tears on his palm as they dripped down her cheeks, and he couldn’t help but lift his head to take a look at her.

“So sweet when you cry, baby,” he groaned, lips right against her ear. “Love it when you cry for me.” He kissed up her cheeks, wiping her tears away with his lips.

Bucky sat up then, still playing with her clit, and he attached his mouth to her tit, sucking on it and then biting at her nipples until she squealed. One of her hands went down to hold the back of his head to her breast, tugging on his hair and the pain went right to his cock.

“Fuck,” he gasped against her nipple, lapping at the puffy swollen areola and then giving the same treatment to the other one. “Steve,” he groaned, looking up at the other man fucking her. “‘M not gonna last much longer.”

“Make her come, baby,” Steve encouraged him. “Make our little doll come, and then I want you to come inside her.”

“Yes,” Bucky hissed, doubling down his efforts on her clit, adjusting his hips thrusting against her until he had just the right angle to make her eyes roll back in her head. With Steve whispering filth in her ear and Bucky strumming her clit and plucking at her nipples, it didn’t take long for her to be at that precipice of pleasure. Steve spanked her once, gripped her ass tight in his hand, slid his fingers out of her mouth and circled her nipples, soothing the pinch of Bucky’s fingers with her own slick saliva.

That was all it took to push her off the edge again, and she tightened around their cocks so hard they could barely move inside of her for fear of hurting her.

She thought she might like it if they hurt her, already liked the sting of Bucky’s teeth and fingers on her nipples, already liked the slight burn that came with Steve fucking her ass, loved the dull throb and ache in her core as she came so hard, her vision whited out. Her teeth clenched together hard, and then she opened her mouth, letting out the loudest moan she had ever made. Her body convulsed between them and they held her steady through it, fucking her still and drawing out the pleasure.

“That’s it, that’s right,” she eventually heard Steve saying, like he had been speaking for some time but she had been too out of it to hear. “Good girl, such a good girl for us, coming so good like that.”

“So sweet, baby,” Bucky crooned in her ear, sucking on her earlobe. He was more tense, thrusts uneven, hands shaking where they gripped her, ever closer to his peak. “Gonna make me come, sweetheart, so good to me—”

“Come on, Buck,” Steve growled, leaning forward and pressing her into Bucky so he could kiss the other man. Bucky always loved coming as Steve kissed him, Steve knew. “Come for me, give it to me, Buck.”

Bucky panted into Steve’s mouth, sent over the edge by the girl between them kissing at his clavicle, biting softly and mewling like a little kitten as they crushed her between them. He ground his hips into hers, coming deep inside her, feeling how hot and wet she was around him, the press of Steve’s cock against him through that thin layer of skin, making everything so much more tight and hot and wet and sinful. One of the utmost dirtiest feelings he’d ever felt, Steve’s cock snug up against his own as they used the girl between them for their pleasure.

He laid back with her against his chest, both of them limp and weak from their orgasms.

Once Bucky and their girl were both blissed out, past their peaks, Steve renewed the vigor in his thrusts, fucking into her with more passion until finally he spilled inside of her with an agonized groan, pressed so far up against her that he could feel Bucky’s balls against his own sac. 

He pulled out, watching his come drip out of her fluttering asshole and seep down, collecting around her cunt where Bucky’s cock was still buried, softening inside of her. Bucky sluggishly pulled out as well, and Steve admired the way she looked, come dripping from both holes, blushed and swollen and abused.

With her out of commission against Bucky’s chest, Steve couldn’t help but reach down to grab his phone from his jeans on the floor before quickly snapping a few photos.

One of her holes, one of his half-hard cock pressed up against her asshole, a few of his fingers running through the come dripping out of her and pushing it back in, and one of her slumped against Bucky, weak and exhausted, completely fucked out. She didn’t even protest when he pushed Bucky’s come back into her cunt, only twitching against Bucky’s chest, a sigh the only noise she made.

“Okay,” Bucky sighed, moving her onto her back beside him. She went, her body limp, eyes closed. She was quickly falling asleep. Steve took a few more photos of her bruised, battered body before tossing his phone back on the ground. He went to get them some water and a washcloth, and by the time he got back, she was sound asleep. Bucky tried to rouse her. “Sweetheart, wake up. We need to clean you up.” She grunted and turned on her side, burying her face in Bucky’s shoulder.

“I don’t think she would fare well in the shower right now,” Steve said as he wiped the lube and come from his dick. He looked back at her legs again, splayed open, her cunt glistening. Bucky took her heels off, tossing them to the side. “Besides, I think I want to leave her soaked in our come. Give her something to remember once she wakes up in the morning.”

Bucky chuckled and then took the rag from Steve. “I don’t think she’d appreciate that too much.” Bucky cleaned himself off before maneuvering her onto her back. “Spread her legs, Stevie.” Steve obliged, and for a moment, they admired the look of her like that, the mess they made of her. Then, Bucky gently wiped away the come and lube on her inner thighs and between her folds; all the while, she squirmed weakly and whined in her sleep. 

“Stop your crying, baby,” Steve said gently once they were done. He placed a kiss on her knee and she quieted down.

“Poor thing,” Bucky said with a chuckle. They arranged her in the middle of the bed, settling on either side of her and pulling the blanket over them. Now she was dead to the world, the drugs and alcohol carrying her mind away. “You’ll have to send me those pictures you took,” Bucky said.

Steve winked at him. “I will.” He turned off the lamp and turned towards Bucky. They crowded her in between their bodies, cuddling up to her as she lay passed out between them. “You happy to have our girl back?”

“We’ll see how it goes in the morning,” Bucky said, but he smiled. “But yeah. I am.”

[astralsweetness]

Gravity (Jinho/Reader/Hyunggu)(m)

➣ I have never once thought about this duo outside of duets before this damn song - which I had to translate by hand because I couldn’t find any English lyrics for it. >_> thank you @re-sugance and @forevertrashforbae for letting me show off my translation afterwards like a proud kid lmao

➣ Reader is domme. I accept nothing less. | Warnings include: mentions of drinking, multiple descriptions of various sexual encounters, humiliation, handjob, blowjob, cockwarming, choking (slight), noona kink (kind of, it’s more of a title in general and less sexual), pain kink, mentions of spanking, multiple orgasms, edging, overstimulation, pegging, referenced size kink, exhibitionism (slight), biting, jfc it’s a lot but it’s all consensual | This is basically just a collection of different little scenes in the life of a Jinho/Reader/Hyunggu relationship 👀 If there’s typos I’ll just throw myself off a cliff because I can’t be bothered to proof-read, yikes

➣ “You’re making me nervous, kiss me slowly. You teach me love.”

You notice two minutes into the night that they are orbiting around you like planets, never straying too far nor too close. The bartender gives you a sympathetic smile but says nothing – no doubt he thinks you’re being hounded by two boys trying to win your heart.

The assumption wasn’t too far off, to be honest, but they’d already acquired your affections long ago.

The weight of the wine on your tongue was only mildly unpleasant – it was too sweet for your liking, but you felt their gazes on you every time you tilted your head back to swallow it, so you kept drinking. You noticed that while both of them were matching you drink for drink only Hyunggu was becoming more competitive – Jinho seemed more than willing to take a passive, backseat role to any flirtation. You didn’t necessarily blame him, either. Hyunggu got fiercely competitive when he got a few drinks in him (and it wasn’t like you were going to give one of them more attention than the other anyway).

“Noona.” Age had long ago lost its meaning to the three of you – noona was a title of honor, of power, one only occasionally used. Hyunggu slid into the seat next to you, finally taking the plunge to enter your orbit. He bites his lip in a way he knows makes him look sexy, looks at you through his lashes in an attempt to be seductive and demure. His body language aside from that is too open though, too cocky and commanding, so you don’t reward him with your full attention, keeping your gaze ahead.

“Yes, Hyunggu?”

You can see his pout from your peripheral and you hide your little smile behind another sip of red liquid. He was absolutely adorable sometimes, and oh so easy to play.

“You’re being mean.” He’s instantly sulking, and you just laugh softly at him, toying with the rim of your wine glass. “And you’re laughing at me -”

“Lots of people laugh at you.” Jinho has suddenly decided to appear – he looks somehow more at ease with a drink in his hand than he should, and suddenly Hyunggu is focused on him instead, like he hadn’t noticed what Jinho had looked like all night because he’d been so focused on you.

It’s endearing, you think, to watch the way his eyes gloss over as he takes in his hyung’s visage – you wonder if that’s how you look when you stare at either of them.

Hyunggu, always more proactive than either of you, takes the initiative and leans forward – you’re not sure if he actually says anything to Jinho or just breathes against his ear, but the elder stiffens and his gaze drifts, suddenly unsteady. His fingers stay curled around the stem of his glass until you gently pry them away, and then he stuffs them into his pocket where you can’t see if they’re clenched tight or trembling.

“He’s so easy to get riled up.” Hyunggu says this to you like it’s a secret he’s sharing, and you grin and nod at him, happy to pretend like you’re both conspiring together. Jinho just swallows hard and watches you both, the tables turned on him so suddenly that he’s not sure what to do except stand beside the two of you who were still sitting at the bar.

“We should take him home.” Your words could mean so many things, but to Hyunggu it’s a promise of fun and to Jinho a promise to be wrecked. You get a nod from Hyunggu in response, who leans in close to Jinho again, close enough to kiss – Jinho’s eyes flutter but Hyunggu just pulls away, drawing the elder towards him as he heads towards the exit like a moth to a flame.

The bartender seems thoroughly confused with the way this has turned out, but you just smile and place down the payment for the drinks, in an extremely good mood. It wasn’t like the two rarely got along, but it was always fun when Jinho was the one thrown off balance instead of Hyunggu.

Still, in the end, you were the one who always had the last say. It’s that knowledge that fills you with a power that makes you feel weightless as you move through the room, smile turning dangerous when you see your two boys waiting for you obediently at the door.

.｡..｡.

It’s ten at night in some hotel room, and you’re busy edging Hyunggu while Jinho lounges serenely to the side. The energy in the space around you is a strange mixture of sleepy contentment and electric tension. You absolutely love the dichotomy between the two halves of the room, love and lust managing to coexist at the same time, similar but oh-so-separate from one another.

“You really get off on this, don’t you?” Your taunting cuts straight to Hyunggu’s core and his hips jerk under you, cock red and weeping viscous pre-cum into your hand. “Being so debauched and whorish with your hyung right over there, listening to it all. It just gets to you, doesn’t it, having one of your bandmates watch you get put in your place.”

“Dirty~” Jinho hums from his own hotel bed, impossibly cheerful as he flips between channels on the TV. He’s not really actively watching the two of you, though his gaze does occasionally flick over to look. Hyunggu just lets out a thoroughly pitiful sounding sob in response, twisting to try to bury his face in the pillow his head rested on – your hand on his neck stops him from twisting too far and he gasps, face red from a heady mixture of humiliation and arousal.

“Ple-ase –” Hyunggu is begging for you to stop, for you to touch him, for you to keep talking – he’s really not even sure what for at this point but he babbles anyway, tears collecting in his lashes, unshed.

“What does it feel like, knowing every time he sees you on stage, or has to sing a duet with you, he’ll just remember you moaning and begging to cum like some sort of slut?”

“Every time I see him on stage I’ll only be able to think about this.” Jinho confirms, voice chipper and upbeat, always ready to help you out – Hyunggu’s fingernails dig into your arm as he explodes, throwing his head back, painting his upper chest white. His hips stutter beneath your hands long after the initial orgasm and you lovingly swipe your finger back and forth over the head of his cock until he’s shaking and locking his jaw, cumming a second time from your teasing ministrations. The second time is weaker than the first, but he still bucks at the sensation, moans more like pleading sobs now as the orgasmic fire burns him from the inside.

Covered in sweat and cum, dark hair plastered to his forehead with tear-tracks on his face and spit-slicked lips – Hyunggu is wrecked and he stares at you unfocusedly, gaze drifting around the hotel room unsteadily as he comes back to himself. His grip on your arm has loosened but he hasn’t released you entirely, so you uncurl his fingers from your forearm and kiss his knuckles lovingly.

“You came a lot.” Jinho appears at the side of the bed, inquisitive and unbothered by the wreck that was his dongsaeng. “Woooow.” He drags the word out, sliding one digit through the mess of cum and sweat that had collected in the other’s collarbones. Hyunggu, ever so sensitive, shivers from the mere contact alone, his eyes fluttering open. As exhausted as he is, he looks at his hyung hungrily – you’re amused, and go about gathering his attention again. You know his body better than he does and he’s at his physical limit right now.

“He did well, right Jinho?” Your praise is followed by a kiss pressed to the younger’s hairline, and a responding sound of acknowledgement from the elder who cards fingers softly through Hyunggu’s hair. He’s a bit disappointed that Jinho didn’t take his bait but he settles down with a sigh pushed out through his nose, tilting his head back invitingly as you run a damp washcloth across the skin there.

.｡..｡.

“Open.” You command Jinho and he looks up from his phone in confusion, dutifully opening his mouth anyway. His face lights up into a brilliant smile when you place a square of chocolate onto his pink tongue. Sweat sticks his clothes to his body and his hair to his forehead, and you think he is stunning.

“You’re ruining my diet.” He reminds you, focus back on his phone but smile still on his lips. You can tell he doesn’t mind your little interference overly much.

To be honest, maybe you were trying to ruin his diet – recently you’d noticed that whenever Hyunggu stretched you were able to count the individual ribs beneath the skin of his sternum, and it kicked your protective instincts into overdrive. You didn’t want either of your boys suffering like that, and while Jinho wasn’t nearly as thin that didn’t mean he was at a healthy weight. (You didn’t want any of their brothers in the same boat either. When you’d walked back-stage you’d given each of them some sort of candy or treat – even Hongseok, who you were sure had accepted just to make you happy. You were the favorite noona of the day because of that.)

Hyunggu had managed to escape you though, already off to get his makeup removed after the concert, so now you were sitting cross-legged beside Jinho, watching him watch his phone. He’d flick his gaze over to you every now and then, small smile widening when he saw you were still focused on him.

“You did well.” You praise, and he smiles with teeth and dips his head at you as he says his thanks. You always praised him after every performance and he always reacted just as genuinely as the first time. It makes your heart hurt with how much you love him.

When Hui sidles up beside you both you think he’s after more of your chocolate – you’re reaching for it when he nudges your shoulder, posture relaxed and open despite the knowing smirk adorning his face.

“We’ll be leaving soon, maybe twenty-five minutes or so.” It’s such a casual statement but his eyes glitter with amusement – he was probably the best wingman anyone could ask for, and you make a mental promise to think of a way to pay him back later. In the meantime you settle for thanking and giving him the remaining candy - he just laughs and says that he’ll probably get accosted now by everyone else instead of you. (Which works well towards your sudden plan, you both know.)

It takes another five minutes after that before you gently tug Jinho towards one of the many utility closets in the winding underbelly of the building, dodging past stylists and backstage workers who couldn’t care less where the two of you were headed so long as it didn’t interfere with their own job.

He whines at you that it’s a bad idea but almost outpaces you when you slow down, sulking as you pause to let a group slip by you, sweatier than Jinho, fresh off the stage. His gaze follows them for a split second, as if suddenly realizing where he was, before he goes right back to sulking.

In the closet he shifts from sulky indignance to compliant submissiveness, tilts his head to the side invitingly for your lips to press upon his pulse point. It’s always hard to refuse him when he’s like this, but you do anyway, pushing at his shoulders gently to back him up as far as he can go in the small space.

“You have makeup all over you, baby. I’m not putting my mouth anywhere above your neck.” Your words are, of course, met with a whine, but you place a finger against his lips to quiet him. When you pull it away it’s tinged slightly pink from the lip tint, silently proving your point. “Everyone would know if you went back out there with everything suddenly smudged.”

“Then what –“ He’s just so absolutely sulky that you can’t help but reach for his arm, pressing kisses to his forearm, up to his bicep. He goes silent instantly, swallowing hard, eyes wide. Simply kissing like this shouldn’t have been so.. erotic.

You can feel him stiffening against your thigh with every graze of your teeth over thin skin, and when he begins trying to grind against your leg you hike it up higher, watching with a piercing gaze as he tries not to make eye-contact with you. The way his eyes dart as he gets himself off gives you a warm feeling that coils contentedly in your chest, one that only grows whenever he locks eyes with you and instantly looks away, cheeks darkening.

His breath stutters and almost full-on stops when you reach for his slim-fitted pants – there’s not much room but you fit your hand inside anyway, not bothering to pull them down. Your thumb presses into his slit, leaking pre-cum, and he mewls pitifully at the feeling.

“Ahnn-n-no..” He tries to object but it’s a weak whisper, and his fingers curling around your wrist draw you closer instead of pushing you away. You step in front of him, slot one of your hips against his to pin him against the back wall, even as your hand continues its steady motion.

“No? Jinho, sweetie, do you want me to stop?” The words are spoken into the heated air between the two of you, and while you’d much rather say them into the soft skin of his neck you want him to be able to properly verbalize his response.

It’s a moot point anyhow, because he just squints his eyes shut and shakes his head quickly, almost frantically. His fingers tighten around your hand, as if afraid you’d decide this was a bad idea and leave him high and dry.

He didn’t need to worry about that – you nudge aside the collar of his ridiculously sequined stage jacket, nip at his inner shoulder. He tastes of sweat and bruises easily, arches into any of the sensations you deign to give him. The heat around your hand, shoved down the front of his pants, is humid and wet and you let him thrust into the loose ring your fingers have become, watching with predatory eyes as he ruts against your hand like some sort of horny teen, comes undone and bites hard into his wrist to stay quiet. (You sink your own teeth into the opposite side of his wrist and his moan manages to get out anyway, all of his weight against the wall as he fights to keep from collapsing.)

It takes little to no time at all to make yourself presentable again, but Jinho is a different story – no matter how outwardly casual he looks his gaze is still glassy, and dual teeth-marks dot one of his hands.

When you exit the closet Jinho tries to melt into your side, inconspicuous, when the maknae trio comes up to you to thank you again for the chocolate (even if Hyunggu hadn’t taken any in the beginning). You know he wants to escape to the bathroom right away to clean up and become orderly again, but he’s caged in by three of his dongsaengs, so he instead tries to take solace in the warmth of standing so close to you. In a distant corner of the room you can see Shinwon has, as predicted, stolen most of the candy you’d given to Hui.

It’s mostly Wooseok who’s thanking you, all big eyes and admiration, while Yuto stands slightly to the side murmuring his own thanks shyly whenever you turn your full focus to him. You find them both adorable, this youthful infatuation they have for you absolutely endearing.

Hyunggu just finds it funny, arms crossed as he watches them, Wooseok unable to stop talking and Yuto unable to talk at all. His gaze is stolen by Jinho though, and it takes him all of five seconds to send you an accusatory glance after taking in the way Jinho is still slightly red-faced, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably, gaze flicking between different occupants of the room at random intervals.

You just send him a serene smile. If he hadn’t avoided you earlier then that could have been him.

.｡..｡.

It was a running joke that Hyunggu was overly sensitive, cried too easily – you were used to seeing him tear up suddenly at some sweet thing either of you did or said to him. Jinho teased him relentlessly for it, poking at his cheek playfully while calling him ‘the cutest baby’. (The irony was not lost on any of you that Jinho was arguably smaller and more baby-like than anyone in the room, but it always made Hyunggu smile again anyway, which was the aim of the comment.)

During sex he cried just as easily, quick to tears if edged or over-stimulated, full on sobbing whenever he got the paddle. It was one of your favorite things about him, how responsive he was to everything, how unashamed of these things he was.

So, in short, Hyunggu crying was never really an issue and usually not a cause for concern.

It’s when you get home and he sees you, smiling and shining with love seconds before he crumples, voice evaporating midway through “welcome back” that you know there’s something seriously wrong.

He’s not laughing it off, his fingers clenched into fists as he ducks his head and clenches his eyes shut, shoulders hunched and bending inwards as if he was trying to physically protect his vulnerable front from the world. He tries to speak again and ends up just cramming one of his fists against his teeth, trembling.

“Oh, honey..” You have to draw him into your arms since he doesn’t move towards you at all, and he resists at first, keeping his arms stiff at his sides while simply resting his forehead on your shoulder. “What happened?”

It’s your question that gets to him, and he melts into your warmth, hands flying up to clutch at your sweater. You cup the back of his head and let him cry into your neck, his sobs nearly silent but still just loud enough you can hear them.

It’s breaking your fucking heart.

He never does answer your questions, just eventually stops crying and keeps his arms wrapped around you while you go about your tasks until you finally give up and sit down on the couch with him, letting him curl against your side. He falls asleep almost instantly, tear tracks on his face at heartbreaking odds with how relaxed he now looks.

When you ask Jinho about it later you get vague explanations – the elder is clearly keeping anything regarding the issue close to his chest, and eventually you stop pressing. As annoying as it was to not know, you understood why he was so intent on keeping it private, especially if it involved their career. (And while his not-an-answer-answer didn’t totally sate your worry, you knew Jinho was just as capable of taking care of Hyunggu as you were, and you trusted him to make these kinds of decisions just as he trusted you to do the same.)

Later that night Hyunggu automatically gets the middle position in bed – he blushes intensely at the combined concentration on him, usually so cocky about being the center of attention but shy this time in the wake of his breakdown, hides his flush in Jinho’s shoulder as you kiss down his neck with tongue and teeth.

Everything is kept soft that night, sweet and sensual, and when Jinho slots his mouth against Hyunggu’s you watch them in a sort of lovestruck daze. Despite all the hardships, you really never thought it possible to feel this happy and content in life.

.｡..｡.

You press a hand on Jinho’s lower back and force him into more of an arch, fucking into him aggressively – he splays out his hand in front of him and sobs, cock dangling heavy and abused between he and the wall. His hands are in fists after having been ordered not to touch himself, and it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard when all he wants is to reach down and wrap his fingers around himself, a single touch is really all he needs to finally get the release he’s seeking –

It’s almost painful, how often you can hit his prostate dead-on with your infamous strap-on, and he bites his tongue hard enough he tastes blood. A few rooms away are the rest of his members, Hyunggu included, and while it wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been caught before (you were still apologizing to Changgu for what he’d walked in on) it still sent a sharp thrill down to his stomach to try not to get caught again.

Not that it was easy – he wasn’t exactly known for his deep or quiet voice. You were pretty sure he’d been heard more often than you’d been caught.

“I’m –“ His voice is thin, and he has to swallow once before beginning again, body stiffening after a particularly hard thrust. “I’m so – so close..” The moans he’d been fighting so hard to keep silent slip from his mouth as you sink your teeth into his shoulder, stalling your hips in favor of taking his cock in hand. In seconds his release is covering your hand, dripping down your knuckles – he reaches to help keep the mess minimal but ends up just gripping your wrist tightly, head lolling back and eyes closing.

Jinho slides down the wall to his knees once you pull out, full-body trembling as he rests his forehead against the smooth, cool surface. He’s breathing hard, shoulders heaving as he sucks in deep breaths. Your rake your fingers through his hair and he lets out one last soft moan at the feeling, how impossibly tender you are with him now that you’d completely wrecked him.

“You did well.” Your praise is like a physical balm to his exhausted body, the kiss you drop onto his lips as you hand over tissues a type of physical warmth that envelopes him and makes it impossible for a content smile not to linger on his face.

You can’t help but laugh softly after checking your phone, which garners Jinho’s attention as he pulls his clothes back on. When you show him your screen he just smiles even more and murmurs something softly about sensitive maknaes always needing attention, a scoff to his voice that doesn’t quite match his fond expression.

Hui’s text to you is stark black against the white background: Whenever you’re done corrupting our hyung you need to come out here and console Hyunggu, he’s been sulking ever since he realized what you two were doing :(

.｡..｡.

Hyunggu makes a soft sound and you glance up at him, knee beside your face bouncing anxiously – he’s looking back at you dazedly, dark hair ruffled from where he’d pushed his hand through it moments before. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and his fingers curl against the edge of the studio’s desk. His phone sits forgotten somewhere on its surface, his promise to start a V Live completely abandoned. An old recording of a live performance from Ella Fitzgerald plays quietly in the background, a track he’d intended to use as background music for the stream.

You smile and rest your head against his thigh, thumbing the head of his cock lovingly, reveling in the way his hips roll minutely into it. His breathing has turned harsh and all you’ve done so far was wrap your hand around him.

“You knew what I was going to do when I got down here.” While you’re speaking his hand reaches towards you, but a sharp glance has it hesitantly freezing before gripping the arm of the chair instead. “Didn’t you?”

He swallows hard once and nods, eyes so infinitely dark that the light reflects off of them in little astral bursts. “Y-yeah..” His voice is rough, and you drink in the sound of it. “I just – I mean, it was kind of.. hard to imagine – to come to terms with you really doing it..”

“Relax.” Your murmur is soft, and he glances at the studio door once – the unlocked studio door. He makes no move to change that. “I just want you to feel good before you meet Universe, yeah? You look so tense right now that you’d just worry them.”

You know some of the tension is because you’re right there, mouth inches from his cock and fingers looped loosely around it, but you can’t accredit yourself for all of it. He’s been undeniably strained ever since the fansign was canceled, a tightness to his shoulders every time they had to go out and perform for the cameras without an audience to dance for –  not to mention the fact that ever since promotions had started he’d kept himself busy enough that the two of you hadn’t had any solo time together for about two weeks.

“So, I’m going to make you orgasm.” You say it straight-forwardly, eyebrows raised, waiting for an objection – you never get one. Hyunggu instead just shifts lower into his seat, trying to mentally prepare himself.

He knows, the moment he feels the first blindingly hot stripe licked up his cock, that he could never have been prepared.

Two weeks of abstinence has left him sensitive and more desperate than he realized, and he’s almost embarrassed by how quickly turned on he gets, the feeling of his pre-cum mixing with your saliva making his head spin.

One of his hands is half-covering his face while the other clutches at his side in a desperate attempt to hold on to something, anything – when you offer your hand it takes mere seconds before his fingers are interlacing with your own, a grounding, loving connection even as you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper.

He swears he’s fucking dying.

There’s a fire in his stomach, pure white-hot flames licking at his muscles, his skin, causing sweat to collect under his shirt, and the tightness in his shoulders and neck can’t compete with the feeling building up in his hips, bone-deep and aching. He can’t do much else than breathe harshly out through his nose, eyes falling shut. It was too much effort, energy, and focus to keep them open, and he feels so completely ripped apart by your tongue and lips and fucking mouth that any of the usual sounds he makes have been stolen from him, replaced by wheezing gasps of pleasured pain.

He doesn’t manage to warn you he’s close verbally, but you recognize it anyway – his entire body locks, fingers crushing your own, and you have just enough time to pull your mouth off of him so he can cum in your hand.

Between each gasping heave of his chest he murmurs a thank you, until his words run together and he bites his tongue to stop from sounding like even more of a fool in front of you. He can feel your lips pressing tender kisses against his cock even as you clean your hand off, and he can’t stop the way he shakes at the feeling.

Tears are caught in his lashes by the time you’re finished, and you cup his feverish face in your hands and draw him towards you, pressing more kisses against his eyelids. He is an absolute wreck, emotionally and physically, so when you try to remove your hands and he grasps for them and keeps them pressed to his collar you let him do as he pleases.

“You feel better, sweetheart?” Your words aren’t answered, but you keep talking all the same. “You’re so beautiful, you know that? Perfect and wonderful and talented, and so so good. You know I love you, right? Because I do, so much, Hyunggu, I love you so much.”

He sniffs, finally pulling one of his hands away to scrub furiously at his face, a watery sounding laugh escaping him – and you know he’s okay now, safe to be left on his own. Still, you linger in the room until he’s fully composed, checking his appearance in his phone’s camera. When he catches you watching him through it he smiles, a genuine smile that drags at your heart and makes your knees feel weak.

“I love you too.” He’s saying it late, but that doesn’t mean he means it any less. When you press your lips to his all you can think of is how you’d give anything to make sure he kept smiling like that.

.｡..｡.

Love, you think, can be shown in many different ways. One of the biggest is seeing Jinho under the covers, nestled down on his phone, waiting for you to come and join him before he falls asleep.

“You should have gone to sleep!” Your chiding is gentle and so affectionate that it loses any edge you’d wanted it to have had. “You’ve been complaining about being tired so often – why wouldn’t you take advantage of any free time you had?”

“It’ll be better with you.” His answer is so direct and short that you can’t help but laugh – his face crinkles into a smile at the sound, and he pats the empty space next to him invitingly.

By the time you’re ready to crawl into bed with him he’s become restless, and as soon as you’re semi-laying down you find yourself being clung to. His head rests easily on your chest, fingers curling into your night-shirt, lashes dark against his skin as he heaves a sigh that relaxes his entire body.

“Sweet dreams.” You whisper your words into his hair, one hand at the base of his skull and the other on his back. He doesn’t respond with much more than an acknowledging hum, already slipping into a deep sleep.

You’re not tired at all, but you settle down anyway, content with stroking fingers through his hair. The resulting silence is almost suffocating, but you don’t find it uncomfortable – there’s a warmth in your bones that isn’t from the blankets or the body on top of you, a harsh lurch in your chest that flows through your veins. It’s almost staggering how much you care for the man asleep on you.

Yes, love didn’t have to be verbally exclaimed. Actions could show your devotion to someone just as well.

.｡..｡.

“Stay still now, honey.” You smooth a hand over Hyunggu’s sweat slicked chest, his breathing an endless staccato that matched in time with the fluttering of your innermost walls around his thoroughly abused cock. “Just relax.”

It was so easy for you to say that, laying yourself down on top of him and pillowing your head on your forearms across his collarbones, a comforting weight that would have been soothing if not for the blinding heat surrounding him. Every time he started to relax one of you would shift and painful electric shocks would shoot through his nerves all over again.

“I’m not good at this sort of thing..!” Hyunggu’s mewls are lost to your lips, and he switches from whining with words to letting out pathetic sounds into your mouth, pliant despite his protests. He can already feel himself hardening again despite knowing it wasn’t what you wanted.

“Baby, I’m not in the mood to go again.” Pet-names flow from your mouth like a stream as you apologize, pressing kisses against his cheeks and temple. “I thought you’d be able to handle this sort of thing by now.” More kisses are dotted in between his shaky “me too”, and his sucked in breath becomes a thin and fragile moan as you slowly rise up and off him. “Maybe you’ll get lucky, sweetheart, and Jinho will –“

“I’m back!” The very first thing he’s greeted with upon arrival is the sight of Hyunggu staring at him hungrily as his essence drips from your slit in viscous rivulets. His cheerful, upbeat demeanor is frozen on his face as a congenial smile, even as his mind flashes to dark places and he swears he can suddenly taste the combined arousals from the both of you on his tongue.

“Broke him.” Hyunggu’s soft laugh is breathless and aroused, even as he pushes himself up and tries to cover his bottom half with the sheets, as if being shielded would make everyone forget about how red and wet his cock was at the moment.

Jinho’s gaze locks with yours briefly, assessing the room – at your small nod his fingers are unzipping his jacket, losing it to the floor somewhere as he tugs his shirt over his head. Fading bruises swarm his naturally tanned skin, still a bit purple but not nearly dark enough for your liking. You’d gotten so much shit for that, from his stylists and bandmates and everyone else except for him who had worn them with a type of embarrassed pride, ducking his head and not looking at all upset that he’d had to cover up for their performance.

The bed dips as he crawls onto it, Hyunggu’s swallow audible in your ear as Jinho reaches for your bare calf tentatively, settles on his stomach and rests his head on your crossed ankles. He’s always been the more obedient one, knowing that he’d end up more satisfied if he played by your rules.

“You should learn from Jinho.” Hyunggu scoffs at your words, wrapping his arms around your waist. You can feel the tension in his forearms threaded across your midriff, the way his hands grip at his own skin to keep himself from taking the pleasure he wants so badly. Jinho, meanwhile, has crawled up your body with the behest of a single one of your fingers hooked beneath his chin, gaze glassy.

“I’ll clean up after him..?” Jinho’s statement shifts to a question last second, dark eyes switching to his dongsaeng briefly – there’s a strange feeling at parodying the hierarchical ladder they usually exist in, the idea that as the eldest hyung Jinho had to clean up after the messes Hyunggu made. It feels.. wrong, in a very satisfying way, to apply that logic to a sexual encounter.

At a nod from you his tongue darts out, tentative and shy at first – you let out a sigh of encouragement and contentment, fingers threading through his dark hair. He tilts his head into your hand and closes his eyes, shuffling forward the last few centimeters so he can attach his lips to you. Hyunggu’s chin has come to rest on your shoulder as he watches Jinho work with eyes that are equally dark as they are sparkling, intense hunger for the moment overridden by a sort of awed reverence as he observes how his elder pays tribute to you.

Even once you are clean he doesn’t let up, continues to lap and suck as he was instructed until you are content and release your grip on his hair, fingers trailing down his cheek to his chin. Lips slick with saliva curl into a smile at your gentle touch, eyelids fluttering open.

“Take notes, Hyunggu.” Your words are lost to the younger, who was still staring at Jinho intently with eyes blown wide – whether or not he was going to be able to recollect any of this was up for debate, more likely to remember everything as a blur of sexual need.

“I think he does an okay job already.” Jinho’s voice is slightly rough as he speaks, grinning widely when you shoot him a look before becoming conveniently focused on taking his pants off. Your gaze burns into his back as he does so, filling him with a giddy sort of excitement. He knew you weren’t actually upset, maybe a bit miffed at most.

“Just come here, you mouthy little thing.” You reach out to him and he goes to you instantly, posture suddenly less open, doing his best to fade into your commanding aura. His body language was always so easy for you to read, even without the very obvious sign of his arousal out on full display now.

Jinho nestles onto his back, squirming a bit until he’s comfortable – he doesn’t stop squirming until you wrap an arm around him and guide his head to rest on your inner shoulder, a convenient place for him if you want to be able to drop a kiss to his temple. (Or just an easy way to make him feel small and protected all over, since he could turn his head and have it buried in your chest with your arms around him.)

Hyunggu’s plastered against your back, practically vibrating at this point, his cock an annoying bother poking into your side. Jinho notices his intense gaze and flushes, amused and embarrassed in equal measure.

“I can’t tell if he wants to fuck me or eat me.” Jinho’s comment has Hyunggu flushing this time, ducking his head – it wipes away the ravenous expression that has lingered ever since Jinho got home, replacing it with a type of happy embarrassment. Being teased by one of you always made him feel warm inside, accepted, instead of ridiculed.

“Fuck you.” He promises, and then dips his head to nip at your shoulder impatiently. You can feel his tongue dart out against your skin before he’s trailing open-mouthed kisses towards your neck, too riled up for his own good.

“Then you’re focused on the wrong person..” Jinho’s grumbling is met by your laughter, a gentle tug at the crook of Hyunggu’s arm to direct him away from you and towards his real goal. A bruise blooms along the gentle sweeping of Jinho’s hipbone, left behind by Hyunggu as he gets into position. His fingers frame it nicely, surrounding but never pressing down on it.

“Fuck..” It’s more a whimper than anything else, Jinho’s nails digging into your arm as you press kisses to his furrowed brow. Hyunggu trails his hands up his hyung’s side, willing him to relax, to take all of him. A low groan is tugged from Hyunggu’s chest at the feeling.

Jinho squirms once Hyunggu bottoms out, clearly uncomfortable – it’s not uncommon for him to take a while to acclimate to the stretch, and the two of you have become pros at soothing him until he does. It takes a little while, but between your soft caresses against his face and Hyunggu’s open-mouthed kisses against his neck his shifting becomes more needy and less pained.

To be completely honest, you were incredibly impressed with Hyunggu’s self-control – for someone who had been so horny he’d barely remembered the need to prep he was being immensely tender to Jinho, holding as still as possible until he was given the okay to move. Even over-come by lust he was always so thoughtful.

“Perfect boy.” The compliment comes out instantly, not directed at either of them but instead just said to the room – Jinho, feeling exposed, tucks his face into your shoulder while Hyunggu lowers his head and smiles, edges softening just a bit at such blatant love.

You apologize for killing the mood by wrapping your fingers around Jinho’s cock, paying extra attention to the pre-cum trailing down its side – it causes a chain reaction of movements that culminate in hands grabbing hard at hips and mouths falling open helplessly, a beautiful display of the best kind of agony.

Lithe fingers tug at yours insistently until you allow them to take your place, dark eyes watching you as you watch Hyunggu take over. He’s more aggressive with his touch than you are, falling into the same pace his hips are making, and Jinho’s moan gets lodged in his throat as a choke, muscles tightening.

“Ohh –“ Hyunggu’s back bows and his forehead knocks against Jinho’s collarbone, hips pressing as close to the elder as he can – you can tell by the way he’s just folded that the orgasm took him completely by surprise. Jinho, even with his eyes squeezed shut and his mind somewhere far away, pushes his hand through Hyunggu’s hair comfortingly. It makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Hyunggu, baby, Jinho hasn’t cum yet.” Your gentle scolding has the younger trying to move again, rising up on trembling forearms, weak thrusts that are uncoordinated and shaky yet make Jinho cry out all the same. “I know you must be so sensitive by now, you’re doing so good.”

Jinho’s bottom lip has been torn to shreds and his hips roll against Hyunggu’s, doing the job for him as he chases after his orgasm with a single-minded mentality – his eyes are squeezed shut but he still turns his face into your shoulder, pants open-mouthed against your bare skin as you hug him closer to you.

“Can’t –“ Hyunggu is shaking, his head bowed and back arched, shuddering – everything is too much for him now, pleasure white-hot and bursting across his vision in a way that makes him more than dizzy, makes him feel close to fainting. He knows he’s supposed to be doing something, moving his hand for some reason, but he really can’t remember why anymore – he feels slender fingers wrap around his own, his hyung’s fingers, and they’re moving again and Jinho is moaning louder now and he’s not really sure what’s happening with the way his head is spinning but he’s glad Jinho sounds like he feels good. “I can’t –“

“You can, baby, I know you can.” You hold out your free hand, the one not on Jinho’s shoulder, and Hyunggu cranes his head towards it and presses a kiss to your palm, lets your thumb slip past his plush lips. “Just a little bit longer.” His silent moan can be felt vibrating through your fingertip, hips twitching. Jinho is still making enough noise on his own for three people, the hand that’s not occupied curled so tightly into the bedsheets you’re almost positive they’ll be cramping later.

He stops moving entirely when Jinho seizes and then thrashes violently, the same fingers that had been guiding his hand now wrapped so tightly around them that they begin to lose feeling. (He manages to crack his eyes open to send you a grateful glance when you reach out and loosen them, drawing Jinho’s hand into your own instead.)

Jinho’s pants are high and exhausted, covered in his own cum and sweat from exertion, and you can tell from the way Hyunggu’s biting his lip that he isn’t going to be able to crash over the edge himself this time – you quietly tap his shoulder and all the tension drains out of his body immediately as he takes your cue to finally pull out. He and Jinho make a sound that is so surprisingly similar you wonder which one of them picked it up from the other.

“So tired..” Hyunggu collapses across Jinho’s legs and neither of them move after that – you stifle a laugh and disentangle yourself from them both, going in search of washcloths and comfortable outfits they could easily pull on.

It’s a bit of an ordeal to work around two limp and exhausted bodies, but as someone who was used to dealing with two idols who were constantly over-worked (or over-sexed) you had it down to an art form, and both of your boys are fast asleep in a tangle of limbs under the covers and in soft clothes in short order.

It gives you time to settle down next to them and just breathe, safe in this little pocket of time and space the three of you had managed to carve out and solidify for yourselves. When you glance over at them they’re dead to the world, and to be completely honest you’re not totally sure where one of them ends and the other begins. You like it that way, though.

In fact, you liked everything about this, the way they made your life feel a little brighter or warmer, how it was so easy to connect with one or both of them despite how rarely your projected paths would usually cross unless one of the three of you didn’t actively change courses to make it happen.

The gravity that love had was seemingly inescapable, and you were immensely grateful for it.

[afterhoursfic]

What about Geralt slowly using axii to make Jaskier crave wolf dick. Starts with small suggestions until Jaskier is so desperate for it and so ashamed but god, he want it so badly. Trying to hide it from Geralt because he knows it's wrong but he's just so hard from the thought of it. And Geralt just keeps using axii until one time when he pretends to go on a hunt but he's set it up so a wolf is near and with that little push he gets Jaskier to slowly go all the way and Geralt secretly watches

Warning: beastiality, mind control, dub con, non con

This prompt only came in today but I loved it so much I just had to write it, thank you anon! 

I’ll probably work on the other prompts several at a time so I can post a few together later in the week, but you’re still welcome to send them in.

.

He doesn’t know how the thought first came about to get Jaskier addicted to wolf cock. It could be Jaskier’s never-ending questions about his own anatomy and whether he shared certain traits from his school’s namesake, something he doesn’t answer but still doesn’t stop the bard from trying to figure out. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he wants to see Jaskier degraded and begging with a wolf cock stuffing him full so he’s screaming, regardless he hasn’t decided which one it is.

At first, he tried to temper those thoughts, let them be nothing but fantasies he could jerk himself off to in the dead of night, but that changed one day when they were traveling through the woods and came across a small pack of wolves.

They both heard them before they actually found them and it was all Geralt could do to keep up his composure when Jaskier asked him if he could axii them, just for a bit whilst he got close to examine the beasts, and he barely had the mind to do so before Jaskier was walking a little too excitedly towards the pack for ‘research’.

He watched the bard stroke at them and barely muffled a moan after he made one wolf begin to nose at Jaskier’s crotch, which was pushed away playfully before moving to the next wolf. After having worked around the pack, lingering especially at a grey wolf that was so pale in color that it may as well have been white, and wasn’t that a thought, Jaskier getting fucked by a white wolf, his moniker, before the bard let out a hum and deemed them ‘big dogs’ as he moved to let Geralt finish his work of dispatching them.

He somewhat regretted not getting the animals to simply take the bard then and there, it would have been all too easy for the pack to get him to the ground and tear off his clothes, but he knew Jaskier would have fought, would have called for his help and would likely leave with several choice words if he had just stood there with his dick out through the whole thing, no he had to be smarter than that.

It started off small, first, he used axii to make Jaskier a little more curious about wolves, about their pack structures, maintaining territory, just small things that eventually culminated with the bard pulling out some wolf related book to read every night, sometimes a bestiary, others just a storybook, but all revolved around wolves, and if Jaskier was curious as to why he had garnered such an interest in the beasts, he never voiced it.

Slowly it grew from there, moving more into how wolves mated, how they fought for the best bitch before knotting her, and filling her with pups. What started off as idle curiosity he gradually filtered in arousal, enjoying the way he could smell a spike in arousal from the bard whenever he got to a particular part in his book he could only guess involved mating, or whenever they heard a wolf’s howl during the night.

He starts pushing the boundaries a bit more then, purposefully seeks out wolf packs to skirt near, just so they could hear them growling and often howl to one another, whilst beside him he could not only smell the arousal pouring off of Jaskier, but could also see his flushed cheeks, the way he bit his bottom lip as if to keep in a moan and, most notably, the tent he was sporting in the front of his breeches which he would usually try to cover with his lute as Jaskier’s eyes would skirt between where he sat on Roach and whatever direction the nearest wolf howl had come from.

At those moments it was hard to keep himself in check, the bard already looked debauched and as if he would leave the path at any minute in search of the wolf, which meant that he always found his dick straining beneath his leathers.

Oftentimes he would slow Roach’s pace to an amble and draw out how close they were to the pack, sometimes he even walked them close enough to see the animals and he would often stray a hand to rub at his cock whilst he saw Jaskier try to secretly get himself off by either rubbing against his lute case or from a loose hand he would try to play off as scratching at his hip or stomach.

One time he had them venture close enough to a pack so that he could axii them and made them fuck as they walked past. Jaskier never said how unusual it was that the wolves were so unbothered by their presence, but he did see the large wet spot on the front of the bard's breeches showing he had more than enjoyed the sight.

Comfortable that his work over the last couple of months had finally gotten to the point where Jaskier would let a wolf mount him should the opportunity arise; he doesn’t hesitate to test it out.

First, he manages to slip some wolf pheromones into Jaskier’s shampoo and bath oil, it was a female in heat he’d killed, all so he could cover Jaskier in her scent so that the bard wouldn’t be harmed when a wolf came up to him. True he could just use axii to get the same result but fuck if it didn’t make him hard thinking about Jaskier getting fucked by a wild, untamed beast. Of course, he would be there to make sure nothing bad actually happened, but he would much rather just enjoy the view of his bard being mounted and knot.

Despite the lack of contracts in the area, Jaskier doesn’t even question when he says he’s going out for a hunt, the bard reeking of eagerness and arousal as a wolf howled in the distance, and he knew as soon as he left that Jaskier would be ass up trying to work four fingers in himself to emulate a wolf’s knot. That was something he'd only recently learned when Jaskier had been absent a little too long going o the bathroom, and he's not proud to admit he'd come into his leathers at the sight and sound of Jaskier begging for a knot, but it’s good that he was preparing himself at least.

It’s laughably easy to find the small pack of wolves, only five of them, and after dispatching the two females, they wouldn’t need them now that they would have a new bitch already waiting and eager, he axiis the other three to follow him back to the camp.

He lifts the sign as soon as he catches Jaskier’s scent downwind, mint and honeysuckle and something dirtier, muskier, that came from the pheromones the bard had unknowingly doused himself in, and keeps his distance as he watches the three wolves also catch the scent and eagerly chase after it, red cocks already beginning to peek out of their sheaths at the scent of a female in heat.

By the time they reach camp Jaskier is moaning on three fingers, trying to work them deeper before he realizes he’s not alone and watches the bard turn, only for his dick to twitch and drool precome at the three wolves slowly stalking closer to him, heads bowed low to smell at him.

In the treeline he begins to palm his rapidly hardening cock as he watches the wolves smell around and over the bard, from his face to his neck and down to his balls and hole where he hasn’t even bothered to pull out his fingers, instead working them faster into himself as he watches Jaskier’s gaze fixate at one of the wolves now fully unsheathed cocks.

He has to quickly squeeze his cock tight when he hears Jaskier ask which one of the wolves wants to knot him first and suddenly one of them is mounting the bard, Jaskier barely able to get his fingers away in time before the wolf is humping against him until finally the tapered head of its dick is pushed into Jaskier’s hole.

He knows when it happens with the long groan from Jaskier and the cry of ‘Alpha please’ before the wolf is fucking into the bard with abandon, leaving Jaskier writhing and crying out in pleasure or pain, probably both, the cries mixed with the sound of the wolf’s balls slapping against Jaskier’s and the loud snarls and pants of the two other wolves eager to get their turn.

His eyes fixed on the show in front of him, he quickly tugs at his laces and pulls out his painfully hard dick, already wet and slick with precome as he quickly starts to stroke himself with the alpha’s thrusts.

It’s then he watches Jaskier, still being jostled by the alpha fucking into him, reach up a hand to stroke at one of the other wolf’s pink dicks and lean up to try and take the tip into his mouth, only stopped by the sound of the alpha snarling above him, drool falling across Jaskier’s back as the alpha's tongue hung out of its mouth as it continued to fuck into the bard.

He tries to hold back, wants to draw out his pleasure, but when he hears Jaskier shout and watches the wolf’s thrusts become a lot more stilted and fixed he knows the bard has taken its knot and he can’t help but spill over himself as he watches the wolf tug Jaskier even closer before throwing a leg over and gives shallow rapid thrusts as it pumps Jaskier full of come, and fuck he wished he had a dose of Cat to better see where the man is stuck on the animal's knot.

Jaskier’s moans don't stop, instead encouraging the wolf to fill him with come, to stuff him full of pups, and the words quickly make him hard again, a new record.

Now he has to cast axii, it’s unlikely the alpha will give up the warm clutch of Jaskier’s hole and he wants to watch the bard beg and cry on the other wolf’s knots as well.

He almost regrets making the alpha pull out of the bard what with the pitying whine he lets out, but then immediately after a second wolf is mounting up and in a couple of thrusts has managed to catch on Jaskiers rim and is hunched over the bard as it brutally fucks into him, it’s claws scratching down Jaskiers sides as it shoves him down onto its cock.

His breath catches when he sees the third wolf roll over in front of Jaskier, pink cock exposed and slick with the wolf’s precome and he can’t help but bite his knuckles to keep back his groan as he watches Jaskier lean forward to begin licking at the wolf’s cock, a lewd moan leaving the bard’s mouth after the first taste before trying to grab at it and get more of the thick cock into his mouth.

He’s stripping his own cock now as he watches the wolf fucking into him force the bard forward to take the dick in his mouth deeper until he’s gagging, but the scent of Jaskiers arousal only sharpens as he’s stuffed with wolf cock on both ends, barely able to make out his grunts and moans with the cock in his mouth.

This time he knows the wolf mounted on Jaskier has knotted him when it lets out a small whine and its hips stagger, but still thrusting to milk it’s cock dry as it pants over the bard, and it’s clear the alpha knows as well as he watches it circle behind Jaskier again, able to make out its pink cock slowly dropping from its sheath again, eager for another turn.

It’s then the wolf in Jaskier’s mouth also lets out a whine and suddenly he can hear Jaskier coughing and sputtering as he pulls off the wolf’s cock and watches as it comes over the bard’s face and into his hair, coating him in it’s spend whilst Jaskier got a handle on his breathing again before moving to mouth at the tip and swallow as much as he could whilst he saw the bard's hand clench around the wolf’s knot, coaxing every drop of come from it whilst he drank his fill. and the sight made him clench hard around his dick to stop himself from coming.

He’s sure at this point he’s drawn blood from where he’s still biting down on his fist, hand still clenched around his cock as he watches the alpha snarl and bark at the wolf still mounted in Jaskier before, with a tug to pull its cock free, slinks away with its head bowed as the alpha resumed its position above the bard and easily slipped inside what he was sure at this point was Jaskier’s gaping hole.

The alpha didn’t last nearly as long this time, which is just as well because he didn’t think he’d last long either as he watched Jaskier’s face shoved into the dirt as the alpha pounded into him, barely able to make out the whispered ‘please alpha’, and ‘knot me, fill me with pups alpha’ leaving Jaskier.

It was only when Jaskier cried out, small shudders wracking his frame as he said ‘thank you alpha’ over and over until he became limp under the wolf’s hold that he finally came again, letting out his own snarl as his come painted the forest floor and he only half regretted not adding to what already covered Jaskier.

He watched as the alpha thrust into Jaskier frantically, it’s breathing heavy pants until with a growl it pushed its knot into Jaskier a final time, its snout nosing at the nape of the bard’s neck as it milked his cock dry into Jaskier, filling him with its come just as the man had asked.

Finally, the alpha pulls away and he almost laughs at the way Jaskier reaches out to it, to any of the wolves really as if asking for more, but with a quick sign of axii he’s sending them away and watches Jaskier whine mournfully as they leave.

As soon as the wolves left Jaskier had moved a hand back to shove several fingers back into his hole, likely to keep the copious amounts of come inside him despite the fact he’s already covered in it, from his thighs, all the way to his mop of hair.

It’s then he finally decides to make an appearance, trying to keep his cock in check as it makes a valiant attempt to get hard again at the sight of the bard, one hand fingering at his hole and the other dragging at the come across his face and into his mouth, his belly a little swollen and a puddle of come under him that told him Jaskier had come more than once, all without a hand on his cock and being filled by a wolf’s knot.

It’s only when he gets close enough to touch the bard that Jaskier finally notices him, eyes wide and the sharp twinge of fear tainting the sugar-sweet smell that had filled the camp not a minute earlier.

With a chuckle he kneeled in front of the bard, tangling a hand in his hair before forcing Jaskier to look up at him, a smirk on his lips “So desperate for cock now that you’ll take it from anything”

“Geralt-“ It then he did the all too familiar hand movement and watched as Jaskier’s eyes glazed as the sign took hold.

“You liked being a pack bitch, like being fucked onto a wolf’s knot, just a hole for them to fill with pups”

The way Jaskier’s eyelids fluttered as he moaned was answer enough, even without the whispered ‘yes’, but he just chuckled again as he let go of Jaskier and coaxed him into lying down.

“Rest bard, still got a lot of forest to cover and chances are we’ll come across another pack to breed you” Another moan from Jaskier betrayed his enthusiasm and he couldn’t help but smile at how perfectly his plan had worked out “Maybe I should tie you up somewhere and let the wolves fuck you whenever they want a hole to fuck, make your belly swollen with come as you take each of their knots”

He chuckled as Jaskier shuddered below him before motioning axii one more time “Sleep now, you’re gonna be busy the next few days”

He watched as Jaskier’s eyes slipped shut as he awkwardly lay on the forest floor, fingers still in his hole in a futile attempt to keep himself plugged. He wasn’t cruel, he’d clean Jaskier up and make sure he was fresh-faced for the morning, doused in more pheromones before they set off and already planning the longest route through the forest.

[thetigerisariver]

I had a really shit experience with the company doctor, like straight away she asked me if I tried "dealing with my obesity, like with a bariatric surgery or such" so we already got off on the wrong foot, then she suggests my blood pressure issues are weight related (which I push back against because bitch, I had a cardiologist and guess what? He knows more than you and you and he disagreed) and then suggests that my lower back pain is *also* weight related because my fat stomach is drawing my spine forward (sounds extremely fake but even if that was true? So fucking what I'm not gonna become magically thinner)

And it's just so exhausting, God. Like all I want to do is ignore my health problems! But actually, if it is possible I would like to live to see old age! I would like to try grappling with what's happening to me! I would like to feel better in the future!

But instead I am thrust into this fake choice: if only I got my fat body under control somehow everything would be fine! Sickness is actually a divine punishment on the debauched such as me! Just you wait, you think you are fine now, but the fat related health problems are gonna be soooo much worse by the time you are fifty! (direct quote)

I hope she fucking chokes.

Anyway. I have my allergies appointment in two months. I will continue measuring my blood pressure, and when I go for another prescription I will ask my gp to either try adjusting my dose or give me a cardiologist recommendation. Next should be ob/gyn, transition, back stuff. In this order, or maybe not even in an order, like I can just start doing those things, honestly.

[kurowrites]

Snow - Chapter 5

Entire fic. AO3. 

---

As soon as they leave the apartment building, Wei Ying unabashedly links his arm with Lan Zhan and snuggles up to him. It shields him from the cold winter breeze as much as his hold on Lan Zhan will keep him from slipping on the half-frozen snow. He’s decided that as long as Lan Zhan doesn’t object to it, he’s free to do whatever he wants. And far from objecting to it, Lan Zhan actually wraps his arm around him, so that Wei Ying really ends up stuck to Lan Zhan’s side.

He smiles up at Lan Zhan happily, and Lan Zhan squeezes him once in reply.

If this is a dream, he never wants to wake up.

They make the tour of the park like that, walking slowly as Wei Ying points out all the best sights to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan listens to whatever Wei Ying has to say, and seems a little mesmerized by the ducks sliding clumsily over the frozen surface of the pond to get to the food that some generous soul has left for them.

“Do you like ducks?” Wei Ying asks when they’ve been standing there for a while, watching the ducks slide over the ice in search of food, and Lan Zhan still makes no move to continue their walk.

Lan Zhan doesn’t reply immediately, so Wei Ying gets in his face and pouts, “Lan Zhaaaan. Talk to me.”

Finally, Lan Zhan turns away from the ducks.

“I prefer rabbits.”

Wei Ying laughs. “Rabbits! I see we’re sticking to a theme. Snow hares and Lan Zhan; a very good combination. Very fitting. I like it. Do you keep rabbits?”

“No.”

“Aw, no! You deserve some cute, fluffy rabbits!”

“I was not in a position to take care of them properly.”

Wei Ying leans into Lan Zhan’s side, thoughtful. “I’m sure you’d take care of them very well. You should get some, Lan Zhan. I’d come visit you, too, to see the rabbits.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t reply, but for some strange reason, he places a soft kiss on Wei Ying’s temple. With that, he finally moves on.

They finish their walk around the pond and leave the park through the gate closest to the department store to do the shopping Wei Ying has been wanting to do. It’s Saturday and the department store is full of people, all trying to get their weekend shopping done. Couples are parading past them, dressed in their nicest date outfits, but Wei Ying is here with Lan Zhan, so really, who’s the lucky one here. They wish they were as lucky as Wei Ying. They walk past a popular coffee shop, and Lan Zhan offers to buy him a coffee, which Wei Ying gladly accepts. He hasn’t had any caffeine for days.

The coffee is delicious, and he would give Lan Zhan another kiss in thanks, but he’s not sure if he should do that here, in public. Later, he tells himself, when they’re back in his apartment. After he’s teased him a little bit more about the rabbits.

Wei Ying originally only wanted to pop into the department store to because he’s run out of envelopes and wanted to buy new ones, but Lan Zhan seems to be in a shopping mood. He takes Wei Ying to the household section of the department store and wanders through the aisles, picking out things here and there, comparing items and their functionality. Wei Ying helps him make the correct decisions, or at least the correct decisions in Wei Ying’s opinion. He teases Lan Zhan by telling him he should buy everything in red, because red is obviously the best colour. It clashes horribly with Lan Zhan’s all-white approach, but that’s half the fun.

Lan Zhan, oddly, listens to him and picks a fancy kitchen knife with a red handle, a red coffee machine, and more items that have the colour option red. Only when Lan Zhan is already paying (even Wei Ying’s envelopes managed to land in Lan Zhan’s basket somehow), it strikes Wei Ying that all the stuff Lan Zhan is buying is not intended for Lan Zhan at all. It’s all for Wei Ying. 

“Lan Zhan,” he says, panicking a little. “You can’t buy me all this stuff!”

Lan Zhan ignores him stubbornly and pays for everything.

“Lan Zhan!”

“We should also get some groceries,” Lan Zhan says, completely refusing to even respond to Wei Ying’s protests. He waltzes on with his newly acquired shopping bags in tow; a force that cannot be stopped. If Wei Ying didn’t know better, he would say that Lan Zhan is amused about Wei Ying’s inability to stop him. But such things are below Lan Zhan.

If there’s one thing Wei Ying is very good at, however, it’s being obnoxious. So, when Lan Zhan is busy picking out some food in the grocery store, he vanishes into a different isle and picks up something else. When he returns to Lan Zhan’s side, he drops his loot into the shopping basket Lan Zhan is holding with an impertinent grin. Lan Zhan stares at the objects for a moment and then shoots Wei Ying a look. To Wei Ying’s delight, he leaves the items in the basket and heads to the cashier to pay.

With bags full of groceries and other items, they return to Wei Ying’s apartment.

Once again, Lan Zhan prepares them a delicious late lunch, and when Wei Ying is full and feeling lazy, Lan Zhan sets up the new coffee maker and gets it running.

“Yessss,” he moans when Lan Zhan hands him a perfect little cup of espresso. “Caffeine.”

The caffeine revives him enough to remember the shopping he did earlier. Enthusiastic, he digs the items out of the pile of shopping that they haven’t cleared away yet and holds them under Lan Zhan’s nose.

“So,” he says with a grin. “I have plans for you this afternoon.”

He knows by now that he can’t always anticipate Lan Zhan’s reactions to his teasing, so honestly, it’s a gamble every time. But Lan Zhan paid for the lube and condoms Wei Ying put into his shopping basket without complaint, so he can’t imagine Lan Zhan suddenly having any moral objections now. Lan Zhan takes the items, but then, instead of eagerly jumping Wei Ying and debauching him on the spot, he puts them aside. Instead, he wraps his hands around Wei Ying’s waist and draws him close.

“I would stay,” he says, and he sounds actually sorry, “but I have to leave soon.”

Wei Ying lets his face drop on Lan Zhan’s shoulder and whines. “Lan Zhan, way to burst my bubble.”

“I am sorry.”

Another kiss finds its way on Wei Ying’s temple.

“And tomorrow?”

“I have an appointment with my family.”

Wei Ying whines again. He had hoped he could spend the entire weekend with Lan Zhan – there goes that dream.

A sudden thought strikes him and he jolts up.

“Wait – don’t tell me you have a wife and children waiting for you at home.”

Lan Zhan looks at him with an expression so offended, Wei Ying can’t help but laugh.

“I will be with my brother and uncle,” Lan Zhan informs him primly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Wei Ying apologises, still laughing. “But I would kick your ass if you made me a homewrecker.”

“No.”

The answer is so immediate, so absolute, Wei Ying has no doubt that Lan Zhan is entirely serious. He would never do something like that.

“Fine,” Wei Ying sighs. “I’ll let you go. But I’ll miss you.”

“Mn.”

Lan Zhan makes sure that everything is in order and Wei Ying has everything he needs before he leaves him. He also gives him his phone number and promises him that he will contact Wei Ying soon. Wei Ying is happy about the promise, but it still leaves him with a sense of worry. Lan Zhan might step out of his apartment and decide that Wei Ying isn’t worth the effort, isn’t worth coming back. He likes Lan Zhan. He doesn’t want to lose him. Not now. But he also can’t hold onto him, has no claim to his attention or time.

He sighs again when Lan Zhan puts his coat on, but accepts Lan Zhan’s goodbye kiss gracefully.

Lan Zhan’s fingers linger on Wei Ying’s cheeks, stroke the skin there before he finally lets go, and it’s the only gratification that Wei Ying has – that Lan Zhan seems equally as reluctant to leave Wei Ying as Wei Ying feels reluctant to let Lan Zhan go.

“Take care, Wei Ying,” he says, finally, and vanishes out of the door.

---

Sunday is boring. Wei Ying should be perfectly used to being alone in his apartment, but it feels far too empty now. So many things in here remind him of Lan Zhan – all the things that he brought Wei Ying, even the food that he bought for Wei Ying to eat. The bedsheets in which Lan Zhan had embraced him. The beautiful red coffee machine. It’s distracting, to be reminded of Lan Zhan everywhere.

He originally planned to catch up on his work since he missed university on Friday, but he finds he’s unable to concentrate and can’t get on with his work at all. Whenever he’s reading a text, he finds his mind wandering, wondering about where Lan Zhan is right now, if he’s thinking of Wei Ying, too. It’s unbearable. He’s like some lovesick young maiden, pining for her lover at war. It’s pitiful. He’s known Lan Zhan for all of three days.

He’s moments before losing patience with himself when the doorbell rings.

Wei Ying’s heart hammers in his chest. Could it be? Could it be Lan Zhan?

He practically flies to the door.

But when he opens the door, he isn’t greeted by a tall figure in a white coat. A a short, mustached delivery man waits for him. When he sees Wei Ying, he hands him a package, mumbles something in his mustache, and vanishes down the hallway before Wei Ying can even give him his thanks.

He hasn’t ordered anything, so why on earth did a package land on his doorstep?

But his name is written on the label of the package, along with his address, so he takes the box to the kitchen and opens it, peeking inside curiously. He picks out a few air cushions that are in the way, and there –

It’s a rabbit plushie.

It’s a giant, fluffy, white rabbit plushie, and it can only come from one single person.

He takes the rabbit out of the box, and its fur is so soft he can’t help but hug it, squeeze it, and scream into its fur a little. He’s full of emotions and they need to be expressed somehow. Lan Zhan sent him a rabbit plushie.

It’s the cutest plushie he’s ever seen, perfectly white, with powdery pink inner ears and shiny black eyes. It’s absolutely perfect.

Still holding the plushie, he digs for his phone, snaps a photo of him and the plushie, and sends it to Lan Zhan with a quick message.

 [Wei Ying] LAN ZHAN. ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME? (((( ;°Д°))))

[Wei Ying] This is the cutest rabbit I have ever seen!! I’m happy now. I don’t need you anymore. ヾ｜*￣ー￣｜

[Wei Ying] That was a joke by the way. I need you…. and the rabbit. ( ˘ ³˘)❤

[Lan Zhan] I am glad that you like the rabbit. It will be there for you when I cannot.

[Wei Ying] _(:°з」∠)_

[Wei Ying] You’re killing me, Lan Zhan, you’re killing me.

[Wei Ying] I will take good care of it, I promise.

[Lan Zhan] Good.

Wei Ying squeezes the rabbit to his chest, giving it a little kiss in place of its owner.

Lan Zhan is the absolute best. He listened to Wei Ying’s whining and sent him a rabbit plushie to cheer him up.

With a sigh, he closes the book he’s been trying to read and heads for his bedroom instead. He’s not going to get any more work done today. But he has a rabbit for company now, so he might start with a nap.

[frizz22]

Converts

Moonshine Madam prompt: it's not actually such a well-kept secret that the Spellman’s are Satanists, perhaps a confrontation with some Church members in Greendale? Nothing to serious, just something lighthearted?

Thanks for the prompt! Read on ao3

They were relaxing in the parlor; it was the first Sunday all month they didn’t have a funeral service and Zelda had just flipped a record over before settling down to continue working on a puzzle with Hilda. Of course, their quiet afternoon was interrupted moments later, Ambrose barreling in.

“They’re back!” He grinned, eyes alight with mischief.

Hilda looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Who, love?”

Barely able to contain himself, Ambrose clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “The oh so righteous parishioners of Greendale’s Evangelical Church. Come to help us sinners see the error in our ways.” 

Zelda sat up, excited. “Really?”

“Just set off the perimeter wards. We have ten minutes at best.” He looked between them hopefully.

A wide smile spread across Zelda’s face. “Marvelous, it’s been ages since they’ve come around.” She was already standing up, waving a hand to put the puzzle away. “Places everyone.” Zelda instructed with malicious glee as she turned to transform the parlor from its everyday appearance.

Whooping in delight, Ambrose hurried off to the basement.

Hilda giggled and went to the chest pushed against the wall next to the fireplace and began pulling out various items. “They must have new blood, someone who thinks they can ‘get through to us poor lost souls’ at last.” She bit her lip to try and contain her excitement as she set a deck of tarot cards and a set of small animal bones with runes carved into them on the coffee table.

Humming in agreement, Zelda focused on her spell which was redecorating the room. Several upside down crosses adorned the walls, a pentagram appeared on the floor in uneven, red paint, Hilda’s spiders crawled along the ceiling weaving intricate webs, a Satanic bible popped up on one of the side tables and the final touch… an elaborate painting of Lucifer Morningstar with fresh wounds on his back materialized over the fireplace.

Giving her work an appraising look, Zelda faced her sister. “Yes, ‘us poor lost souls’. So prone to lust and greed and dark things.” She intoned dramatically. “And yet, I bet you I can make at least three of them think about having their way with me before they leave.” Cocking a brow, she snipped her fingers to change out of her regular clothes and into one of her racier nightgowns and robe; relishing in how horrified the parishioners would be at their spike of unclean lust for a Satanist.

An indelicate snort escaped her sister as she set out some tea and cookies. “Oh, that’s too easy. All of them will think that, if even for a moment. Mortals, despite all their supposed superiority, are no better than us; they just restrain and repress themselves.” Shaking her head at the notion, Hilda picked up her deck of cards and started to shuffle them. “Now, what I intend to do is more difficult, requires a bit more magic. I’m going to scare the Beelzebub out of them,” she grinned, flicking her wrist to turn her clothes into something more mystical.

Eyebrows raised in appreciation, Zelda turned to the mirror hanging on the wall to touch up her appearance. “The seer bit? You haven’t done that in some time. It will certainly have them sweating through those awful polyester Sunday suits.” She remarked, darkening her lipstick, mussing her hair and creating a prominent love-bite on her neck for good measure.

Her sister had an uncanny ability to read people; their motives, how their pasts played into their current and future actions. Hilda didn’t use it often, claimed the sensation could be overwhelming if not carefully controlled. But in times like this, well, what was the point of the ability if not to have some fun with it? And Hilda truly did make the most of it, coming off as intimidating and creepy with a sickly sweet sugarcoating.

“You’ll help sell it, right?” Hilda asked, tucking her hair into a scarf and putting her glasses on.

Happy with her debauched appearance, Zelda moved away from the mirror and towards the front door—their guests would be arriving any moment. “Of course, sister. It’s always amusing to watch them squirm under your scrutiny.” She winked and conjured a cigarette before gripping the front door handle and waiting, just a beat before pulling it open just as one of the parishioners raised their hand to knock. “Just leave out the back, Ellen,” Zelda called out to imaginary figure behind her. “And feel free to tell your husband about that little tongue trick. He’ll enjoy the result as much as I did.” Turning her head to the little group in front of her, Zelda eyed each buttoned up little false god peddler with a raised brow. “Ah, yes, right on time.” Taking a long draw of nicotine and blowing it at them, Zelda stepped aside. “Do come in.”

As expected, most of the group struggled to tear their eyes away from her, gazes lingering on her neck and chest—though Hilda was right in that it was almost too easy, Zelda still enjoyed the effect she had over the mortals, how she made them question themselves; even for a moment.

One woman among them was made of sturdier stuff, though, and pushed past her ogling entourage and walked inside. Her movement broke the trance the others were in and they shuffled behind her awkwardly, not making eye contact out of shame. When they all passed the threshold, the lights flickered, courtesy of Ambrose, and Zelda smothered a smile at how several of them jumped.

Clearing her throat, one woman spoke up, look at Zelda uncertainly. “Right on time, you said…” She murmured, warily taking in her surroundings.

A wide smile spread across Zelda’s lips and she ushered them deeper into the house. “Oh, my sister foresaw your arrival. She made tea and cookies for you,” she noted, taking her time leading the way to the parlor; wanting to play with them a little more before turning it over to Hilda. Zelda paused next to the parlor door, “could Father Michaels not make it?” She asked innocently, finger tracing the plunging neckline of her nightgown.

The priest at the church had come at least once a month for some time when he first assumed his position. Convinced he was doing the false god’s work and not only bringing the Spellman’s over to the light side, but also ridding Greendale of Satanists at the same time.

It’d been fun, at first, coming up with new and creative ways to torment the man. But the novelty soon wore off and they had things to do, a business to run without a bothersome mortal priest popping in at random times.  

So, to discourage him from returning, Zelda sent him several dreams in which he was engaged in a series of passionate activities with not only her, but Hilda and Ambrose as well. Ever since then, the man avoided them like the plague and grew incredibly flustered at the mere mention of the Spellman family—or so Zelda was told.

The act bought them almost half a year of peace before a group of brave parishioners, minus Father Michaels, appeared on their doorstep. Having taken it upon themselves to purge the devil and his worshippers from their midst. From then on, the visits of the good parishioners of Greendale’s Evangelical Church were sporadic, unpredictable. But it quickly became part of the game, seeing what they could come up with on the fly.

One of the men coughed and nervously tugged at the knot of his tie. “He, uh,” the man faltered, his eyes drifting down to Zelda’s chest before he wrenched them away with some difficulty. “He couldn’t make it today. Other matters to attend to.” He informed her gruffly, the tips of his ears burning red. And Zelda could tell the man was realizing one of the reasons why the priest avoided the Spellman house.

Humming in feigned displeasure, Zelda pushed the parlor door open and walked inside. “Have a seat,” she purred, eyeing each of the false god’s puppets salaciously as they filtered past her and into the next trap.

Undeterred, though mildly ruffled, their leader marched past her and into the parlor only to waver when she took in her surroundings. The rest of the group was quick to wilt as well as they uncomfortably took their seats on the couch across from Hilda; who was shuffling her tarot cards and smiling warmly at them… as if a ram’s skull was leering at them from the wall behind her.

“So kind of you to join us on this unholy day,” Hilda greeted a little breathily.

The comment had the leader looking scandalized. “Join you?” She demanded, “we’re here to—”

Holding up a hand, Hilda silenced her. “Mary Beth, I know why you’re here. You wish to try and save us. But we don’t need saving.” She smiled blithely at the woman.

Before Mary Beth could respond, a loud animalistic screech sounded from the basement, causing their guests to jump. Zelda hid a laugh; Ambrose was really playing it up this time.

Clearly shaken, Mary Beth collected herself. “How, how do you know my name?” She asked, face pale and eyes flicking to the ground where the sound originated and where muffled growls were still emanating.

Perching herself in the chair next to Hilda, Zelda crossed her legs regally and settled in for the show. Hilda would start by naming them all before introductions were made, sometimes listing little details about the guests or their pasts to unnerve them further. While she watched this all unfold, Zelda traced the fake bite mark on her neck, her gaze lingering on each parishioner in turn. Between her sister’s hauntingly accurate readings and Zelda’s own unabashed display of sexuality and sexual interest, they soon had the entire group visibly squirming.

There was one woman, though, Evelyn, who kept peeking at Zelda and blushing every time they made eye contact. Gifting the woman with a sinful smile, Zelda couldn’t help but think she might be able to play with this one later. When Evelyn smiled in return, Zelda’s hopes and eyebrows rose.  

It wasn’t until Mary Beth noticed their prolonged eye contact that she pinched Evelyn and the woman dropped her eyes…. Moments later, though, Zelda found the woman’s eyes back on her. Oh, she almost regretted what they were about to do next, for it would surely scare Evelyn away and ruin Zelda’s chances at bedding her; and she would have loved to corrupt the mortal—especially one with the name like Eve.

Before she could think of how to signal Ambrose to wait, her nephew came bursting into the parlor, the basement door still hanging open behind him and unsettling sounds echoing up the stairs. Compared to Ambrose, though, the noises were the least of their guests’ concern. Arms covered in blood up to the elbow and holding up fake intestines, Ambrose came to a stop in front of them; seemingly oblivious to the parishioner.

“Aunties, the signs don’t look—, oh! I didn’t realize we had company.” He smiled graciously at the group, and up close Zelda could make out flecks of blood along his chest and face as well. “I’m sorry, I’ll just double check the results using a rabbit. You know how unreliable weasels can be,” he grinned and shook his head in amusement. “But, I will leave these—” Ambrose laid the intestines on the coffee table next to the tray of tea and cookies with exaggerated care, “here for your consultation.”   Nodding politely at everyone, Ambrose took his leave and made for the basement once more, snapping the door shut behind him.

Understandably, the color drained from each of the parishioners’ faces and they made their hasty departures soon after, not even cracking out the false god’s bible before they turned tail. As they retreated across the lawn, Hilda and Zelda bade them goodbye from the porch, waving and loudly thanking Satan for the visit. Evelyn was the only one to turn back, a small, if somewhat perplexed, smile on her face as her eyes flicked up and down Zelda once more before shifting to follow the others.

Once the group all but ran around the curve in the road, Hilda couldn’t contain her mirth any longer and snorted; and though she fought it, Zelda guffawed as well, clutching her side as they made their way back into the house where Ambrose was eagerly waiting for them.

They lounged in the parlor, consuming the tea and cookies their would-be saviors hadn’t touched and gleefully reliving the events of the past thirty minutes. It was here that Sabrina found them, having just gotten home from a study session with Roz and Susie.

“So, I just passed a group of horrified looking people on my way home….” She began, blinking when they all broke into fresh bouts of laughter. Warily, Sabrina set her bag down and took note in her surroundings. “What, what is all of this? What happened?” She demanded, gesturing to the decorations, the fake intestines still on the table and their attire.

Wiping the corner of her eyes, Hilda managed to catch her breath first to answer. “Oh, lamb, you missed it. And it would have been the first one you could participate in…” She frowned a little in disappointment, but her eyes were still twinkling with amusement.

Zelda lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and released the smoke with a content sigh. “We just had a lovely visit from the parishioners of Greendale’s Evangelical Church.” They all chuckled again, unable to help themselves, as they settled more comfortably in their seats.

Casting them a dubious look, Sabrina took a seat on the edge of one of the chairs. “I don’t think they felt the same.” She informed them, admonishment coloring her tone.

“Oh coz, don’t go getting all righteous on us. They’re the ones who felt compelled to interrupt our Sunday with their false god drivel.” Ambrose remarked, sprawled sideways in his chair, legs hanging over the armrest.

When Sabrina looked ready to argue, Zelda knocked some of the ash of her cigarette and talked before her niece could. “Besides, we can’t have them dropping by any time they please. They might actually witness something of substance. This is just our way of… discouraging their visits.” She justified with a slight shrug.

“And it’s fun.” Hilda giggled, taking another cookie.

Arching a brow, Zelda smirked. “And that.”

“Especially for you, Aunt Zee. Evelyn couldn’t keep her eyes off you.” Ambrose grinned wickedly, “going to seduce another mortal away from the false god?”

She brushed her hair back and took another drag of nicotine. “One can only hope,” she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eye. “The most devout ones are often the most fun in bed; they’ve been suppressing their desires for so long it all just comes bursting out.”

Scandalized, Sabrina’s mouth dropped open. “Auntie! You can’t mess with someone’s feelings—”

Rolling her eyes, Zelda stubbed her cigarette out. “Sex doesn’t always involve ‘feelings’, Sabrina. It’s usually about carnal pleasure, and if Evelyn wants me to provide that… who I am to object?” She inclined her head at her niece and continued. “In any case, if they are intent on ‘saving us’, it’s only fair I try and do the same for them. Though, I must say my way is much more gratifying.” Zelda leaned forward and selected a cookie from the tray.

Ever the peace-maker, Hilda patted Sabrina’s knee. “They did bring this upon themselves by trying to come and convert us, love. And don’t be upset with your auntie,” she flashed a look Zelda’s way which she dutifully ignored. “She only… woos the ones who are willing.”

Ambrose snorted, “woos, yeah that’s what she does. That’s what her nightgown, makeup and bite mark scream… wooing.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Zelda swatted at him good-naturedly.

Of course, Sabrina couldn’t see the innocence and fun in their actions that afternoon. “It’s really not nice to mess with them. They’re just—” She began, shaking her head and tone disapproving.

Groaning loudly, Ambrose went limp in his seat, practically sliding out of it in his dramatics. “Get off your high horse, coz.” Zelda snickered and the corner of her mouth curled up into a smile at her nephew’s antics. Sabrina was less than amused.

Smiling gently, Hilda handed their niece some tea. “It’s all in good fun, darling. No one gets hurt and we keep our reputation in town.”

Suspiciously taking the cup, Sabrina eyed them. “What reputation?”

Chuckling, Zelda leaned back in her seat and clasped her hands in front of her. “That Spellmans aren’t to be trifled with, of course.” She quirked a brow as Hilda and Ambrose hummed their agreement before going back to recounting their afternoon.

[dewitty1]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Astoria Greengrass, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Ginny Weasley, Original Male Character(s), Oliver Wood, Gawain Robards, Original Female Character(s), Daphne Greengrass Additional Tags: Post-Hogwarts, HP: EWE, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Background Femslash, Past Harry Potter/Original Male Character(s), Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Clubbing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, University, Community: hd_erised, Getting Together, Draco Malfoy Being an Asshole Summary:

After Harry’s unfortunate encounter with his ex, Draco Malfoy makes him a proposition. Draco wants his parents to stop matchmaking him and Harry wants to make his ex jealous. All they need to do is simply pretend they’re in love. Problem is… Draco already is.

Excerpt:

The harpist has been replaced by a clarinet player, whose instrument conjures pale blue snowflakes with each note, which float around the room.

 Soon everything’s covered in the fake, glittering snow and the guests laugh as the flakes land on their hair and shoulders.

 Malfoy asks Harry to dance in the fake snowfall. Harry refuses. Malfoy sulks. They have more drinks.

 Harry watches Robards, red-cheeked from the elf-wine, talking animatedly about Quidditch to a witch, whose eyes are frantically looking for a way out of the conversation. 

Malfoy blows kisses to Mrs Nithercott’s nieces and Mrs Nithercott glares at him. It’s fun.

Until Narcissa sidles next to Harry the minute Malfoy is absorbed in a discussion about St Mungo’s funding with someone who Harry thinks may be in the Wizengamot.

‘Enjoying the evening?’ she asks Harry. Flakes shine through her bright hair.

‘I am,’ Harry replies, tensing instantly. Malfoy’s behaved like Harry meeting Narcissa would give away their deal, but it turns out that she doesn’t question Harry as to how Malfoy drinks his tea or about his childhood toys, but chats about his work and the Pu.Fo.P’s various projects. Harry relaxes and even laughs when she relates an amusing anecdote from one of the board meetings.

‘So,’ she says, smile sharp on her face, ‘I was wondering if you and Draco would like to have luncheon with us next weekend.’

Cheerfulness vanishes. Just the idea of stepping foot in the Manor covers Harry in cold sweat. That’s one line he won’t — can’t — cross for his pretend relationship. ‘Forgive me,’ he tells her, ‘but I’d rather not visit the place I was held a prisoner.’

‘I understand,’ she concedes after a pause. ‘Of course, that might be an impediment to your relationship with my son, not willing to visit the home he grew up in.’

Harry thinks he might have made a wrong step somewhere. He feels like he’s dancing on a landmine. ‘It’s early days,’ he says as diplomatically as he can. ‘If Draco and I become serious, then it’s something I’ll have to deal with.’

‘So this isn’t serious?’ she asks. ‘Simply a rebound fling for you, perhaps?’

Fuck. ‘No, I er… I’m very fond of Draco. Not a rebound, no. We’re very close. Really. Awfully in love, if I may be so bold. Head over heels. I er… make him tea in the mornings. One sugar and a splash of milk.’

Harry’s vaguely aware he’s fucked up. 

Narcissa Malfoy smiles as if Harry has confirmed something she suspected. ‘It was lovely talking to you.’

A second after she leaves, Malfoy arrives and interrogates him. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. ‘Fuck’s sake, Potter, how could you fail so spectacularly? She’ll know it’s a sham.’

‘And the matchmaking will start?’ Harry picks up a blue cheese canapé from a passing, floating tray and decides to stuff his face and stop worrying about the weird games Malfoys play.

‘I’m talking about the gossip pages. It’ll only take a comment from Mother to the right ear and our charade will end up in the Evening Prophet. “Rumour has it all isn’t what it seems with a famous new couple.” Is that what you want? A week before the game against your ex? A week before the gala of the year?’

Harry stiffens and abandons the canapé. If this is exposed, he won’t be able to face Will ever again and, unfortunately, with the number of injuries he sustains in his work, avoiding him forever isn’t feasible. ‘What can we do?’

‘It’s time for drastic measures.’ Malfoy pulls Harry out of the living room and into a corridor of thick carpets, green potted plants and snoring portraits. ‘Here is fine.’ He drags Harry in a shadowy corner.

‘For what?’

‘We’ll pretend we were caught in a sexual act. The papers will be more interested in printing this kind of gossip instead of whatever my mother decides to tell them.’

‘And so we have to … fake…?’

Malfoy blushes. ‘Is that OK? It only has to appear real, I wouldn’t ask you to—’ Looking at his feet, he says, ‘Actually, it’s a silly idea—’

‘Someone’s coming,’ Harry interrupts him and pushes him against the wall. Malfoy’s deep blush spreads to his neck. ‘Never had you for a prude,’ Harry says, his voice low.

‘I’m not a prude,’ Malfoy murmurs. ‘Hm, that was Mrs Glendows, blind as a bat. Not much help—’

Harry doesn’t move back. ‘Well, someone else will come along now. I think I can hear footsteps.’

They stay still, but no one comes. Harry breathes against Malfoy’s jaw. The desire that coils in the pit of his stomach doesn’t surprise him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’s aware he’s craved this for some time now. He knows he can’t kiss Malfoy, though. It’s the one thing he’s not allowed to do. Hesitant, not sure if he’s overstepping his mark, he lifts his hand and traces Malfoy’s lips with his thumb. Malfoy gasps, his chest rising and falling, his eyes wide. He parts his mouth just a little.

Harry would like to slip his finger inside Malfoy’s mouth, but he realizes how inappropriate it is. He steps back, but then someone is truly coming and Malfoy cranes his neck and confirms. ‘Mr Witherbore. Biggest gossip in town.’ He sounds breathless.

‘How do we do this?’

Malfoy’s voice is low and raspy and yet he still manages to sneer at Harry. ‘How do people do this, Potter? Need instructions?’ He unbuttons three buttons of his shirt and unzips his trousers. Holy moly mother of Merlin. Harry forces himself to stare at Malfoy’s eyes, and not the line of golden hair disappearing under the waistband of his Calvins.

‘Make some noise,’ Malfoy advises.

Harry moans, a little too loudly, and Malfoy snorts. ‘Not like that. More… natural.’ He smirks, a little affectionately.

Harry retorts, ‘You do it then, if you’re so good.’

Malfoy wraps an arm around his waist. Nuzzling Harry’s neck, he lets out a soft moan, which makes Harry’s hair stand on end. 

Malfoy moves his hips slowly, keeping them an inch away from Harry’s, and gasps in his ear, just like the time Harry overheard him in the club toilets. He runs a hand in Harry’s hair and moans again.

Fuck. Harry’s getting hard. He’s got a fucking boner and Malfoy will taunt him forever if he catches wind of it. The footsteps are coming closer and Harry leans in and smells Malfoy’s neck, his enticing scent emanating from the smooth skin. A kiss on Malfoy’s neck has Malfoy gasp — this time for real, Harry thinks — he’s starting to confuse what is real and what isn’t. Lust sweeps through him at the sight of Malfoy’s lean hips grinding slowly, not quite touching Harry, and he slips a hand under Malfoy’s shirt, tracing his back. Back caressing is allowed, he reminds himself. Malfoy’s skin is hot and Harry shivers. He leaves a trail of kisses on Malfoy’s neck.

‘Harry,’ Malfoy murmurs.

Their clothes rustle as Harry presses closer, chest to chest, but he tries to angle his hips away, desperately hoping Malfoy won’t feel his hard-on. The footsteps have faltered and he knows he needs to give a good show, but all he can do is restrain himself from humping Malfoy for real. His nails leave marks on Malfoy’s back in an effort to rein in his hunger for more.

Malfoy gives Harry a look that has his heart fluttering. How can he fake such lust? ‘Harry,’ he breathes again, his face an inch away.

Fuck it. Fuck all of it. Dizzy with desire, unable to stop himself, Harry presses his pelvis against Malfoy’s thigh and grinds, the feeling of bliss making his knees weak. 

His fingers bruise Malfoy’s arms, his mouth sucks at his neck. Malfoy’s panting now, and Harry’s thrilled to feel him hard as well.

 He wants to touch his cock, he’s desperate, but Malfoy hadn’t mentioned cocks in their agreement and Harry’s sure it’s out of the question, but he wants it, he wants it so badly. 

He bites Malfoy’s neck in frustration and Malfoy gasps, loud and excited, a grin on his face, which turns soft and yearning. He cups Harry’s chin, his eyes flicking on Harry’s mouth.

Another cough. Insistent this time. Harry becomes aware that a figure is on the edge of his sight, just a couple of feet away from the corner they’re in. Reality rushes in. Harry draws back. Malfoy buttons himself up, his hands shaking, hair falling on his forehead, looking thoroughly debauched. ‘Mother,’ his voice rings out. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

Harry surreptitiously adjusts his trousers to hide his erection. The fact that this was a performance hasn’t wilted it one bit. He’ll need to excuse himself for the nearest loo and take care of it.

‘Mr Witherbore saw fit to tell me that my only son has succumbed to his “animal urges” by the south staircase. Well. I must congratulate you, Draco. It was quite a show.’

‘It’s unfortunate that Mr Witherbore had to bear witness to my desire for my boyfriend. I do hope he won’t talk to any reporters. Now if you’ll excuse me.’

He disappears down the corridor, leaving Harry alone with Narcissa.

[fanfiction-fanfriction]

Ti amo! Je t'aime ! ¡Te quiero!

Pairing: Stucky Rating: E (Smut, Language Kink, Bottom!Steve, Top!Bucky, Post Captain America: Winter Solider, Established Relationship, Dirty Talk, Russian, Possessive Bucky, Kissing, Sex) Words: 3030 Summary: Steve swears it’s by accident, walking in on a conversation between Bucky and Natasha spoken entirely in Russian. It makes Steve’s face warm up, how the words fall from Bucky’s lips with such ease, how he was able to converse in the language so well. Despite having no idea what he was actually saying just the tone, and how it sounded turned him on and now he wants Bucky to say words like that during more intimate moments. 

A/N: Title inspired by a lyric by “Ti Amo” by Phoenix because it’s a good song and the band is lit. Also I spent too long trying to get the translation right, if it is terrible and wrong, please let me know, like I used English to Russian dictionaries and tried my best out here <3

Ao3 Mirror

(please leave comments, I live for them)

It started off as an accident. Steve was walking into the common room getting ready to go out for the day when he hears it.

Bucky and Natasha were sitting on the couch, talking, but no in English, but rather in Russian.

Steve never brought up the fact that Bucky can now speak another language and so fluently. He just associated speaking that language with the immense amount of torture and pain, stolen years of being part of Hydra. But, seeing him use it so casually, even laughing a few times when Steve assumes Natasha made a joke.

 “Oh hey, Steve. Didn’t notice you come in.” Bucky smiles at him.

He’s been getting so much better once they tracked him down, once he stayed out of the ice and was able to make steps towards fighting for good, Steve has been a huge impact on that, being patient and loving, even building back the bond they once had. And now that they’re in an age where two men kissing isn’t as much of a big deal, they’ve been able to be more open about their love.

Things feel better.

 “I just came in from my run, I’m going to make some lunch if you want some.”

 “I’m alright, just ate.”

Natasha pipes up, “Maybe I want something to eat.”

 “Well, when you become my boyfriend then I’ll make you some food.” Steve teases before placing a kiss on Bucky's cheek.

 “Gross.” Natasha chuckles.

When Steve walks into the kitchen, he can still hear them talk, back to Russian. When Bucky begins to speak again Steve finds himself adjusting himself in his pants.

-

Later in the evening when the two of them are making out on the bed, slowly feeling each other up as they slowly strip themselves of their clothes.

 “I love you so much, baby. You’re my good boy, my angel.” Bucky purrs as he kisses down Steve’s neck.

Bucky is like this in bed, praising Steve and showing his complete dedication to him, even if it comes off as a bit possessive, but it’s just Bucky wanting to make sure that he’s got Steve for good after so long of being apart.

It also doesn’t hurt that Steve finds it a turn on.

 “You’re so fucking hot, and you’re all mine.” Bucky groans, moving his kisses up to the shell of Steve’s ear, licking up it.

Steve shivers at the sensation, “I’m yours, Bucky, just as much as you are mine.”

Bucky whispers hotly into Steve’s ear, “Damn right.” Before working with quick fingers to get Steve’s leather belt off and dropping it onto the floor.

 “Such a smooth talker.”

 “You know it.” Bucky unzips his hoodie and throws it off the bed and it’s soon followed by his white undershirt.

Steve slowly undoes the buttons of his blue shirt, keeping his eyes on Bucky. Slowly licking his top lip as he teases him with it. He purposefully re-buttons one and says, “Oops.”

 “Oh come on, no games tonight. I want you.”

Steve laughs before unbuttoning it again, “Alright, alright.” He finishes getting off his shirt, leaving him in a white undershirt that fits Steve’s frame like a second skin.

His pants soon follow, leaving him in tight underwear and undershirt.

“That’s my good boy. I love when you listen.” Bucky runs his metal hand across Steve’s round ass, warmed from their heated moments.

Steve thinks about how hot Bucky's dirty talk would be if it was spoken in Russian, the way he was speaking today, except submerged in lust and want. He lets out a small pleaseable sigh as he peels the undershirt off, leaving it hanging off the edge of their bed.

 “You look so amazing.” Bucky smiles, pulling down the underwear off of Steve’s body.

His cock springs out from it and rests against his stomach, Steve lies back on the bed, smirking at Bucky, “Like what you see.”

 “I don’t want to feed that ego, Cap.” Bucky chuckles as he gets the lube from the bedside table and quickly lubes up his fingers and Steve props his waist onto one of the pillows.

 “Ready?”

 “Yeah.” Steve smiles.

Bucky smiles back, slowly inserting the first finger inside of him, making work of opening Steve up for him. He looks at the blonde dreamily, he still can’t tell how he got so lucky as he watches Steve take hold of the sheet underneath him.

 “You’re doing so well, opening up so nicely for me.”

Steve feels pampered by the words, his back arching slightly when Bucky gives a slight curl of his finger, “Mmm, good.”

Bucky kisses up Steve’s stomach, “Yeah, that’s it, fuck I love you.”

By the time he works in the third finger, Steve is a moaning mess, practically begging to be fucked. Bucky would be lying if he said that he wasn’t teasing Steve just a little bit.

 “Bucky, I thought you said no games tonight.”

 “But, babe you look so beautiful.” Bucky purrs in response, “But I guess it's only fair.” Then slowly pulls his fingers out of him.

Steve gives a small whine at the sudden lose of the pleasurable feeling.

 “Don’t worry, I’ll give you somethin’ even better. Do you want my cock, baby? Do you want me stuff you full of it?”

Steve whines and rubs his thighs together to gain some friction.

Bucky takes in the sight for a moment, he knows that Steve is tumbling into his sexual headspace, where everything is warm and feels so good. And he fully intends to make Steve feel oh so good.

 “That’s what I thought.” He responds, smirking as he grabs the bottle of lube again from the end of the bed.

Steve looks up at him under hooded eyes, eyeing his cock especially his cock. Standing so proud and hard, it’s always been so big, since forever. And since forever it has made Steve feel so good.

Bucky slowly enters into Steve, getting him used to the feeling while still teasing a bit. His pace starts off slow, the slow curve of his movements as he thrusts in and out of Steve.

Steven whines, reaching out for the Buck's hands planted onto the bed. Their fingers intertwine and Steve brings them up to above his head. He looks up at Bucky, normally clear blue eyes now hazy with lust and want, “Please fuck me.”

Such a simple urge for such complicated men.

Bucky breaks into a full grin, “You beg so pretty, baby.”

 “Please, Bucky, please! Why do you go so slow, you said no games!” Steve feels the grip around his hands grow tighter as Bucky begins to pick up the pace.

 “I love you.” Bucky says as he starts to move his hips faster, feeling Steve’s leg instinctively wrap around his waist, “This is what you want?”

 “Yes, yes, yes!” Steve moans out, feeling Buck's cock get deep enough to brush against his sweet spot. His toes curl at the sensation.

Bucky leans in and presses kisses along Steve’s jaw and neck, beginning to leave small nips against the skin. Tasting the salt on Steve’s neck as he continues to fuck him, driving his cock as deep as he can into his lover’s tight hole.

Steve pants in between moans, starting to grind his hips to keep up with Bucky, gripping onto his hands tightly as he exposes his neck to the other man.

 “Oh fuck.” He groans.

Bucky gets all the way to Steve’s collarbone, kissing at the indent before making his way back to the blonde’s lips, “You look so good like this.”

Steve is all warm and sweaty, his face flushed red and his breathing heavy. His legs are wrapped around Buck's waist as he toes curl every time Bucky brushes against the right spots. His hair is a tangled mess and his hands are held above his head. He looked like a debauched Greek god.

 “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Bucky’s hair is half hanging out of his ponytail, his own blush reaches to his neck, especially around his cheeks. The metal of his arm feels warm and his body is in complete control of the situation, taking over Steve and giving him the pleasure he craves. He looks like the companion to a debauched Greek god in his own opinion.

Bucky pulls away and looks down at Steve, taking in the sight of him as he continues to fuck him.

Bucky collects both of Steve’s wrists in his metal hand and uses his other one to play with the blonde’s hard, pink nipples.

Steve slumps a bit against the mattress as another shot of pleasure runs up his spine, he lets out a shaky breath, his cock leaking out more pre-cum.

He wants Bucky, and he wants Bucky to talk in Russian, but his head is beginning to spin from the pleasure, short circuiting his ability to properly ask questions, burnt down to simple phrases and responses.

 “Buck.” He cries out instead.

 “I got you baby, fuck, you’re doing so well for me. So fucking incredible.” Bucky continues to roll his nipple in-between his thumb and pointer finger, elated by the whines and moans coming from Steve.

The blonde feels like he’s going to lose his mind in the best way possible. Everything feels like a knife’s end as he inches ever closer to orgasm. Everything feels so alive and like a live wire that it becomes an all consuming force. He’s going to finish so soon.

 “Fuck, you gonna come soon?” Bucky questions, gripping onto Steve’s wrists tighter.

Steve bends himself upwards to meet with Buck's thrusts, “Oh, yes.” He draws out, his eyes fluttering shut.

 “Good, I know that I can get a few out of you before I finish.” He chuckles before going back to kissing at Steve’s face and neck.

Steve’s so close, it’s creeping up on him to completely consume him. Like a strong tide pulling him under the waves, become a powerful force to bring him to hise knees.

 “You’re amazing, my angel.” Bucky whispers.

 “Kiss me, Buck, kiss me dammit.” Steve groans, slightly gritting his teeth.

They’re heavily making out when he orgasms, loudly moaning into the other man’s mouth as he chases the pleasure. The grip around his wrists keeps him pinned to the bed as he orgasms. It shudders through him quickly, travelling up his spine, leaving him breathless as he continues to sloppily make out with the other man. Spit is crawling down their chins and corners of their mouths.

But, it all feels so fucking good.

Bucky breaks the kiss, a trail of spit connecting the two of them. He looks at him, his grey eyes being swallowed up by the black of his pupils.

 “Good boy.” He says, taking a hold of Steve’s hips tightly.

Even in his dazed state, he wishes he could hear Bucky say that in another tongue. Despite this his lust ridden voice does enough to make him feel a shiver run up his back.

Steve feels his head swimming. Completely drowned in his orgasm, trying to catch his breath as Bucky begins to overstimulate him. He is grateful for his small refractory time, he knows he’ll be ready for more after he catches his breath.

Bucky continues to nudge against Steve’s sweet spot. Thrusting up a bit, giving Steve a little bit more to get his head swimming even further.

 “Talk to me in Russian.” Steve gasps, rocking his hips to meet with Bucky’s pace.

There is a few moments of silence, Bucky doesn't stop fucking the blonde, keeping him going at a steady pace despite the fact that both of their abdomens are splattered with come.

Steve realizes what he said to Bucky and quickly opens his eyes, “I’m sorry, I should have asked before-”

 “Ебня” Bucky groans as he flips Steve onto his stomach and continues to thrust into him.

 “Oh, fuck.” Steve groans.

Bucky licks along his top lip, “You like that?” He takes a told of Steve’s cock with his flesh hand and begins to slowly jerk him off, starting to thrust into him slower to keep up with pace, “You want to keep going? Can my best guy keep up?”

Steve quickly nods his head, getting a tighter hold of the sheets underneath him.

 “Я полюбил тебя с первого взгляда.” He whispers.   

The blonde groans and rolls his hips, he feels dizzy at the way his lover speaks to him. He knows that Bucky could easily be listing off a grocery list, but the way he talks, the low and gravely, the lust that tints his voice has Steve feeling weak in the knees.

 “More! More!” Steve practically yells, feeling himself get hard once more. Oh fuck does he want more.

 “I’ll give you more.” Bucky leans forward, pushing his entire cock inside of Steve and he gives him a sloppy kiss. He begins to move his hips faster and moves his hand back to Steve’s hip to keep him balanced.

 “Bucky, oh Bucky!” Steve groans.

Bucky kisses the shell of his ear, spilling from phrases into his lover’s ear, each punctuation by the hard thrust of his hips. There is such a strong feeling to him spilling words into his lover’s ear, completely without filter and as a result filthy. He knows Steve doesn’t know what’s being said, but the jerk in his cock and the amoutn of pre-cum dripping from his cock is enough for Bucky to know that Steve loves this.

Steve grips onto the sheets, his face rubbing into the sheets as Bucky thrusts hard into him.

 “You like that don’t you? You like it when I talk to you like that, it makes you hard when I speak Russian doesn’t it? Gets you nice and hard.”

Steve groans in response.

 “мой ангелочек.” He groans out, slamming his hips, “мой ангелочек.” He repeats giving another hard thrust, hoping to get a somewhat verbal answer from the man under him. He knows if this became too much that the signal would be used, but he has faith that Steve is just dazed from the exploitation of his new kink.

 “Bucky, fuck, I love it when you talk to me like that.” His head is swimming. His body feels a shiver run through it every syllable that spills from Bucky's lips and not just in Russian, but also the dirty talk in English.

 “If only everyone else saw how hard you get when I say things like that. How weak you get in the knees from just simple words, you don’t even know what I’m saying, but it turns you on.” He kisses at the back of Steve’s neck, leaving little nips along the way.

 “But only I get to see you like this don’t I? No one else sees you like this, do you know why?”

 “I’m yours, Buck! I’m yours!” Steve shuts his eyes, getting so close to reaching his second orgasm.

 “That’s it, мой ангелочек.”

Steve groans at the pet name, feeling too lightheaded to even ask what it means. He can only assume that it’s something good depending on how it’s used so loosely.

The words on Bucky’s hang off so nicely, the roughness of his voice dipped in such immense pleasure. There is something so primal that comes with taking off the layers they are built for themselves, and the adition to another language only intensifies the feeling.

Steve’s eyes close, still completely out of it. Finally down for the count, it’s too much of a rush to the head for one night. He may be a super soldier, but he knows when to tap out.

Bucky on the othe rhand is still going, practically bouncing Steve off of his cock as he chases after his own orgasm. He doesn’t mind that Steve is out of it, he knows it’s because of how much of a good job he is doing.

 “мой ангелочек.” He groans as he gives one last thrust and finishes off inside of Steve. It’s followed by panting and him rubbing soft circles into Steve’s hip.

Bucky pulls out of Steve and lies down beside him, pulling the blonde closer to his sweaty, protective chest. He presses small kisses at along Steve’s hairline.

-

When Steve begins to come down from his high, regaining his sense of time and space. He quickly perks up and meets Bucky’s gaze, “So you’re okay with-”

 “Yeah, having basic conversations with Nat helps, I know all these words are they’re not just orders and trigger words.” Bucky rubs his metal hand across Steve’s bare side, gaining his breath back, “It’s like the arm, I’m stuck with it, why not use it for some good.”

 “I’m pretty sure fucking me while speaking Russian and using your arm to save the world are two different things.”

 “Well, I’m saving America from some pent up frustration.” Bucky smirks at him.

Steve rolls his eyes and buries his head against Bucky, “You’re the worst.”

 “Я люблю тебя” Bucky response.

Steve groans and snuggles further against Bucky’s chest, “Stop.” He draws out the word.

-

The following morning, Steve’s making toast and eggs for breakfast. Still feeling a bit sore from their night together, but it’s not enough that the memories don’t soothe it.  

Bucky comes into the kitchen, pats Steve’s ass and whispers, “ты такой хороший ребенок” before squeezing his cheeks and placing a kiss on his cheek.

Steve chuckles, leaning into Bucky’s touch as he pushes around the eggs in the frying pan.

Bucky takes a piece of toast and goes back to their quarters to get ready for the day. Steve stares dreamily at him for a moment before going back to the eggs.

 “Want to know what he said?” Natasha asks from the door of the kitchen.

Steve shrugs his shoulder, “Sure.”

 “He said ‘you’re so good baby’, guess you had an interesting night, мой ангелочек.” She teases, walking over to the fridge to get the carton of orange juice.

Steve’s face get flushed as he goes back to his eggs, mumbling something about next time making sure that Natasha is not in the building.

Translations:

1. Ебня - Fuck 2. Я полюбил тебя с первого взгляда - I fell in love with you from the first sight 3. мой ангелочек - My Angel 4. Я люблю тебя - I love you 5. ты такой хороший ребенок - You’re so good baby

[joshua-espinoza]

Ruins of Tomorrow: Bastions of Metal and Good Manners

In the dilapidating world of Ruins of Tomorrow, the scenery is grimy, electric guitars are spewing power chords and the young are engaging in a convulsive dance dubbed “moshing.” Though revered for their good manners and Midwest propriety, the band foregoes any formal introduction and heaves a cacophony of tumultuous sounds that can only be described as brutal. Everyone is crazed by the frenetic vignettes delivered by distorted, guttural screams. An abrupt breakout of blistering percussion is wrapped with a layer of beefy bass grooves and robust staccato riffs. It’s loud. It’s sordid. It’s metal! The rabble is possessed by the noise, and just when they think it can’t get anymore intense, electric guitarist Zak Gallegos, bursts out in a shred so ruthlessly savage, it seems specifically crafted to bitch-slap anyone who has the guts to wonder if a straight-edge kid can actually rock.

Accompanying Gallegos is bassist Dan Adkins, drummer Teddy Franco, and vocalists Traxx Henderson and Kyle Kelley. Together, the five members of Ruins of Tomorrow are establishing themselves as key players on the northern Colorado music scene by employing vicious and apocalyptic sounds. Though RoT is two-fifths straight-edge, the group has an affinity for endless nights of half-naked partying, but they prefer to do it on stage. Their erratic sound and rampant stage antics make it difficult for anyone — even fans outside the genre — to take their eyes off the unceasing storm that is RoT.

These northern Colorado bastions of death-metal have gained rapid success in a short amount of time, acquiring a large, budding fan base, as well as opening for national touring acts like Carnifax, On the Last Day and Fear Before the March of Flames.

“We seem to be one of those oddities that does well in Greeley; no other bands seem to draw a crowd here,” Adkins says. “Personally, I hope we’re able to make the Greeley scene better, instead of just being that one band everyone comes to see.”

Judging by RoT’s circumstances, such success is quite abnormal, not only because the band is located in an ultra-conservative city with a humble music scene, but also because it has gone through an astonishing amount of member alterations. Since its inception in 2005, RoT has had a total of 13 musicians. The ephemeral line-ups seem to be the biggest challenge the band has had to face. Constantly introducing new members makes it rather difficult to perfect a song and write new material, but above all, the modifications have led to the strenuous task of remembering members’ names — old and new. This was quite apparent when the band was asked to name the ex-bandmate who had been in RoT for the shortest amount of time:

Kelley:  “I think it was that one bassist kid.”

Gallegos: “John?”

Kelley: “No the other one.”

Henderson: “Aaron?”

Kelley: “Was it Aaron?”

Gallegos: “No, it was John. John was the shortest; he was probably in the band for a month maybe. Wait, it was TEDDY! I mean RUDY! Rudy was only with us for three weeks.”

Despite the constant changing of bandmates, RoT has produced a “heavy as balls” sound by way of unhinged concerts and visceral songs replete with relentlessly honest lyrics.

“It’s kind of a no-holds-barred type of view on the way people act and stuff that we see,” Gallegos says. “While people in other genres kind of doll it up for the industry, we speak our minds.”

Like most bands, RoT uses life experiences as inspiration for their lyrics. But unlike most bands, RoT uses Sports Center as inspiration for their song titles. “Surgery is a Door Prize,” “Slaughtered with Care” and “False Sense of Immortality” are all titles that were culled from Sports Center commentary. Though such source of inspiration seems unfitting, it is later revealed that Sports Center is far more “hardcore” compared to the television programs each member watches in his free time.

“I like to watch HGTV,” says Gallegos, whose favorite programs are “Rate My Place” and “Property Virgins.”

Similar confessions only deepen with shame. “Hannah Montana,” “Paris Hilton’s My New BFF” and “America’s Next Top Model” are just a few of the other guilty pleasures of RoT.

“Although we try to sound as metal as possible, we actually love everything,” Kelley says.

And, indeed, the band genuinely seems to love everything — with exception to pop music, mean sound guys and Chads (guys that are, according to Kelley, “the preppriest and biggest douchebags you’ll ever meet”). Given their dark, mega dramatic lyrics, like “I’ve left countless with open wounds/And salted them to the bone,” most would expect RoT members to be nothing less than malicious ruffians wielding barbed-wired bats ready to employ a lot of pain on anyone they see deserving. But that’s not the case, mostly because violence is not good etiquette.

Playing in a genre infamous for debauched, unruly behavior, this band of metal-heads prides itself on being well-mannered. “Without a doubt, we are one of the most polite bands out there,” Kelley says. “It’s not like we’re kissing ass all the time, but other bands are awfully mean. We pride ourselves on having respect for humans. It’s that simple.” Such propriety has precipitated the high level of success the band has reached in just two years. RoT’s humility has evoked admiration from music promoters and metal contemporaries. And it’s obvious that their gracious conduct and demeanor have contributed to the ardent fan base they have acquired.

Kids from all over the state — and some from Southern Wyoming — are at the mercy of every seizure-inducing riff and nightmarish howl. Covered in sweat and various bodily fluids, the crowd is putting on a show just as much as the band. At first, it’s difficult to understand the severity of these kids’ love for RoT, but once they begin to raise their fists and bellow lyrics in unison, it’s clear how significant the band actually is.

“I just want people to be able to come to a show and forgot about their shit,” Adkins says. “I want them to scream, bang their heads, smash their faces into the stage and leave feeling released. Our fans are hungry for metal and we’re happy to give it to them.”

Scene Magazine