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agaypanic · 3 months ago

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His Good Girl (Carlisle Cullen X Vampire!Wife!Reader Smut)

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Request Something! | AO3

Kinktober Day 3: Praise Kink

Summary: For your one hundredth wedding anniversary, Carlisle takes you to a cabin in the mountains away from your children and the prying eyes of Forks citizens. The days are beautiful, but the nights are far more pleasurable.

A/N: ignore that im posting day 3 on the 23rd…. Im so behind omfg ANYWAYS i know vampires technically cant get hard or probably cum or wtv bc they don’t have bloodflow but this is a kinktober fic so idgaf. i know a thousand years is in twilight soundtrack, but i like the song and think it fits so pretend it/christina perri exists in this universe. Tbh this feels more like a real fic than a kinktober fic (not saying kinktober fics aren’t real fics. I just feel like kinktober stuff really focuses on the sex/kink and i feel like this is more of a fluff that ends in smut)

C/W: oral (fem!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex (they're vampires so they cant get pregnant or diseases but wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, body worship, rough sex

***

“Carlisle, dear, I can pack my own suitcase.” But you did nothing to stop him from meticulously folding your clothes and putting them in your bag. Instead, you sat on the edge of the bed and watched him work.

Your husband looked up, a smile appearing on his lips. “And yet, you sit and watch me pack it for you.”

“What can I say?” You said with a shrug. “I like watching your skilled hands be put to work.”

“Oh really?” Carlisle seemed to suddenly forget the task he was previously so focused on. He walked over to you, letting the cold hands you loved so much cup your face gently. “Just wait for this weekend. Then you’ll really see how skillful they are.”

You giggle, pulling at his waist and leaning up to kiss him. “I can’t wait.”

It wasn’t long before you were finished loading up the car and ready to leave. Carlisle had to practically drag you away when your goodbyes with the kids went on a little too long. But you couldn’t help it. Not only did you love your children dearly, but you needed to give them all (mainly Emmett and Edward) to behave while you and Carlisle were gone. Although they were tremendously older than their young adult bodies, they sometimes acted just as recklessly as teenagers.

The drive to the cabin was long and peaceful. Carlisle let you handle the music, and although he kept his eyes on the road, he smiled at the sight of you passionately singing along with every song out of the corner of his eyes.

You arrived in the afternoon, and your husband insisted on carrying your bags inside for you, allowing you to wander around the cabin you came to for special occasions. It followed a less modern aesthetic, mainly because getting a good internet connection so far from civilization was a little difficult. It reminded you of when you were first married to Carlisle.

“Why don’t you pick out a record?” Carlisle said from the bedroom, raising his voice a little so you could hear him down the hall, despite your enhanced hearing.

You walked over to the small shelf that was filled to the brim with different genres and eras of music. You opted for something more modern, so you pulled out a Christina Perri vinyl and put it on the player.

The first track was one that you knew all too well, and it seemed Carlisle remembered it just as well when it hit his ears. Deciding that unpacking could wait, he left the bedroom and approached you. When he got close enough to grab you, he started leading you in a slow dance around the living room. And when Christina sang about loving someone for a thousand years, Carlisle kissed you deeply before making a comment about how he couldn’t wait for the thousand-year mark.

***

When your anniversary came the next day, you and Carlisle didn’t do much. Besides being slightly more affectionate than usual and exchanging presents, it seemed like a normal day for you two. But you cherished it like any other day you spent with your husband.

The only time Carlisle strayed from you today was to go outside and hunt for dinner. He came back in record time with two wine glasses filled with red liquid and a few smudges around his mouth that he let you kiss off. Ushering you to the couch in front of the lit fireplace, he handed you a glass and used his now free hand to hold you close to him.

“To you, my dear.” Carlisle toasted, holding his glass up to you.

“And to you, darling.” You added, clinking his cup with your own. “To a hundred years.”

“And a hundred more.”

Hours had passed without you knowing. You were too wrapped up in Carlisle’s presence, the way he stroked your arm while he listened to you talk about whatever came to your mind.

Eventually, your glasses were empty, and Carlisle set them on the small table in front of you before cuddling you again. You leaned into his touch, breathing his scent in. “I love your hands.” You muttered against his neck. The hands in question were either holding yours or gently massaging you.

“Oh, yeah?” He smiled, and you nodded. “You wanna see what else they can do?”

It felt like a switch had flipped, and suddenly, you were straddling your husband and kissing him like you’d been starved for a hundred years. He kissed back with the same sentiment, hands roaming and groping your body.

Carlisle broke away the slightest bit to speak. “As much as I’d love to take you right here, why don’t we move to the bedroom?” Without waiting for a response, he stood up, carrying you down the hall like it was nothing. You clung to him, kissing and lightly nipping at his neck.

When he reached the bedroom, Carlisle softly set you on the bed and started kissing you again. He towered over you, caging you in with his limbs.

But kissing, although very enjoyable, wasn’t enough for him. His hands started to roam again, and he began to play with the hem of your shirt. “May I?” He asked against your lips, and you nodded furiously. Carlisle peeled the shirt off of your body, and your bra was off soon after.

Without warning, he broke away from you. You were about to protest when his mouth latched onto your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. You moaned at the sensation, running a hand through his once pristine hair. He made sure to give the same treatment to the other.

“So beautiful.” He muttered, squeezing your tits with his hands and running his cold thumbs over your now stiff nipples. You mewled and arched your back. God, the things this man did to you. “So perfect.”

“Carlisle.” You whined. You couldn’t take anymore waiting, you needed him now. In desperation, you started moving your hips to try and rut against his thigh. He allowed it, giving attention to your breasts a little while longer while you used him to ease your need. But his thigh wasn’t enough. “Carlisle, come on.”

He looked up at you with a caring but mischievous look. “What’s the magic word?”

“Carlisle!”

“Nope.” The man smirked, slowly trailing kisses down your stomach and stopping at the waistband of your pants. “Come on, dear. Where are your manners?”

“Please!” You cried out.

Carlisle swiftly started to unbutton your pants, tugging them down your legs. “There’s my good girl.” The little nickname just made you even wetter. Carlisle took off your panties, leaving you entirely bare for him. He stared down at you, taking in the image. He sighed, seemingly lost in thought. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Ready to ravage you, Carlisle started to crawl on the bed towards you. But before he could get to the place he wanted most, you put your foot on his chest to stop him. A hand shot up to caress your ankle, and Carlisle started to worry that he was moving too fast for you without realizing it.

“Maybe you should take your clothes off too?” You suggested, giggling at his sigh of relief. Carlisle dropped your foot and stood up again, stripping in front of you. He did so as fast as possible without using superspeed, knowing you were desperate for him but would still enjoy the show.

“Better?”

“Better.”

You sat up, his stiff cock now at your eyeline. You reached out, wanting to grasp it, suck it, whatever he would let you do.

But Carlisle grabbed your wrist. “Now, what do you think you’re doing?” He asked, tone light enough to indicate that he wasn’t upset or serious.

“I want you to enjoy yourself.” You answer with a shrug. “It’s your anniversary too, you know.”

“You want me to enjoy myself?” He asked, gently pushing you until you were lying on your back. You nodded. “Then be a good girl and spread your legs.”

A tingle went down your spine at the command, and you immediately did as told. Carlisle grasped your ankles to keep your legs separated. He stared at your pussy, mouth watering at the thought of tasting you. He inched closer to you, hands running up your legs.

He didn’t waste another second. Carlisle pushed at your thighs to bring them to your chest and dove into your pussy, licking a broad strip through your slit before latching onto your clit. He groaned at the taste of you, sending chilling vibrations through your body. One of his hands splayed out at the back of your knees to keep your legs up, and he used his now free hand to prod at your entrance.

“You’re so wet, honey.” He cooed as he slipped a finger in, soon adding another. Carlisle began fucking you slowly, hooking his fingers on your g-spot and flicking at your clit with his tongue.

“More.” You moaned, squeezing his fingers. “Want your cock, Carlisle.”

Your husband tsked, taking his mouth off of you but continuing his ministrations. “Not til you come on my fingers, Y/n. You know the rules. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whined, wanting nothing more than to be stretched and filled to the brim by your husband’s cock. But it warmed your cold heart that he was still cautious with you.

“Then make me come.” You begged.

Carlisle took it as a personal challenge to make you finish as quickly as possible. He usually liked to take his time with you, but you were desperate. So Carlisle quickened his pace, added a third finger, flicked and sucked at your clit, and soon enough you were falling apart. You stiffened and let out a choked moan as Carlisle helped you ride out your high.

While catching your breath, Carlisle withdrew his fingers from you and cleaned your juices off with his tongue. The sound that came from him was almost animalistic. He looked at you as if you were his prey. “You’re so delicious.” He said, licking the remnants of your cum off of his hand. The way he was looking down on you made you even wetter.

Usually, Carlisle liked to start nice and slow, giving you time to adjust to his size before he began ramming into you. But tonight, he couldn’t control himself. He grabbed himself, swiping the tip of his penis through your slick folds to collect more of your juices before prodding your entrance and bottoming out in one swift motion.

Then he started fucking you.

You were beyond grateful that you were staying in a cabin in the middle of the mountains because if someone were around, they would’ve thought you were being murdered. The headboard banged against the wall with the force Carlisle was using to fuck you. He held onto the backs of your knees, keeping your legs pinned to your chest and giving you shocks of pleasure with every hard thrust.

It was all too much, but in the best way. Carlisle fucking you roughly at an angle that you knew would make it difficult to walk for a while, despite you usually being able to recover from rough sex quickly. With the way Carlisle was acting right now, his panting and almost growling sounds, and his nails digging into your skin, you knew he wouldn’t be satisfied after one round.

“So good.” Carlisle groaned, leaning down to kiss at your neck. You pulled at Carlisle’s hair to try and ground yourself, but you were too far gone with the overwhelming pleasure. “Are you gonna come?”

“Uh-huh.” It came out as a high-pitched squeal, and Carlisle smiled.

“You can do it, honey.” While speaking, he snaked a hand down to rub at your clit, pace as rough and furious as his thrusts. “Want you to come. Be a good girl for me; go ahead.”

It was like Carlisle had some kind of control over your body. As soon as the words left his mouth, you found your release. It was one of the most intense orgasms you had ever had. You were a bit surprised that you didn’t accidentally pull out Carlisle’s hair from how hard you were gripping the strands.

Carlisle continued fucking you at his rough pace, making you shake and cry out in pleasure. He didn’t stop, seemingly very focused on now reaching his own peak. The way your cunt gripped his cock certainly helped, and not long after you, he was shooting ropes of cum inside you, keeping up his thrusts to fuck it into you.

When he came down from his high, his movements slowed to a stop. He delicately moved your legs off your chest to lay on the bed, massaging any possible sore spots he may have given you.

“Was I too rough?” He asked, seemingly in a clearer headspace now.

You shook your head, reaching up to caress his face. “I liked it.” Carlisle sighed in relief, leaning down to kiss you. “Maybe we can do it again? Like, now?”

He laughed at your eagerness. “How about in five minutes?” He wrapped you up in his arms before flipping you over so you were lying on his chest. His cock was still hard inside you, filling you nicely. “I want to lay with my wife for a while.”

“I won’t argue with that.” You said, snuggling into Carlisle’s bare chest. “Happy anniversary, Carlisle.”

“Happy anniversary, Y/n.”

***

Twilight Taglist: @wedfan2 @natashamaximoff-69 @pink-hufflepuff

#agaypanic #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x reader smut #twilight #twilight x reader #praise k!nk #roughfuck #body worship

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cammys-imagines24 · 1 year ago

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°•Astarion When You're Injured•°

On the one hand, oh no, his beloved is hurt.

On the other, gods is he turned on.

Now if you were actually at deaths door, that would be different.

Astarion would be a nervous, furious, tear stained wreck. Worrying that he'd lose the single most important thing in his cursed existence.

The one thing that truly matters in his life. You.

But, if you're injured from just the run of the mill scrapes you get yourself into? Well that's fair game for him to be horny as all hell.

The way you wince when you roll up your shirt, a stab wound gouged into your abdomen.

How the blood trickles down to your breeches and stains your flesh, the crimson glinting in the slant of moonlight coming in from your partially open tent...

He'll feel his pants grow tight.

"Darling, I know you're injured and probably aren't in the mood but I must say you look positively scrumptious right now."

Astarion will watch you like a hawk as you stumble about your tent, looking for alcohol, bandages, a needle and thread.

The way you bite your lip to stifle yet another whimper, the sweet scent of your blood in the air. He licks his lips.

Oh, he could just eat you right up.

"Kitten, you've got to stop whimpering and groaning unless you want me to ravage you this instant."

When Astarion sees you go to clean yourself up though, he'll be absolutely affronted.

"Ah, ah. Don't you dare grab that rag, my dear. Have you forgotten about little old me? I could clean the blood off of you far better."

He'll say, sinking down to his knees before you. Have no fear though, the vampire will lick your wound til not a single leaking drop of your blood is left.

"This really gets you going?"

You'll ask, bracing your hands upon his shoulders for balance, your skin tingling from his attentive mouth. He's so skilled that you've nearly forgotten about the pain. Nearly.

"Well, my sweet, I could do without the you getting stabbed part but how can I resist when you're dripping red in front of me? You don't know the effect you have on me."

Astarion won't be selfish enough to ask you to take care of the little, well big, problem in his pants however.

He loves you dearly and he is here to help, in anyway he can.

You are injured and he understands that what you need from him isn't unbridled passion but sincere affection.

He will offer to stitch you up himself, seeing as your wound is in an awkward position and you can't really see it unless you're in front of a mirror.

The pale elf will tell you to lie down while he practically straddles you to get closer to the afflicted area.

Crimson eyes twinkling, fangs pearly and white as he smiles but he'll be gentle.

Threading through your raw skin carefully and giving your thigh a few affirming squeezes with his other hand when you gasp.

"See, pet? Aren't I just the best lover you've ever had? Flesh isn't so different from fabric and my stitches are perfect, wouldn't you say?"

Afterwards he'll wrap your stomach in bandages and get you anything you need.

Medicine to make you feel better and of course, all the recuperation time you need.

So much so that if the others in your camp need you that he will shove them out of your tent and order them to leave you be.

You'll not be leaving your bed for awhile that's for sure. Not while he's here to act as your nurse.

When you ask him to lay in bed with you, Astarion will give you one of his rare, tender smiles. Genuine with no mischief.

The fact that you need him and want him near is still a marvel to him.

It warms his ice cold spawn heart.

Makes him feel things he hasn't felt in 200 years.

"Oh, alright. My body is yours, in more ways than one."

Astarion will joke, flirtatious smirk slotting back into place along his mouth but he'll slip into bed without a fuss.

Your head resting on his chest, him mindful of your wrapped up abdomen.

Once you've had your medicine, rejuvenating sleep will call to you but before that you whisper how much you love him. Your words quiet in the night, against his ruffled shirt.

He'll hear you all the same and it disarms him.

"I love you too, sweetheart. You have to learn to be more thoughtful of yourself. Can't have you dying on me, now can I?"

Astarion's voice velvet, his fingers tracing abstract patterns along your back.

In his comforting embrace your eyelids droop, the pain a distant throb that you wish to have pass. His cold chest soothing against your flushed, exhausted cheek.

He'll pull you even closer, if that's possible and kiss the crown of your head.

"Sleep now, darling. I'll be here with you. Always."

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion x reader #astarion x reader #astarion imagine #astarion imagines #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 imagine #baldur's gate 3 headcanon #bg3 x reader #bg3 fic

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colourstreakgryffin · 11 months ago

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Hello, Happy Valentine's Day, first of all and second, I always liked the idea of Alastor dating a relative of the Overlords, so could you make Alastor dating Zestial's granddaughter? q(≧▽≦q)🌻

OMFG. I can tell Zestial will be a pissed off grandpappy with his granddaughter and just wanting to keep us away from Al! Haha! I love this! Sorry, kinda short!

Alastor- Rose Drop

Needless to say… your grandfather isn’t happy about this. He is the only family you have in Hell and as a result, Zestial is protective over you. Wanting you to stay safe and away from specific threats…

So when you begin dating Alastor, Zestial is pissed off and already on the Radio Demon’s case. He is demanding to know why and for Alastor to explain himself, already threatening to throw hands if he dares try manipulate you

Zestial may be your grandfather but he acts more like your father than he actually is. It’s not like you hate your grandfather… you really do love him dearly, you just wish he wouldn’t be so naggy and involved in your life

Alastor is a gentleman at his core so he treats his girlfriend with much respect, he is protective but he doesn’t suffocate you and he likes to hold your hand as you two walk. Of course, you have your grandfather over your shoulder the entire time

Alastor is quite patient. Believe it or not, he won’t ever get annoyed by your protective and guarding grandfather but instead, he’ll establish boundaries with Zestial and asks him to not treat you like a child, further fuelling your passionate love for the Radio Demon

Alastor can handle the fact and respect the fact Zestial is the only family you have and you’re quite close to him, and his behaviours is understandable but he doesn’t want Zestial to ruin your relationship so he will make sure everybody walks out happy

Alastor wants your grandfather’s permission and blessing so when you two tell Zestial about your relationship properly, Alastor sucks up to him to get the right to date you. He wants everything to go well, he wants both of you to be happy

Alastor finds you beautiful, constantly calling you as such. You do resemble your Overlord grandfather very well and he doesn’t even care if it seems off, he loves you and he wants your attention, hence why he is doing all this

Zestial may not be happy about the fact you’re dating his fellow Overlord but he won’t ever try break this up. He can see from across the room just how much you two like each other and he is happy for you

Alastor is kissy and affectionate in front of the other Overlords, it’s quite cute to see a man like him so sweet and doting. He loves you and he can’t keep it to himself, you’re his little very old-fashioned glowy vampire~!

“Oh. My dear, would you like to come out to the café with me? I had spoken to your old man, he said it was all good for us. Now, may we?”

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impish-baby · 3 months ago

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I love Valerian so much. How would he react if you hid/ran away from him? -🐯

Valerian's reaction to reader hiding from him - 🦇

"Oh my, where could my little bat have run off to?" He knows of course, but it won't hurt to play along for a bit. "My poor heart.. I already miss them so dearly.."

He chuckles softly, stopping just before the room you've holed yourself up in. "This won't do.. how can I go on without them? I'll just turn to dust in my sadness.." The vampire does like being melodramatic, leaning against the door and sliding to the floor with a heavy sigh.

The over exaggerated sniffles do make you feel a little bad, although you're definitely blaming that on the stupid bond.

"How cruel.. my own child abandoning their sire.." The fake sob finally makes you break, your instincts screaming to go out and comfort him.

Valerian springs up when you open the door, scooping you into a tight hug. "Oh goodness! There's my precious baby.." The vampire peppers your face in kisses, giggling at how quickly you gave in. "Such a good little one for papa."

Hiding doesn't really work when the vampire can tell where you are at all times :p it just seems like a game

It becomes a different matter entirely if you somehow make it out of the manor, just because you could get hurt more easily! That'll actually get you in trouble with him

#platonic yandere #famial yandere #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere age regression #yandere agere #forced age regression #forced agere #oc: valerian 🥀#you've got mail! 📨#🐯 anon

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titania-sleeps · 5 months ago

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i thought it'd be a better idea to explain some of the ideas i put on the poll since there aren't enough words i can fit onto the poll to show nuance and plot, so here's a bit more! here's the poll if you still want to vote, i think i'll keep it up for the rest of the week while i try to draft some of them out a bit more: poll

pls vote :D i do intend to publish all of them eventually but i understand some of them might be a bit lacking :') so it helps to know which one people are most interested in

as a note, i mostly write sub yanderes so they'll all be sub in some way,,, some more than others ofc but they're either switches or subs

male omega yandere x alpha reader (but you're mean to him)

your omega yandere is desperate for you to finally bite him and claim you. the two of you have been fuck buddies for years (mostly so the two of you can get through your ruts and heats). he's annoyed by how good you are at controlling yourself. through all possible means of seduction, he will get you! so please, please bite him and claim him already!

yandere you pick up bc you want to feel better about yourself (savior complex)

your yandere is an F-Rank healer that can only cast Light Heal. he was kicked out of his former party and out of nowhere, you come into his life like a storm and take him into your party. the party consists of just you and him, and he wonders at first why you took him in. he loves you deeply for it but eventually finds out it's just cause you wanted to feel better about yourself as a person by saving him. he still loves you and will try his hardest to get you to love him back!

human yandere x vampire reader (he wants to be your blood bag)

your human yandere has been gifted to you from the Elder Ancestors as a means to satiate your blood hunger pangs. you chose him from the selection of humans on a whim but he believes that he is your destined. he gets jealous if you try other humans' blood; he insists that he was bred and born just to be your blood bag. he really REALLY likes it when you bite hard. he eats fruit just so he tastes sweeter.

pretend bf yandere x sad reader (you're widowed)

your pretend bf yandere is a replacement for your dead husband. he seems similar, but only in appearance. although you love him dearly, you can't see anyone but your husband in him. your yandere tries his hardest for you to see only him, but you are hesitant. please love him for him and only him, he can't bear to be just a replacement for much longer!

lil silly rich yandere x painter reader (he really wants to be your model) your rich yandere is a self-made noble; the so-called nouveau rich in the 18th century. he comes across you one day and he falls in love with your art. you are a painter that goes under the pseudonym of Apollo in fear of those in opposition to you. he purchases all your finest works and is granted an audience with you, and he falls deeply in love with you, the person behind his favorite works. sadly, you spend a lot of time painting the newest actor from a local troupe... he thinks that you should ONLY paint him. after all, he knows you the best, so he would be the perfect model for you!

flea familiar yandere x witch reader (he's a flea but has human form don't worry)

your flea familiar yandere is your familiar summoned on the day that you gain your powers. he was terribly excited for it, especially since he didn't think that he would get summoned so quickly after graduating from his prestigious familiar academy. however, after you summoned him, you couldn't help but express your disappointment that you summoned a... flea. a small, silly flea. he loves you oh so dearly, but why won't you acknowledge him? he tries his best to accompany you on trips and help you during spells, but why do you want another familiar so badly? he loves you, so please only use him and only him!

betrothed yandere x uninterested reader (you hate political marriages !11!!1!)

your betrothed yandere is terribly in love with you. and he has been for years upon years. the two of you were first introduced at the tender age of seven. at that time, you cared not for romance. he, however, grew to love your personality. growing up with you was the greatest blessing to him, but why do you only treat him like a friend? he chases away all your potential suitors, so you should only look at him, right? why don't you love him the most?

house husband yandere x INDEPENDENT STRONG reader

your house husband yandere is frustrated that you seem to lose more and more passion for him every night. the two of you may have only been married for a year, but he's sure that he's done everything right! he cooks you a delicious dinner every night. he prepares your bath diligently. he even offers himself to you every night; you can use him to relieve all of that stress! but why do you seem so focused on your work? you should pay more attention to him, or else he might do something that you won't like...

INADEQUATE house husband yandere x LOVING reader (not like above)

your inadequate house husband yandere is a mess. he's clumsy and really bad at doing chores. he gets too jealous and possessive in front of your friends, because he only wants to keep you to himself. he believes that you hate him and will divorce him soon, but that couldn't be further off from the truth. you love him dearly and you find him so cute. it's okay if he breaks all your dishes, you can just buy new ones! he's your cute little yandere and you would not have it any other way.

soulmate yandere x reader who doesn't believe him at all

your soulmate yandere is a great cosmic being from times of yore, but you clearly don't believe him. instead, you are obsessed with another student from your magic academy. that's so silly of you; you are tied to him and he has been waiting for your existence for eons. just say the word and he can grant you anything. he's willing to give his entire soul and being to you, so you should too right? he can give you immortality and infinite wealth, so please love him and only him. well... you will eventually. it's your preordained fate.

wannabe knight yandere x reader that really wants one (just not him... for now)

your wannabe knight yandere is your childhood friend. at a young age, both you and he would play pretend princess and pretend knight. you were always so insistent on finding your perfect knight; a pretty boy that would carry you away on his golden unicorn or whatever. well, he can be that knight for you. so he spends years of his life training away at becoming a knight while you try to find a way to become a lady. you eventually become a lady of nobility when your father is granted the title of baron from the king for his scientific discoveries. at the same time, he completes his knight training and passes the knight test. surely you'll accept him as your knight, right? if not... he may have to cut every other knight down...

-> masterlist

#sub yandere #dom reader #dom!reader #sub!yandere #male yandere #yandere #soft yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere insert #yandere boy #x reader #oc x reader #male yandere x reader

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optimusprime12 · 1 month ago

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Poly Transformers x Human! Reader x Decepticons angst

youtube

"Ratchet! Please tell them I didn't-" "Shut up." You never seen how cold they could be. All of them. All because this new girl came along... She spread lies.

'I see you as you see yourself through all the books you read'

You looked at them all, with a smirk (Rival Name) next to them. Her smile made you want to attack her, but she sat in Bee's palm. "I-I..." You stopped talking. Everyone stared daggers at you.

'Your Vampire Empire'

"You may now leave." Optimus says, staring at you coldly. "Fine. Jackie-" You felt tears come out of your as Wheeljack turned around.

'I see there, rejecting all your earthly power.'

'Protecting and dissecting 'til you've emptied every hour'

"Just go. You've done enough." Ratchet said, it's like you all where not dating. The bridge opened up, and you where still in shock. "R-ra-" "Don't say my name." Ratchet was cold. You wanted to pull off your hair. "Fine. But don't expect me to come back!" You ripped the promise ring from your hand that they have you, and stormed out to your home.

'I wanted to see you naked, I wanted to hear you scream, I wanted to kiss your skin and your everything. '

The next month, it was so bad. You had no friends, besides Miko, who was the only one to believe you.

'I wanted to be the one you could understand'

You wanted to badly to hurt yourself. You wanted to.

But you kept moving. Getting rid of everything they gave you was the first step.

That's when you finally met the Decepticons.

'In her Vampire empire I am Falling ya'

'Falling ya'

After a few months of getting to know them, you can't help but to feel loved. A kind of love you never had before.

But you couldn't tell Miko.

But she found out and told the Autobots they kidnapped you.

'Well, I walked into your dagger for the last time'

Megatron had you up on his shoulder, as his new Queen. Starscream was also very pleaseed.

'Where you can't seem to hold, me can't seem to let me go'

'So I can't find surrender can't keep control'

Optimus, and the others watched as you can down on the battled field, on Megatron's shoulder. "I Sw- (Y/n)! What are you doing!?" Wheeljack asks, lowering his arm. The fighting stopped. "Oh, you mean my queen?" You looked so high and mighty un on his shoulder. Just like how you use to do to them.

'You say you want to be alone and you want children'

'You wanna be with me, you wanna be with HIM'

Ratchet tried to run to you, but was stopped by you kissing Megatron's helm. "Trader!" (Rival Name) called from the sidelines. "Yes, but I'm no trader since I'm not the one who made me get kicked out." Your words hurt Bulkhead and the others dearly.

'I am empty until she kills'

'In her Vampire empire'

"We had no choice-" Megatron glared at Ratchet to shut him up.

'Falling ya'

"You did. And you choice to run MY Queen from her once home." Optimus felt jealous. They all did. "Ya! And for once we're the good guys." Knockout said. Optimus looked to (Rival Name). "Care to explain?" Ratchet asked, glaring at (Rival Name).

"Look... I may have lied about (Y/n) being really mean to me, but you guys wouldn't hurt me right...?" They felt betrayed by (Rival name). "T-that means..." Bee looked to you, and with big eyes full of tears, tried to ran to you, but Shockwave stopped him. "It is illogical of you to do that. It's logical that (Y/n) is ours now." Shockwave said coldly. Bee taken out his gun, but was stopped by Optimus. "We- Sweetspark-" "Do not call them your 'sweetspark'." Megatron growled. Wheeljack looked to you, pleading eyes that you would come with them, be happy again. Bee tried to get past Shockwave, but it failed.

Megatron turned to the spaceship, and started to walk away. Optimus held his hand out, but it was no use, you slipped right past his fingers.

#transformers x reader #transformers angst #optimus prime x reader #smokescreen x reader #wheeljack x reader #shockwave x reader #megatron x reader #bumblebee x reader #tfp bulkhead x reader #starscream x reader #Soundwave x reader #Youtube

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borathae · 1 year ago

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“You place your hand on the back of his head and push him down. Yoongi bends over, falling head first into the sheets. Like this, he is resting on the side of his head, breathing so heavily that he is almost wheezing. “I’m so gonna treat you right”, you say and lower yourself to press kisses to his lower back and tailbone. Alternatively: Yoongi long stopped pretending as if being tied up and pegged doesn’t completely ruin him. He loves it and you should fucking know.”

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, soft Dom!Reader, masochist!Yoongi, body worship, Shibari with magical ropes, sex in front of a mirror, handjob, praise, she makes him praise himself :(, shy!Yoongs, loving dirty talk, he has a sensitive tummy & nipples, pegging in doggy & pronebone position, rimjob (m.receiving), anal fingering, use of a buttplug, use of lube, edging (m. receiving), multiple orgasms (m.receiving), male squirting, she has her fingers around his throat but doesn’t choke him, soft hair pulling, cock slapping, spanking, he is in a lovey dovey brat headspace, she wants him to feel pretty & loved!, he does!!!, cuddly aftercare, their bickering is toptier, this is kinky love making, they are so in love!!

Wordcount: 8.1k

a/n: I love them so much! I love them, I love them, I love them! 🥺

His head hits the pillow, his back arches as a soft moan slips past his pouty lips.

Said lips get claimed by you in a needy kiss seconds later. Your weight places itself on his lap, your fingers take his wrists and pin them above his head.

Yoongi feels how this turns off every single thought he ever had. He is obsessed with this state, basking in it with a fluttering tummy.

“Mine”, you rasp and tug on his lower lip.

Yoongi chases you with a soft sigh, lifting his head when you break contact. He wants your kiss again. Those past twenty minutes of excessive making out weren’t enough.

“Mhm? Are you mine?” you ask him, looking down at him with heavy, yet playful eyes.

“Yeah, yours”, Yoongi says, nodding his head.

“Then say it.”

“I’m yours”, the words come easy to him. He is yours. All yours. Which is why he is nothing but excited for tonight. With any other person he’d already be gone, never to return. But with you, he can’t wait for the next step.

It was his idea. Like always when he wants to bottom, it has to be his idea so he can be really into it. He feels comfortable that way. You love it when he is that way.

Your eyes light up, a smile curls your lips.

“Mine”, you giggle, scrunching your nose up, “you’re so cute.”

“I’m cute”, he whispers and wiggles.

“Yeah you are. Oh Yoongs, can I look at you?”

He nods his head and sits up to pull the shirt over his head. He throws it the side and falls back into the pillows, placing his arms back above his head. Then he tilts his head, giving you a playful and terribly pretty look.

You feel your heart flutter at the view. His long, black hair is spread on the pastel pink coloured pillow casing, his features are truly the prettiest, most delicate artworks and his bared torso takes your breath away. His arms are relaxed, resting in the submissive position gladly. His perky nipples are hard in the cold air and his fair skin glimmers in the shine of the candles.

“Look at you”, you whisper, placing your hands on his wrists and dancing them down his body. His arms, shoulders, sides and pecs until you linger on his upper tummy, “my beautiful love.”

Yoongi feels goosebumps litter his skin. Your touch is heaven. Your gaze feels reassuring to him. He wasn’t always like this, but you have been loving him so honestly and dearly that he feels good about being naked in front of you these days. Good and maybe even beautiful.

“I can’t ever get enough of you”, you say and as you lower your lips to taste his skin, you swirl your fingers over his tummy.

Yoongi sighs your name, squirming unbearably. His eyes fall closed, his lips part. Your lips and tongue are on his nipples while your fingers touch his tummy. The combination makes him feel ecstatic and so lightheaded. Oh so terribly lightheaded.

A string of saliva breaks between his left nipple and your lips. The cold air of the room hits his wet skin and sends electricity through his veins. Yoongi mewls softly, intertwining his own fingers. He misses your warmth, but can’t complain because you are currently sucking on his right nipple instead.

You run your hand to his lower tummy, allowing your fingers to linger on the part most tender. Just one simple touch makes Yoongi flinch.

You lift your head.

“Too much?” you ask him, “I’ll slow down, yeah?”

“Don’t”, he sounds out of breath, “more.”

“Yeah? More?” you ask and squeeze the tender area.

Yoongi squirms and giggles deeply. So you do it again. You squeeze him, forcing him to giggle and squirm.

“Cute. So cute.”

“I don’t like that”, he complains between giggles.

“Yeah? Because you’re ticklish?” you tease, squeezing him.

Yoongi laughs and reaches for your wrists.

“Uh-uh”, you say, taking his wrists to pin them back above his head, “your arms stay up.”

Yoongi gazes at you, squeezing his thighs together.

“No”, he whispers.

“No?” you repeat with a cocked up brow.

“No. You said you’ll do it."

“I did. Do you wanna start?”

He nods his head.

“Yeah? Then I’ll get the rope.”

“Okay.”

You get off his lap and snatch the rope you prepared. It is rosé in colour and made out of soft natural fibres. He tied you up with it in the past and you loved the feeling. You are excited at the aspect of Yoongi being able to feel it soon.

“Okay, sit u-”, he interrupts you by already sitting up on his own.

He flutters his lashes at you. You send him a smile.

“Okay, put your ar-”, he once again interrupts you by putting his arms behind his back all on his own.

He gives you a pouty face, tilting his head to the side. You giggle.

“You’re so cute. Can I finish my orders at least once?”

He shakes his head, “no.”

“No?”

“You’re too slow.”

“Wow”, you laugh, “it’s good to know that you didn’t completely lose your brattiness, I was already worried for you.”

“Hurry up. Please.”

“I am, I am”, you say as you crawl behind his back, “good god, you’re so impatient.”

“I’m excited.”

“I know. I’m excited too, love”, you say, “now where did you say I should start?”

“Put it from the front to the back over my shoulders.”

“Ah yeah, I remember”, you say and begin tying, “sorry, I still get a little confused sometimes.”

“It’s okay. You can ask me”, he assures you.

“Yeah, gosh so embarrassing”, you mumble.

“It’s just me, love. Don’t feel that way, it’s okay.”

“Okay okay, that makes me feel better”, you say and give his shoulder a little peck, “thank you for the reassurance.”

“Mhm ‘course”, he whispers, melting under your fingertips. He has his eyes closed, tingling like crazy at the sensations of the rope gliding over his skin. It feels so good. It really fucking does. His skin so sensitive when you touch him and the ropes are incredibly soft. Yoongi doesn’t want this to end, shivering like crazy whenever you guide the ropes across his bared torso.

You are silent for the next few moments as you concentrate on getting the knots right and Yoongi is lost in the sensations. It’s a very relaxing time, intimate and safe. And so incredibly nice. Yoongi’s body is made for Shibari. The rosé rope looks beautiful against his fair skin.

“Oh no”, you gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi’s voice is hoarse from disuse. He clears his throat.

“I messed up. Is it over and then under?”

“Yeah.”

“Shoot, I went under and then over”, you mumble and loosen the knot, “I have to redo it.”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

“It’s still a little confusing for me from time to time.”

“Don’t worry, you’re doing really well for a beginner. You learned a lot already.”

“It’s only because I had such a good teacher.”

Yoongi feels his cheeks heat up.

“Shut up”, he murmurs, listening to the fond giggle you let out.

You lose yourself in the tying again while Yoongi falls back into the tranquillity only you can bring. He feels so safe in your presence. So unashamedly himself. So vulnerable and small, but so safe that he goddamn loves that feeling.

“Almost done. How is that feeling?” you ask him as you begin tying his wrists.

“Like paradise”, he sighs without thinking.

“Yeah? Paradise?” you ask and giggle, leaning in to kiss his shoulder, “that sounds amazing.”

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, “more.”

You guide your kisses up to his neck, basking in the ecstatic sighs he releases in reaction.

One kiss. Two kisses. Three.

You lift your lips.

“More.”

“I’m almost done, soon”, you whisper against his neck and Yoongi shivers.

“More", he whispers and pouts.

“Soon. Only two more knots. Promise.”

He whines, but you ignore it for the sake of finishing the tie. You make sure that it sits right and that there is enough distance between the pressure points and the rope and then you are already finished.

“Done.”

Yoongi visibly leans closer to you in hopes of getting neck kisses. Cute.

You run your fingertips along the ropes, tracing his skin gently. His chest heaves up and down quickly, indicating just how excited he was about the current position.

“So pretty”, you whisper, leaning down to kiss along his shoulder.

Yoongi shivers and exhales shakily, tilting his head to the side. Finally.

“Are you comfy?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, tell me if it gets too much.”

“Yeah.”

You guide your touch to the front, running your fingertips up and down his tummy. The shiver this forces to run through Yoongi is intense. Goosebumps cover his skin instantly. His tummy is sensitive. Always has been.

“My handsome prince”, you whisper, “you’ve got the prettiest tummy.”

Yoongi lowers his eyes, but you make him tilt his head up again with a soft grip around his throat.

“Look at yourself, my prince”, you whisper.

There is a mirror on the other side of your room. Golden frame and reaching from the floor way above your head. You can see yourselves on bed this way. Yoongi is kneeling in front of you with his arms tied behind his back and ropes accentuating the paths of his torso. So fucking beautiful.

Yoongi shies away at the view, but you fix his gaze for him.

“Don’t look away”, you whisper.

Yoongi can barely hold eye contact, feeling breathless. He never looked at himself for such a long time. It’s scary, but doesn’t make him uncomfortable because it’s you he experiences it with.

“You are so beautiful, my love. I don’t want you to shy away”, you whisper, caressing his tummy.

“It’s hard”, he confesses.

“I know, but I’m here”, you assure him, “yeah?”

He nods his head, letting out a small “mh-hm.”

“Yeah I am. Right here”, you say, pulling him closer, “now look. Watch me touch the parts I love.”

Yoongi looks at your hands. You start at his hips and guide your touches up his torso, leaving out nothing as you feel him up. By the time you have reached his neck and explored every inch of him, Yoongi is so desperate that his hard cock is leaking through his briefs. And he feels handsome. Really goddamn handsome. The feeling is unfamiliar but really, really nice.

“Did you see what I love?” you whisper, hugging his waist with one arm. You guide your unoccupied hand to his hip, massaging it gently.

“Yeah”, Yoongi chokes out, pressing himself into you.

“Mhm, you did”, you say, “do you agree?”

“I think”, he whispers, basking in the warm smile you send him.

“I won’t ever grow tired of you, my love. You are the most handsome.”

He blushes, squirming slightly.

You leave one single kiss on his neck and then you whisper right against it.

“Can I start with the spell now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Here it comes. Relax, my love.”

His skin tingles on the spots where your magic soaks the ropes. It is a warm sensation and prickles. Almost as if actual electricity was coursing through him.

“There we go. Done.”

The tingling stops. The ropes sit around his wrists and arms and feel the same they did before.

“How’s that?”

Yoongi fights the ropes. He knows that just a little show of his true strength could rip them. He tenses his muscles and tugs. Nothing budges. He tries with more strength, but nothing changes. “Huh?” He tries. He really, really tries but the ropes don’t even move an inch. His stomach churns in utter excitement.

You giggle and hug him against you tightly. Your chin rests on his shoulder, your voice tickles his back.

“Oh Yoongi, look at that. My magic worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah”, Yoongi whispers, gawking at the floor with widened eyes. He can’t believe that this is happening.

You snicker, closing in to him to kiss his cheek.

“You’re my prisoner now. You can’t escape me”, you rasp and giggle, shaking him from side to side as you hug him tighter, “oh Yoongs, my love, you look so handsome like this.”

“Holy fuck”, he presses out under his breath.

You study his shocked expression.

“What’s wrong? Oh my love, don’t be nervous. I won’t hurt you”, you say, cupping his cheek to turn his head to you, “should I undo it?”

He shakes his head.

“But?”

“I want to worship you”, he presses out, “I want to fucking kiss the ground you walk on. You are the most perfect human being that ever existed, exists and will exist. Holy fuck, you’re a fucking goddess.”

You snicker, “sweet talker”, you tease and kiss his cheek, “I’m obsessed with you too, Yoongi Boongie.”

“Please”, he says, resting against you, “please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, my love”, you promise him, guiding your touch to his clothed cock.

He inhales sharply, looking into the mirror. You are rubbing him over his briefs, paying special attention to his tip.

“So wet”, you taunt, flashing him a smirk, “you’re so wet for me.”

Yoongi chases you with a tilt of his hips, sending you a pleading look. You understand and you want the same.

“Can I take off your briefs?”

He nods his head.

You tug them down carefully, but stop once you reach his knees. You let them sit around his thighs, running your hand up to his cock. Yoongi spills three pretty droplets of excitement on the sheets. It feels so good to be freed of his restraints and to know that you will touch him soon.

“I want to do something with you”, you say.

“What?” he sighs.

“I want you to look at yourself and tell me three things you love about yourself”, you say and wrap your fingers around his cock. You keep your movements slow to make it easier for him.

Yoongi chases you with a buck of his hips, pressing out a soft moan. The first touch will always scramble his brain. Your palm is so warm and soft. It feels incredible on his sensitive cock. Oh, if only you weren’t going so slow.

“Faster”, he sighs, chasing your hand.

“I’ll speed up if you tell me something you love about yourself.”

Yoongi mewls and writhes.

“Go on, be my good boy.”

“My eyes”, he gets out, chasing you.

“I agree. I love your eyes so, so much. You’ve got the prettiest eyes”, you say and concentrate your touches on his pink tip.

Yoongi mewls, scrunching his nose up.

"Two more, go on.”

“My, my ah”, he moans and throbs in your fingers, “holy shit, that feels so good there.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you love about yourself and I’ll keep touching you there.”

“I love my…my, ah my hands.”

“Yes, oh Boongie, you’ve got the sexiest hands ever. Of course you love them”, you reward him with touches on the spot which felt so very good. He moans and tenses up, feeling charged in pleasure.

“Oh god yeah, right there”, he says under his breath, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Right there, I know”, you whisper sweetly, “only one more. Tell me, love.”

Yoongi glances at his body. His cock is flushed, his body glows from pleasure. Your touch feels so much better when he sees it.

“I love my dick.”

You squeeze around him, moaning softly.

“You do?”

“Yeah, is sensitive. That’s good.”

“Oh Yoongs, I love your dick too. You’ve got the prettiest dick. I love playing with it and tasting it and havin’ it inside”, you rasp, using the new droplets of slick he spills to massage his favourite spot.

“Don’t…stop��plea-ah”, Yoongi moans, closing his eyes.

You speed up your movements, but stay on his favourite spot. Yoongi lets out a loud mewl, tilting his head back.

“Pretty, so pretty”, you praise, looking at him with a racing heart. His throat is exposed in this position, his chest is heaving up and down and his tummy keeps tensing each time you run your thumb over his sensitive spot.

“Don’t…stop”, he gets out, tensing his thighs to stop them from trembling.

“I won’t, love. I won’t."

Yoongi squirms and tries to twist the ropes. He fails, which results in him squirming even harder and throbbing in your hand.

“You’re so cute when you squirm”, you rasp, walking your fingers up to his chest just to flick his nipple.

It pebbles instantly. Yoongi moans.

“Doesn’t that feel so good?” you rasp, flicking his other nipple as well and using your wrist to jerk him off. You are paying attention to his whole length, squeezing down on him each time you glide over his favourite spot.

“You’re making me cum”, he croaks, “it’s so nice, please let me cum.”

“Mhm, I don’t know”, you say, slowing down just enough to drag out the inevitable, “where would be the fun in that?”

“Please”, he sighs, chasing your hand, “I can go again. Just…I wanna cum.”

You slip your fingers from his nipples, strengthening his suffering. He whines, arching his back.

“Remember all the times you edged me?” you taunt.

“___ please”, he begs, wiggling his arms without getting them free.

You chuckle, guiding your touch to his base. You squeeze hard, forcing the warmth to die down slowly.

“I’m begging you, please”, he pleads, peeling his eyes open just so he can look at you through the mirror. He is panting like crazy, barely holding his eyes open as they glisten at you through his messy bangs.

“But Yoongi…edging you is so much fun”, you say, closing your hand around his throat. You roll your hips into his butt, holding his cock by its base, “how else should I peg you if you aren’t edged and needy for me, mhm?”

“Then hurry up, fuck”, he presses out and groans when you press down on his veins, “I wanna have dick, don’t act like that.”

“You are seriously such a brat, fuck”, you say, chuckling, “you’re gonna get hurt if you keep talking like this.”

“I can take it.”

“Yeah?”

You slap his cock so hard that it bounces up and down. Yoongi flinches, squeezing his thighs together and pressing out a loud grunt. He leaks onto the sheets, throbbing without being touched.

Your eyes meet in the mirror. He is wheezing, looking at you through his messed up bangs. He smirks.

“Fucking do that again, I liked it”, he rasps.

“Yeah I know you did, which is why I won’t do it again”, you say, slipping your hand from his cock completely.

“Please”, he looks desperate instantly.

“Cute”, you say, “take off your pants.”

“How?” he throws back, wiggling his tied up arms.

“Ah yeah”, you laugh, “get off bed, I’ll do it for you.”

“Fine”, he says and scrambles off bed. He stumbles and almost falls now that his briefs are minimising his movements and his arms are tied to the back.

“Careful. Oh dear, please don’t hurt yourself”, you say in a chuckle, holding him by his waist.

With your support, Yoongi manages to crawl off the bed. You follow him, placing yourself in front of him to beam up at him.

“We didn’t think that through, did we?”

“No, almost face planted the floor”, Yoongi says and laughs.

You join him, caressing his waist.

“Oh Yoongs, we’re idiots”, you cackle.

“Yeah we are”, he says, leaning closer so he can kiss your lips.

Your giggles stop, a soft sigh replaces them as he kisses you deeply. He breaks the kiss, but stays close to nudge your cheek with his nose.

“I like this”, he says.

“Like what?” you gaze into his pretty eyes.

“Laughing with you, it’s nice.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheeks, “it’s the best.”

You and he sway from side to side, gazing deep into each other’s eyes.

“Hey, love?”

“Yes, love?”

“My dick’s still out.”

“Yeah I know”, you say and giggle, “wait, I’ll take them off.”

“Yeah okay”, Yoongi says and gasps when you fall to your knees. You tug his briefs down. Yoongi steps out of them and gasps again when you lower yourself to his feet to kiss each instep of them.

You straighten up and smile.

“My beloved”, you say, caressing his thighs.

Yoongi lowers his head and blushes.

“Did you like that?” you ask him, standing back up.

“You shouldn’t do that for me”, he whispers.

“Yoongi, don’t say that”, you warn him, caressing his waist, “I don’t want you to talk like this.”

“Sorry”, he whispers, glancing at you, “it was…not bad.”

You smile, “see? That was better, wasn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“Now hop, hop get back on bed. I’ll help you”, you say, holding his waist safely.

With your help, Yoongi manages to climb back on bed without any accidents. He gets back into the previous position, leaning into you when you claim the space behind him.

“Now we’re here again”, you say, smiling at him through the mirror.

“Yeah…”

You place your hand on the back of his head and push him down. Yoongi bends over, falling head first into the sheets. Like this, he is resting on the side of his head, breathing so heavily that he is almost wheezing.

You give him one tug on his hair, then run your fingertips down his back. You linger on his palms when you meet them, tracing his skin. He has clammy hands, grabbing for you in a desperate attempt to hold hands.

You allow him, caressing his skin.

“Relax for me, my love. You’re in safe hands.”

“I know”, Yoongi whispers, returning to his task of wheezing for air.

“Good, that’s good. I’m so gonna treat you right”, you say and lower yourself to press kisses to his lower back and tailbone.

Yoongi closes his eyes, feeling charged in pleasure. Your kisses are his fucking weakness. Feeling them dance down to his spot most sensitive feels especially ecstatic to him. He is so excited.

You bite his buttock.

“Ah”, he gasps, moving away, “hey. Don’t do that.”

You giggle, caressing the spot you bit, “but you’re yummy”, you say and bite his other side.

“___”, Yoongi laughs and whines at the same time, “that hurts, don’t do that.”

You kiss the tender spot, “says the sluttiest masochist ever. You’re just shy ‘cause I’m biting your butt.”

“And you wouldn’t be? Don’t bite my ass”, he whines.

“Mhm true, I gotta eat it instead.”

Yoongi huffs out air, mumbling something you don’t understand. You know that it probably was a shy complaint. You chuckle and grab his bouncy flesh to part it for you.

A soft pink buttplug reveals itself to your eyes. Yoongi has been wearing it ever since you started this sexy evening. It sits between his round buttocks and looks so good in him. It has also been driving him nuts. Not only because of the constant stretch, but because it kept rubbing against his prostate when he moved. It was never enough to satisfy, always keeping him on edge.

“Don’t stare, just take it out and get your tongue on there”, he orders in a bratty voice.

“You know what? I should take a video right now just so I can always stare at it, you are so fucking bratty, like damn.”

“You’re too slow, it’s not my fault.”

“Manners”, you warn and press against the plug. It shifts deep inside him, forcing him to curl his fingers and press out a curse, “I never fucking stress you when you’re slow, do I?”

“Yeah, you do”, he rasps, pushing into you.

“Lies. You’re a liar and we both know that”, you say, wrapping your fingers around the base of it to pull it out. You go just fast enough that he has no time to prepare which results in his hole to leak lube all over his balls. They glisten prettily because of it.

“Fuck”, he says, clenching around nothing.

“It’s what you get for being a brat”, you say and hold him apart so you can stare, “okay, but fuck. Look at you, you are so pretty.”

Yoongi shies away, “don’t stare, it’s weird”, he mumbles.

“Mhm no, you’re just shy”, you dismiss him, “you’ve got the prettiest hole. I’m so hungry for you”, you rasp and finally connect the flat of your tongue with his hole.

“Ah”, Yoongi gasps, tensing up and tugging at the ropes, “holy fuck, you’re so warm.”

“Mmhh”, you purr, using the opportunity of his relaxed muscles to push your tongue inside. The position, the excessive stretching and Yoongi’s secret obsession with getting his ass ate allows your tongue to slip in easily. You wiggle inside until your nose is squished against him and he’s hugging your wet tongue. Then you begin to move your head, fucking your tongue in and out his pretty hole.

“Fuck, you’re so…” he doesn’t say anything after that, pushing back into you. He can feel every single cell in his brain turn off. Your tongue will always overwhelm him. It’s so warm and so wet and Yoongi swears there is magic at the tip of it, because whenever you use it to explore his body, he sacrifices a part of his soul to you. Willingly of course. Over and over again until one day you will own his soul entirely. Maybe you already do. Yoongi doesn’t quite know how to form proper thoughts anymore. All he knows is that you are making his thighs shake against his will and his cock leak without control.

“Fuck”, you break away with him in a growl and wheeze for air, “you’re addicting. Holy fuck, your ass’s so tight”, you rasp, licking his rim with the flat of your tongue, “you’re so sweet, fuck Yoongi. I’m going crazy.”

Yoongi mumbles something unintelligible and pushes back into you.

“Use your big boy words, I can’t understand you when you mumble like this”, you say, flicking your tongue over his rim. It flutters and clenches in reaction, begging to be stuffed again.

“Is nothing”, he says loudly and clearly, “was dumb.”

“Yeah? Because for a second I thought that you wanted me to get the strap and fuck your ass, but I guess not.”

Yoongi stays silent. Huffs out air and wiggles his butt.

“Yeah, you’re right. I said that.”

You laugh, patting his butt, “I’m already getting it.”

“Hurry up”, he says.

“Shut up”, you say and push the plug back inside.

“What the fuck, urgh”, he groans, arching his back, “warn me.”

“You can take it”, you dismiss him as you get off bed and begin putting on the strap. You decided to go without panties today and a colour which matches with his ropes. You strap in the dildo he picked out and snatch the lube bottle.

“Are you done?” he asks when he feels the bed dent beside him.

“Mhm, yeah”, you say, placing yourself behind him, touching him slowly, “I love that view, sugarbutt.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“No? But you’re cute.”

He huffs out air, eliciting a chuckle from you.

“Relax my prince, I’m taking the plug out and then I’ll start. Yeah?”

“Yeah, okay”, Yoongi says and arches his back.

The plug slips out easily and gets discarded on the towel you laid out. You open the lube bottle and squeeze a healthy amount of it on two of your fingers. You connect them with his hole and push inside to spread it evenly.

He chases you instantly, wiggling his toes. It’s so adorable to watch.

“That’s so good”, he sighs under his breath.

“I know, but it’s already done. You’re all wet for me”, you say, slipping your fingers out to lube up your strap instead.

Yoongi is quiet in front of you, which is mostly to be blamed on the fact that he is fighting for his air right now. He doesn’t want to be pegged often, so he gets insanely excited whenever it is time again. He even forgets all about being bratty, because, quite frankly, all he is able to do is breathe goddamn it.

You shimmy closer and touch his hip. You guide him back onto your strap, grinding it against his hole with a smooth roll of your hips.

“Ready?”

“Yeah”, he croaks, sticking his butt out just for you.

“Take a deep breath for me, love.”

Yoongi inhales deeply, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation.

“There we go and out”, you say.

Yoongi exhales, stumbling over his own breath as you use the moment of his relaxation to enter him. He messes up his breathing and tenses up, pressing out a little squeak instead.

You pick up on it instantly, soothing him by rubbing circles into the pretty dimples on his lower back.

“Keep breathing, my love.”

Yoongi pants and squeaks, writhing desperately.

“Are you hurting? I’m pulling out if you are.”

“Don’t”, Yoongi gets out, “it’s good, but a lot. Always feels new, give me time.”

“Yeah? That’s why I need you to keep breathing for me, my love.”

“I’m trying, it’s really hard god damn it”, Yoongi throws back, making you laugh.

“You’re cute”, you say, giving his butt a soft spank.

“Oh?” Yoongi shudders, “do that again.”

You land another spank, massaging the burning flesh afterwards. He visibly relaxes on your strap, chasing you with a tilt of his hips.

“Does that help? Is that nice?” you ask him, giving him another spank.

“Yeah”, Yoongi moans, nodding his head vigorously.

“That’s good to hear, you’re doing so well”, you coo and spank him. A little harsher than before and Yoongi loves it. He moans for you, tugging on the ropes which makes him moan again because of how utterly helpless they render him.

You bottom out, giving him a second to conceptualise what is happening. His butt feels so nice against you. All plump and soft and warm. You rub your palms over it, drinking in the view of your bodies so close together.

He huffs out air, wiggling into a position that allows him to peek at you. His hair is messy, hanging into his eyes.

“What?” you ask him.

“Why did you stop?” he asks, huffing out air in a pout.

“I just wanted to give you a chance to get used to me”, you say.

“Yeah, then don’t stop”, he throws back.

“Brat”, you say with a fond smile on your lips and spank him, grabbing his soft flesh afterwards to pull him back onto your strap.

His eyes fall closed instantly, his lips part.

“Here I was trying to be gentle with you and you go and give me heat for it”, you tease, rolling your hips into him.

“Don’t…I…want it faster…fuck, keep going”, he gets out and opens his mouth widely so he can moan freely.

“Mhhm, so good. You’re taking me so well”, you lull, leaning over until you can hook your fingers in his ropes. You tug on them, forcing his bubble butt to connect with your hips this way.

With the new found leverage, you can go especially deep. Yoongi’s thighs tremble each time you do, his pretty cock leaks all over the sheets as well. It is a constant slow drip, which gets more each time you fill him out and gets a little less when you retreat.

“___”, Yoongi lets out and says nothing more after that. Just sweet little moans and gasps for air. He sounds so perfect like this.

So perfect in fact, that you are overtaken by your feelings for him. You lean down as best as you can, placing your lips on his back to kiss his heated skin. Your left arm wraps around his waist, your right hand dances to his cock. You press yourself closer until your breasts are squeezed against his back and tied up arms. Then you finally touch his cock, rubbing his nipple at the same time.

“I can’t do that for long”, he chokes out, spilling tears on the sheets.

“Does it hurt?” you ask to which he shakes his head vigorously, “so it’s nice?”

“Too nice”, he breathes out, “it’s so nice, I’ll c-cum.”

“You need that, don’t you?” you whisper sweetly, peppering kisses on his upper right arm.

“So bad”, he sighs, pressing back into you, “please.”

“Okay then”, you say, gliding your fingers to his favourite spot, “I’ll allow you.”

“Thank you”, he croaks, shuddering like crazy, “holy shit, thank you. That’s so…” he stops talking to moan instead. He feels in paradise. This is the kind of built up which is slow and gentle and the result of someone paying attention to his body. Every single second with you ever since you started this evening has lead up to this moment. And Yoongi can’t take any more.

“So pretty”, you whisper and twist your hand, hitting his prostate at the same time.

“___”, Yoongi sobs your name and lets the pressure in his tummy burst. He cums all over the sheets and your hand, convulsing like crazy because of how good it feels.

“That’s it, cum for me. You’re fucking incredible”, you encourage him, touching his cock as softly as possible. You keep rocking into him, but keep the movements to a minimum. Just slow circles back and forth to make sure his prostate gets stimulated.

And Yoongi whimpers. His thighs tremble. He hasn’t felt so much warmth in his lower body in ages. It’s so strong at first, but dies down slowly. Oh so slowly, because you make sure that he can live in this fucking perfect moment for as long as possible.

His cock stops leaking, growing softer in your fingers.

“There we go”, you rasp, “that was fucking perfect”, you praise and straighten up, sliding your hands to his hips. You don’t mind that you soil his skin with his cum and neither does Yoongi. You broaden your stance and tug him onto your strap.

“___”, Yoongi gasps, balling his hands to fists.

“Too much? I want one more from you. Can you take it?” you speak sweetly.

He nods his head vigorously, “just…deeper please.”

“Anything for you, my prince”, you say and press yourself closer. You angle your hips differently, making sure that as much of your strap as possible disappears inside his pretty hole, “like this, love?”

“Yes”, he croaks and drops into the sheets as his weakened muscles give up on him.

“Oh?” you gasp. Your cock slips out of him, leaving behind a sticky mess of lube, “careful baby.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hold it anymore”, he says, arching his butt into the air, “back, please.”

“Mhhm, gladly,” you say and after using the opportunity to spread more lube on your strap, slip back into him. He is tighter in the position, pressing out a loud sound of surprise. He drops his butt, now lying on the sheets with his cheek squished against the mattress and his cock squeezed between his body and sheets.

“Holy fuck”, he presses out, scrunching his face up. Then he groans. It borders a very raspy and deep purr and vibrates in his back. He can’t help it. He feels every inch entering and stretching him and that shit feels so good that he has to make sounds.

“Good?” you ask him with your hungry eyes glued to where you disappear. His hole looks so delicate and as if you could break it easily and yet it is taking you with such little struggle.

“Good”, he purrs and groans again, parting his lips for it.

“You’re the best”, you praise and bottom out. You place your hands on his lower back for leverage and begin moving your hips instantly.

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out, wiggling his arms and failing, “fuck, ___ fucking- ah.”

“Do you like that?” you ask breathlessly.

“Yeah, I do. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t. You have no fucking idea how good that feels for me”, you say and moan, putting your all into giving him the best fuck of his life. You deepen your thrusts, speeding them up just enough that the gentle sound of skin meeting skin fills the air and Yoongi retorts to moaning deeply as he drools all over the sheets like a mindless, sex-dumb idiot.

He feels like one. There is not a single thought in this man’s brain right now. Except for your name, how good this feels and more renditions of your name. He is done for. Ruined. Gone. The ropes keep preventing him from wiggling away, from reaching behind himself and griping you and from twisting the sheets. The constricted movements just make the fuck all the more incredible.

“I love this”, he moans proudly, “please ___ don’t slow down, please fuck me.”

“Fuck Yoongi”, you press out, furrowing your brows in pleasure, “keep talking like this and I will.”

“Fuck me”, he begs. His muscles are melting away. He can’t move an inch. He is so weak and helpless right now. Yoongi soaks up that feeling like an addict.

“So perfect. Holy fucking shit you’re the most perfect man”, you praise and tense up as pleasure courses through you. You deepen your thrusts because of it, letting out a deep growl as your fingers squeeze his waist.

“Fuck me”, he groans, “fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me”, he repeats the words like it’s a mantra. And to him it is. Fuck me. Please goddamn fuck me and let me feel this longer. He hopes you understand.

“Yoongi”, you press out and pant for air. You have to give it to him. You got to fuck him. This is all you want to do. To give him pleasure, “fuck, I’m so done for. You’re ruining me, my prince.”

“Oh god”, Yoongi groans and trembles, “there!”

“There?”

You fuck your cock into him like you did before, forcing a loud moan out of him. It sounds unlike him and leaves your body feeling weak. Yoongi nods his head vigorously and moans again. There was one other occasion where he was as loud as he is right now. When he was drunk and bounced on your strap.

To think that you got him so good that he let go of his restraints to such extent, forces unbearable warmth through your body. Your hips stutter and mess up.

“Fuck, sorry”, you croak and collapse into him. You hug him against your chest, using the intimate position to moan into the sheets beside him.

“Are you-”

“Yes”, you croak, “sorry, fuck you were so…Yoongi….” you can’t help it. Being with Yoongi and giving him pleasure will always make you orgasm. Especially when he is so unapologetically himself. He makes you crazy. He really fucking does.

“Princess”, he chokes out, staring at you even if you are blurry from closeness, “so fucking hot. Fuck.”

“Yoongi”, you feel emotionally ruined after your high, pulling him snug against your chest and littering his face with kisses. You have to. You love him so much that it’s hard to breathe. Yoongi accepts the kisses with shy whimpers, spilling tears on the sheets because of how happy he feels.

“I love you”, you choke out, chasing him with deep rolls of your hips, “I love you so fucking much, holy fuck Yoongi I wanna give you the fucking world.”

“___ it feels so good”, Yoongi whimpers, melting under you. Your weight feels so good on top of him, your hug is heaven and your cock is hitting his prostate over and over again. It also stretches his hole in a position it wasn’t used to yet, which adds another layer of breathtaking intensity to the fuck. Yoongi feels so full, so stuffed, so filled with you.

“It feels like fucking heaven”, you moan and grab a bundle of his hair just to tilt his head and kiss him. His lips are wet, trembling in a grateful whimper as they try to find your rhythm. The kiss is messy and sloppy, but honest. So goddamn honest that you feel the effect in the deepest parts of your souls.

You are so close. Nothing could separate you and him. Your skins are melted together and your bodies are one. Yoongi peels his eyes open and breaks the kiss. He has to look at you. Your eyes meet his’ instantly. The love in them makes him dizzy.

“I love you”, you whisper, playing with his hair.

“I love you”, he chokes out, rolling his eyes back and closing them, “oh god.”

“Beautiful”, you whisper, cradling his cheek, “holy fuck, you’re beautiful. I fucking love you.”

“Keep talking”, he moans, meeting your movements with uncoordinated, desperate wiggles of his hips.

“That’s it love, keep fucking back onto me. You’re such a pretty, beautiful good boy. You have no idea how obsessed I am with you. I’m fucking crazy for you”, you pant, drinking in his features with tears in your eyes. He looks so peaceful and at the same time ecstatic with pleasure.

“More please”, he begs, moving his fingers just to feel something from you. It feels so good to touch you, even if it is barely a touch. Your skin is so soft. Your weight is so nice on him. Oh, how warm you are.

“My beautiful prince”, you caress his cheek, “my beautiful, beautiful love. You are so special and wonderful and fucking lovely.”

“Oh god”, he groans and convulses, “oh god, you’re making me- I’m gonna cum”, he croaks and moans with trembling thighs.

“Don’t hold back, I’m right here”, you assure him and close in to kiss his face, “I love you, Min Yoongi.”

“___”, he whimpers and breaks, falling into his high with such intensity he finds it hard to function. You do that to him. Always and every time, you get him to feel so good that his orgasm takes his fucking breath away. Today is no different. To be so weak and helpless and to have you hit his prostate over and over again while you say such wonderful things to him feels like heaven. A heaven which finds its crescendo with fiery pleasure deep inside him and his cock leaking cum all over the sheets.

Yoongi moans and he has no control over it. He shakes and he can’t stop it. He tries to kiss you only to moan against your lips and he isn’t embarrassed by it. By nothing. He isn’t embarrassed at all, because you told him such wonderful things that he feels invincible.

“That’s it my love, there we go. Cum for me, that’s it”, you talk him through it, moving your hips slowly to help him ride it out. You love making him feel that good. It’s so goddamn rewarding to you.

“There, there, there”, he squeaks, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as possible.

“There we go, that’s it. My beautiful prince, oh my beautiful love. Look at you, I love you”, you encourage him, fucking him how he needs it. He is rutting into the sheets, meeting your movements. Oh how he wheezes and pants, it’s so adorable.

“Oh go-”, he gets out and then reaches the highest form of pleasure as he squirts all over the sheets.

“Perfect, you’re fucking perfect”, you moan, kissing his face throughout the ecstasy, “my Yoongi. Oh, my love.”

Yoongi comes down after seven harsh thrusts. He grows limp on the sheets with a whimper, his thighs still shake and he feels pulsating in his groin. It’s such a nice sensation because it reminds him of a heartbeat. He feels so alive because of you.

“Good job”, you praise him, kissing his forehead over and over again, “I’m so proud of you, that was amazing.”

“No more”, he murmurs, “too tight.”

“Of course”, you stop your hips instantly, “I’ll just quickly pull out, is that okay?”

“Yeah, is okay.”

You straighten up and slip out of him. Lube spills out of him, mixing with the mess of pleasure he released all over the sheets.

“So messy”, you tease, caressing his butt. His skin is still a little red from the impact you had when you fucked your hips into him, “I’ll get you a towel, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You undo the spell on his ropes once you retrieved the towel, helping him slip out of the ropes by undoing them. He wiggles his wrists first then uses his elbow to flip over.

“Urgh god”, he groans.

“What’s wrong now?”

“My ass landed in my cum. It’s fucking rancid”, he whines.

“You are so dumb”, you say and laugh loudly, “here, wait let me clean you.”

“No”, he says, “no, just hug me”, he whines and falls around your neck.

“Uh?” you get out, falling to your butt. He pushes you down into the sheets, claiming his rightful place atop of you, “careful”, you giggle, hugging him back.

“Don’t clean me, hug me.”

“Of course, my love. You are so cute”, you say, holding him tightly as he rests atop your body with his head resting in the sheets next to yours.

“I’m happy”, he says and giggles, swaying your bodies from side to side.

“I’m happy too, my love”, you say, caressing his back. He is so adorable when he gets clingy. Good sex always does that to him, “you are so fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you”, he says and it makes you smile because he finally doesn’t deflect the compliment, instead he accepts it.

“And you took me so well. It literally makes me so wet when you act so into it.”

“I don’t act, I am”, he says and rubs himself against you like a cuddly cat, ending it with a nudge of his nose against your cheek and a soft giggle.

“You’re so cute.”

“Today was good. Yeah. I liked it.”

“I liked it too. Was I too rough?”

“No, you were good”, he assures you, giving you an adoring gaze. You crane your neck just so you can meet it.

“I was?”

“Yeah. It didn’t hurt at all and felt good. Yeah. I loved it a lot.”

“That’s so good to hear. You were the best, my love”, you say, cupping his cheek.

Yoongi leans into the touch and closes his eyes halfway. He smiles without showing his teeth, placing his hand over yours.

“You’re hot”, he whispers.

“I am?”

He nods his head, “the magic was so sexy.”

You snicker, “right? You were adorable when you tried to fight the ropes.”

“I couldn’t move”, he smiles boyishly “yeah. That was good. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Yeah. Loved it”, he looks at your lips dreamily, “wanna do it again.”

“Me too. We’ll include it more often then, yeah?”

“Mh-hm yeah”, he closes his eyes, “thank you.”

You kiss his forehead, “you’re cute.”

Yoongi purrs happily and gives your body a soft squeeze.

“Wanna cook together?” he asks.

“What about cleaning up?”

“Yeah, after that.”

“Yes, that sounds nice. Do you feel ready for it?”

“Mhm yeah, I heal too fast”, he pouts, “I’m too energised.”

You laugh, “that’s good though. The sleepiness is gone.”

Yoongi complained about being too sleepy this morning.

“Yeah, true. Wanna have salmon today?”

“Sure, let’s have salmon”, you say with a smile, rolling him to his back and sitting down on his lap. You pin his hands above his head, “you’re eating my pussy as dessert. That’s an order.”

“Don’t say that. Why would I wanna fucking cook now? Fuck, just give me your pussy now”, he whines.

“Mhm, no”, you say, pecking his lips, “I’m not gonna put on panties, make with this information what you want”, you whisper and climb off of him to take off your strap. You slip on a silken rope. It stops a little under your butt.

You turn when it is already hugging your waist. Yoongi is sitting on bed, staring at you with dark eyes.

“What’s the matter?” you ask him, swaying your shoulders playfully.

“One day you’re gonna play too fucking much and you’re gonna see me snap”, he murmurs, getting off bed. He slips on his rope, staring you down darkly.

You snicker, “mhm, that’s what I’m hoping for”, you say, turning to finally leave.

“Princess com’ere”, Yoongi whines and follows you in a cute waddle, “don’t abandon me, I want you.”

He manages to catch up with you a mere ten steps away from bed, lifting you off the ground with his arms around your waist. You squeak, accepting your fate of being carried back to bed happily.

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chibigaia-art · 5 months ago

Note

Do you have any favorite webcomics?

oh boy, do I

ok, addressing the elephant in the room immediately: homestuck. just read it. don't read anything after the main webcomic ends, don't get into the epilogues, or the sequel, but hs? fun, still love it dearly.

now for the others!!!!

Paranatural - middle schoolers with supernatural powers fight supernatural entities, it's one of the funniest thing I ever read that also managed to punch me in the gut and make me want to draw even more

Sleepless Domain - magical girls protect the city at night from monsters. Everything is fine until things happen :)

Heartstrings (18+) pop star/punk lesbians :]

webtoons:

Public U. Art Club - it's an art club. liloth my beloved

Cursed Princess Club - story about self love and acceptance, I just really really love this comic and I am still so happy I followed it while it was updating. It's finished so it's a good binge read!

Love Advice from the Great Duke of Hell - this one is also finished, idk how to pitch it, just read it, it's so fucking funny, also read Vampire Family from the same author

also on tapas:

Fantasy x Grounds (I'd say 18+ for this one too) - the summary on the page just says "A funny fantasy comic with nameless characters". This is true but it's also a lie, it's also a fantasy comic full of heartaches and characters that feel like real people This one is from an italian author and I've been following it for years, I'm so in love with the story, the characters and their arcs it makes me unwell. There is an english translation and that version has updated art on old pages, some fixes for colors and redrawn sequences that are very very cool - the translation itself is also kinda rough at first but it gets better. I will also say, the earlier parts of the comic didn't age super well BUT. IT'S SUCH A GOOD COMIC. YOU HAVE TO SEE WHAT FUCKERY HAPPENS LATER, YOU HAVE TO SEE THE INSANE THINGS THEY FIGHT. YOU HAVE TO READ THE [MOONANGEL KING] ARC BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE MY FAVOURITE GUY STARTS BREAKING FOR REAL

edit also if you read any of these pls let me know what you think

#chibiblabbing

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wwr-afterdark · 2 years ago

Text

Lightning struck outside the large windows, illuminating the figure outside briefly. A man, disheveled and dirty, stood outside the pristine little house. He hoped he wouldn't make too bad a mess! Oh, his darling would be so cross with him then. The man stumbled to the door, stepping inside with a shuffle and a happy hum.

"Darling? I'm home!" He loudly called out, but the house stayed quiet. A light in the kitchen drew him there, now what would they be doing in there so late? "Going for a late night snack, dearest? I know you do love your sweets." A loud clap of thunder shook the house just as he heard their quiet gasp. Oh, had they hoped to keep it a secret? Silly him!

With a muddy squelch he moved toward the kitchen entrance, smiling wide when he saw them. They looked different-or did they? It was all so hard to remember. He’d been gone so long, after all. Poor dear must have been so lonely. Even now they look gaunt, haunted even!

“My dearest, how I’ve missed you!” He made a move to step forward and nearly collapsed as his back made an uncomfortable pop! He laughed it off, despite the grimace that crossed their face. “Oh dear, it seems I’m still a little stiff. No matter, it’s nothing a hug from my adorable darling won’t fix!” He wasn’t deterred when they backed away, choosing to move and close the gap between them instead.

His lovely, playful spouse then decided to run, dodging around the kitchen counters to rush past him. They didn’t make it far, however, as he moved quicker than they expected to grab their arm. With a few sickening pops and clicks, his once stiff arms pulled them into a tight hug.

“Now, now, dearest,” he cooed as they struggled. “Calm yourself, it’s only your husband! You act as if I’m a stranger.”

His name is Fletcher Valentine, goes by Fletch (Flesh)

Loves you dearly, you are his spouse after all! Appears when you take in a strange antique ring. Shows up at night, dragging his creaking body into your home and begging for your kiss.

Should you not kiss him before he fully decomposes, he’ll disappear and return the next night until you get rid of the ring.

If you do kiss him, he will reform to a stable state-essentially living as a zombie or vampire without the need to feed. He will not leave your side.

He’s a loving husband! Whatever you want, it’s yours. Unless it’s prolonged alone time.

He is aware that he’s dead, but not that his former wife is. He believes wholeheartedly that the one with the ring has always been his spouse.

His former wife killed him for the money, but she strangely disappeared shortly after his death. His attendant took care of his estate, and his descendants continue to aid their lovesick master.

#yandere #yandere oc #male yandere #my art #walf writes #ft fletch #pose practice with walf

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justporo · 1 year ago

Text

Scenes from a bathtub

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Part 1

Author's Note: Here we are, I'm so excited to share the first chapter for this story. The part in which Tav and Astarion start getting ready, enjoying a nice soak in the tub - and some other stuff. Let me know what you think!

Song: Royals - Lorde

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav Rating: Explicit Warnings: Some light smut at the very end of the chapter

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

~~~

A few weeks had passed. The night of the ball had finally arrived.

Astarion had actually been excited ever since the invitation had been delivered. He really seemed eager to make it a night to remember for the both of you: so you had actually spent some more evenings waltzing around your space (also trying other dances) and Astarion had very cryptically promised you he’d take care of ‘wardrobe and grooming’. You dearly hoped he’d remember his promise about corsets and wouldn’t turn you into someone you wouldn’t recognise if you passed by a mirror.

It was still hours from then until the event started but Astarion had insisted on starting to get ready. You had looked at the clock and back to the vampire and back at the clock. Had it been only you, you’d probably only have run a bath half an hour before, then quickly dressed and done some basic makeup before arriving a little late. But as you told Astarion that he’d cocked an eyebrow and looked you up and down in such a judgmental way you’d first felt like a young girl getting scolded. And when he hadn’t stopped you’d gotten pissed at his pretentious behaviour. “My sweet sweet love, if you can’t even stand passive-aggressive stares for more than a few moments it’s going to be a very short evening. These people live off judging others and elevating their pitiful selves over you. And the trick is to just always be twice the bastard they are.” “Great, sounds like such a fun evening, Astarion.”

You had crossed your arms over your chest and had felt anxiety creeping up inside you. Already you had worried that you’d be awfully out of place at this event. But Astarion had grabbed your hands that you had firmly tugged away under your arms and placed them on your cheeks, covering yours with his own long fingers. “Don’t worry, my love, you’re fortunate enough to have a master of the art at your side to show you how it’s done”, he had said with a big smirk and given you a quick kiss. “And if that still doesn’t help just step on someone’s skirts or elbow them so they splash their drinks on somebody around and watch the chaos unfold. You wouldn’t believe how quickly these elitist people get physical if they feel their ‘honour’” – he dramatically air-quoted and rolled his eyes – “is at stake”, he had continued with an even bigger almost feral smirk when he’d noticed you were still tense. This – a good old brawl? You had seen and partaken in a fair share of those in your time as a Baldur’s Gate lowlife. You slowly had grinned back at your soulmate then: “No promises, I won’t do that anyway if these rich fuckers annoy me too much.” Astarion had thrown his head back and laughed: “Oh my lovely little anarchist.”

So now you were sitting in your big tub that was lowered in the stone floor of your bathroom.

The two of you loved spending almost whole nights just enjoying the warmth and comfort of a hot bath – talking, drinking wine, taking in the scents of exotic oils Astarion picked up from specialty stores, caressing and massaging each other; often times resulting in more passionate actions. This time the vampire had brought some ‘special’ stuff to really doll yourselves up for this big ball.

Currently, Astarion was sitting in between your legs, leaning back against your naked chest while you washed and detangled his curls and just enjoyed your care while breathing softly. Before, he had put some mud all over his face he claimed would “make his complexion glow even more”. The stuff indeed smelled nicely as it drifted into your nose while you massaged Astarion’s scalp carefully, but he still looked kind of ridiculous. Also you weren’t entirely convinced that this was how it worked for vampires.

Seldomly was the pale elf this relaxed. And this fact alone filled your heart with joy. You let your fingers move through his hair and softly massaged his neck and his ears as well which resulted in a soft, relaxed moan from him from time to time.

Astarion’s chest lifted in a particular deep breath, causing droplets of bathwater to run down his toned chest and the light from the candles you’d lit all over the room danced over his smooth skin. He really almost caused you to forget to breathe sometimes just by existing.

“This is heaven, my love. If this is what the afterlife is like I’ll happily perish right on the spot”, he sighed and let out a long breath. You smiled happily and really buried your fingertips in his curls once more causing the vampire to groan in pleasure and making his head loll from side to side.

With his eyes still closed he reached one arm slowly behind himself – obviously with the intention to reach your face. “Only thing missing now is a kiss from you, my sweet honey pie.”

“Sweet honey pie? What’s gotten into you?”

“Hmhm, can you blame me? Your fingers caressed me into oblivion, cherry muffin.” You scrunched up your nose and pinched the back of his neck. It seemed you really had worked common sense out of the man; he was talking mad.

“You know the implication it makes when you call me food related pet names, don’t you?”, you asked him, leaning close to one of his pointy ears. “Oh, very much so, even though I must inform you, that you taste neither off honey pie nor cherry muffins.”

Astarion started to stretch while speaking, tensing his muscles, reaching his arms even beyond you and yawning. The comparison to a cat was more than imminent. On their way back his hands found your head and stroked your hair despite the awkward angle.

“Aha, so what do I taste like to you, hm? Indulge me”, you requested and wrapped your arms around Astarion’s chest as he sidled up against you again. Your hands rested on each other on his stomach now, you leaned your chin on his shoulder. His arms were still stretched around his back to let his fingers wander through your hair.

“Well, when I first compared it to a good wine that was a very accurate description. But now, with some more, shall I say, expertise in your bouquet, I’d describe it like this: sometimes it’s like a wonderful red wine, full-bodied but with soft floral notes. But sometimes it’s more like delicious fruit covered in dark chocolate. It just… varies slightly: depending on what you eat, how you’ve been feeling, what time of month it is…” The last part surprised you: “You can taste… my cycle?” “Oh, not only that, but I can also smell it as well – I mean besides the obvious. You’d be surprised at what I can find out about you from taking a single nose full of your exquisite scent alone, my love.” You felt dumbfounded, he’d never mentioned that before. And you also didn’t need to see the smirk when he said that to know that it was there.

“Like?”, you simply asked, a bit embarrassed but also very much intrigued about this particular skill of his. Astarion didn’t like talking about the specifics of his condition very much so whenever he opened up about it you grasped the opportunity to learn more about it and him.

“Oh, for example, I can definitely always tell when you want me. And, if I dare say so, the intensity and frequency surprised even me, my wicked little siren”, Astarion explained, his tone deep and full of seduction. Your cheeks were burning, your whole neck and face actually. You softly slid down Astarion’s back and into the bathwater, desperately hoping for a sudden hole at the bottom of the tub that would hopefully swallow you whole.

The vampire had to grip the rim of the tub and straighten himself when you slithered down into the depths of the bathwater. You heard him laugh: “I can also most certainly tell whenever you get one of those full body blushes, my sweet.” He slowly moved to turn around to you, while you had sunk into the water, only your eyes and the top of your head still showing above the water level. Bubbles rose up while the last of your air left your nose and you looked at the vampire in embarrassment who simply looked back at you with a smile – face still covered in mud and only his red eyes contrasting with it; what a ridiculous scene.

Astarion softly grabbed you by the shoulders to prevent you from your attempt to drown yourself. You could see his signature smirk on his face. “Now, now, no need to feel ashamed, my lecherous little nymph. I couldn’t blame you, could I?” His grin split his face and his teeth glinted at you – most prominently his fangs. “Also, I can assure you that the feeling is very much mutual, beautiful. Now give me a kiss!”, he demanded while he had dragged you up from the water successfully.

With his hands still on your shoulders he pulled you towards him, lips already pursed in expectation.

“Not while you have dirt on your face”, you replied in disgust and placed your flat hand against his face to hold him off.

“It’s not dirt!”, Astarion exclaimed, voice rising in annoyance and grabbed your hand from his face. You still looked at him in disgust. “Ugh, fine!” He rolled his eyes and splashed water on his face and rubbed himself clean with his hands.

“Better?”, he asked after a few moments, tone still a bit annoyed. “No wait, there’s still a little bit”, you said and leaned close to him as if wanting to clean a speckle off his perfect face, brows furrowed in concentration. But with a lightning quick move you pinched his nose, making him growl back at you. He grabbed you by the shoulders once more and pulled you close until you were nose to nose while he stared angrily at you. “No poking the vampire!”, he said sombrely. “Or I’ll eat you!”

You giggled and closed the last bit of space to finally kiss him. And that seemed to calm down the beast. Letting go of your shoulders, one of his hands wandered to the front of your neck, softly resting on your collarbone. The other cupped your cheek while his tongue entered your mouth – tasting you, tangling with yours, exploring. Then he broke the kiss, leaving you to gasp, and trailing little pecks from the corner of your mouth over your cheek up to your ear.

You softly arched yourself to him, offering up your neck. “If you want to find out if today’s more of a wine or chocolate day.” The vampire laughed. Promise rang in it. “Deeply appreciated, my sweet, but maybe later. Can’t have you running around tonight with two fresh puncture wounds on your neck, can we?”, he whispered and let his lips wander lightly over your quickening pulse. His hand on your neck applying just the tiniest bit of pressure on your throat.

You could only gulp. “Also, I fear that if I would get lost in your neck now, we are never making it to this event”, Astarion added while lifting his face from your neck. Ah yes, you’d almost forgotten.

The pale elf smirked again at you: “And we still have some work to do on you, my sweet.” “Excuse you?” Whatever had heated your blood was immediately gone – this prick.

“You heard me, now turn around and let me take care of you in return, my love”, he insisted. You sighed and complied because you knew there was no point in denying him. And also, you wouldn’t say no to getting pampered by your vampire.

You let yourself be seated in the same position Astarion had been in at first: between his legs, your back to his chest. He put some of the goo on your face despite your protest (“It’s only going to bring out your beauty some more, my love.” “This face is as good as it gets as is, Astarion, no need to try.” “Hush and shut your nasty mouth or I can’t promise to keep the dirt out of it!”). Then he softly scrubbed you all clean and massaged your whole body, pouring some heavenly smelling oils in his hands from time to time.

The night before he had gone out to run some errands – and returned with bags and bags of stuff. It had been clothes and apparently lots of toiletry. One of the things had been large and very heavy. But about that and some other stuff he’d brought he had wiggled his finger at you to not take a peek.

Everything for your bath time he had neatly lined up next to the tub. You barely had a clue what all the small jars, flasks and crucibles were for but if it made him happy to indulge in it you were the last person to stop him from it.

Then he’d carefully run the bath you were now sitting in. And you couldn’t complain: the bath water smelled heavenly of lavender and cedar. Whatever he was massaging you with smelled of oranges and other delicious fruits and he himself deliciously of bergamot.

You sighed deeply and were aware that you must’ve been the perfect mirror image of what Astarion had looked like some minutes ago.

“Enjoying yourself, my love?”, Astarion asked gently while his hands worked your neck. You only hummed in response. “We should do this more often, darling. You’re allowed to indulge in luxury sometimes, you know?”, he said softly while starting to work on your hair.

“Speaking of – mind telling me how much exactly everything was you brought home yesterday?”, you asked while letting your head fall back into his touch, eyes closed. “Yes, I do mind. Part of indulgence is not looking at the price tag, my sweet”, Astarion scolded you sweetly. “And you deserve to take better care of yourself”, he continued while trying to get out a serious knot from your braids.

You felt your body tense a little and sighed: “You know I’m not good with either of those things, Astarion.” “I know”, he replied simply and shortly lifted one of your hands out of the water to press a kiss to it. “That’s why I’m going to teach you. I’ll have you be a high-maintenance lady ready to splurge at every opportunity in no time, dearest.” You laughed and readjusted your sitting position to lean back against the elf’s chest more. “I don’t think that would be a good look on me.” Astarion sighed dramatically: “Oh well, a shame. I guess I’m going to have to fill this role then.” You softly chuckled at that and thought to yourself that he was already well en route for that.

“I guess I could take up some of your suggestions though – I’m tired of feeling like a gutter rat standing next to you in all your luscious, white-curly glory.” Astarion snickered: “I’ll have you remember you chose the description ‘gutter rat’ for yourself. Also, I think you’re the most beautiful creature the Gods have ever created but to each their own I guess.” You blushed again and sank down a little further between his legs while he grabbed another one of the flasks.

Sometimes he just made you so casually swoon you couldn’t believe it – and never did you know how to reply to his genuine and sweet flattery.

“So, lesson one: you have really beautiful hair, my love, and I know you love your braids, but it all turns into a tangled mess easily. But fortunately,” – he poured something from the flask onto your prepared and detangled hair; it smelled deliciously flowery – “some clever soul came up with conditioner. You use it after you’ve washed your hair. Use only a little and work it into your hair like this.” He worked the thick liquid specifically into the lengths of your hair, combing through them with his fingers and then softly scrunching the strands in his hands. “Then you let it sit a little and only then rinse it out. It helps with tangles and also will make your hair deliciously soft.” Astarion basically purred the last words. Oh, good thing to know this was something he delighted in.

He did as he had instructed you while you patiently sat there and let him work his magic. Afterwards he proceeded to comb your hair through.

You both sat in silence. You enjoyed being taken care of and thought of the evening to come. You couldn’t help but feel some anxiety again creep into you at the thought of having to deal with the society of the Upper City. You’d probably take a good old-fashioned tavern brawl or a heist every day over having to make small talk with people who’d probably also choose the description “gutter rat” for you.

“Now”, Astarion said after a while “for tonight’s event I would like to propose to you to put your hair in some waves. Nothing major, just pinning them, letting them dry and then putting some strands up later.”

You were still way inside your head to fully understand what he was getting up: “Oh uhm, go ahead. Just don’t make me look like a coiffed poodle please.” Astarion scoffed at that and started to pin your hair up carefully.

“What’s troubling you, my love?”, he asked casually because of course he had noticed how you were absent-minded and your body had tensed. By what he had earlier revealed he’d probably smelled it too.

For a second you wondered if you ever could hide something from this man. But then again – why would you have to?

You sighed deeply while you grabbed your one hand with the other and started to press your thumb into the palm of the other – a nervous habit. “I guess, I’m still a bit scared of how the evening will play out”, you confessed and let your head fall down. Astarion wasn’t having it: “Ah ah, my sweet, head up or I can’t work. But also, head up because you don’t need to be worried. If push comes to shove, we can always leave.” You sighed again and relaxed a little. You shortly lifted your hand to grab one of his to squeeze it in thanks.

“Aren’t you scared at all? I mean, like of meeting someone… from before… or from before before?”, you asked silently and looked down at your hands still kneading each other in the water.

The vampire didn’t respond immediately. “You don’t have to answer-“, you started but then Astarion replied. “Not really. Cazador sometimes had us spawn ‘entertain’ his guests during his events but seeing as he either altered their memory or killed them off in the end… No one will recognise me albeit I may know some of the attending guests”, he explained pretty matter-of-fact while his hands kept working on putting up strand for strand of your hair.

Another silence followed.

“As from before that…” Astarion’s words trailed off. You grabbed his hand once more and almost already wanted to say again that he didn’t have to tell you but you kind of felt he wanted to let it out. “I haven’t seen or heard a shred from anyone I knew or was related to since I’ve been turned. Never. And my surname is pretty common among elves – there probably are at least five other Lord Ancuníns running about the city. I guess we might meet our lovely elder neighbour and that’s about it.”

His hands had stopped their task. Your hand was still grabbing one of his and you squeezed it again to try and provide some comfort. “I’m sorry, Astarion”, you whispered quietly and leaned your head back. It connected with his forehead as he leaned forward a little.

“Don’t be”, he whispered back while his fingers started to move again. “You’re my family now”, he said and at that your heart swelled with warmth and love.

“I love you, Astarion.” “Love you too, my little gutter rat.”

You tried to splash him with water.

How could he go from genuine, sincere and melancholy to unbelievable bastard in point two seconds. He was a handful at the best of times.

The vampire just laughed at your petty attempt of getting back at him. Shortly after he proclaimed being done with his work.

“There you go, now wash off your face, my dear”, he instructed. You did as told, then turned around to him: “Are we done now? I feel like I might’ve already grown some fins!”

Astarion smirked at you. “Oh no, there’s one more thing we need to take care of, my sweet”, he said slowly and threw you a glance that immediately made your blood boil. “And what might that be?”, you asked, already barely trusting your mouth to form words with the way he kept staring at you with his crimson gaze.

“Well, I can’t let you go to this event all tense and anxious, can I?”, he asked and moved closer to you, his gaze almost predatory. You gulped and moved back until your back hit the rim of the tub and there was no more space to escape from the prowling vampire. You felt heat form inside of you.

He moved in even closer, putting his arms around you as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Luckily, I know just the right treatment for this kind of ailment”, he whispered and let his lips wander to your neck where your pulse had started hammering. He grabbed you then and lifted you up, so you sat on the floor just in front of the tub that was lowered into the ground. “That’s lesson two my love: always grasp onto the pleasures life offers you”, he whispered sinfully as he moved your legs, so your thighs were placed on his shoulders. You were already shuddering in expectation. You let one of your hands enter his soft curls as he made you lean back.

Astarion lowered his mouth to the space between your legs, letting his devilish silver tongue work its magic and devoured you as if you were a feast and he a starved man.

When lightning had struck the first time with your back arched impossibly at the way he had made you feel and your hand buried in his curls, he rose out of the tub. You watched him as trails of water ran down his perfect body, already yearning for more. To feel him, to love him.

You looked at him expectantly, seeing the love and the desire you felt mirrored in his ruby eyes. He lowered himself onto you on the edge of the tub, moving you back a little and made sure the second lightning struck both of you.

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #a night of fake smiles and hidden lies

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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Enthralled

Pairings: Vampire!Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader x Thomas Dorset

Summary: You and your new husband invite a handsome stranger to your rooms, but all is not as it seems...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, dom/sub undertones, bisexual male characters, slash content, oral sex (f to m, m to m, m to f) blow jobs, deepthroat w smidge of breathplay, facesitting, edging/orgasm control, vaginal sex, anal sex, simultaneous penetration, multiple orgasms, biting, bloodplay, blood-drinking.

Word Count: 9k

Authors Note: The reader remix of this story. A gothic-ish Halloween threesome with Vampire!Benedict. This is my first foray into writing slash content. If you are looking for a plot or backstory, this will likely disappoint; it's just an excuse for vaguely spooky, unrelenting smut - I cannot celebrate a holiday any other way lol. I wanted to choose a minor show character as the husband, and Dr Dorset screams secretly adventurous to me. Please heed the warnings above; this is pretty full-on. If you proceed, I hope you enjoy! <3

Credits: Thanks to @colettebronte for advice and betaing and @eleanor-bradstreet for her Vampiric expertise. Artwork includes edits made weeks ago for this story by our dearly departed @bridgertontess. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Benedict smells it long before he ever sees you.

Fresh blood, sweet young bodies in the flushes of arousal; it makes him hungry in every sense of the word. The almost painful need to feast and fuck. He inhales deep, lewdly, letting the tempting scents fill his being. He pulls on his cloak and goes out to find you.

—

Mrs Dorset.

You practice the name, sitting at the vanity table of your rooms at the inn, feeling cosy in the soft candlelight glow as the autumnal wind howls portentously beyond the window. The quill scratches the paper as you loop the letters, learning the structure of your new name as it flows under your hand.

“What are you doing, my love?” Thomas rounds behind you, returning to your rooms with steaming hot tea as promised.

“I am practising my new name,” you reply proudly, twisting to look up at your husband of merely two days as he places aside the tea tray, squeezing your shoulders lightly.

“Oh, I see, that is… well, that is wonderful,” his cadence wavering. It seems as if he is embarrassed at how something as simple as your desire to write his name could make him burn physically, the glistening, dark, looped strokes causing a primal wash of possession. His fingers flex instinctually, mapping your collarbone, your flesh irresistible under his fingertips. You squeak as he rocks his body into your back, something insistent pressing into your spine.

“Husband,” you drawl, meeting his eye in the vanity mirror. “Are you aroused?” Your question isn't judgemental, but pure curiosity and desire, leaning back into him.

“Yes, darling wife. You have my name. It is…. Appealing,” he answers honestly, a touch winded, his fingers trailing lower over your warm skin onto the swell of your breast.

Your eyes flash in the reflection, and then suddenly, you spin around on the stool and bury your face into his trousers, nuzzling his hardness. His growl is deep and wracked. So utterly undone by how forthright you can be with your intentions.

You look up at him, fluttering your eyelids as you pluck open his trousers determinedly, push down his underwear, and wrap your hands around the back of his thighs to draw him even closer. Immediately you encase his tasty warm cock in your mouth, so very keen for him.

He groans to the ceiling as if disbelieving in his luck.

—

Benedict finds himself outside the quaint country inn barely a quarter mile from his country home. No wonder he could smell it so strong.

As he stares up at a mullioned window, russet leaves swirling around his feet on this cold, crisp night, he sees the glowing candlelight signifying the room’s occupation. Indeed, it is the only one lit as such on the first floor. He surmises the couple are likely newlyweds, perhaps passing through the area on their honeymoon—the first ones who have done so since he was turned a few months back.

While he has trained himself on the scent of the people in the proximal area and taught himself they are not food, he is powerless to resist this. Them. From scent alone, they are in their twenties, and right now, they are engaging in something carnal. He can smell ripe juices swirling in the air along with the thronging of their hearts, blood coursing. It makes his cock strain painfully against the wool of his britches.

He never used to be like this—a creature of such base instinct. Yes, when human, he had his fair share of lovers of all persuasions, but it had been an occasional bacchanalian indulgence. Now. Now, he can barely contain himself. His tongue licks around the point of his fang, tasting the air, knowing without a doubt they will be under his thrall within moments of meeting and lost in a temporary reverie of how he will enjoy them.

—

“Y/n….” it’s throaty, raw, wrecked, a hand buried in your locks.

His taste is strong in your mouth as Thomas flops back upon the bed, utterly sated after he finds completion. You had pushed him backwards from the vanity table onto the edge of the bed and sunk to your knees before him, eagerly taking him into your mouth, motions wanton, brazen, your skill and enthusiasm blossoming under his few days of tutelage. Learning his body and needs; learning to use your tongue in ways that make him breathless and unerringly grateful.

You delicately wipe your chin of his seed with a handkerchief and rise to your feet as gracefully as you can as he lays there panting, staring at the velvet drapes over the four-poster bed, his mind blanked out from pleasure.

“Husband,” you coo in a light tease, “I do believe it is now time we took dinner; 'tis nearing 7pm.”

Thomas pouts, looking as if he wants to feast only upon you, not mere food. The grumble in his stomach, though, gives away his status, and your giggle makes him sit up reluctantly, tucking himself back into his trousers and righting his clothes.

“I suppose sustenance is required,” he smiles indulgently, standing up and wrapping you in his arms. “If only to provide energy for our later activities,” he adds teasingly into your ear; a light shiver runs through your being as he says it.

“Then let us eat, Dr Dorset,” you murmur into his jaw, running a hand down his waistcoat. Feeling light as air, you gigglingly tumble down the hallway and staircase to the public house below, wrapped up in each other’s arms, barely noticing the tall, cloaked figure as it slips in through the main door.

—

Benedict nods to Jenkins, the publican and innkeeper behind the bar; locals always having an open invitation to drink and dine any night of the week. Tonight, the public house is deserted save for a regular - drunkard Willie, propping up the corner of the bar as ever - and the newlywed couple now ensconced in an alcove by the roaring fireplace.

He sets eyes upon you both properly, and his insides almost feel warm. You are both beautiful in ways that make him ache. The man is tall, fair of face and built handsomely. You are just his type of woman physically with a spirited mien that looks like you would be the very best kind of challenge to tame. He longs to strip you both naked and run his tongue down your healthy contours, revel in your bodies, coursing with life.

Taking the brandy awaiting him on the bar, he glides towards you, flicking up his velvet collar as he does so, knowing of his powers and how to wield them to his advantage when needs must.

“Welcome to Wiltshire,” his opening gambit, smooth and dusky, raising his glass.

Both you and Thomas look up, startled at a handsome stranger’s interruption to your intimate conversation. Still, Benedict doesn't miss for a second how both of your eyes dilate rapidly.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Thomas Dorset stumbles, raising his glass without thought in a silent responding toast.

“Please call me Benedict. May I join you?” his ask is unfaulteringly polite, but with a lopsided grin, he has long learned is his ticket to everything he may want in this world.

Dorset immediately gestures for him to do so, despite himself, and Benedict slides smoothly onto the bench seat across from them with a dramatic swish of his ample velvet cloak.

“And you are?” he smiles at you both expectantly.

“Oh, where are my manners!?” Thomas decries as if snapping back to reality. “I am Dr Thomas Dorset, and this,” his arm wraps tighter around your shoulders, “is my wonderful new wife, Mrs y/n Dorset.”

You smile at Benedict; he can sense your apprehension at this stranger joining them but also hears your heart fluttering just a fraction harder as he meets your gaze. Can smell the uptick in your bodily response, a new tang to your natural scent that speaks of piqued interest. He knows with just a few well-deployed lingering looks and chosen words, he could throw you over the table right here in front of your husband and fuck you so well you would beg him for more. Again, he is grateful for the cloak he wears, hiding the bulge in his clothing that has barely slaked since your arrival to the area.

“It is so wonderful to meet you both,” he drawls, running a finger over his bottom lip to draw attention to his mouth. If you stare long enough, the thrall will be so easy. “What brings you to our fine village?”

“We are passing through on our way to Cornwall for our honeymoon,” Dorset confirms what Benedict already suspected.

“This is rather off the beaten path to such a place,” Benedict states dryly with a wink, knowing he is reeling you in with every word he utters.

“Indeed,” Thomas concedes, “my new wife insisted we come via this route to allow us to call upon her sister during our journey.”

Benedict smiles, subtly scenting your bodies as you and Thomas lean in without realising, falling under his spell.

“Well then, I insist I purchase your dinner and drinks this evening,” he declares, watching bemused as you both attempt to remonstrate. “I will not accept no for an answer,” he appends, victory glowing as you acquiesce, not realising this will be the first of many permissions you will grant him tonight, all being well.

—

You chew upon the venison slowly, one eye on your additional party, still unsure why he has chosen to join you and, indeed, pay for your meal when he apparently is not eating himself. Engaging you in conversation that seems peculiarly beguiling and dangerous all at once.

He is undoubtedly attractive. Hazy blue eyes under a mass of chestnut hair, a pale-skinned face with exquisite sharp lines. Feeling guilty to admit it silently, you find him just as attractive as your husband, maybe more so—something so hypnotic in how he holds himself, moves, and speaks. Finding yourself drawn to him, a stirring in your underwear that you swear he can sense. Every time a little frisson runs through your body, his head unerringly swings towards you, a slight curl in his luscious lip, like he is smelling your arousal and thinks it the tastiest treat in the world.

You could swear he is trying to steal you from your husband - and to your horror, you realise you would absolutely let him - except… his attention is just as rapt upon Thomas. Benedict’s gaze is just as covetous when he speaks. His tongue flicks the corner of his mouth as your husband casually leans back and crosses his legs—as if Benedict is scenting his body, too. It's confusing but intoxicating, as if your wine is laced with a far more potent substance.

—

Benedict knows he has won you both over before you put down your dessert spoons, now hanging on his every word.

“Let us repair to somewhere more intimate for a nightcap,” he suggests, and your joint responding consent is instant. “How about your rooms here at the Inn?”

Were you in your sound, sober minds, it seems unlikely you would invite a stranger to your rooms, but as it is, you enthusiastically do. Benedict snags the remainder of the brandy bottle from the bar as he settles the bill.

“Friends of yours?” Jenkins frowns, vaguely intrigued.

“Everyone is a friend yet to be made, Jenkins,” Benedict answers, intentionally vague.

Jenkins rolls his eyes. “Bloody poets…” he is heard to mutter under his breath, but Benedict lets it pass. If the man invoked the name Byron, perhaps he wouldn't have. Might have stolen a chicken or two from the coup outside to exsanguinate in revenge.

Benedict trails behind you, both pleasantly inebriated now, holding the wood panelling as you negotiate the narrow corridors of the inn to your rooms, inhibitions lowered. He knows you are just in that sweet spot where you will be so open to suggestions but not so out of your minds to be a pointless fuck, unable to respond. There is nothing less appealing to him than a lifeless, limp, unconscious being. Yes, easy to feed upon, perhaps, but no challenge. The only thrill he gets these days is that of the chase. Of the crackling potential of any moment, human hearts beating wildly in his presence, blood pumping hard—that is what brings him exhilaration.

—

Dorset fumbles the heavy iron key in the lock, leaning into you as you giggle along with him. The attractive, imposing man stood patiently behind you, seemingly sober, which is impressive given he drank more than you both. Still unsure what is possessing him to allow this, Thomas nevertheless feels compelled to do this man’s bidding, to allow this whatever he wishes.

It may be a secret he has kept from you, but Dorset is not immune to the charms of a handsome man. In his youthful days at Cambridge, he had many a clandestine encounter with his fellow students. Late drunken nights of experimentation. He knows the power of a man’s touch, enjoying the taboo feeling of being taken roughly, clawing the mattress as he is mounted without mercy. A man's body may differ greatly from a woman’s, but it is no less of an attractive wonderland.

Little does he know just how soon you will learn of that predilection.

—

You twirl around the room as the men take a seat and pour more liquor, feeling ebullient, basking in the heat of the fire on this cold autumn night, dizzy and fizzling with energy. You feel the gaze of both men, knowing both track your moments from the wingtip chairs they inhabit. Your insides feel ripe and pulpy, compelling you to be daring, a peculiar impulse to strip and dance naked in front of them.

There must have been something in my drink. Surely?

Your husband interrupts just as you think to act.

“Darling, come sit with us,” Thomas appeals, patting his knee enticingly.

He would never typically invite you to sit upon him in the company of a stranger, but everything about tonight feels different, so you allow yourself to be swept into it. To see what may arise with the handsome, mysterious visitor.

You float over and sigh as you fall into Thomas’ lap, the heat of his leg seeping through your dress, warming your bottom. He pulls you snugly into his lap, bumping a stirring hardness and without a doubt, you know this evening will go somewhere you never expected…. And yet, you can't wait for it to do so.

“Isn't my wife beautiful?” Dorset slurs, his breath hot on your ear, turning you both to face Benedict in the chair next to you as if he is seeking his approval for his choice of spouse.

“Indeed she is,” Benedict responds, dark and silky, a shiver tracing down your spine as he voices it. “As are you handsome, good sir,” he adds, and you know they are very much out of your depth as you feel the same shudder pass through your husband's being beneath you.

Oh, good lord, who is this man?

—

Benedict sees you reacting to his voice, sees the ripple in your beings, hears it in your breathing, and knows he has you fully enthralled. You are his to do precisely as he wants now. Tumbling images flash through his mind as to how he can have both of your bodies—sweat and skin, blood and bone, moving together in a carnal symphony.

His instinct is to take you and then your husband. He can see the willingness there, but he’ll need more enticing to allow that dormant flame to be relit. Perhaps watching you, his new wife, give yourself so readily will be just the nudge he needs to submit, also.

So when Thomas turns to Benedict, offering you on the plate that is his lap, he decides this is the moment to strike. Downing the rest of his glass, he stands and tugs at the string of his velvet cape, which falls to the floor with a heavy whump… to reveal his fitted cropped jacket and tight britches, tailored in black fabric like a second skin, giving away everything about what he has to offer.

He hears your sharp inhales at the unmistakable tented outline.

“Desire is such a funny thing, is it not?” he rumbles, moving closer, and your legs fall apart on instinct, the air suddenly filled with a potent scent of your arousal that makes his tongue itch to taste.

“In what way?” Thomas hitches, his hands grabbing your waist reflexively as Benedict can hear his heartbeat in his breathy cadence.

“You both want me, and yet you offer your wife to me first,” Benedict assesses cooly, raising an eyebrow as he takes a step closer, watching you squirm as your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

“I did nothing of the sor…” Thomas’s response dies on the spot as one long, slender finger lands on his lips, hushing him, a sharp fingernail resting under his nose.

“We both know you did,” Benedict argues laconically, “And lucky for you…” Benedict almost chuckles as you gasp when his other hand cups your jaw. “…She wants me too. Right now, her thighs are soaked with delicious slickness; I can smell it,” he states casually, holding you both.

“Is that true?” Thomas inquires, side-eying you but not moving under Benedict's finger.

“Yes,” you exhale shakily, unable to peel your gaze from Benedict's face now he has tilted your jaw up to him. “I want him, husband,” you confess raggedly, not knowing why you are voicing it. “And I want you to watch, to participate.”

Benedict chuckles again. “Of course, you do, little one. You love him, even if you are tempted by the fruit of another.” He traces a knuckle down over your chin, your throat, where your pulse is beating wildly, pausing on your clavicle. You know your eyes are wide and beseeching, begging for more.

Benedict swings his gaze to Thomas, then leans in. “If you truly love your wife, you will kiss me right now,” he taunts, his lips hovering so close, “give her a good show; I need her trembling before I take her.”

Come on, sweet prince, dance with me.

—

Thomas can barely comprehend what is transpiring. But he doesn't want to fight it. The man’s finger is cool on his lip as he poses the question. You are writhing deliciously in his lap, making his cock swell painfully against the cleft of your bottom. The next decision is inevitable, fated.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

He gently purses his lips and gives permission by bussing a featherlight kiss onto Benedict’s finger. The predatory smile that unfurls across the man’s face doesn't seem human, more akin to creature than man.

Then his jaw is tilted back, and his world swims as the man closes the few inches between their faces and kisses him. It's biting, hungry, desperate. A skilled tongue rolls over his, and Thomas feels a groan bubble up from deep inside. Possessed, overwhelmed, taken. Benedict tastes like sin but something odd like decay, too, at the edges of the fragrant brandy—some tart undercurrent that is wholly otherworldly and unnerving.

Thomas feels as much as he hears your moan. Feels the weight of your gaze glued to their faces, no doubt seeing a peak of their tongues entwining. Feels the weight of your body in his lap, moving rhythmically, grinding insistently, tilting your hips forward brazenly to drag your clit over the creases in his trousers. Your shameless want and desire are potent and arousing. Even as Benedict’s kiss steals his breath, a faint voice in his head gnaws about your actions being as inexplicable as his, but it's mostly drowned out by the roar of blood pumping hard in his system, seeming so loud around this man, as if he is in tune with it somehow.

As Benedict pulls back, Thomas's vision swims, awash with sensation. He watches, dazed, as the pale man turns and captures your mouth just as covetously.

—

You have only known the passionate kiss of one man—your husband. Yet a mere three days after your first mind-blowing experience of that, you have another first. Your first kiss with another, a whole other creature, not that you can likely comprehend. Unaware of the dance with death.

When Benedict turns and seizes your lips, you peep in surprise. But he swallows the noise, opening your mouth with his tongue, the kiss instantly intense. It's more of a take than the pliant dance you usually share with Thomas. A plundering that floods your senses and steals every breath from your lungs leaving you feeling shaky, unmoored, and taken somewhere dark that is metallic and brimstone. His kiss seems at once ephemeral and infinite. No wonder your husband looked dazed. As Benedict withdraws, the smile on his face is rapacious.

He suddenly pulls both of you to your feet, like ragdolls for him to puppet. Wrapping you up in a joint embrace, he whispers for you both to strip before releasing you just as swiftly, taking a seat on the edge of the imposing bed. As if in a trance, you begin undoing your own clothing.

“Nuh-uh,” Benedict clucks, holding a halting hand that you instantly obey. “Undress each other, my precious ones,” he elucidates, wanting a show.

Your heart thrums as you turn to your husband and he to you. Invisible strings seem to direct your frantic movements as you paw at each other, fabrics tearing in your swift pursuit of skin. You only stop panting wildly and staring when nothing is left, both frowning in confusion at the flurry and intensity of it.

What on earth just happened?

Uncertainty roils oleaginous in your stomach as if, on a gut level, your body is trying to send a warning signal. Still, at the same time, it feels detached and far away, as if your mind is in another realm, a place of edgy desire and boundless pleasure.

—

“Well, that was quite the brief show,” Benedict pipes up, bemused. “Not that I am complaining,” he adds, smirking, his eyes raking you both greedily as he runs a casual finger down his cheek.

Your bodies are ideal, as he suspected. The man is tall and lithe, not unlike himself, his skin pale and smooth, his cock, aroused and leaking, springing from a small thatch of hair that tapers to a narrow point under his belly button. So far, so similar. His cock is nice, sizeable but not intimidating, and weirdly he feels pleased for the woman. It is not as good as his cock; he's a Bridgerton, for Pete's sake, but entirely up for the task of bringing satisfaction to anyone who interacts with it. You are his ideal shape, your contours reminding him of a violin. And such an apt metaphor, your strings so ripe to be plucked, to be properly played, perhaps for the first time.

But mostly, what he tastes thick in the air of the heated room is your fluids. The rush of fresh blood pumping vigorously from your hearts, pulses elevated by the thrall. Sticky, sweet, and life-giving for him and you both. He is so glad he feasted on local farmstock before picking up your scent; otherwise, you would both be dead right now at his feet, lifeless and pale, every drop coursing through his mouth and swirling in his stomach like the indulgent meal your very hearty lifeforce represents. His hunger is slaked just enough that lust is his primary driver, at least for now.

He opens his mouth, engaging all the olfactory senses like a feline. Since he passed, his ability to pick up scents has been both a blessing and a curse, but right now, the best possible outcome from the dreaded experience.

Thomas’ precum is deliciously sharp, perhaps a shade too much. Benedict makes a mental note to offer him the luxury of some pineapple should this entanglement last longer than tonight, with them both still upon this mortal plain. You would undoubtedly be grateful for the improvement in his flavour, too.

As for you… his mouth froths. Your scent is sin itself to him, honeyed but also sharp like an undeveloped apple still clinging to the tree. A swirl of flavour in the air so plush, it takes all his willpower not to throw you to the ground and drink from between your legs. Knowing it would only take a blip, a momentary loss of careful control, to sink in his fangs, mixing your juices with your blood, what an absolute symphony of flavour that would be.

He realises he is staring at you both, panting lasciviously, lost in the jumble of scent and potential. You awaiting his next order, not even realising yourselves in suspended animation.

“Dorset, lie in the middle of the bed,” Benedict orders gruffly, drawing himself to his feet and standing aside.

Thomas does as bidden, his cock bobbing as he climbs onto the raised mattress and settles as instructed, looking at Benedict bright-eyed, awaiting any subsequent command.

“Watch me,” Benedict tutors you, then he crawls over your husband and, without preamble, takes the man's cock deep into his mouth as Thomas howls like he did for you earlier tonight.

—

Thomas almost hits the ceiling as his cock is suddenly surrounded by strong suction, vacuumed into Benedict's mouth. In fact, Benedict keeps sinking, and Thomas pants in shock as his tip slides into the man’s throat, something he has not had in many a year. The tightness, the pure depth of sensation. It seems strange the man does not need to take a breath or even fight as if there is air in his lungs, but dammit all to hell if this isn't already the most exquisite blow job of his entire life. Benedict apparently has no gag reflex; holding him deep, a mind-bogglingly long tongue unfurls to curl around his balls and lick covetously, a wet muscular stroke over his most sensitive skin that has his fingers curling into the sheets. He cannot school the booming, guttural groan. If he had not come merely an hour ago, thanks to his dearest you, he would likely be embarrassingly close to orgasm already; this man’s skill stupendous, another edge that doesn't seem human.

Thomas looks over frantically to you, his eyes bulging in shock, and he groans again at the sight of you. Your mouth hung open, lips rosy and damp, you have your fingers buried between your legs now, and there is a faint, lewd, wet sound as you invade your cunt with your fingers, just as he taught you on your wedding night. The sight before you is too beautiful and arousing to resist; you know your nipples are puckered, and Thomas’s tongue longs to run over them.

He wants to fuck and be fucked, sandwiched between you, his ravishing vixen of a wife, and this devil of a man, sucking his very life essence via his cock, intent on draining him dry. Just as Thomas feels a flush all over his body and a tightening in his sac, Benedict pulls up and away, smirking victoriously as he twists towards you, ignoring Thomas’ huffed, wretched pleas.

No! No, please, please do not leave me in this state!

—

You self-consciously whip your hands away from between your legs, and your eyes cut to Benedict as he addresses you.

“That is how you ensure your husband here never leaves you, little one,” he coos, running a thumb provocatively around his drooped lower lip, licking his thumbpad of every flavour. “Now it's your turn; show me what you can do.”

Benedict reaches out a draped hand. You take it, his touch light, helping you hop onto the bed to join them. He snatches your other hand and brings the fingers you had buried in your cunt up to his nose, sniffing lewdly.

Oh my god, this man is feral.

“I'm glad you enjoyed the show so much,” he smirks, running his nose up and down each digit. “Now I am going to taste you, darling girl,” it's low, akin to a threat. “You will sit on my face as you take his cock in your mouth, but do not let him come. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe, scarcely believing what he says. Benedict scowls slightly as he drops your hand.

“Don't call me sir, call me Count,” he snaps.

“Yes, Count,” you amend dutifully, and his smile, yet again, is devilish.

“Good, now ensure your husband is mindless with need while I provide you the same favour,” he purrs and slides under you with balletic grace.

Butterflies roar in your stomach as you feel the sharpness of Benedict's cheekbone press the skin of your inner thighs, draping yourself forward into your husband’s lap and tentatively licking a strip up his weeping cock as he mumbles your name weakly and moans.

Then you scream as a muscular tongue parts your folds with a force Thomas has never subjected you to. Whip-like, lashing your swollen clit with determined spirals before plunging lower and pushing far into your cunt, further than your husband's tongue has ever dared. Your groan is smothered as you take Thomas’ tip into your mouth, needing the distraction. Benedict’s hands grasp your hips and pull you down forcefully onto his face, his nose jammed against your pubic bone. Thomas has never been this engaged, devouring, a violent delight. You garble a curse around the cock, hurtling towards ecstasy as Thomas’ whole body tenses under you.

“Don't let him come,” Benedict reminds, words gusting hot over your slit, sensing what the man’s body signifies better than you do.

You pull off and breathe raggedly, staring up at your husband’s wrecked pleading face, where he leans on the headboard.

What is this? You mouth at him, nearly scared of how good it feels to ride Benedict's face so brazenly.

—

“Do not stop; use him, darling,” Thomas practically snarls through gritted teeth.

He is utterly enthralled by seeing another man taking you somewhere wild and untamed. The look of equal parts shock, fear and bewildered pleasure on your face is a picture he wants to remember forever.

He groans as you follow his advice, wrapping a hand loosely around his cock, a tease that makes his brain itch, as you concentrate on riding Benedict's invasive tongue, biting your lip, moaning vocally.

Yes, this is the best kind of sin.

Thomas mutters words, barely cognisant of what but compelled to urge you on. To take from this mysterious man so willing to give to you both, so far asking nothing in return, still fully clothed himself.

The jagged edge of his denied orgasm licks insistently at his mind, begging for release but paradoxically wallowing in the jangling ache of being so close but denied. Making him unable to think straight. As a doctor, he usually prides himself on keeping a cool head when all around may lose theirs, but tonight…. Tonight feels so peculiar. Out of the ordinary, out of control, out of his mind. And somehow craving carnality like a bestial creature, clawing at the bed, watching you be debauched by the same man who made him equally mindless.

—

Benedict cannot get enough. This wondrous pair. The husband was so responsive to his throat, and now you are bewitched just the same. Writhing your nub shamelessly over the tip of his nose, your juices trickling copiously down his nostrils to coat his throat as he plunges and twists his tongue inside you.

He wants you both so close to ecstasy, so close you can almost taste it, but not let you just yet. The thrill of how utterly base a human can be when dangling over the edge of lust fascinated him before… but now? Now, it’s his primary driver—to make a beast out of man, woman, any human, for them to feel one ounce of what he can. That heightened state when you crave something—so frenzied every base instinct emerges, shows your true nature: growling, greedy, hungry.

So when he feels the telltale ripplings in your cunt, he rapidly withdraws, and as predicted, you cry out, the sound ringing up the walls. He smirks, grazing your inner thigh with his fangs, the urge to sink into your soft skin and drink your other crimson nectar thronging in him.

Not yet, not yet.

The calm voice centres him, even as you keep moving, attempts to frottage yourself vigorously over his face, whimpering, desperate to push over the edge you are circling.

“Shh shh, sweet one,” he soothes, pulling out from under you as you pant wildly.

His hand rests on your lumbar spine to quell you. You slow, whimpering, collapsing forward, burying your face in your husband's lap, his cock leaking on your cheek, your hips swaying in the air. Both of you are shaking, sweaty and overwhelmed.

That’s it; we are getting there now, my darlings.

—

This doesn't feel right.

That voice is whispering again, but Thomas brushes it aside, ravenous, rooted in his body. Yearning to know what is next, a willing marionette in this sinful theatrical.

His mouth goes dry as he watches Benedict slide off the end of the bed and tug at his clothing, buttons popping open until lithe alabaster skin glows in the soft, flickering firelight. Shadows play over lean, muscled torso. He is beautiful: lean, virtually hairless, carved like a marble statue, just as pale and smooth. In fact, his beauty seems too ethereal, like his skin is no longer capable of tanning in sunlight. Still, Thomas longs to touch him, run his tongue over the sharp lines, and kiss every stunning contour.

“Y/n…” Thomas softly shakes your shoulder as you are still whimpering facedown in his lap. When you weakly raise your head, he nods for you to turn over and see the show you have been missing, Benedict now reaching for the buttons on his britches.

Lethargically, you flip over, your head cradled in Thomas’ lap as your eyes fall upon the man, and you inhale sharply. Benedict seemingly stares you both down as he lowers his britches, a smirk on his face entirely immodest. And when the material relents, you understand why.

Thomas’ cock pulses against your neck at the sight. He knows you have seen precisely one cock in your life, his, and this may come as a shock. It's larger and prettier, objectively than his own. You nuzzle him, biting your lip as you twist to look back up at him, eyes wide with concern.

“You can take it, darling,” he reassures, intuiting your apprehension as his knuckles brush calmingly over your cheek.

”As will you,” Benedict adds darkly, addressing Thomas. You watch your husband visibly gulp. Then you do the same, tongue feeling too large in your mouth, as Benedict mounts the bed and crawls predatory over your body, a sinful, crooked smile that is at once gorgeous and scary, that cock bobbing ominously as he draws nearer.

—

You feel butterflies under your ribs, unable to look away from his cock, suddenly nervous about the idea he might fuck you. Thomas is a perfect fit; it never hurts and feels designed to bring you gratification, but that?

It might be too much.

“Don't pretend you don't want me, little one,” Benedict boasts, edged with a darkness that is almost chilling.

“I-I do,” you stutter, unable not to speak the truth, your legs falling wider open reflexively.

“I know, I could smell you from 500 yards away; it drew me in like a clarion call,” he sighs wistfully, and it doesn't sound like he is exaggerating.

Benedict roughly grabs both of your legs and pushes them up and apart, making you gasp. Leaning over, he draws Thomas into a sinful kiss above you, making you mewl slightly at the sight, a burn in your tendons from the position, head now pulled out of Thomas’s lap onto the mattress.

“Hold her ankles,” Benedict orders over Thomas’s lips, gesturing to take over the hold. “Keep her wide and open for me, my prince,” he purrs as he leans away to slide a pillow under your shoulders, your head tilted backwards.

“Why like this?” you ask falteringly, feeling odd staring at Thomas's thigh upside down.

“So your husband can easily use your mouth as I fuck you, little one,” he explains calmly, hands now raking your flesh as he pulls you into position.

Nerves flare brightly in your belly, Thomas’s grip around your ankles harsh as he holds you so wide open. Then, there is intense pressure around your weeping hole. You whimper, your body quivering at Benedict’s attempted entry. He reaches up and touches your temple with two fingers, and the strangest thing happens; a preternatural calm soothes your mind, breath slowing, body pliant, racing now with nothing but want.

“Good girl,” Benedict tutors as he slips inside your body, the invasion blunt, the stretch as thrilling as it is raw.

He keeps pushing, the heat and size so much you can think of nothing else, even as Thomas shuffles closer, his cock nudging your chin, also demanding entry.

For someone innocent merely days ago, you willingly, excitedly, let both men slide into you at either end, your husband stealing your breath as he invades your mouth deeply, Benedict pushing you so wide you can feel him moving below your belly button as he bottoms out.

You feel them lean in towards each other above, Thomas sliding deeper as the sound of them kissing fills the air. You ache to see them, their mouths hot and entwined, but all you can do is close your eyes, swamped in sensation, so much hypnotic heat and scent. Fingers, you don't even know whose, pinch your nipples as both whisper your praises as they start to move in tandem, rocking into and out of your body in the same rhythm. They start slow, allowing you to draw breaths around Thomas' tip before he slides deep.

The drag of Benedict’s cock makes you moan; you can feel every contour and vein, your channel clinging tight to him, a noise of slickened suction as your body struggles to accommodate him.

But they begin to move faster, and you have to breathe through your nose, the insistent press of Thomas’ balls giving you limited air. The struggle makes it heady and soporific, like you can’t get enough and wants to die right here with both men buried deep inside you. You writhe as pleasure courses in your veins. Already pushed so close to coming, pliant and obedient to their use.

—

Benedict looks down upon the filled body of the woman beneath him and groans. Your cunt, such a tight wet vice surrounding him, delicious squelching sounds as he plunders you with increasing speed. Your plush lips wrapped around your husband's cock, your throat exposed and dewy with sweat, his teeth itching to sink into the vein bulging prominently as you fight to take him as well as swallow and breathe. He can’t help but reach down and run a sharp-pointed fingernail over your diaphragm, fascinated by the play of delicate muscle and bone as you ripple under his touch.

“Such a good little thing, and only recently plucked; you are a lucky man,” Benedict opines, his voice gravelly even to his own ears, looking up again to the man in front of him.

“Yes, I am,” Thomas agrees, and Benedict sees the imploring look in his eyes, begging for another kiss.

“Come here, sweet prince,” Benedict murmurs, feeling a spike of victory as Thomas effusively leans in, lips glistening, flushed and plump.

As they kiss anew, Benedict runs a fang over that juicy lip, wanting to sink down and bite, feeling his life force pulsing so strong right there underneath ripe, fleshy fibres. Thomas's hands twine around Benedict’s neck, his tongue tentative, asking for entry, and Benedict swirls and sucks upon it greedily, only breaking when he hears your attempted gurgling of words, your hands wrapped around your husband’s fuzzy thighs, requesting reprieve.

“Slide deeper; make her take it just a touch longer,” he growls into Thomas's ear, teething his lobe. “She will be feisty, but the lack of air will deliver her so close to rapture,” he counsels as Thomas thrusts and holds still. You start to struggle with muffled calls of increasing urgency. “Now slide out,” Benedict advises moments later, and Thomas follows his bidding.

Benedict moans as your whole body judders as you gulp deep breaths. “Perfect. Oh, my prince, you should feel how tight she gets when she’s fighting to breathe; dear god, it’s the best kind of pain.” He stutters, tone deep, wrecked, stupefied by the grip of your convulsing cunt.

What a perfect little thing. I want her as mine.

—

Thomas is also panting, the tightness of your throat squeezing him so close to orgasm for what feels like countless times tonight. He falls back against the headboard instead. To watch. To watch you, his once angelic wife, be taken, wrecked, destroyed by this gorgeous creature.

Your eyes shoot open as you realise he has withdrawn.

“Husband,” you reach a shaky hand up above your head, glad when he takes it, watching your body roll with each punishing thrust Benedict takes, his eyes seemingly fixed upon the hammering pulsing in your neck as you ratchet higher, his tongue slipping out of his mouth in a wanton glistened point.

Just as you are pushing your hips into each thrust, screaming with ecstasy, Benedict pulls out, and Thomas feels your anguish as you suddenly cry out, your whole being heaving with unmet needs, eyes pleading.

“Do you miss my cock already, little one?” he preens, trailing your own musky juices over your belly as he teasingly passes his cock over your heated skin.

You nod viciously and growl, Thomas barely recognising you—a creature reborn of pure lust and submission. Craving this man in a way that makes jealousy and want war uneasily in Thomas’ gut. You have never been this feral for him, your husband, but yet he completely sympathises, feeling the same pangs of want to be taken, wrecked, destroyed endlessly by this thing resembling a man.

“Alas, that is your misfortune, my beautiful thing, for ‘tis your husband's turn now,” the cold glint in his eyes and the harsh lines of his razor-sharp cheekbone glowing as yet again he leaves you a whining, whimpering mess, your body leaking, your voice hoarse, more wild animal than woman. As Thomas lifts his gaze from you writhing to Benedict, one thought haunts his very being with a growing disquiet.

What exactly are you, if not man?

—

You feel inhuman, something clawing at the edges of your mind that feels like madness. A desire to be possessed by this man. Your insides branded as his. So when he withdraws just as you are fluttering once again, it feels like insanity, like sandpaper drags over your brain, your toes and fingers stiff from flexing so hard in utter wretchedness.

This is ecstatic torture.

“Please, my Count,” it’s forlorn, ragged, almost not recognisable as your own voice, your throat still sore from the harsh tip of your husband's cock.

“No, little one, it’s only right you should take your husband's seed, not mine,” he clucks, even as he rakes his hands covetously over your sweaty body, his tone sounding reluctant as if trying to convince himself as much as you.

“Sweet prince, claim your wife,” he calls, clamping a hand around Thomas's neck, compelling him to slide over you.

He does as bidden, and you groan as the familiar stretch of your husband's cock overtakes your senses. Not nearly as punishing or brutal as Benedict, but curved perfectly to glance at that spot inside that makes you clamp down and scream with every pass.

“Darling,” Thomas's familiar voice whispers in your ear, and it’s a balm you need, centring you on him and his lovely face, moving over you in a surging wave.

“Thomas, my love,” you call, wrapping your limbs around him and taking comfort in his embrace, his body, familiar and musky, a flavour you know well dripping on your tongue as you kiss his salty neck, mumbling encouragements, your heels digging into his bottom.

Benedict watches you from behind, and when you look beyond Thomas, you see eyes inky black with desire, fingers ghosting Thomas’s back as if wanting to flay his skin open.

“Are you ready for me, my prince?” Benedict purrs in a way that makes even you shudder, unable to look away from his tongue as it slides into Thomas’ ear.

—

Benedict reaches for the vial before Thomas even moans his weak assent. The smell of clove swirls as he unseals a small vial and pours it down Thomas’ crack.

He can taste how much Thomas wants this, a heavy fug of desire in the air that is his pheromones begging more than his words ever might.

Thomas shudders, and his movements falter as Benedict slides a finger between his cheeks and swirls the oil over his heated skin, over his puckered hole and his balls.

Benedict can feel the weight of your stare over Thomas’s shoulder. Intrigue and desire. You have likely never seen a man fuck another man. Certainly not your husband. Certainly not while he is inside you.

Little one, hold on tight.

—

Thomas is staring into your eyes when Benedict’s cock slides between his cheeks, demanding entry.

He knows he has stilled his movements, and his breathing is ragged and uneven as that long-forgotten breach occurs. He groans loudly; it's the largest he has ever had inside him, and the burn is intense.

“Are you alright, my love?” you call, holding his face delicately and stroking his cheek.

“It’s intense, my love,” he answers through gritted teeth and a shaky exhale as Benedict keeps inching slowly into him.

He’s never had his cock buried in someone while being fucked before; intense exhilaration and so much stimulation. To fuck and be fucked simultaneously.

When Benedict bottoms out, Thomas collapses onto you, his elbows sinking into the mattress under your armpits, his hands clenched in fists over your breasts.

You reach for one and pries open his fingers, silently bringing the hand to your mouth and kissing then sucking his fingers as if his cock, a tease that titillates and distracts as Benedict starts to rock in and out of him. Thomas cannot look away from your mouth, your pleading eyes no doubt telegraphing your devotion and lust.

My darling wife…

—

You feel the moment Benedict moves within your husband, his motion a catalyst to the slide of Thomas's cock within you.

He has found a way to fuck us both.

It is all your mind can think as you watch your husband's face contort a thousand ways, rapture and fear, his whole body becoming a puppet stuck between you and the Count.

“Can you feel that?” Benedict growls, staring you down, eyes black now.

“Y-Yes,” you stumble, seeing something wild in him that genuinely scares you now, your tummy oily even as your clit twinges with pleasure, your husband's cock being driven into you at a pace that you know will make you come within moments.

“Good… don’t you dare look away from me,” Benedict growls when your eyes stray to Thomas.

You obey but watch with growing disquiet as he smiles wickedly wide. Two extended ivory fangs glow in the low flickering firelight. His tongue licks over them provocatively, drawing your attention.

What in God's name?

“God can’t help you now, little one,” Benedict sniggers ominously, and your heart pounds that he can read your mind. “Indeed I can,” he winks, making you gasp.

You are trapped. Trapped under your almost rag doll-like husband, his groans gusting hot into your neck now as he is slumped over you, being fucked so harshly by Benedict, hips snapping as he stares you down, pointed nails scraping down Thomas’s back, his entire mien a sinister seductive leer.

“You are mine, both of you,” Benedict declares. It’s dark, possessive, unearthly.

Confusion rips through your being as, for the first time, you see something other than man—a creature. Utterly terrifying, beguiling, erotic. A shadow moves over his face that is all menace and not of this world. Yet, at the same time, your body is so close to ecstasy, a taut thread holding all your muscles so close to breaking. Horror, fear, lust, and want are a continuous swirling loop in your very being.

Time slows, treacle-like, as you start to convulse despite yourself, taken over the edge by the carnal push and pull of Benedict fucking your husband into your body. Clinging tight to Thomas, you watch in slow-motion as Benedict leans down, those fangs looming large. Then, you feel a searing, sharp pang as they make contact with the meat of your arm, where it is wound around Thomas’s neck. Utter terror grips your heart, even as a flood of chemicals so strong courses into your bloodstream. Strong suction over the wound has you screaming, pure unbridled ecstasy, euphoria coursing in every fibre even as it dawns on you far too late precisely what he is.

VAMPIRE!

—

Benedict has only known immortality for a few months when he tastes his forever. Your blood floods his mouth, and it is the nectar he has been seeking since his turn. The thing that calms and sates him. The sweet delight that means he will never leave your side: he is yours. He will feed from others, for sure, but he is imprinted upon you forever now. He shall always be careful never to drink too much to kill you; he needs this taste more than anything, and just a few drops will be enough to keep him sustained.

“My goddess,” he moans, making your eyes pop open, fear but something else, too, swimming in your depths. It's not revulsion; it's anything but–it's yearning, even from your trance-like bliss.

He stops sucking before you lose too much blood; it’s just enough to make you light-headed and extend your rapture. He can feel you convulsing, Thomas’s limp body a conduit for your intense orgasm. Buried deep in Thomas, closing his eyes and feeling the pulses as you milk your husband’s cock, him just awash and pliant, sandwiched between you.

Benedict feels from inside the moment Thomas breaks, feels his balls contract and his pelvis ripple as he groans loud and long, his seed forcibly painting your insides. It’s futility to resist the urge to feast again. Meeting your hungry, consuming gaze as you crest a secondary wave, he sinks his fangs into the nape of Thomas’s neck, the man calling out lustily. And as he sucks greedily, Benedict falters and moans hard. It's like Thomas’ flavour is the other puzzle piece he needs. The ying to your yang. Together, the taste in his mouth is a symphony. A magnum opus, what feels like the very reason he now exists such as he does.

“My prince, my king,” he garbles, roughly suckling from Thomas's neck, watching the crimson line of blood ooze down his spine and licking it covetously, wantonly, his very purpose.

And it's the catalyst that flings him into the cauldron too, a shuddering snap that consumes his whole body and has him coming so hard he cannot hold himself on his knees anymore, slumping onto Thomas, panting as he empties, a visceral unloading that feels like the very best catharsis.

—

You have never known paradise like this. A continuous loop of thrill; every time you think it is over, you feel first your darling Thomas and then your beautiful nightmare Benedict come, and it pushes you over another precipice. Each is as precious and encompassing as the last.

The weight of them both slumped upon you as the shudder is something you cannot withstand, and you have to call out in protest. Somehow almost preternaturally, they rearrange around you, a tangle of limbs, sweat, cum and blood entwined like a knot of vipers as you all find a comfortable hold, panting hard from the exertion.

“What are you??” you demand, ragged, staring Benedict down around Thomas, who seems to be hovering semi-conscious, his face a picture of complete rapture.

A finger traces down your cheek as he does the same to Thomas, which you track askance.

“Darling precious, you already know. I’m your worst dream masquerading as your perfect fantasy,” he chimes. “And I am yours forever.”

“To which of us do you speak?” you gulp, barely able to form the words; your whole world tilted and forever changed.

“You see, therein lies the beauty,” Benedict smiles, running the edge of his incisors first over Thomas’s neck as he groans drowsily, then yours, making you inhale sharply. “I speak of both of you.”

Thomas twists and places a sleepy, sated kiss on you and then Benedict.

“Enthralling, is not, my love?” Thomas slurs, nuzzling you both. “We have our very own creature of the night.”

“You knew?!” you stutter, disbelief warring with every other emotion alive in your body.

“Mmm,” he hums peacefully. “I knew on some level from the moment he kissed me. And yet here we are. Hearts still beating, bodies utterly sated. This is the best possible outcome. I, for one, cannot wait for every adventure with our delicious Vampire,” Thomas lazily pats Benedict's cheek, who smiles and kisses his temple.

You are rendered speechless.

“Come on, y/n, my goddess,” Benedict goads, his tone dusky and irresistible as his lips ghost your husband’s, his long pale fingers smearing a droplet of blood into your breast, spidering over your flesh in a way that already has your cunt swelling again. “I am yours. And I can give you such pleasures every night,” he promises.

Well, that is perhaps the most enthralling prospect of all.

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