#The wartenberg wheel fic

[runninriot]

written for @subeddieweek

complete fic posted on ao3

Sweet Thing

rated: E | tags: Client Eddie Munson, Pro Dom Steve Harrington, restraints, sensation play (nipple clamps, pinwheel), 18+ content | snippet, complete fic and tag list on ao3

He shouldn’t have favourites. Shouldn’t feel drawn more to one than to others. They’re all equal, all deserve the best (worst) treatment. It’s a job, a very unusual one but a job nonetheless. He’s here to serve, to execute what he’s being paid for – to make secret fantasies come true and not to succumb to his own.

But ever since the curly haired angel stepped foot into his dungeon some months ago, Steve found it hard to keep it strictly professional.

There is something about that man, Eddie, that messes with Steve’s head in a way he can’t really explain.

He’s good-looking, with dark ink scattered all over his pale skin. Slender but with defined muscles in his shoulders and arms. Has strong thighs, an ass that looks much too biteable, and he has these big, round puppy dog eyes that are especially pretty when they’re red-rimmed and teary.

Eddie is really something to look at and maybe that is why Steve is so hung up on him.

Thankfully, he’s good at pretending.

Can hide the fact that – although not in a physical sense – each session with him is as fulfilling for Steve as it is for the beautiful man currently splayed out on top of the latex sheets.

It’s a real treat to watch him writhe and shiver, his muscles tense from the enormous effort it takes for Eddie to try to hold still.

He fails miserably, can’t keep his arms and legs from instinctively tugging at the restraints keeping him bound to the bed.

Steve leans in close to Eddie’s ear, lips purposely grazing the shell to let the vibration of his voice tickle his skin.

   “Didn’t I tell you not to move?”

   “Y-yes. ‘M sorry.”

Eddie strains his neck, obviously trying to bring some distance between himself and Steve’s mouth but he can’t get far.

   “Y-yes,” Steve mocks him as he repeats Eddie’s stuttering response. “Yes what? Think you forgot something there, sweet thing. Do I have to remind you of the rules?”

Steve grabs him by his throat, the press of his fingers tight enough to force a desperate gasp out of him.

With his other hand, he tightens the clamp on Eddie’s left nipple, turns the screw once, twice until a pathetic little whimper leaves Eddie’s shiny, parted lips.

   “Yes, Sir! I’m sorry, Sir. I- please, it hurts.”

    Good, Steve laughs to himself, satisfied with the way Eddie already has this trembling in his voice like he’s close to crying. And isn’t that a beautiful thought. Eddie is always so pretty when he cries.

   “You gonna behave now and stay still?”

Steve takes a moment to marvel at the view he’s presented with.

Eddie’s eyes are wet, a sheer layer of unshed tears glistening in the dim light of the candles shining down on them from the sideboard to their left.

He is tied down, arms and legs forming an x-shape where he’s spread out like a human sacrifice at the altar. His whole body is a gorgeous work of art. Not only because of the tattoos adorning his skin that is beautifully flushed from his face down to his chest.

His pinched nipples are bright pink from the clamps biting harshly into the sensitive buds.

The picture is perfected by the sight of Eddie’s hard cock straining against his stomach, so desperate to be touched.

Not yet, though. Eddie is Steve’s to play with for a little while longer, is his to be used. And he will drag this out for as long as he can, won’t give Eddie the satisfaction of relief until he is satisfied with his own work.

Steve reaches over to the sideboard, grabs the Wartenberg wheel that’s been waiting there patiently to come into action.

Eddie is a sucker for sensation play. He is so sensitive, reacts so wonderfully to any prickling, stinging, thudding feeling afflicted on his body. Whether it’s with the light, tickling touch of a feather or the quick, sharp burn of hot wax drizzling over his body; he’s so easy to please.

Steve starts on his left, presses the pinwheel against his skin, and lets it roll from his shackled ankle up over his calf. Eddie squirms and whines furiously when the prickling sensation reaches the back of his knee and not for the first time, Steve is glad not to be on the receiving end of things. Eddie’s trembling and twisting gets worse, the further Steve rolls the wheel up the inside of his thigh, playing with the degree of pressure he uses to prick Eddie’s sensitive skin.

He repeats the procedure on Eddie’s right, watches his skin break out in goose bumps while his cock twitches hard at the overwhelming sensation that’s crossing the line between slight discomfort and actual pain - just what Eddie wants.

Eddie gives up on trying to get away, finally accepting that he’s going nowhere. He’s entirely at Steve’s mercy, who keeps going, ruthlessly dragging the pinwheel across the underside of his arms and down his sides, spurred on by Eddie’s pathetic moans.

   “Please, Sir! ‘S too much!” He begs as if that could convince Steve to end his teasing torture.

Eddie knows what to do if he wants him to stop. And Steve knows what Eddie can take.

He always gets so whiny when Steve treats him right. He’s a dream to play with. So easily breakable, so willing to give up control and let Steve take him apart in whichever way he pleases.

So beautiful when he slowly loses his mind, pushed closer and closer to the edge until he’s free falling.

The only problem is that Steve has a hard time not to lose himself.

[sitkowski]

in smoldering embers ( girl!nicholas x girl!folio )

pairing: girl!nicholas x girl!folio

cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ genderbent characters (always a girl nicholas and folio), d/s undertones, recreational drug use, shotgunning, face slapping, discussion of safwords/hand signals, sensory deprivation (usages of noise canceling earbuds and blindfolds), wartenberg wheel, teasing, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, praise kink, squirting, subspace.

word count: 3k

author's note: my first fic for kinktober in the concrete jungle! this one was for the prompt of sensory deprivation. also for confusions sake, Nicholas is Nichole, and Folio is Nicki. thank you so much to @ladyveronikawrites for hosting this thing with me and being an excellent motivator and writing companion throughout this whole thing! the title comes from "lune" by periphery. divider by @saradika-graphics ✨

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || read on ao3

The day has been too long and Nichole is done with it. Agitation simmers beneath her skin as she deals with a lack of caffeine because she was late for work, two girls who wouldn’t understand why she wouldn’t tattoo them after they'd been drinking, and her lightboard died on her. It makes her snappy with everyone, and she’s pretty sure she’s never been so glad to get out of the shop in her life. The minute she’s in her car, she yanks her hair out of the messy bun she’s had it up in, knocking her head back against the headrest in frustration. She feels itchy, like her skin is too tight. Nichole starts the car and cranks the music as if feeling it in the center of her chest will help. But she knows that isn’t what she needs.

It’s not as if her mood magically dissipates when she gets home, but being there helps a little. She greets the cats, abandons her things on the counter and tugs off her boots. She can hear the drone of the television from the living room but ignores it. As much as she’d like to curl up on the sofa and watch some mindless show with her girlfriend, she feels like she needs a shower first. Nicki calls out to her to see if she’s home, but Nichole ignores her. Something she doesn’t do often.

The shower does little to make the feeling go away, and she’s trying to figure out how to articulate what she wants by the time she emerges from the bathroom. Maybe she should just go to sleep, try again the next day. But when she comes out, Nicki is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her almost expectantly.

“You saying hi to the cats and not me is a sure sign that work was shit,” she says, and Nichole feels her fingers twitch where she’s still holding up her towel. “So what do you need me to do about that?”

That’s the thing, Nicki always knows. Whether it’s while they’re out on the road with the band and it gets to be a little too much or while they’re home and the pressures of the tattoo shop work their way under Nichole’s skin, she always seems to know exactly what she needs. And she might be asking her a question, but Nichole knows that Nicki’s only giving her the choice now because she’s curious what she might need. All Nichole has to do is say the word, and Nicki will take that choice right from her.

“You choose.”

All of the air seems to leave the room once Nichole says it, and all Nicki does is nod and stand up. She doesn’t come over to her, instead walking over to the opposite side of the room where there is a small chest of drawers. Anticipation simmers in Nichole’s stomach and she takes off her towel without prompting, moving over to the bed. Nicki brings a handful of things back to the bed, as well as a joint tucked between her lips. She pays no mind to the fact that Nichole is sitting there naked at first, instead dropping everything at her side and looking around for a lighter.

Nichole eyes what she brought back with her greedily. There’s a thick black sleep mask, a pair of earbuds that she knows drown out every bit of sound, and a metal pinwheel with a delicate handle. She feels fingers slide through the damp strands of her hair, and tilts her head back to look up at Nicki. Smoke filters around her as she takes a hit off the joint and exhales. Those fingers in her hair tighten and Nick tugs her head back a little more, until Nichole gives in and lies down flat on the bed.

Nicki crawls over her, straddling her hips. She lets go of her hair, only to grasp Nichole’s jaw and pry her mouth open enough to blow the next hit of smoke into it. Nichole starts to reach for her, but Nicki pulls back, slapping the back of her hand. “Nope. You’re just gonna lay there and let me take care of you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Nicolette.”

Nichole only full names her to get a rise of her, and she sees the way that Nicki’s eyes narrow in challenge. She takes a longer drag, this time giving Nichole’s cheek a quick, sharp slap. It draws a surprised moan from her throat, and Nicki smirks and raises her eyebrows, silently waiting. She opens her mouth obediently, lets Nicki blow more smoke in. It leaves her loose and relaxed in a way that she hasn’t felt in hours. When Nicki reaches over her to put the roach out in the ashtray on the nightstand, the feel of her shirt brushing against Nichole’s skin tickles and she finds herself laughing lightly.

“Aren’t you gonna get naked?” she asks, trying not to pout.

Nicki pulls back, shaking her head. “Nah, this is all about you, honey.”

Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, Nichole nods. She knows what’s coming, and she lets her eyes roam over her girlfriend, taking in every detail of her as if it’s the last time she’ll ever see her. As if she doesn’t have every tattoo memorized, or the way her little cross earrings glint in the late afternoon light. The silver chain peeking out of the neck of her shirt with the too big holes from when she cut the sleeves off. She takes the time to pile her hair up on top of her head, her go-to when they play so it’s out of her way.

“Be as loud as you want, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What is your safeword if it gets to be too much?”

“Stardust,” the word falls automatically from her tongue. “And if I can’t speak, I tap you three times.”

“Good girl. Okay, let’s go then.”

Nichole lets herself sink further into the mattress. She watches as Nicki picks up the earplugs first, and puts one in each of Nichole’s ears. The sudden absence of sound is jarring, not in an entirely unpleasant way. She can hear herself breathing, an odd echo inside her mind, each inhale feeling deeper than the last. Next, Nicki grabs the face mask, gesturing for Nichole to lift her head so she can slip it on over her eyes. The material is thick enough that she’s now totally blind, on top of not being able to hear, it’s an intense experience. She still feels the weight of Nicki astride her hips, but she jolts when she trails her fingertips down Nichole’s throat.

Nicki teases her with her fingers for a while, drags them over every part of her skin. Occasionally she’ll drag one of her calloused palms over her hip, her nipples, she uses the very tip of her tongue to trace tattoos here and there. Nichole squirms restlessly, still not quite settled into it yet. Every pant of air she lets out seems louder than it probably is to Nicki’s ears, and her heartbeat thuds in her temples almost like a headache. She feels the need to touch Nicki back, but knows that she can’t. She can move around as she wants, make all the noise she wants, but she has to keep her hands to herself. It’s an unspoken rule, and she honestly likes the challenge.

The handle of the pinwheel is cold when Nicki presses it to Nichole’s mouth, a sign that they’re about to really start. At Nichole’s nod, she pulls it away, only to replace it with her lips. She can’t help but kiss her back, smiling into it. Nicki’s teeth nip at her bottom lip before she backs off, and then Nichole feels the edges of the pinwheel roll down her throat. It’s teasing at first, and she squirms, a few breathless laughs escaping her at the feeling.

Nicki follows the same path as before, keeping the pressure light. It tickles, and Nichole longs for more. Her mouth feels dry and it’s as if her head is stuffed full of cotton candy that’s melting slowly with each pass of the pinwheel.

“Harder.” she says, her voice sounding distant. “Please?”

She doesn’t even think that she actually said it out loud. Not until Nicki presses the pinwheel down on her upper thigh with purpose. She knew it was coming, but the sting still surprises her. The next roll of it comes across her lower stomach and Nichole sighs, arching up into the pressure. Nicki’s body weight leaves her, only for her to nudge Nichole’s legs apart and glide the pinwheel up over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. At the same time, she drags two fingers up her slit. Nichole doesn’t need to be able to see or hear Nicki to know she’s making some comment about how wet she is. Her entire body goes taut as she slides those fingers into her, curling them upwards. The moan that Nichole lets out reverberates through her own chest.

Time begins to slow to a steady crawl until Nichole doesn’t know how long this has actually been going on. Nicki’s fingers twist and spread inside of her as she leaves stinging lines across her skin. She can feel it, the moment she starts to sink away, not quite achieving it but close enough for everything to feel blurry around the edges. Her first orgasm rolls over her in a soft wave, leaving her trembling and pliant beneath Nicki’s touch. Wetness grazes her bottom lip, and she’s dimly aware that it’s just the two fingers that Nicki had inside her. Opening her mouth, Nichole licks them clean.

She doesn’t realize right away that Nicki’s taken off the blindfold, but then she’s blinking at the brightness in the room and looking up at Nicki’s face. When Nicki pulls out the earplugs, Nichole realizes that she can hear how loud she’s gasping for air.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything, honey? C’mon, use your words.”

Nicki’s petting her fingers through her hair softly, and Nichole reaches up to drag her hands over her face, surprised to find her fingertips damp from tears on her cheeks. It hadn’t even felt that intense. She looks down at herself and sees little red lines littering her hips and stomach and the curve of her breasts. A few of the lines on her thighs are dotted with blood. She laughs deliriously.

“I feel amazing,” she admits honestly, turning to brush her lips over Nicki’s. “Can we keep going?”

She knows part of it is the endorphins talking, but they’re not really doing anything heavy here. Nichole feels like her body is heavy, in the best way. She can see that Nicki’s looking for any signs that she might be saying that she’s good when she’s not, but Nichole knows her limits. They haven't reached them yet.

“Do you want everything back?”

All she would have to do is say no, and they’d keep going without any of it. “What if it’s just the blindfold? I want you to talk to me.”

“Of course,” Nicki picks up the sleep mask and slides it back over Nichole’s eyes, plunging her back into darkness. And then she leans down, letting her lips brush over her ear. “But for the record, I was saying some really filthy shit before. You just couldn’t hear me.”

Nichole whines, fisting her hands in the blankets beneath her. “I wanna hear you now.”

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll tell you everything I’m gonna do.”

Her teeth nip at the curve of Nichole’s throat and she shivers, bringing her arms up above her head to grasp at the blankets as if it’ll keep her grounded. The tip of Nicki’s tongue circles one of her nipples and she sighs, lifting up into the sensation. “That’s not talking!”

The bite of the pinwheel across the thin skin of her collarbones startles her and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. She already knows what she’s going to do before she does it, but the breath she draws in through her nose does not prepare her for the metal teeth scraping her nipple, the little twinge of pain she feels making her shudder and clamp her thighs together.

“You were saying?”

“You said you were gonna tell me everything you were gonna do.”

Nichole knows she’s pouting, and she expects some sort of repercussion for it. Instead, Nicki laughs softly.

“You’re right, I did say that. I’m sorry,” Nichole can’t see her, only feels the occasional brush of fabric against her skin as Nicki moves around her. “Here’s what I’m going to do now. I can either keep teasing you with this wheel or I can eat you out—”

“Please!”

Nicki puts the pinwheel down on Nichole’s stomach, and the metal feels hot on her skin from being in her hand. “You’re not letting me finish, honey.”

“I’m sorry.”

“As I was saying,” Nichole gets a nip to the curve of her breast and she jumps and giggles. “Since you obviously prefer the second option, I'm gonna make it so you have absolutely nothing left in that pretty little head of yours by the time I’m done with you. Just let me take care of you.”

Nichole feels a sudden swell of emotion and swallows hard. She doesn’t have the words to tell her that she already takes care of her in every way she can, even when they’re playing like this or when they play harder. It’s always exactly what Nichole needs, Nicki always takes care of her.

All she can do is nod her head. She hears nothing but silence at first, but then the mattress shifts beneath her and she feels Nicki lift the pinwheel away before she moves down Nichole’s body, trailing lingering kisses as she goes. Her mouth drags over a few of the marks that the pinwheel left behind, and she sinks her teeth into the meat of Nichole’s thigh before she’s pushing her legs open and shouldering between them. 

Nichole almost wishes she’d said no to the blindfold again, because a part of her wants to see. She can feel Nicki’s warm breath against her cunt, the way her fingers stroke over her inner thighs before her tongue slides between her folds. The press of her thumbs as she opens her up to lick inside. Nichole gives up on not touching her, blindly reaching down until she’s got a hand in the fabric of Nicki’s shirt. She moans brokenly as Nicki’s tongue strokes over her clit, at the same time she twists two fingers into her.

She rocks up off the bed against Nicki’s mouth, squirming so much that she has to press a hand against Nichole’s stomach to try and keep her down, and when that doesn’t work she just presses her thighs against her chest, nearly folding her in half as she slides those fingers in deeper and faster.

“Knew I should have tied you down,” Nicki teases, speaking right against her cunt, and Nichole chokes out a sob at the idea. “Next time, then. Why don’t you go ahead and come for me, honey? Get this one out of the way.”

Her words don’t make sense, but nothing really makes sense right now. Not when all Nichole can do is grind up against her tongue, rock down on her fingers and beg mindlessly for whatever she’s being given. Her second orgasm is sharper and quicker, and she squeezes her eyes shut beneath the blindfold, feeling tears well up in her eyes again.

Nichole tries to catch her breath, but Nicki doesn’t stop. “Again, seriously?”

“You can still say words, so yeah, again. C’mon, I know you’ve got it in you.”

She doesn’t give her much time to agree, fingers curling up inside of her at a quick pace that leaves Nichole unable to do much more than toss her head back and wail. Her hands claw at Nicki’s shoulder, the bed sheets, whatever she can. She feels Nicki above her, keeping her legs up while she presses down on Nichole’s lower stomach again. The sound of her own wetness is loud to Nicole’s ears, and she’d be embarrassed about it if she could think about anything else other than coming a third time.  

Nicki’s speaking to her, but she doesn’t understand any of it. If she wanted to drive all of the thoughts out of Nichole’s head and leave her a mindless mess, she’s doing one hell of a job. The inside of her head goes blissfully white, her entire body going taut like a rubber band being twisted around Nicki’s fingers and shaped to her will. Lips brush her skin and she feels that band inside of her snap. She screams, feeling the intense feeling give way to a rush of wetness that soaks the blankets beneath the both of them.

It takes her a few minutes to come back to herself, gently pushing Nicki away from her and curling up on her side, shaking and panting for air. She feels the mask lift from her eyes, and she finds her girlfriend giving her an almost smug look.

“Thought I lost you there for a minute.”

“Fuck right the hell off, Nicolette Folio. What the hell?” She makes a delirious sound, trying to sit up and failing. Nicki chuckles, shaking her head. “I’d offer to return the favor, but you’ve kind of broken me here.”

“I didn’t do that for reciprocation, honey. Don’t worry about me.”

“But—”

“The fact that you’re arguing with me after I made you come three times concerns me,” Nicki slaps at Nichole’s hip and rolls out of the bed. “I’m gonna go run you a bath, and then we’re gonna order some takeout and rot on the couch for a few hours. Sounds good?”

The way she says it tells Nichole she doesn’t really have a choice but to just go along with it.

“Sounds perfect.”

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[beyondxmeasure]

Sunday Snippet

A Simple Twisted Fate by @cyantific

A little taste of something I'm working on for the @subharryficfest. Coming this fall! Stay tuned.

I'm finally catching up with all of my Sunday Snips & Last Line/First Line Challenges from all of you lovelies! I know I’m behind so I’m hitting you with a few to make up for it… this is one of three snips I’m posting today. Sorry for the delay and as always, thank you for the tags @zanniscaramouche @kingsofeverything @allwaswell16 @lululawrence @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @larry-hiatus @bluecolouredlou @evilovesyou @larryyouknow

Also tagging @hershelsue @local-troubled-writer @becomeawendybird @londonfoginacup @maggieisalarrie @larrysballetslippers @thedevilinmybrain @louandhazaf @justalarryblog @dinosaursmate @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

If you see this, consider yourself tagged! Whad'dya got cookin’, loves? Play along only if you feel like it.

SNIPPET BELOW THE CUT!

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“So, listen,” Harry says. “I know the sign there says ‘by appointment only’ but I’m just passing through on tour and had some time to kill and was hoping maybe you could fit me in? I could pay extra. You know, for the inconvenience.”

Louis sighs. Of course he wants me to make an exception. Fucking hell, these entitled arsehole rock stars are all the same.

“Well, I don’t usually make exceptions—”

“I don’t mean to play the spoiled rock star card, I really don’t. I promise I don’t do this all the time. Like, literally never. I just thought I’d ask, you know?”

Well, at least he’s a self-aware entitled arsehole.

“It’s fine.” Louis concedes. “I’ve finished with my other appointments for the day, to be fair.”

“Oh, really?” Harry’s eyes light up at the accommodation. “Ahh, incredible!” He pumps his fist in the air. “That’s great news.” His wide grin turns into an awkward wince in search of assurance. “Really though, you're sure? You don’t mind… really?”

“Genuinely.” Louis reassures him. “I don’t mind.”

Okay, so maybe he’s an overly polite, entitled arsehole.

“Thank you so much. Louis, was it?”

“Yeah, Louis. Come on back, Mr. Styles.” Louis gestures over his shoulder for Harry to follow him.

“Please. It’s just Harry.”

“Okay, just Harry. Follow me.” Louis leads him all the way back to his room at the end of the hall.

The hallway is dark, and the music is loud, but not too loud for Louis to hear the humming over the underlying white noise hiss, rubbery resonant bass notes and every distinct snap of the snare drum. Louis turns back to see Harry mouthing the words along with Trent Reznor.

You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you

Louis snaps his head back in surprise. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a Nine Inch Nails fan.”

“Oh, no?” Harry cocks his head to the side. “What would you, uh...peg me for?” Harry fiddles with his bottom lip pinched between his fingers.

A dry laugh escapes Louis' mouth, unprepared for being put on the spot. “Uhhh, dunno, actually. Just… not that? I guess.”

“Well, I’m into a lot of different stuff, Lewis.” Harry hisses with extra emphasis at the ‘s’ that doesn’t belong there. “You could say I’m pretty… versatile, d’you know what I mean?”

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[babyhader]

My brain is so annoying I started TWO new fics last night and they are the complete opposite of one another. One is a cute drive-in movie scenario and the other is a daddy fic lol. 

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Undiscovered

It’s Jumin’s birthday this month, so a public holiday for me, haha.

This is one of the October entries of my 2019 Year of Smut and it’s something I’ve wanted to write for a while but never had the courage. Well...I say this in February of 2019, so things might have changed since then. Anyway, this is a fic about Jumin getting pegged.

Mystic Messenger | Jumin x MC | Explicit

On the surface, theirs is an ordinary relationship. Boring, even. MC smiles and waves to the cameras, and dresses like a woman twice her age. Within months of her marriage she was a spokesperson on climate change and abandoned children, while the poster child for many other charities. Her public persona is unblemished- a paragon of her kind. Her marriage is a point of reference for wholesome, old fashioned values, regardless of her feelings on the matter.

She often wonders how the world might respond if they truly came to know her.

More than once she has smiled for the cameras and held onto her husband's hand, layers of makeup and expensive clothing shielding the love bites that covered her body. Sometimes she chats to television hosts all while thinking about the toys in her bedroom drawer.

They’re not hard to find and that’s part of the fun. She rather enjoys the idea of a rogue member of the press examining every corner of their penthouse, opening drawer after drawer in search of scandalous information only to discover row upon row of high quality and colour coordinated instruments of pleasure.

She enjoys the thrill of that particular train of thought just as much as she enjoys having sex with the door open or right in front of the penthouse windows. Something about being married to Jumin Han leaves her an exhibitionist and desperate for more.

Of course it doesn’t help that her husband is only too eager to indulge her every fantasy. He watches as she runs her tongue over the handcuffs she means to bind him with; picks out lacy underwear for her to wear when they’re alone. It’s a never ending game of tit for tat- MC tormenting Jumin with cock rings only to shudder at his vibrator of choice.

They own wartenberg wheels, restraints, fuck machines and more, as well as thirty seven different kinds of lubricant and countless varieties of condoms.

For all of their enthusiastic adventures into the unknown, however, there are still moments where even they draw pause; positions and toys so depraved or complicated that MC blushes just thinking of them

Only after three years of marriage did she bring up butt plugs, much less pegging.

Even now the harness feels odd. She’s not used to the extra weight and certainly wasn’t prepared for the lack of sensation. Logistically speaking, she knows that she shouldn’t be surprised to feel nothing in the tip. It’s not a real penis, nor a real erection, yet at the back of her mind she still expects to feel something as she runs her fingers over the silicone.

She glances across at Jumin as she smears lube over her fingers. He’s bent over the bed most ungracefully, serenely resting his face on his arms even with his ass in the air. She’s seen him naked more times than she can count and knows every inch of his body, yet she feels she’s never seen him quite so vulnerable as he is now.

It doesn’t matter anymore that they’ve spent months preparing for this. She’s worried she might hurt him; that the dildo at her waist will cause him an injury.

The lube makes it easy for her to slip a finger into his body and his sighs of pleasure are something of a reassurance.

“How’s that feel?”

Her voice betrays her nervousness and he chuckles softly.

“Keep going.”

She’s used to being the one on the receiving end and tries to emulate the touches she enjoys the best-soft and gentle with the promise of more. She listens out for his moans and keeps an eye out for any hints of tension in his body, slipping more fingers into him when he sinks back into her touches.

She could listen to his moans forever, sometimes even slowing right back down to hear his whines of protest. She’s taken control many, many times before but there’s something almost too satisfying about seeing him frantically reach for his cock and push back onto her fingers. Perhaps it’s because this is Jumin of all people- a man who practically oozes authority. Perhaps it’s because only she gets to see him like this.

“MC,” he murmurs. “Please.”

She can feel both the shyness and desperation in his words;at the end of it all, he is still Jumin Han and not usually the one begging to be fucked.

She pulls out her fingers and layers the dildo with lube with her free hand, considering how very big it is compared to where it will be going. Even she is daunted and she has taken much bigger.

She touches the tip to his entrance, testing the waters with one careful push.

“How is that?” She murmurs, watching as he turns back to her with a look she knows only too well. The look of one who has waited for too long...who wants more than their partner could ever give or their body can stand. It’s an unspoken demand -please fuck me- and she knows better than to hesitate. When Jumin is back in control he will return the favour.

She pushes harder and strokes her hand across his back, listening to his low moans and the wet sound as he pumps his cock. She picks up the pace as he would, wishing she could see herself as well as she can see him. This is brand new territory and she wonders if it suits her. There’s something quite satisfying about being almost completely in charge.

Jumin grows tense; she can feel it in his back. She stops, watching for any sign of pain, only for him to moan far loudly than before and bury his face in the pillows, coming all over his hand and the bed sheets with such force that it takes them both by surprise.

She strokes her hand across his waist and back with whispers of praise.

“Would you like me to take it out?”

He turns to her, cheeks flushed, clearly debating it. In the end he nods, sighing at the change in sensations as she pulls out. She knows that sound; has made it herself well over a thousand times and cannot help but feel smug now that the roles are reversed.

She climbs out of the harness and sets it aside, taking the chance to lay down beside him. He turns over onto his side to look at her and she steals a kiss from his lips.

“I love you,” she whispers, resting her forehead against his. He runs a hand up her thighs and across her waist, slipping a finger under her chin to guide her lips to his.

“And I…” He moans into the kiss. “Adore you.”

Before she knows it, she’s on her back, legs wound around his waist. It’ll be a while before he’s hard again, but she’s more than happy to wait, especially if it means being on the receiving end of his kisses.

For now, at least, she is content for nobody else to see. 

[67midnightwriter]

The Deepest Blues

A/N: heyyyyyy so I’ve been in a really rough patch that has equaled not a lot of writing, but I’m going to try and muscle through and post a few things within the next few days, starting with this wonderful piece for @thoughtslikeaminefield challenge. My prompt was the deepest blues are black.

W/C: 714

Misha x Reader

Warnings: BDSM themes, smut, dark(ish) fic

He was so bright, you’d never given much thought to his shadows. His eyes had drawn you in, as blue and deep as the ocean. Turned toward you, they consumed you. They hid secrets in their depths, and you existed to memorize them.

“Do you trust me?” Danger dripped from his words, thick as honey, but despite the fear weighing down your tongue, you found yourself nodding as his hips pressed into yours, encouraging you in a language all their own.

His smirk lit the night, sparked the embers deep within your body. The hair on your arms stood at attention, your skin breaking out in goosebumps as he leaned in, his voice nothing more than a breath against your ear.

“Good girl.”

The silk was soft as Misha bound your wrists to the bed, his hands firm and sure as they ghosted over your skin. They floated over your waist, followed by his lips, searing your skin where they trailed. His teeth pulled a moan from your throat as they toyed with your nipple. One hand trailed down to your pussy, his fingers rubbing feather light circles until your skin was tingling and your hips bucked for more, mindless begging bubbling past your lips.

“My pretty little cumslut.” Your mouth fell open, and Misha took the opportunity to push his thumb in. “I’ve got a treat planned for you tonight.” You inhaled sharply, letting your breath out as a whine as he pulled away.

The steel glinted in the low light, dancing as the candle flames flickered. Your heart hammered as he stalked toward you, his eyes predatory as they devoured your restrained form. He held up the tiny wheel, and your breath hitched in your throat.

“Hold still.”

He pushed the Wartenberg lightly over your calf and up your thigh, allowing you to adjust to the new sensations. Deep blue eyes observed your reactions as he traced patterns on your abdomen and chest, slowly increasing pressure until droplets of blood popped up behind the pinwheel, and your whimpers broke the quiet of the night. Your cunt dripped, your desires fed by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Such a good little fucktoy aren’t you?” Misha wrapped a hand around your neck, his fingers squeezing as he pulled your shoulders off the bed. He pushed two fingers into your cunt, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. “So wet, so ready.”

“Always ready for you, sir.” You purred, your voice strung out and needy. “Please sir, I need it.”

“What do you need?” He thrust his hand, his palm brushing against your clit as his fingers rubbed over your gspot.

“Your cock, I need your cock.” A desperate mewl left your lips as he pulled his hand out of your aching cunt.

“Then I guess you better take it.” He pistoned his hips forward, bottoming out in one quick thrust.

He grinned at your groans and dropped you back on the bed, his sinister smile growing as he gripped your hips, thrusting slow and hard until your thighs quivered around him. He traced the patterns from the pinwheel with his fingers, smearing the blood along your chest , the salt from his skin causing them to sting. The overwhelming sensations pulled a long, low moan from your lips, mine now spelled out on your body.

“So beautiful for me. Such a good little cumslut. You gonna cum for me? Are you going to cum on my cock?”

“Please!” You cried, tears running down your face as his hand wrapped around your throat again, pulling you up into a kiss as other hand rubbed circles on your clit.

“Cum for me. Now.”

Your mouth dropped open in a soundless scream, your hands grabbing the sheet in white knuckled fists. Misha groaned as you obeyed, your legs squeezing his hips as his pace faltered. A soft moan left his lips as he came, placing soft kisses on your neck as he whispered praise in your ear.

He was smiling at you over coffee the next morning, those deep blue eyes consuming you one more. Your thoughts trailed to the bruises under your shirt, the blood under his fingernails, and the secrets that you knew was hidden in those blues; the deepest blues are black.

The Whole Enchilada: @impala-dreamer @sculptorofbeginnings @rideandwritethings @adoptdontshoppets @supernatural-idjit-95 @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @missjenniferb @tumbler-tidbits @maddiepants @covered-byroses @curly-hair-disaster

[icecream-and-gadreel]

Wartenberg wheel – A device originating in the medical field to test nerve ending response and sensation, and wartenberg wheel is a small, very sharp-spiked wheel that can be rolled over the skin, or used in conjunction with an electrical play unit.

AHA

I HAVEN’T USED THIS IN A FIC YET

IT’S ADDED TO THE LIST