#but that's also not technically his own robe so

[kemendin]

Cas is slowly creeping up towards the outfit cap again (sitting at 25 right now) so I figured I'd show off some of his newer looks since the cap was raised from 16. The first four are my faves of this batch, but I enjoy them all!

[sunderwight]

Imagining a scenario where Shen Qingqiu clocks some of the lingering tension between the peak lords and Luo Binghe after they get married, and so looks up what all the rights & privileges of a peak lord's spouse are (because really only the ascetic peak has restrictions against marriage), and then just like. Heaps them onto Binghe.

Fine robes and ornaments in Qing Jing's style. A title. Appropriate authority over Shen Qingqiu's disciples and junior sect siblings. Technically Binghe is also entitled to use of his own residence, and there's a building on the peak that is at least nominally reserved for the peak lord's wife, but it hasn't been used in a long time and Binghe would cry if Shen Qingqiu even suggested living in separate buildings (and Shen Qingqiu would also not like it but shhh). So he doesn't get that, exactly, but Shen Qingqiu does have the building freshened up and aired out as a place where Binghe can house guests from the demon realms, or potentially his own personal disciples (should he desire to take any on one day).

Binghe accompanies Shen Qingqiu to peak lord meetings in his capacity as husband, rather than disciple, which means Binghe also gets to sit at the table instead of standing behind Shen Qingqiu's seat.

But really just, Shen Qingqiu making a point of doing everything extremely officially to really drive home that he married Binghe, and he expects Binghe to be treated with respect and not suspicion or derision or any of the other bad habits that his fellow peak lords have displayed. Not just with Binghe, but also towards the original goods in the past (SJ might have been a piece of work, but the fact also remains that most of what his sect siblings thought of him was inaccurate). SQQ scraping up every bit of political acumen he can find from all the books he read and PIDW itself and his own history as the son of a wealthy family, and being like, "if I don't want Binghe to be bullied, I must make it clear that he has my favor!"

Meanwhile everyone already knows Luo Binghe is Shen Qingqiu's favorite, like man they know it so much already, more than they'd like to, but it's not like they can SAY anything because actually putting the right hair ornament onto Luo Binghe's head and making the disciples address him as Shimu is in fact more appropriate than all the other ways Shen Qingqiu displayed his favoritism so far. It's just driving several of the other peak lords slowly insane because it's backwards! The order of things is all messed up! Shen Qingqiu can't truly expect them to start respecting this disgraceful mess of a relationship now, can he?!

Of course he can. Also Yue Qingyuan is backing him up. (Yue Qingyuan actually finds this kind of amusing, because it's very on-brand for both versions of Shen Qingqiu to get embroiled in a controversial mess only to retroactively go "oh yeah, respectability politics are a thing" and then just try and brazenly bluff his way through it.)

Meanwhile Binghe is very much enjoying himself. Could he stop anyone in the sect from actually mistreating him in a heartbeat? Of course. He could kill any of them, they all know it, and Binghe is not unaware of how to leverage that kind of fear into compliance, if not respect. But then he'd have to go stalking around being tyrannical all the time, and he does that enough as the demon emperor.

It's far more enriching to let people be rude to him and then hang his head and "nobly endure" the mistreatment, just to watch Shen Qingqiu's eyes narrow and his fan snap shut before he lets out some cutting remark and then lavishes another sign of his favor onto Luo Binghe. Binghe's wildest teenage fantasies were made of this stuff! He's living the dream!

[mypoisonedvine]

Please please please do emperor Geta 🙏 maybe a dubcon situation where he uses his power over you, and "you heard me, take it off" but I would literally take anything of him ❤

i've been waiting for my turn to write this little freak i need him!!

warnings: SMUT! 18+ only!!, dubcon/noncon, a slap, a bit of public stuff/exhibitionism kinda, virgin!reader (she's a priestess so also mild religious themes), fingering, overall he's The Worst

"You heard me," he spat. "Take it off!"

And you had heard him, of course, but you didn't quite believe it. He knew you were no concubine or courtesan-- a high priestess hardly receives orders from mortals-- yet he ordered you around like any peasant. Spoiled fucking child he was...

"Now."

You nervously glanced at the guard detail surrounding you both; even if they weren't here, you were probably bound to his orders regardless, but it still felt absurd. In your own temple, which he'd cleared out in the middle of the day while people were praying and making sacrifices, he tells you to take off your robe. Does this man really have no decorum, no respect for sanctity?

"Don't test my patience, you will find it lacking," Geta warned. He was your emperor, you knew to disobey him was death, but most emperors were also worshippers-- they would do what you said, knowing it was a command from the gods.

Conflicted but unwilling to make him wait longer in case he made good on his threat, you unclasped the clip holding your robe at your shoulder, and the belt around your waist: then, it was all just fabric at your feet, and you were bare before him.

He had that hungry smile on his face, the one that curled his upper lip and bared his teeth while he flared his nostrils; you tried not to let any fear or discomfort show on your face, knowing he would only prey on it more.

Technically, there was nothing wrong with him seeing you (even if it felt wrong, especially with a bunch of royal guards here as well), but priestesses were not to be touched. Ever. So when he stepped forward and reached for you, you instinctively smacked his hand away.

He pressed his lips together and, about ten times harder than you'd smacked him, hit you on the face. Your head spun and you instantly held your cheek-- only for him to grab your wrist and yank it hard, pulling you towards him as you yelped, exposing your stinging skin.

"You think I won't hurt you?" he growled. "Just because you're chosen by the gods? So was I-- except that you were chosen to read dusty old scrolls. I was chosen to rule!"

He dropped your wrist but you kept your face turned, tears beginning to run over it slowly; he brought his hand to your jaw, tilting it back and petting it as he got a good look at you.

"Mm, I think that'll leave a mark," he noticed, sounding quite proud of it.

But then that hand trailed down, fingers tracing along the front of your body-- eyes still trained on your face, which you willed not to show your fear.

And he cupped you between the legs somewhat roughly, exploring you until he found your entrance. When he shoved a finger inside, then you couldn't suppress a reaction, a wince to the unexpected intrusion. Apparently not satisfied with only a small amount of pain from you, he put another one inside and snarled as he pushed them both deep into you.

Yelping softly through your teeth, you shut your eyes tight and found yourself grabbing onto his robe, forehead dropping onto his shoulder.

"You really are untouched," he marveled with a grin. "Or, you were."

He twisted the fingers and you shuddered, the sting only worsened by his mocking laugh as he watched you struggle. "Please, my emperor," you hissed softly, wondering if an appeal to his ego would soften him at all, "I-I won't disobey you, but please don't--"

He curled his fingers harder inside you, making your legs shake: you had to hold onto him just to stay upright. "Don't, what? Fuck you?" he assumed. "But don't you think it would be funny? A defiled oracle, once revered and protected, made into just another toy for the emperor? Used and tossed aside with the other cheap whores?"

He snorted; he really found it amusing, the idea of ruining you just because he could. Yeah, sounds hilarious-- you're a real fucking comedian.

"I won't do it," he decided as he took his fingers out of you, making you breathe a sigh of relief-- just for a moment. "Not here, at least. I'll be kind and take you to the palace first."

You looked up at him with wide eyes. "No-- please!" you begged. "I won't go-- you can't take me--!"

But his guards descended on you in an instant, restraining your arms with hardly any notice of your attempt to fight back, and on his command they dragged you from the temple and into his chariot. None of them seemed to mind that they were taking the oracle of the city hostage, naked, right there in the open streets. Citizens and worshippers watched in horror, but they were just as helpless as you to the emperor's whims.

"Now now, don't cry," he cooed darkly as he wiped a tear off of your injured face. "I won't be too cruel to you, once you've learned to obey."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know that Yuu is gender neutral in the game for many reasons so it makes me wonder if Yuu was a girl in Conan would that change the dialogues and the way the characters interact with her?

Like not a major change to the main story or turning the game into otome but some small ones like in some characters interaction with Leona when stepping on his tail he won't want to beat us (because of the respect woman thing lol) in book one or Deuce being shy in the beginning of their friendship.

Hmm... For the most part, I honestly don't really think so? Cater still calls Yuu cute, Azul is still pretty polite, etc. Rook still waxes poetic and creepily recites your sizes, etc. regardless of gender. At best, maybe some of those traits would be exaggerated a little more or expanded on to suit the scenario?? Like maybe Ace would initially tease fem!Yuu about being at an all-boys school or something, isn't she bothered by it? But I really doubt that anyone would be tripping over themselves to protect or befriend fem!Yuu or anything, especially when most at NRC are primarily concerned with their own interests. Most of the characters aren't noted to treat women particularly differently than other genders. We also don't get to see the NRC students interacting with girls around their age either, so it's hard to discern how they'd be with them. I think even the "Deuce being shy in the beginning of the friendship" headcanon comes from a perspective colored by writings in fandom; Deuce in canon doesn't really seem to demonstrate major issues interacting with girls, at least not that I can recall. At best, he expresses surprise when Grim mistakes Epel for a girl and fails to romance the Ghost Bride (he freezes up and his mind blanks; it’s difficult to say this is how he’d act around most women or if he just acts this way due to the demands of the situation). I think if we eliminated romantic interest altogether--because, to be clear, one girl in a cast of mainly guys is NOT always meant to be romantic or a harem--most of the cast would be their usual selves, if not maybe a little more polite due to how they’ve been socialized to see women as the “fairer” sex. For example, Riddle, Epel, and Jade underestimate Sally, though this isn’t clear if it’s gender-based or because they sympathize with her poor home life. They may also be instances of the guys not really knowing how to deal with girls? For example, Trey fails to help Sally up after she has fallen (which Sebek chastises him for); Trey later admits that he doesn't know many women beyond his mother and sister who is 4 years younger than him. Because of this, he says it may be that he was subconsciously nervous to interact with her.

The exception to this, many would point out, is Leona, who comes from a country in which women are respected. The strange thing is, whenever this point is mentioned, I always see people speaking about it in relation to Leona and Leona only, even though Ruggie and Rook also come from the Sunset Savanna (so technically those latter two would also theoretically be respectful to women). Now, there's a lot of discussion in the fandom about just how far Leona's "feminism" (a term used by fandom, never said in official materials) stretches. The most extreme of takes paint Leona as a misandrist who actively hates on or mistreats men while upholding women as superiors. And that... Well, I don't agree with this interpretation whatsoever. Yes, Leona no doubt respects women and is more likely to listen to them if they ask him to do something (for example, attending a party for a female painting in Cater's School Uniform vignette or taking a picture of himself in his robes for his sister-in-law in his own Ceremonial Robes vignettes). However, he won't just keel over and do whatever is asked of him simply because it is coming from a woman (think back to Ghost Marriage; he was still pretty pissed off when Eliza slapped him), and nor is he shown to disparage his own gender.

Rather than putting women on a pedestal, I think it would be more accurate to say that Leona doesn't underestimate women or think lesser of them because of their gender. (If you're interested my detailed breakdown of "feminist" Leona, check out this analysis.) For example, while his classmates worry for Sally's wellbeing in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Leona lauds Sally's cunning and ability to save herself. We also get a pretty good look of this in the Episode of Savanaclaw manga, which features a female Yuu. (And before anyone says, "Yuuka could be hiding the fact she's a girl!", take a look at these panels. She is clearly not making an effort to hide her chest and given her nonchalant personality + ability to physically defend herself, Yuuka has no in-universe reason to be hiding her gender. The other students probably don’t bring up that she’s a girl because she’s already been around at NRC for roughly a month at this point and have likely acclimated to her presence. Besides, people don’t normally bring up “well, that’s a girl” out of the blue in everyday conversations.)

Riddle seems to treat Yuuka the same as the gender-neutral Yuu in the game; he still adjusts her tie for her without any flourishes, flinching, etc.

If you read the Episode of Savanaclaw altogether, pretty much all of the characters treat Yuuka like another fellow student and not "oh, this is a woman and a woman has to be treated differently".

Leona stops Savanaclaw mobs from beating up Yuuka and co., but this isn't significant because he does the same for gender-neutral Yuu in the game. It's not "I stopped the guys from hurting a woman" behavior. And get this: Leona still challenges Yuuka and co. to a magift/spelldrive game and he STILL kicks their asses and expects them to get up for more. He doesn't give even Yuuka special treatment or leniency because she is a woman. He wants her to play him again, the same as the other students (who are all guys). It is Jack who has to intervene and stop his dorm leader from bullying Yuuka and co.—but again, this isn’t a change from the game, as Jack always steps in anyway.

Yuuka recognizes Leona as "the garden caretaker" from back when she accidentally stepped on his tail. Unfortunately, we don't get to see if Leona attempted to attack her from this instance. It could be that the manga excluded it because he didn't try or it could be that he did (if the magift/spelldrive demands were of any indication) and the manga just didn't have time to show it in full. Buuut we should also note that Leona makes exceptions to his own... "moral code" when it is convenient for him. For example, he tells his students to not pick on outsiders but then still wails on us through sport. When Yuu steps on his tail in the garden, he says, "Well, can't say it'd be much fun to hurt someone so helpless," but then adds, "Still gonna do it, though."

My point is, this is the closest we'll get to "how would the boys treat a fem!Yuu", and that's what I'll leave you with.

[suikung]

Just discovered your blog and I just gotta say AMAZING!

I saw that requests are open, if they're still open then can I request the Akatsuki (not yandere) being mean to and gang nonconning a weak and shy jinchuriki they captured? I saw you only write up to 5 characters so you can pick whichever 5 Akatsuki members you want! Have a good day!❤️

Caught

| Pain Deidara Sasori Hidan Itachi

| Tw. Gang rape Non-con Anal Blood Necrophilia (technically with pain)

WC. 5.5k

For story purposes reader has the three tails,since it’s the only one without a Jinchūriki. It’s a little bit of an odd pairing but I went with what I believe are the more liked ones. Maybe not Hidan, he’s just my indulgence. Also w/ Hidan’s ability you feel both pain and pleasure. I think that’s all the disclaimers now

The trees were still, not a single noise was out of place for you. A night just like any other. This forest was all you had known since your childhood. Your parents had died when you were 16, and for the last two years you’d been surviving here on your own. Well not entirely on your own. The three tails resided in within you. After you had become a Jinchūriki at the age of five, your family fled your village in fear people would target you. Many villages came after you, hoping to take you back with them and use you as military power. But somehow your parents always fended them off. They taught you ninjutsu, seeing as they were Shinobi yourself, but nothing extraordinary. Nothing that could save you from the predicament that had sprouted from this serene forest.

Two robed figures stood in front of you, a man with bright yellow hair and a hunched one you could only assume to be his partner. At first thinking they might have been lost travelers, but the thought quickly disappearing when the hunched man threw off his cloak and launched what looked like a scorpion tail at you.You jumped back, managing to barely escape his attack. A large hole now visible in the ground where he struck. “Hm I guess it’s my turn.” The other man threw what seemed to be a round white ball, quickly exploding upon impact. Exploding on your arm, pain shot through out it all. Whoever these guys were, were significantly stronger than you. And it didn’t take much for them to take you down, a girl who still didn’t know much about actually fighting in battle. They both took a position next to you, one to your left the other to your right. Simultaneously they launched their attacks on you, a bomb to your right, a scorpion tail to your left. Having no previous battle experience, a proper defense reaction didn’t occur to you, and you were hit. All you could see as you laid on the ground was the two men staring down at you. “Hurry up and finish tying her up Deidara. I don’t like to wait.”

The next time your eyes opened, there wasn’t two men staring down at you, only a rock ceiling. Your hands and legs had been bounded, barely able to sit up. It was dark, your eyes only beginning to adjust, pupils dilating trying to take in any light. Once your eyes adjusted, you looked up to see giant hands, two hands just still in the air. What stood behind you was am enormous statue of a petrified monster. Heart picking up it’d pace every moment you stared longer at it, but within a minute the statue didn’t move so you could breathe a little. “What is this.” You spoke out to no one, however you received a response back. “She’s awake Sasori. What you see before you is where that little tailed beast inside of you will soon reside.” The voice spoke from a nearby ledge in what you could only assume now is cave with its lack of light.

The voice, dropped down, now able to make them out to be the yellow haired man from before; the silhouette of his pony tail giving away his identity. “It’s such a pain to be in this musty cave, I don’t understand why leader hasn’t called us all to seal this brat yet Sasori my man, hm.” He approached you, circling you now. He was analyzing your next move, would you fight back maybe? Unlikely considering the weak one you had put up when they captured you. “She’s quite cute. Maybe leader will let us keep her for a while. Come down here Sasori, and take a look for yourself.” A thump landed next to you. It was the hunched man, who now had a name to his face. “Stop messing around Deidara.”, Sasori’s voice was low already, but the annoyance towards his partner lowered it farther. Before Deidara could snap back at him, a voice called out their names. Quickly they jumped from their position to the fingers of the monster statue. Holograms appeared on each hand, every finger now occupied. “How did the capture of the three tails go?” A hologram with spiky hair spoke, your neck strained trying to see them all from your position on the floor. “It wasn’t that hard. She’s awake, sitting right below us. But I doubt she’ll fight back, she proved herself a weakling in battle.” Sasori spoke up. Everyone’s eyes now lowered to the floor, they hadn’t had a Jinchūriki conscious in their meeting.

“Let me use her for my ritual for a while before we store the three tails yeah?” One that seemed to have a weapon attached on his back spoke up. You eyes only widened at his words, what possible ritual could he be talking about? “Shut up before I kill you Hidan.”Chimed the hologram right next to him. “Yeah yeah we both know that ain’t happening Kakuzu.” The pair bantered back and forth before the spikey haired man spoke again, “We won’t be storing the three tails today, so do with her as you please, just don’t kill her. That is all, you may return now.” Just as he appeared, he was gone. “Well Kakuzu, I’ll be taking up on the offer so I’ll see you soon.” Slowly all the holograms disappeared, not before making eye contact with a specific one. Those red glowing eyes, could it have been a sharingan?

Deidara and Sasori were the last two up there. They seemed to be whispering about something, their voices just at the tone where it made it impossible to decipher the words. Shortly after their secret meeting was over. “Well my man Sasori I think we should get started before the others come to interrupt our fun hm.” Both the men discarded their black robes, Sasori took an extra step; out came a young looking man from the hunched figure. “Please just let me go and I’ll tell no one of what you did. Please just let me go!” Practically screaming now in their faces. You weren’t stupid, you knew what their idea of “fun” was. “Even if we wanted to, which we don’t. We can’t. After we finish with you here, that three tails of yours will be sealed away and you’ll be dead.” Sasori’s voice was cold. Not even being able to see properly from the way the tears erupted from your eyes. With a kunai Deidara cut the front of your shirt, hands and legs still tied just incase you tried anything funny. “Come on Sasori we can’t do anything if we keep her hands tied up.” Sasori rolled his eyes, motioning with his hand for Deidara to do what he wants. Your hands were now free but Sasori immediately attached chakra threads to your wrists. They could never be too safe with a Jinchūriki. “Either you can do it willingly or I won’t hesitate with my chakra threads.”

Deidara now stood in front of you, eye level with his mid section. Sasori to the left of you, his chakra strands bringing your hand up to the band of his pants. “I think you know what to do now girl un.” With one hand each, their pants came down simultaneously. You could now see clearly the mouths on Deidara’s hands as he came to down to play with himself. He guided himself forward, tapping the tip against your lips. Refusing to open for him, his free hand came to the side of your cheek his extra mouth licking your face. Before you could even open your mouth fully, he shoved himself into you. His tip immediately hitting the back of your throat causing your gap reflex to activate. Coughing while his dick was in your mouth proved to be a challenge, he pulled himself back slightly to allow you more breathing one. But while one assault finished a new one continued. Sasori refused to be forgotten from the fun and with his chakra strings, he positioned your hand loosely on his base. For someone with a puppet body it amazed you that this was the one thing that remained human. “It’s works just like any other so don’t be afraid to test what I just told you.” Your hand began to move up and down his cock, a shutter coming from Sasori. Not only did he practically dedicate himself to his art, but being in the Akatsuki never gave him the time of day to thing about pleasure. Which is why this simple movement from your hands had small sounds escaping from his mouth.

While your hand pumped Sasori’s, Deidara placed the hand that was previously on your cheek behind your head. His fingers tightly interlocked in your hair, he now had a tight hold to fuck your face. And that he did. With your breathing finally normalizing and your coughing diminishing, he wasted now time in shoving himself back in. Having regulated your breath for nothing. “Use your tongue come on hm”, he whined from above. He was practically giving you whiplash from how hard he was fucking himself into your face. His balls slapping against your chin, and his tip narrowly avoiding your uvula. You want to throw up. Not only from gagging but from being forced to fuck the men you know will have a hand in your death after they’ve spilled enough inside of you.

“Go faster”, Sasori demanded of you. His chakra threads felt looser as you began to comply with him. Both men were letting out groans, their inevitable end coming soon. They were so deprived from any type of pleasure lately this would enough from them, however after they recover from this first orgasm they’ll make sure the next will be thanks to what’s between your legs. The pace you had was not enough for Sasori as his chakra threads took control again. Your hand was now vigorously moving, twisting around his cock while simultaneously moving up and down. This pace being something you could’ve never set on your own. Deidara wasn’t letting up either, your head ached from his grip, your chin probably now red from his balls continuously hitting it. They both seemed to choke up on their moans, immediately feeling a foreign liquid in your mouth. It was salty, only causing you to gag from its revolting taste. “Awe shit”. Sasori finshed in your hand, however due to having a puppet body he had no semen to expel. However the orgasm still rang through his body, a string of curses leaving his mouth. Deidara pulled his cock out, taking this as your chance to spit out his semen. But he saw your next move, his hand came over your mouth, his hand-tongue licking your lips. “You better fucking swallow it.” His eyes were dark, his hand firm on your face. “And when you do, open your mouth so I can double check un.”

You did as he said, not wanting to anger him and expedite your death but maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Pain began to spread through your ass from the hard rock floor. You shifted slightly, now free from Sasori’s chakra threads, hoping this new position would subdue the pain. Nonetheless it didn’t matter soon enough. Light began to pour into the cave, the sound of something heavy being dragged echoed. Eyes squinted from the sudden rush of light, slowly adjusting. Deidara and Sasori’s had finished readjusting their clothes, attention now turned to the entrance to see which one of their members had come.

“Well well it looks like the party’s already started.” The backlight figure continued to walk towards the three of you, until you could finally make it out to be the hologram with the weapon on his back, the one called Hidan. He had a maniacal look in his eye, wasting no time to remove his sythe from his back as he approached you. “Hidan, don’t kill her. She’s not a sacrifice for your God.” Sasori glared at him, obviously accustomed to his traditions. He rolled his eyes, “I didn’t say I was gonna kill her did I?” Deidara only watched in amusement from the sidelines as Hidan’s sythe was thrown at your face. The tip from one of the three blades cutting into the supple flesh of your cheek, quickly retracting back into Hidan’s grip. So graceful yet so careless with it. The red of your blood blending into the color of his blade. The blade now up to his lips, tongue swiping across it knowing perfectly around it as to not cut himself. Like that would matter to him. The immediate presence of your blood on his tongue changed his entire appearance, body going from looking of normal flesh to being as if his skeleton had been brought forth out of him. “What… what just happened to him…” eyes practically bullying from your head, confusion and fear evident on your face. Would the same happen to you since it was your blood that had done that to him?

Hidan’s laugh now roared throughout the cave, echoing off every empty wall. It was haunting, terrifying, he was a damn psychopath and you could tell this wasn’t the end of his actions with you. His eyes now stared directly at you, never breaking contact as he pulled a sharo baton from inside his cloak. “That’s his crazy ritual to his God. You can never get used to how just over the top and dramatic he is with it.” Deidara answered your question from early, was this what he meant by what he had said before? Immediately after Hidan spoke up, almost interrupting Deidara, “I’ll give you one chance to submit yourself to Lord Jashin.” Who? “Accept him into your life and I won’t have to do this.” The baton was now aimed at his palm, his eyes staring you down from any answer. If this was the way out, you’d gladly accept this ‘Jashin’. Head nodding at a pace that you almost gave yourself whiplash for a second time that day. “That’s too fucking bad bitch. Jashin wouldn’t want a whore like you to serve him.” With those parting words, the baton cut halfway into his palm. Bleed pooled onto the floor, a sufficient amount for him to drag it first into a circle and then a triangle inside. “Ritual complete”, being the only thing he uttered. “One of you two untie her completely, after this she won’t have enough strength to run away.” On his words, Sasori being the closet to you undid the rope on your legs. Just as you stood up, pain shot through your leg, your calf on fire. Hidan’s laugh the only thing you could hear apart from the ringing in your eyes. Barely being able to lift your head, you saw he had the baton wedged in his calf as well but he looked to be enjoying it.

“Ah fuck, your pained face gets me going.” You didn’t know the extent of his jutsu, but you’d be finding out real soon. He dropped the baton next to him, his non-bleeding hand coming into his cloak and done his pants. Cock already straining against his pants he couldn’t help himself and began to palm it through the fabric. Immediately you felt it too. This pyscho’s powers made you feel everything he felt physically, pain or pleasure. To Hidan this was perfect, the stinging in his calf, the relief of his hand on his cock. An immediate heaven. “Stop…please” voice weak, unable to find any strength in yourself to speak up. Your head spun, unable to find a middle ground from the feeling in between your legs, undoubtedly creating a wet stain, and the pain in your calf. He increased his pace, hand now inside of his pants, the strain to unbearable now. Your pleasure amplified, unable to resist the noises your body produced. Soft moans left your mouth, hunched down on the floor using your good leg to kneel for support on it. The other two members couldn’t doubt their oncoming arousal from the sounds you made. Soon enough they’d be ready to go again with you, but for now they lazily stroked themselves. “Doesn’t it feel so good, the mix of both these feelings!” You could only cry out as a response, but before he could proceed any further the three members sensed two new chakras in the cave. Somehow these two had made it in within without making a sound.

Glowing purple and red eyes, the rinnegan and sharingan. All eyes averted towards them, tension thick in the air. No one would except the leader of the Akatsuki and Itachi to participate in this. But then again in this line of work everyone was deprived of simple things in lives, they just couldn’t help themselves to a little divulgence. “Please don’t stop Hidan, we are here to join in. Show her your version of pain if need be.” Your head snapped between the men now. He took no time in resuming what he was doing. How could someone have such lack of embarrassment, then again all these men were here for the same thing. Itachi stayed silent as he watched the scene unfold in front of him, taking in your battered form. Eyes puffy, tears dried on your face, calf bleeding while you cry from a forced pleasure. It did something inside of him. The wanted to be responsible next for those sounds coming out of your mouth.

Hidan’s pumped himself at a quickening rate, the orgasm building in his body and in yours. However he wouldn’t let you have it so easily, so just as you both were sent over the edge, he stopped. The build up on your untouched clit fading away. “Join in, don’t stand there like some creeps just watching.” Deidara, Sasori, and Pain all approached you, Itachi would continue to watch for now while it seemed as if Hidan was restricted to the symbol h had drawn on the floor. You stayed on the floor, still unable to get up from your earlier injury. The three men circled around you. Deidara sat down in front of you “Lift yourself up, we can’t do anything to you if you still have those rags on” he said pointing to your pants. So far your pants had been the last scratch of dignity you had, now it was about to be stripped away.

With your pants lowered to your knees, Deidara could put into action his plan. His mouth-hand latched onto your nipple while the other went straight down on your clit. The sudden feeling sent a moan flying out of you, rapidly trying to shut yourself up. The guilt tripling in your body from allowing such reactions to occur. Nonetheless it wouldn’t matter, your head was pulled to the side by Pain his cock already in hand. Rods poked out from the side of his length. “Open” were the only words he spoke to you before relishing in the warmth of your mouth. While pain adjusted to your mouth, Sasori attached his chakra threads back to your wrist, hand moving up towards his base. Pain didn’t grip your hair to shove your face back and forth, instead he simply bucked his hips back and forth into you. Such an unstable position for you led to your head moving around. “Hollow out your cheeks and put your tongue under it” luckily he wasn’t as big as Deidara who nearly choked you, but he moved at such a pace it stained your neck muscles in any way. Scared of the man who led such powerful shinobis, you did as he told. The sudden vacuum you created with your mouth, left Pain hissing in pleasure. What you didn’t know was the man you currently had in your mouth was feeling no pleasure and instead someone near by the man who was controlling him and was feeling everything.

Your fingers tightened around Sasori’s length starting at the base of his cock. Sasori felt cold, his body was cold. How could someone be so far away from being a human yet still possess the ability to feel lust. All he wanted right now was to achieve another orgasm. “What if we keep her as our Akatsuki whore Pain? It can’t be such a big deal if we don’t get all the tailed beasts right. Plus I think this is a better suited life for her, just being our little plaything, hm.” Deidara spoke up with his unoccupied mouth, you’d rather death than this. If only you had the means to say that to his face and defend your ground. Before you knew it, Deidara had taken your free hand and placed it over his cock. You were completely invaded by them. Hidan continued to slowly play with his tip, lathered with precum, clit pulsing from his actions. What didn’t help was Deidara’s hand-mouth kept kitten licking your clit. Moans vibrated around Pain’s cock, leaving him groaning above you.

However that was all brought down when Hidan picked his Baton back up, hand never moving from his cock as to not draw your attention back to him. With it back in hand, he stabbed his upper arm, head pulling back from Pain to scream, blood began to rush out your left arm. However it didn’t falter as it was held the chakra threads. “You’re luckily she has my chakra threads Hidan, or else her arm would be useless.” Sasori glared at Hidan, he almost got in the way of his climax. Every jerk and pull of Sasori’s cock sent a shock of pain throughout your arm. Tears began up again as Pain grabbed your face redirecting it back to his cock.

“That felt good right bitch. You’re crying now but soon you’ll be begging me to give you more pain.” Hidan screamed from his position to you. The blood curdling scream you let out made more blood rush to his boner. He jerked off faster, blood trickled down from his wound onto his cock. The lather of the liquid making his hand easily slid up and down. Involuntary bucking your hips now against Deidara’s hand, your movements on Deidara’s cock faltering from being bombarded with so many feelings at once. The knot in your stomach growing tighter. Just as you were about to be pushed over the edge, he screamed at Deidara. “Don’t let the bitch have it Deidara.” With Hidan’s words, he retreated his hand from your clit licking the excess liquid from around the palm. How many more times did he plan to do this you? You hated these men, but this was sending you over the edge.

“She’s such a slut, didn’t even bother to stop sucking Pain’s dick after that.” Deidara piped up, never having felt so humiliated in your life. Pain was silent throughout this whole ordeal, his man focus on getting the best out of your mouth and that he was doing. The rods grazing the sides of your cheeks, not enough to hurt you but enough that they were becoming a nuisance after he had Mae you hollow out your cheeks. He felt strange being so cold, his temperature almost on the verge of giving you a brain freeze. But all those thoughts were pushed aside when his thrusts became erratic, your nose grazing his pubic bone, ginger hairs tickling your nose. His upper body hunched over you, hand on the back of your head stopping any of your movements and just keeping his dick nestled in the back of your throat. However, just like Sasori, he expelled no semen from his body. He whispered a string of curses, his mouth not far from your ear. With your mouth now unoccupied by Pain, the screams from the injury of your arm came rolling out. What didn’t help was Sasori was approaching his end and sending up your arm, it felt as though any moment it’d rip. His hips thrust into your hand, no longer solely relying on the chakra threads to do his bidding. His groans ceased as he reached his end, arm dropping now to your side. The only one that was left was Deidara, but he figured he’d finish after he was inside of you.

“Stand up” this time it was a new voice. One that had remained on the sidelines, just watching. But now he stepped up to have his turn. Itachi wasn’t a man to waste time with measly foreplay but instead he preferred the real thing. Sasori removed himself from you, his face looked tired, he was spent from those two orgasms. With all the strength in you, you stood up, all your weight on one leg. Immediately one of Deidara’s hand spit out a white bulb taking on the shape of a large flat cube. Itachi sat on the edge of the white cube, cloak to the side of him. He motioned for you to come over to him, pulling himself further back on the table. “Get on top” Deidara stood behind you, hand on the small of your back guiding you towards Itachi. Your calf still stung with every step you took, but the bleeding had managed to subside. Knees on the table, leg on each side of him, Itachi’s legs hanging off the edge. Forcefully pushing your hips into position where you were now straddling him, your soaked pussy directly above his now unclothed cock. Behind you was still Deidara who took the liberty of beginning to rub his tip on your ass. Everyone except Sasori had now taken their positions around you, Pain standing on the table, to the right of you and Itachi, Hidan right next to him but only on his knees.

“Let’s give her a good send off hm.” Out of no where Deidara pushed his cock inside of your ass. A scream ripped from your mouth, he had practically ripped you in half. Itachi followed suit, his entrance into you easier than Deidara’s, the slick of your pussy allowing him easy access. They began a switch off of thrusting, when Deidara would go in, Itachi came out. With this tactic never once did you feel empty, a constant stretch in your body. Both the men to the side of you began to lazily stroke their cocks, however this wouldn’t be enough for them, they needed to have you also paying attention to their needs. Pain had quite enjoyed the home he had made out of your mouth, not wasting another second in placing himself back in. Hidan now out of his jutsu, a relief to know you wouldn’t be injured anymore, however not stopping him from guiding your hand down to his cock. After all this time of teasing and edging both you and him, he’d reach his end by your hand.

The members all seemed to flow into a rhythm, their synchronized combat skills coming out on display in this very moment. Deidara’s hands came around your chest, latching onto your breasts. Just like before, the stimulation left you moaning around Pain’s cock. His rods seemingly being the only warmth that would come through his body. He looked down at you, hand reaching to wipe your tears. Maybe he was show some mercy to you, but no. His nexts words leaving you speechless. “This will be your way to know Pain. Your pain will bring about the peace of the world. Be grateful this small chapter in your life will only equate to the savior of the world.” What did he mean, how did this ever equal the peace of the world? “Hey bitch, don’t let those two cocks inside of you distract you. You’re still jerking me off.” Hidan snapped at you, the back of his hand coming to slap your cheek to regain your attention.

Stimulation in every possible place in your body left you a crumbling mess within minutes, the over stimulation left your body jerking trying to get away from them. But it was impossible to move, Itachi had an unwavering grip on your waist. Pain was the first one to approach his orgasm after you, his hip movements became erratic, balls hitting your chin just as Deidara’s were before. At the last minute, he pushed with everything he had down your throat. No longer able to hold it in, you gagged, the rejection from your mouth causing Pain to pull out. Your face was beat red, trying to stop coughing and relax your breathing. Drool shined on the side of your mouth, and without hesitation Itachi’s hand brought your face down to his. A kiss so gentle, this would be the last feeling of kindness you would receive and he knew that, somewhere within him he didn’t want you to leave only having experienced pain. However none of that matter, it all felt of a mockery of your situation, why would the man who currently had his fingers digging into the side of your hips, allowing you no way to move from him, care about your demise.

Deidare had now moved one hand off your breast, using it to slap the flesh of your ass. Each time he detached himself from you, his hand would come down with immense force. He wanted to play a little game. “You’re gonna count each time I slap you, all the way to 10. If you mess up, restart the count you hear me bitch.” You only nodded, seeing the approval from the back of your head. So he began, one slap, you counted one. The second, you counted two. The third, counted three. The fourth, you faltered. Not by your mistake but because Hidan slapped you across your face. “Come on princess just wanted to see that pained expression again.” Both the cheek on your face and on your ass now held the same red color. “You know the rules, start over again.” Also so you did. One. Two. Three. Four. Six. Eight. Nine. And ten. A sense of relief washed over your body. His little game was over and he retreated his hand from your ass, placed back onto your nipple. You were approaching your second orgasm right alongside Hidan. He roughly cupped your face, teeth biting your lips drawing blood that he lapped at like a dehydrated dog. The taste of that metallic liquid sending him over the edge. His warm cum spilling into your hand, running down your wrist. He had some much over it after his teasing session. Your walls tensing around Itachi, the warmth enveloping him completely.

“You were a good fuck princess. I’ll miss ya.” Such sweet parting words from Hidan as he pulled his pants back up. All that was left now was Deidara and Itachi. Deidara wasn’t too far, the tightness of your ass left his dick squeezed in such a way he never seemed plausible. His hands now wrapped around your neck, the lack of oxygen causing your entire body to tense up including the hole he currently preoccupied. He couldn’t hold it any longer, pulling out of you his white sticky cum painting your lower back and ass. The warm liquid made you squirm, feeling it run down the line of your ass. “Art is an explosion, a fleeting moment.” He removed himself from you, not before smearing his cum on your back as if he was applying lotion on you.

Itachi stared into you, with only him left he could fuck into you the pace he wanted. He was a savage in the way he pushed his cock so dick inside it grazed your cervix. However this was anything but enjoyable, having something so deep inside of you be touched was painful. Tears dripped onto Itachi’s face. Whispering softly to him, softly enough for the members not to hear you, “Please save me. Don’t let them kill.” His face was void of any emotion. Not a hint of acceptance or rejection to your plea in his eyes. It felt like an eternity had passed waiting for his response and all you received was warmth spreading in your body. His hands holding you down as he release all he had into you. It didn’t matter at this point, you’d be long gone by the time you would conceive a baby.

Your eyes had lost all signs of life behind them, dull now. Itachi had helped you lift yourself off of him, placing yourself at the edge alongside him with your head hung in acceptance. Acceptance that this was it. This was your end.

A voice erupted the silence. “I’ll summon the rest of the members and we will commence the sealing of the three tails. Itachi immobilize her.” The last thing you saw was Itachi’s glowing sharingan as he placed you under a genjustu that would last until your demise.

———————————————————————

A/N thank you anon for your support im sorry it’s taking me so long to get this out. I hope you had a good weekend💜

[readychilledwine]

Threesome

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth ✨️

Threesomes fall into a few different play types: domination, voyeurism and exhibitionist, and Zelophilia *jealousy play/competition play* and there is a ton of psychologically behind why couples or even singles looking for new fun may partake in one. Threesomes are so desired in the kink community for a few reasons. Here's a few of the most common:

Polyamory - Some people genuinely do enjoy sexual and non sexual connections with multiple partners, so threesomes are a natural outcome of that mindset and lifestyle. It isn't for everyone, but for those who enjoy having multiple partners, there is nothing more satisfying than getting to express the love and joy you all share in one mess of flesh and sweat.

Sexuality exploration (especially among the bisexual community) - it helps allow you to explore questioning sexuality or known sexuality with multiple genders, two people of the same gender, gender fluid people. It can also help if you have a bisexual partner who misses the touch and feel of the sex they are not currently with.

And rekindling - a threesome is an exciting new experience a lot of people do not commonly get to try due to insecurity, jealousy, lack of foundation and trust in the relationship, but when/if you are lucky enough to get to have one, it's. So. Thrilling. It is a new person you get to show off for, a new performance, a new stimulant. It can help rekindle passion, bring new spark, and in some cases teach new methods and positions you haven't tried before.

Threesomes are not something to just casually throw into your love life, though. Threesomes can destroy a relationship as quickly as they can add to it. You have to make sure you and your partner agree on your third that boundaries are set and understood and that you both feel secure. Otherwise, like we talked about with cucking, this can destroy a relationship fast.

Also, before the ask even comes in. Yes. The answer to your question is yes, because at least one of you is going to secretly wonder and possibly send the anon.

💕Peep the Kink Bingo Masterlist Here💕

✨️ As always, NSFW below cut ✨️

Lucien x Reader x Azriel

Warnings - dom!Lucien, sub!reader, switch!Azriel, oral (m and f), competitiveness, mentions of Tamlain (which has potential as a ship 🤔), technically dp, praise kink, ps this dynamic was hard to write, so I went with my heart, hopefully it isn't disappointing.

“She doesn't even want you!” You sighed, swirling the wine you had been nursing for the past 30 minutes as Lucien and Azriel fought.

It was no wonder Elain had run and fallen straight into Tamlin's arms. The two males before you were constantly at odds with each other, constantly stroking their own egos, fighting like children trying to claim the last piece of candy, and quite frankly, they were irritating.

You sighed as your mate's winged flared in anger at that statement, "And what? Do you think she wants YOU? That's comical, Vanserra. Really." You had thanked the Mother and Cauldron for Azriel daily, you truly had, but something about Lucien had captured your mind, and the male, still upset about his own bond failing due to your mate, had taken advantage of that. That didn't stop you from loving Azriel, though. From wanting him. From wanting both of them.

You two had not planned on falling in love with both, but here you were, married to Lucien due to a drunken night in Adriata and mated to Azriel.

You didn't understand why Elain felt the need to choose and to chase. You could have them both if you wanted, and just to prove that point, you untied the satin robe you were wearing, revealing the lack of clothing underneath. Lucien was the first to notice as Azriel continued ranting. His hand had gone to your thigh instantly, eyes locked on your own as he devoured the sight before him. You reached for his shirt, pulling you to him and settling him on top of you. “You sure?” It took Lucien's husky voice dripping in desire for Azriel's shadows to curl his ears, whispering that you were staring at him, waiting. 

“I want you both. Please.” Lucien was more than happy to oblige, placing soft kisses down your body, relishing in every noise as Azriel stared, eyes wide in lust and shock. 

Lucien wasted no time, going to where you wanted him most and nipping at your inner thigh as he placed them over his shoulders. Lucien looked up at you, eyes locking on yours as he took his first lick at your core. He smirked with pride as your head fell back, a mix of a moan and sigh leaving your throat. You reached on hand to Azriel, the other tangling into Lucien's hair. Azriel moved to you, breath slightly hitched. He squatted down by you, grabbing your throat gently right as Lucien locked your bundle of nerves between his lips, licking and sucking on it. 

Azriel held you in place for him, a smirk growing on his face. “Look so pretty like this, baby,” his free hand moved to your breasts, pinching your nipples and groaning as he watched you try to squirm only to be held in place by Lucien. Azriel tutted you softly, “Be good for Lucien, sweetness. Gotta listen and stay where he wants you, or I'll just play with him while you watch.” 

Lucien groaned against you, fingers squeezing your thighs as if he enjoyed the thought of that. He looked up at you, one eye whirling to search for any sign of discomfort, the other blown out with lust and need. 

Lucien didn't eat you out like a male starved. No, every lick and suck was methodically planned. It served a purpose to send wave after wave of pleasure down nerves begging for more and more. You heard Azriel's clothing coming off, and you felt the room shift as you got closer. “Hurry up and finish her off, Lucien. The quicker we get her onto the bed, the sooner you find out what a gift her mouth is.” You whimpered, drooling at the thought of choking on Lucien. "You want that, don't you, y/n?" 

Azriel forced you to nod, laughing at your big eyes and quick submission. Azriel pushed Lucien's head further into your cunt, watching with heated eyes as your head went back further into the pillows, breathing becoming more shallow and rushed. "Gods, she's fucking close. Look at you, Lucien, making our girl so happy. Do you want her to cum for you?” Lucien grabbed your thighs higher, pulling you into him more and moaning at Azriel's hand, tugging and tangling in his red locks. "How lucky am I? Two beautiful submissive little creatures both so eager to please.”

You felt Lucien's smirk, knowing he had just as much of a dominant streak in him. You were just happy to be there. To play the part of this needy creature, especially if it meant drowning in pleasure. Lucien pushed a finger into you, curling it and chuckling as you gasped his name, toes curling. He focused on you and you alone, not even watching as Azriel went down to you whispering in your ear as his scarred hands tweaked and played with your nipples. 

You were a mess for them already. Core drenched and begging, clenching around Lucien's single finger tighter and tighter as your moans and cries began louder. Falling over the edge with Lucien was always easy. He didn't make you see stars. He made you see worlds. He made you cry and beg. It was no different with an audience. Lucien forced you over that edge, hands tangling into his hair, screaming his name, and coaxing little noise after noise of over stimulation from you once your high ended. And then jealousy flooded that bond you shared with Azriel. 

Azriel lifted you from the couch as Lucien watched, taking you over to your bed and tossing you down with effort. Lucien seemed surprised by the smile that appeared in your face as you got onto your knees, hands roaming Azriel's chest as the male pulled your hair back and forced you into a rough kiss. 

You held a hand out to Lucien as he did, a quiet invitation to join you two instead of just watching. Perhaps it was selfish, but you wanted his hands on you, wanted to feel him. Wanted to feel both of them. Lucien came to the bed and started kissing down your neck, warm hands resting on your hips. “So fucking beautiful, baby,” his voice caressed your ear, sending shivers up and down your body. 

Azriel pulled apart, hazel eyes filled with lust. His hand went to Lucien's face, and his thumb traced his plush lips. “I believe she thinks the same thing about you.” Azriel ran his hand down to Lucien's throat, squeezing it softly, “Are you going to be a good boy and listen?”

It was then that you giggled, and Lucien smirked, “Are you?” The question sent electricity through the air. It bought a new challenge, a new competition between the two males. You scooted away as Azriel studied Lucien, watching and waiting. “I promise you this is a game I will win,” Lucien raised a brow to Azriel. “Can you handle that?”

For the first time in the many years of friendship you and Azriel shared, you saw him blush, “I-”

“Let us take care of you, Azriel,” the domination in Lucien's tone was so gentle. “When's the last time someone took care of you?” Lucien stood and moved Azriel to sit on the bed. With a quiet authority, he used two fingers to beacon you over to him. “Lovely, I want you to undress him for us.” 

“Yes sir,” Your hands went to the clasps around Azriel's wings, undoing them while you kissed the side of his neck. Once the back was able to free his wings, you moved in front of him, hands running over the smooth fabric before pulling the shirt off. 

You had to resist the urge to lick every dark bargain tattoo to trace each swirl like you knew Azriel loved. Lucien had given you a task. One you had to focus on. Your hands went to his pants, and he stood to allow you to slide them and his underwear down. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock. It was hard, leaking, ready. Lucien grabbed you by the back of your neck, stopping you from what you desperately wanted to do.  “Hands and knees on the bed. You have to be good to earn his cock.” 

Azriel watched you obey in silence. Lucien wasn't forcing. He wasn't rough, and he didn't have you screaming and drooling. He just commanded and used gentle touches, and you obeyed. “Do you want to get her ready, or do you want me to?” 

“I will,” Azriel ran a hand over your ass and Lucien stopped him before he could spank you. 

“Be gentle with our girl. She's been such a good listener. She deserves soft tonight.” Azriel could hardly understand what that meant, what being soft in bed meant. “Submission is a gift. Look at how easily she handed us that present. Doesn't she deserve to be treated well for being such a good girl?” 

Azriel felt a wave of something setting in. If he was good, would he get a reward? Would he get to be loved this gently? He ran a finger through your core, making you cry out, and slowly, he pushed it in. You felt your eyes roll as he did, feeling yourself stretching around just his finger. 

You had always told Azriel how much you loved his scars, and it took him fingering you 3 times for him to find out why. He began to open you slowly, pressing each movement in the area he knew you loved the most. Lucien leaned down and captured Azriel's mouth in a long overdue kiss. 

This is what they needed the whole time. And outlet to their mutual attraction. A place they could safely explore each other. Lucien began to stroke Azriel's cock as Azriel added another finger inside of you. Your moans and cried were background music to them as Lucien pulled his mouth away. “Do you want her pussy or her mouth? I'm more than happy to just watch you fuck her while she sucks me off.”

Azriel hummed, “She's more than capable of handling-”

“She wants one of us in her mouth. We've had enough sex at this point while you've been enjoying the pleasure houses that I know her. If she was in the mood for anal, she'd be very vocal about it.”

Azriel's fingers pressed hard into your gspot, making you scream his name. “Please. I need more. I need-” 

“Don't beg,” Azriel growled at you. Lucien glared as you whimpered in submission. “I also know her. Look at how wet and ready she is. She could handle it.”

“It's not a question of can or can't, Az. It's if she wants to. Y/n, what do you want?”

Azriel felt your core Tighten around him, pleased Lucien cared about your wants and needs. “Not anal,” Lucien motioned towards you after your answer.

“If you let me pick, I'm taking her mouth,” Lucien said plainly.

Azriel huffed and nodded, “I've never been this gentle with her.”

“Clearly. She loves it. Look at her.” It was true you did. You were relaxed in a state of complete bliss, moaning as Azriel's fingers touched all the best places. Azriel was memorized by the sight. By you not bending and breaking to his will as a dom, but flowing and thriving under another male's. You listened without question, didn't mouth off to Lucien. This side of you, this pretty girl, he liked her almost as much as he loved his little brat.

He loved the part of you that sassed him, that pushed him, but this, this beautiful offering of whatever they wanted as long as you wanted it as well, it made his heart flutter. Azriel moved behind you as Lucien moved in front of you. Your hand was instantly on the Day Court heir’s cock, stroking him in time with Azriel's fingers. “Whenever you're ready, Az,” Lucien was staring into your eyes as he spoke. “She's ready.” 

Azriel took his fingers out, coating himself in your essence before lining up with you. Taking Azriel was always a stretch, and Lucien praised you both all the way through it, “Look at how good you two are. Perfect little pets for me, aren't you?” 

Azriel groaned at his words as he began a gentle but deep pace. He hit every spot so perfectly filling you like your body had been made for him. You focused then on Lucien's aching cock, moaning as you licked your way up and took the head into your mouth. Lucien relaxed on his knees, wrapping your hair in a makeshift ponytail and he guided you in time with Azriel.

It did not take long for the pace to get frenzied, for the two males to be focused in bringing you to completion again in order to allow them to chase their own highs. 

Each moan around Lucien had his head falling back, and each twitch of your core had Azriel cursing. You could feel heat rising and building. You could feel core lower stomach getting tight in need. 

Azriel looked to Lucien and the male smirked and nodded. You screamed as Azriel began pounding into you. His thrusts became rough and deep. He arched your back more allowing him to hit your gspot over and over as he pushed you further onto Lucien's cock. 

Lucien smirked down at you, “This is when you look prettiest, you know that? Choking on a cock, stuffed full. You look so pretty when your eyes glaze over and you get desperate. You want to cum, don't you angel?” You could only moan around him in response as Azriel grabbed your arms, leaving you fully at their mercy and forcing your muscles to strain. 

The heat in the room grew to a roaring fire as the noise of slick and skin meeting skin rang in the air. You could feel that boil threatening to burst, feel it aching as you were used by the two males you love. This was heaven. It was safety. It was burning passion. A shadow moved to your clit and you lost it. Moan became whines and whimpers. 

You could tell Lucien was close. His eyes were screwed shut. His pace in your mouth was sloppy. Between your tongue, the vibrations of your pleasure, and newness of the 3 of you together, you could feel him twitching, feel him ready to release. 

He held you to him as he came, and Azriel continued pounding. You swallowed every drop of him greedily and whined as he pulled out. “She's so close,” Lucien forced you to look at Azriel. 

Your mate smirked before planting one foot on the bed and his pace became impossibly faster. Both males laughed as your eyes rolled in pleasure and your jaw fell open. Azriel groaned loudly as you tightened around him, “That's our good girl. Cum for us. Finish on my cock.” 

With a flick of a shadow and one well aimed thrust you fell apart, screaming as you tumbled from that edge. Azriel immediately lost himself in the feel of you pulsing around him and found his release moments later, listening as Lucien praised you and talked you through your high, guiding you back to them. 

You collapsed into Lucien's lap and Azriel into your back. The room was filled with the sounds of labored breathing. Azriel gently pulled out of you and Lucien took the towel the house summoned to clean you all off. 

You had never been more thankful for a large bed in your life as the three of you laid there processing what had happened. “This is happening again,” you declared firmly. Lucien just nodded, and Azriel agreed softly. 

"I've never handed over control," Azriel confessed softly. "I've never done that."

Lucien just smirked at his accomplishment, "Then, with me is a safe place to learn."

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[blasphemousclaw]

Speaking of different Hornsent cultures, do you also think Midra is a part of that culture as well? The ghost in his manse dies suggest they're both Hornsent

I do think Midra is meant to be a part of the hornsent culture, yeah! Not only do the manse spirits and the inquisition storyline suggest that he's hornsent, but his manse is FULL of architectural details that you can find across all hornsent settlements!

We have to mention first though that Midra doesn’t have horns (and it doesn’t seem like Nanaya has horns either under her headscarf?), but it does seem that there were hornsent in Belurat who did not have horns... technically, “tower folk” might be a more accurate way of describing them in that regard, though the game seems to refer to the culture and those who lived in the Lands of the Tower collectively as both “hornsent” and “tower folk”: “Long ago, Queen Marika commanded Sir Messmer to purge the tower folk” (Leda). “Scorpion simmered in a black soup. Traditional meal of the hornsent” (Scorpion Stew). I'd guess that it was just less common, and not as well regarded, to be hornless, so the culture is still pretty defined by having horns even if it's not a universal trait (again, the hornsent aren't a species, they're just people who are very strongly affected by the Crucible's influence, just like how the animals of the Shadow Lands can often be found with horns too).

Anyway back to Midra – because he doesn't have horns, it is possible that he wasn't born hornsent and simply adopted the culture. Nanaya though has an extra cultural detail that makes me feel like she might have been born into hornsent culture... “Nanaya” was the name of an ancient Mesopotamian goddess of love! The hornsent civilization is extremely heavily inspired by ancient Mesopotamia, especially Babylon: the name Enir-Ilim comes from the Akkadian name for Babylon, Bāb-ilim — “the gate of the gods,” and the Tower with its Divine Gate is pretty obviously a reference to the Tower of Babel… so the fact that Nanaya has a Mesopotamian name, when we know the game used other words from ancient Mesopotamia for the hornsent, makes it VERY likely to me that she is a native of the tower lands! But even if Midra and/or Nanaya aren’t tower folk and originally came from a different culture (some have theorized that they’re numen), it’s pretty clear to me that they’ve at least adopted the tower culture due to all the visual and story details associated with them and their manse.

Architecturally, the Manse very obviously uses a lot of the same stylistic details as structures in Belurat and other hornsent settlements. The front door to the Manse has the same metal relief design as the doors in Belurat:

(Midra’s Manse front door; Belurat front door)

the Manse is also decorated with the same spiraled columns that are a staple in all hornsent settlements, as well as the same spiral tree motif that can be found on walls and stone tablets in Belurat: 

(Midra's Manse library)

(Midra's boss room; Manse front room)

(Theatre of the Divine Beast, Belurat)

(Small Private Altar, Belurat)

Midra's robes are pretty nondescript, but Nanaya's outfit absolutely screams hornsent; there are so many details in her outfit evoking the hornsent culture. The decorative trim on her robes have a spiral design, which is a motif found in a lot of hornsent art and architecture:

(Enir-Ilim)

and the twisted fabric framing Nanaya’s face reminds me of the twisted drapes found in the Theatre of the Divine Beast and Enir-Ilim:

(Theatre of the Divine Beast, Belurat)

(Enir-Ilim)

Midra and Nanaya had a lot of hornsent followers who lived in their manse who you can still find as spirits and shades. The dialogue and item descriptions related to Midra and his followers make it very clear that when the inquisition stepped in, the violence they were committing was against their own people:

"I beg you stop. Haven't I taken enough? Are we not brethren, common in our line? And yet, you offer only cruelty... I ask; what crime did great Midra commit?" (Manse spirit NPC)

"A glove stitched together from the flayed skin of the victims of a butcherous bloodbath. [...] Forged of an unyielding, black impulse toward revenge fostered in those who were hunted down as heretics by their own brethren, these are the weapons of the utterly downtrodden." (Madding Hand)

and yes, I think Midra and Nanaya are included in this! There’s kind of a pattern in the hornsent civilization of the elites (represented by the inquisition) suppressing different subgroups within their own culture for not adhering to the status-quo: this includes the Curseblades, the Lamenter, and Midra and his followers. I wonder if Midra held some independent beliefs that had nothing to do with the frenzied flame that made him suspicious in the eyes of the inquisition? He was known as "Sage Midra," and had a great library in his manse... it makes me think that he was some revolutionary scholar and thinker who inspired a lot of hornsent to follow him at his manse. I wonder if him not having horns and still having so much influence over other hornsent could have been seen as a threat to the inquisition’s image of (horned) supremacy??

[yourmomsawh0r3]

music video

pairing: tyler owen’s x popstar girlfriend reader

warning: NSFW, 18+

summary: Y/N, an upcoming pop star, overcomes her nerves while filming a vulnerable music video with her supportive boyfriend, Tyler Owens.

The bustling energy of the set hummed around Y/N as she prepared for the final scenes of her new music video, “It’s OK, I’m OK.” The song was fun, But this particular scene where she’d be nearly naked had her nerves buzzing.

Tyler stood by her side, watching as she adjusted the straps on her outfit, or lack thereof. Technically, it wasn’t much just a thin black thong, with the intention to blur out her body for the finished video. She had requested that only women be present on set, except for Tyler, who was there not only for moral support but also playing the role of a police officer in the video.

Y/N glanced at him through the mirror, her eyes filled with uncertainty. “I’m so nervous, Ty… being this exposed… it’s a lot.” She bit her lip, fiddling with the loose fabric of her robe.

Tyler, dressed in his police uniform for the video, stepped closer, his presence always grounding her. His strong hands rested on her shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze. “You’re going to be amazing. You’ve already poured your heart into this song. The video’s just one more way to show that you’re in control. Plus, you look…” He paused, his breath catching as he took her in. “…incredible.”

Y/N smiled softly, leaning into his touch. His support meant the world to her. “Thank you for being here. I couldn’t do this without you.”

The director called for them to get ready for the shot, and Y/N took a deep breath, slipping off her robe and stepping into the cool air of the set. She felt exposed, even with the knowledge that everything would be blurred. The cameras were positioned, and the soft lighting cast her in an ethereal glow, but it did little to calm her jitters.

Tyler, now fully in character, approached her, his role in the video to pin her against a car as part of the storyline. But as soon as he saw her his girlfriend, nearly naked, stunning in her confidence and vulnerability it was hard to stay focused. She looked like a vision, her skin glistening under the lights, her body sculpted perfectly in the minimal clothing. He was in awe.

His hands pressed her against the car gently as directed, but the closeness, the feel of her bare skin under his touch, sent his mind reeling. He tried to focus on his role, but the sight of her, the curve of her body, the way her eyes held his, made it nearly impossible. He could feel himself getting aroused, and a surge of embarrassment flashed through him, though he couldn’t help it.

Y/N noticed immediately, the way Tyler shifted uncomfortably, his breath shallow. She knew him well enough to see the desire in his eyes, and despite her own nervousness, a wave of confidence swept over her. She leaned into him slightly, pressing her body against his with a knowing smirk.

“Having a hard time, officer?” she whispered, teasingly.

Tyler swallowed, trying to stay in character, but the need between them was palpable. “You have no idea,” he muttered under his breath, the low tone sending a shiver through Y/N’s spine.

The scene wrapped, and as soon as the director yelled, “Cut!” Y/N grabbed Tyler’s hand, pulling him toward her dressing room, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She closed the door behind them, the sounds of the crew distant as they were left alone in the intimate space.

Before Tyler could say anything, Y/N turned to face him, her lips crashing against his in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed her bare skin, the feel of her warmth driving him crazy. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, and he groaned into her mouth, the need to have her overwhelming every thought.

“You were so damn hot out there,” Tyler whispered, lifting her onto the vanity, his hands sliding up her thighs, fingers tracing the thin fabric of her thong. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how good you look.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as Tyler’s hands gripped her hips, pulling her close. “You’re making me feel so much better,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tugged him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist.

Tyler’s hands slid to the waistband of her thong, pulling it down slowly as he kissed her neck, savoring every inch of her skin. Y/N moaned softly, arching her back as Tyler’s lips trailed down her body, his hands gripping her thighs firmly.

With a swift motion, Tyler unbuttoned his pants, the sound of his zipper the only thing breaking the silence of the room. He positioned himself between her legs, his eyes dark with desire. “You ready?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip. “More than ready.”

Tyler entered her with a deep thrust, and Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Their bodies moved together in perfect sync, the passion between them igniting like wildfire. Tyler’s hands gripped her hips tightly, pulling her closer as he thrust deeper, his lips capturing hers in a heated kiss.

The vanity shook beneath them, but they were too lost in each other to care. Y/N moaned against Tyler’s mouth, her body trembling with pleasure as he brought her closer to the edge.

“Ty… oh my god…” Y/N gasped, her head falling back as Tyler’s pace quickened, his hands gripping her tighter.

Tyler’s breath was ragged, his body trembling with the effort to hold on. “You feel so good, baby,” he groaned, his forehead resting against hers as he moved inside her, their bodies slick with sweat.

Y/N’s climax hit her hard, her body convulsing as she cried out, her nails digging into Tyler’s back. Tyler followed soon after, his body shuddering as he came, his grip on her hips tightening as he spilled inside her.

For a moment, they stayed there, their bodies tangled together, their breaths heavy. Tyler pressed soft kisses along Y/N’s neck, his hands gently caressing her skin.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Y/N smiled, her fingers brushing through his hair. “I couldn’t have done this without you,” she murmured, pulling him close for another kiss.

As they caught their breath, Y/N leaned back against the vanity, her cheeks flushed and a lazy smile tugging at her lips. Tyler stood between her legs, his fingers still brushing her skin softly, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and desire. The room felt warm, the air thick with the remnants of their passion.

But Y/N wasn’t done yet.

With a playful glint in her eye, she gently pushed Tyler back, surprising him as he stumbled a few steps before landing on the couch in the corner of her dressing room. Tyler’s eyes widened in amusement, but the heat in his gaze never left as he watched Y/N saunter toward him, her bare skin glowing under the soft lights.

“You’re not getting off that easy, Officer Owens,” she teased, her voice low and sultry as she approached him. Tyler leaned back, resting his arms on the back of the couch, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he murmured, his eyes trailing down her body as she climbed onto his lap, straddling him with ease.

Y/N leaned down, her lips grazing his ear as she whispered, “I know. That’s why you love me.” She kissed his neck softly, her hands running through his tousled hair, and Tyler let out a deep groan as his hands found her hips, gripping them as she moved against him.

Her confidence, the way she took control, made his pulse quicken. She wasn’t just a pop star, wasn’t just the woman everyone saw on stage. To him, she was everything strong, fierce, and so deeply in tune with who she was becoming. The sight of her sitting on top of him, her eyes filled with mischief and love, made his heart swell.

“I love you more than you know,” Tyler murmured, his voice thick with sincerity. His hands roamed up her sides, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist. Y/N smiled down at him, her heart fluttering at his words, knowing just how much they meant coming from him.

Y/N’s fingertips brushed against his stubbled jaw as she cupped his face, her thumbs tracing his lips softly. “You make me feel like I can do anything,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. “You being here with me… it’s everything.”

Tyler’s hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss. “You can do anything, baby. I’m so damn proud of you.”

Hearing him say that knowing how much he supported her every step of the way made Y/N’s heart soar. It was the quiet moments like this, when the world faded away and it was just the two of them, that she cherished the most. She rocked her hips against him slowly, savoring the closeness, the way their bodies fit together perfectly.

Tyler groaned, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at her. “You’re going to be the biggest star, you know that?” His voice was full of admiration, his hands roaming her back, pulling her closer as she moved against him with deliberate slowness.

Y/N’s breath hitched at his words. “I don’t care about being the biggest star,” she whispered, her forehead resting against his. “I just want to be with you, Ty. Everything else is just… extra.”

He smiled up at her, his heart swelling with love. “You’ll always have me. No matter how crazy things get, I’m right here. Yours.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she kissed him again, slow and tender. There was no rush, no need to hurry. She wanted to savor every moment, every touch. As their lips moved together, Y/N slid her hands down to Tyler’s chest, pushing him back against the couch cushions, her body following his as they sank deeper into the softness.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, her hands roaming over his bare chest, tracing the muscles that flexed beneath her touch.

Tyler’s hands gripped her waist, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you too, baby. More than anything.”

Their lips met again, this time softer, slower filled with love rather than urgency. As Y/N moved on top of him, they fell into a comfortable rhythm, their bodies attuned to each other in a way that felt effortless. It wasn’t just about the heat between them it was about the connection, the way they fit together so perfectly.

Tyler’s hands roamed up her back, pulling her down until her chest was pressed against his, their lips barely brushing. “I’m always gonna be proud of you,” he murmured, his breath warm against her lips. “For everything. For who you are.”

Y/N smiled softly, her heart swelling at his words. “You make me feel like I can take on the world.”

“You can, and you will.”

They stayed like that, tangled up in each other, the world outside forgotten. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, their love stronger than ever.

Y/N nestled into his chest, feeling his heart beat steady beneath her ear. Tyler’s hands stroked her back gently, his fingers running through her hair. As she rested against him, Y/N knew, more than anything, that she had everything she needed right here with him.

[teecupangel]

New idea:

Something happens, Desmond time travel to the past... But...

He become something like the Eldritch! Desmond, except that:

He adopts the child versions of his ancestors (and the others protagonist).

Like he take Arno just after his father dies.

Or he just adopt them before the canon is about to start or the start of the canon (like Shay is recently survived the Lisboa).

The Eldritch God Desmond idea that technically has an ending. Sorta.

He can only leave the Gray thanks to this holes that he can crawl out of.

The holes turn out to be the shadows underneath the bed or the shadowy part of a barely opened closet.

His form takes on a grotesque turn, as if reality itself tried to create a form for something shapeless enveloping the Gray.

That’s right.

We’re turning Desmond into the boogeyman that visits children at night XD

He first visits Altaïr after the death of Umar. The chest that held Umar’s possessions was left slightly open, almost empty because Assassins have already taken some of them back. He finds Altaïr crying and missing his father. The child wasn’t even afraid of him, not at all.

He was too tired from crying but he couldn’t sleep because, when he closes his eyes, he would see the head of his father rolling in the ground.

Desmond comforts him each night after their meeting, staying by his side and letting the boy sleep on his monstrous inconceivable body.

He was there when Abbas’ father tried to take his own life and all the Brotherhood knew was that he had gone inside, calling Altaïr a monster in his grief-stricken madness.

Altaïr grows up under the care of the monster inside his father’s closet and he’s… strange. He doesn’t see the world the same way others did. He had no loyalty to the Brotherhood. He stayed because Desmond told him he had to stay.

When he saw what the treasure was, he knew immediately that Desmond would want it.

.

Ezio is different. He first saw the boogeyman when Claudia was born. He had screamed in fear and the boogeyman left.

The next time he sees the boogeyman, it was when Petruccio was born. He thought he was just dreaming and ran away to Federico’s room to hide.

The final time he sees the boogeyman, it was the night before the Auditores would be arrested. The boogeyman crept from underneath Cristina’s bed and pinned Ezio, covering his mouth before he could say anything. Cristina slept peacefully as the creature whispered to Ezio.

Ezio thought he was just dreaming.

Then he learned his father and brothers were arrested and…

The creature grabbed his hand just as he opened the chest that held his father’s Assassin robes.

He whispered the same thing once more.

“Give the evidence to House Medici. Uberto Alberti betrayed your father.”

Ezio was scared, of course.

But…

He also knew that the creature was trying to help.

So he heeded his warning and went straight to House Medici.

.

Ratonhnhaké:ton first encountered him his first night in Achilles’ home. The closet door creaked open and he slipped into Ratonhnhaké:ton’s room. A being older and more powerful than anything Ratonhnhaké:ton had ever seen.

But he wasn’t afraid.

There was no need to be afraid.

He knew that he had not done anything to offend the being so he greeted him in his native language.

He used a thousand voices that whispered all over the room.

He simply told Ratonhnhaké:ton to not forget to eat dinner next time and left.

He became a nightly visitor, sometimes moving out of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s room to wander the manor in one of their regular walks.

Achilles confronted Ratonhnhaké:ton one morning about his nightly visitor.

“He’s a ghost that has haunted the Brotherhood. Seeing him means he’s marked you.”

“Marked me?”

“You will do great things, Connor. Maybe you will guide the Brotherhood and lead us to greater heights. Maybe you’ll leave the Templar Order in a storm of fire and ashes. You will leave your name in the Brotherhood and one day… you will disappear from this world and will never be found.”

.

Other possible adoptions:

- Edward would start seeing him in the chest in the captain’s room in the Jackdaw.

- Arno would see him underneath the bed in the room he was given in the de la Serre mansion. He runs away from the de la Serre once Desmond learns they’re Templars and ‘whispers’ to Arno that Monsieur de la Serre may have something to do with the death of his father.

- Jacob and Evie starts seeing him after their mother died and their father left for India. Desmond has his own ‘room’ in the train where he would slip in and out of.

- If you want to include Shay, Desmond could slip out underneath his cot in Morrigan’s captain room after they left Lisbon and Shay starts seeing him as a ‘nightmare’ haunting his guilt over what happened in Lisbon.

- Bayek would start seeing him after Khemu’s death and he thinks he’s one of the old gods, reminding him to avenge his child. (maybe Khemu even talks about Desmond as a friend who helps him sleep)

- Instead of Kassandra, we can make Desmond adopt Alexios as Deimos and turn this into ‘tired dad and chaotic mass murdering gremlin’ XD)

- Basim starts seeing Desmond in the shadows of Alamut and tries to ignore him, thinking that a spirit haunting this place would not ‘talk’ to him if he pretends that he can’t see him. Jokes on him, Desmond is there because he can ‘see’ the Isu sleeping inside Basim.

- Eivor sees Desmond her first night in Ravensthorpe and assumes he’s a spirit of the land so she treats him with respect.

[hexlenx]

And second request!(well technically third but still, hhihihi-) Once more, army badass aloof fem reader but this time attending the ball where Vronsky meets Anna. She dances with Anna and is slightly interested in her, but Anna of course is interested in Vronsky, only for surprise surprises, Vronsky is interested in the reader! All of this of course still being a reader x Vronsky if it makes sense, i just found the idea a bit silly if the reader is mainly army oriented and rarely enjoys herself such as attending balls and Vronsky finds this as a perfect opportunity to attempt to spend more time with her under the guise of simple officers chatting together while of course he puts on his best charm, only for her to be already dancing with Anna. Bonus points if reader ends up introducing Anna to Vronsky or something. Also reader slightly oblivious. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long to post, love. I was trying to fit the scenes together because I wanted the image(how the scenes look in the imagination as well as the emotion in the words.) to look good together. It was a challenge because we all know that Vronsky is a very strong character and Anna is also a complicated person to write about in my words because she gets carried away by her emotions often, right? I do hope you like this one and I'm really grateful that you trust me in making your ideas come true with writing!! Make more requests if you have any more ideas you'd like me to write about, I love a challenge!

MY GAZE IS FIXED ON YOU AND ONLY YOU — alexei vronsky

note: as usual I do not own any of the characters and the plot is from our lovely requestor @petalsbloom ! I am only the writer for their amazing ideas!

warnings!: none other than alexei being hot fr.

__________________

You have always hated parties, specifically balls. You just didn't understand why they should hold a type of party like this just to dance and mingle with the nobles. It was deemed unnecessary for you, well perhaps it's because you are a general that you have no such need for something like this.

Being a general has its perks, having connections already made from the army, even with the most notorious noble House of Russia, the Dukedom. It made you feared, admired, wanted and most of all, powerful. It is no surprise that you wanted that power, though you remained humble and modest about it. Power is a big responsibility and you wanted it, now that you have it, you are satisfied.

At least until your gaze was swept away by something you've never thought would leave you unsatisfied with your standing.

The ballroom was filled with the voices of nobles and soldiers alike who wanted to create connections as well as to mingle for the night. You were beside a pillar to the east side of the room, standing quietly as you leaned against the pillar with a wine in hand.

Unlike the young noble ladies in the ball, you were wearing a formal dress that looked like what the men were wearing. Navy robes that look that of a royal, fitted pants with the same air of colors and golden buttons as well as accents to finish the beautiful and manly outfit that fitted your curves. It is not ideal for a woman in the society but they cannot deny you looked devilishly good looking. Your hair, though, was in a low ponytail to fit your look and your face naturally free from makeup as you looked beautifully without it.

You were bored, very bored. It was your first time in attending a ball as you've rejected it multiple times before becoming curious onto seeing what it felt like being in one. Your curiosity killed you, with boredom.

You sipped on the cold wine in your hand as you looked around in a daze, you were looking for a time to escape but something passed by your sight, causing you to follow it.

A woman, beautiful, enticing and seductive walked from your sight. She was dressed in a black gown, contrasting the bright colors around you. It hugged her figure, curves highlighted from the corset tied against her waist, shoulders peeked out with no dress sleeves making you see her shoulder blades from the back, it enticed you, intrigued you.

Your eyes followed her figure as you sipped from your wine once again, not daring to look away, afraid that you will lose sight of her when you do. The woman stopped in front of the Princess of the night, Princess Kitty, the one debuting along with other noble ladies. She seemed to be close with the princess and pushed said princess lightly towards a man dressed in white that fitted his figure nicely. It was Count Vronsky, a fellow general in the army.

But you had your gaze fixed on the woman who caught your interest to even notice the intense gaze of a pair of ocean blue eyes that belonged to a certain Count.

The moment the Princess went to dance with the Count who seemed to be a bit in disdain as he elegantly moved the practiced choreo for the ball, you began your way to the woman who watched by the entrance of the ball. She was watching the pair in a bit of sadness, wishing it was her dancing with the man, not that you knew.

Clearing your throat the moment you were beside her, you took her hand and kissed the back of it while putting your gaze onto hers intensely, not pulling away for a second when she finally noticed you. The gaze of yours made her flustered but her mind was reminded of a certain ocean eyed man's gaze when you did the action.

"May I have this dance, M'lady?" You uttered out to her in a husky manner as you were entranced by her beauty. Not trusting her voice, the woman nodded and with that you swept her away from the entrance and into the ballroom.

To you, it felt like a dream, it felt like it was only the two of you dancing in the middle of an empty ballroom. Something you have never felt before and it made you feel warmth, your heartbeat steadily beating faster than normal as you lifted the enticing woman up before slowly letting her down. Eyes locking intensely as your chests were held closely together, faces inches away, lips almost locking as you stared into her dark brown eyes. It was a fantasy come true that you didn't even dream of having.

But sadly without you noticing, the woman was only looking at a certain Count dancing with the Princess who looked heartbroken when she saw the gazes of her partner and yours locking as if in a trance. What the princess didn't know was that, the Count wasn't looking at her friend, but on you. He was clenching his teeth behind his closed jaw, jealousy running through his veins as he saw how closely you were with the woman.

How he hated you being with someone else entirely from him.

Alexei didn't really want to attend this ball as he'd rather be in his home or perhaps with you, if he found you. That is until he heard from a colleague of his that you were attending the debutante ball for the Princess. That's how he ended up talking with the other generals in one spot of the room. His ears listening to the chatter but his mind and eyes going elsewhere, he was trying to find you.

Taking a sip from his drink, he bid the men goodbye before walking around the sides of the room to find where you are. Nodding towards other nobles who greeted him, shaking hands with the men, he was annoyed but he didn't show it on his face as he smiled politely towards the people who blocked his path now and then.

A flash of navy from the other side of the room caught his eye and he saw you, walking like the queen you are, his eyes taking in your appearance, the curves highlighted by your fitted outfit, the way it hugged your waist, your hips swaying as you walked and—Alexei bit his lip to stop himself from groaning in such a public setting, his eyes settled down onto your thighs that seemed too thick for the tight pants you wore. He always had a thing for those but only for you.

He saw you walking towards the entrance where a woman in black and the Princess were busy talking to each other. He quickly moved his feet towards the location, stopping only a couple of meters away from the Princess before he got called by said Princess, who turned around when the woman in black tilted her head towards behind her.

"Oh, Count Vronsky! How is your night?" Princess Kitty greeted the blond man who clicked his tongue silently from being interrupted. He masked his disdain and proceeded to take the Princess' hand and kissed the back of it to show respect. It was obvious that this young woman wanted him to court her and he couldn't reject her in front of a large audience as she was a Princess, disrespecting her right now would mean treason for the Royals.

"Your Highness, you look lovely today and I quite enjoy the bustle of today's ball with you as the center of it." He compliments the Princess who was oblivious to the sarcasm in his words, not that it was obvious but his eyes held that word as it crinkled in irritation but it looked as if he was flirting with the young Princess.

Years of practice, I suppose.

Knowing what this would lead to, he offered a dance for the Princess who joyfully accepted his proposal thinking he was interested in her, which sadly he was not. His eyes locked briefly with the woman behind her before sweeping across the floor with the Princess.

Throughout the dance, he was bored and irritated but his mask was perfectly worn as the Princess successfully remained oblivious to such disdain. The dance was about to end and he was planning on asking you to a dance after.

But as he moved his finishing steps, he saw you, with a woman, the one the Princess was talking to, the woman who wore a black dress that contrasted the bright colors of the gowns around them, that woman.

Jealousy build up in his veins as he slowly came to stop as he watched the both of you. The way you looked at woman made his eye twitch in anger, it should be him. It should only be him.

As he kept watching, he didn't notice that he stopped dancing and the Princess looking heartbroken by the sight in front of her. She didn't know that he was looking at you as your back was turned against her and she could only see her friend, Anna Karenina. Jealousy and sadness filled her as she looked back and forth from Alexei to Anna, it looked like they were both entranced with each other but in truth, Alexei had his gaze stuck on the female general's back.

Breathing in heavily, Kitty slowly walked away from the Count who didn't even notice her. This just proved that he will never belong to her, not when his gaze was filled with admiration and infatuation on another woman that is not her.

Alexei continued to watch you dance with that woman, jaw clenching in disdain. You looked like you were in a daze and when you and your partner finished the dance with your bodies so close to each other, he snapped and walked away.

You didn't notice it as your gaze was fixed on the woman in front of you who smiled at you after thanking you for the dance before walking away to the same direction Alexei went. As you stood in the middle of the ballroom you thought.

I'm going to make her mine, just you wait.

But what you didn't know was that a certain Count thought of the same thing but his declaration was not directed towards the woman in black, but to you.

[kheta]

Things I need in a Reverse Robins AU

-I don’t care what the order is but please let Duke and Jarro be adopted before Damian is taken in! I need Damian to be jealous of an alien starfish, my bones require it 😭

-Duke ans Damian make Jason and Dick’s lives so difficult… not as antagonist and purely because they snuck out and caused so much havock that Bruce now has a sixth sense for when his kids want to act up. They cannot even attempt stealth because Duke and Damian did it better.

-I want Duke and Damian to be those kid brothers that never got along. They used to regularly ‘spar’ (fist fight) but Dick, Cass and Jason don’t believe it because they get along so well now? Tim and Steph are obviously lying.

-A grown Dick Grayson being so mad because he went his whole life wanting to be taller than just one big brother, one! And he never gets it 🥰 (Him and Tim are the same height. He hates it w a passion) Technically he is taller than Jarro. But so is Ace and Tidus, that accounts for literally nothing.

-In contrasts to his big brother’s stealth and sneaking out shennanigans, Tim just straight up lies to Bruce when he wants to take off with YJ, vaguely saying their plans (baseball, trip to some histprical landmark, chilling on Bart’s new ride) So while Bruce blames Duke and Dami for his greys, he says that Tim is the only reason he isn’t fully grey because he’s so responsible and considerate and always tells Bruce everything. (Tim tells Bruce exactly three things, two are half-truths and one is the boldest lie in town 😇 Bruce is nonethewiser.)

-Running off of that, I want Tim to be the sneaky middle child always in chaos, but I want Dami to know this and point it out to Bruce and gst shut down (like Candace Flynn levels of bad)

-Dick is spoilt by his many older siblings. He knows and takes advantage. I’m talking like 18yo Dick Grayson showing up at 22yo Jason’s place when Jason is at College and Jason returns home to find his little brother wearing his robe, eating hia cereal and asking if he can borrow Jay’s car because Bruce is hiding his keys until Dick actually gets a drivers license, which he doesn’t need because he hardly ever drives anyway 🙄😒 Jason tells him to fuck off, kicks him for not throwing thw empty cereal box away and asks where tf he thinks he’s off to anyway??????

-I want Cass to be a bratty younger sister, but only to Jason. She’s happy to hangout and cherishes her time with all her brothers, but she terrorises Jason. Purposefully is quieter when walking near him to frighten him, steals every comfy, bright hoodie he owns, wiggles into his bed and leaves her stuff for him to pick up, clean. She happily helps with chores until Jason asks and suddenly, she did not hear him, she was ‘busy, calm down grumpy.’ I want her looking at his school work and making faces at him if he tries to help her. I want her to want nothing more than to bite Jason, but also have him be her secret favourite brother. I need them to be best friends but the sort who will sell each other out for a single corn chip.

-Dick convinces Damian to help him steal an elephant. If Damian weren’t so weak for his baby brother he’d think about how even tge manor is not large enough to comfortably house an elephant. Duke isn’t completely sure it’s a good idea, but he trusts his brother’s to be smart enough to think this through ☺️ (they have not and will not think the logistics of owning an elephant through) Tim is fully aware this is a bad plan, he’s just even worse at saying no to Dick 💀 Steph is so mad that she has to be the voice of reason among these idiots 😒

-Tim dropping out of High-school actually leads to a huge fight lol. Bc Duke and Damian have Masters and Jason is looking into Ivy Leagues and Cass adores you Tim you need to be a role model 😠 Tim moves to San Francisco and doesn’t talk to Bruce for months after that fight. He still regularly contacts his siblings though.

-Personally don’t love Jason dying in Reverse Robin AU’s, but you know if Joker killed him at 15 he’d be dead in two weeks tops. Oh you want to kill the baby brother of a trqined assassin and Tim, one bad hour away from villany, Drake-Wayne? You think Duke would stop them? Dick? You think wrong. Dick might even try to jump ahead of the line. Cass is perfectly happy to shut her eyes and pretend she cannot see her brothers planning 🫢 The Joker would die a slow and painful death. Steph and Duje would run Batman distraction. (Bruce actually has a support network and two kids younger than Jason who are grieving. He’d need to be a parent and help them with their grief. He’ll probably be shit at it, but he’d still need to try.)

-When Steph starts college she occasionally visits the manor, liberally fills her bag with spare socks, new towels and non-perishables. Alfred doesn’t mind. Bruce does, but only because he’s more than willing to buy it for her and she will kick him if he even glances at any of his credit cards or bank accounts while she is near.

- Barbara probably has a crush on Steph and Tim. Like not a serious, I want a romantic relationship crush. But like ‘Steph is so strong and pretty and she’s so smart Dick, she wants to be a Doctor that’s so cool!’ And Tim is that weird crush you can’t describe. Like Matthew Gray-Gubler. He looks sorta like a raccon and an addict, but he’s weirdly handsome and can work a computer like no one else, ‘isn’t he so smart Dick?’ Dick doesn’t know whether to be jealous or to laugh at her because. Like. Really??? That’s who you think is cute from all my amazing big brothers ans sisters?

-Dick, as youngest brother, probably has the most eclectic music taste. He listens to classical, trap music, K-Pop, scremo, RnB, showtunes. Just all genres. He doesn’t love all genres, bit he k ows enough to have a super weird road trip playlist.

-Dick also always has to deal with his friends, civvie and otherwise, having crushes on his siblings.

-Jarro barely spends holidays with the family, but he gets presents put aside for him and is the most patient, most fun big brother of the batfam. Damian still hates him, but will begrudgingly buy him gifts and invite him to family events because unfortunately, Jarro is his sibling. -Because he's never around, Jarro is the favourite older sibling, with Jason, Cass and Dick always making him projects from school. Duke, Dami and Tim see Jarro more, since they love going to see the JL or going to space and don't care that Bruce disapproves. They will either lie to Bruce or sneak out or just leave the manor 'Because I am a grown ass adult B, you can't ground me.' Steph does not like space or the JL half as much and is more busy studying/working than the other three losers. (affectionate)

-Gotham villains are in shock when, after having highly predictable vigilantes who just come in through the front/back door (Duke and Damian) they are faced with vigilantes who will in fact bazooka an entry way open (Jason and Cass)

[weirdmageddon]

It's not totally clear here why Dave's dream self appears to be already awake while his real self is also awake. I think we must infer that his dream self is in some sort of "waking trance" where he's technically awake but too preoccupied by certain things to be considered fully awake.

thinking about jade being lonely as hell on her island and going to sleep waking up on prospit and seeing john (not knowing his name yet) asleep plagued with the creepy dersite doll dreams with the scary teeth and just aughhhh

and she’d like overhear the white queen talk about the dark kingdom derse and the prince(sse)s of the moon that are there and trying to attract as little attention as possible jade would fly out there through the medium because shes so lonely. and she’d go to the purple moons’ towers. she’d find a girl is sound asleep in her purple robes and bed. but the other kid on the moon she finds is awake! except… not really. more like in a trance state. awake but not conscious. but she likes to hear whatever garbled stuff this triangle-speced boy has to say

the trip is long but jade visits this boy a few times since he’s the only non-asleep person like her she can interact with face to face. he usually seems lost in his own world, usually listening to music or talking to himself about stuff that doesnt make much sense. when she’s deprived of sapient affection she’ll touch him in small gestures like holding his hand while he listens to his music and he’ll squeeze back instinctually, and it helps her experience a microdose of the human connection. maybe he doesnt get much in the way of sapient affection either. when she hears The Horrors of the furthest ring another dream headset pops into existence for her to listen along with him and they listen to whatever music hes making. who is he

[sweetbillwriting]

Way Out of Line

ONE

Beneath my perfume and make-up I'm just a baby in disguise. And though I know that it's wrong to be alone with him that "come on look" is in my eyes.

Character: Keith Toshko from Barbarian (2022) played by Bill Skarsgård.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: Merry Christmas! 🎀 I present my newest story now because it's set at Christmas. This story will be full of subjects that can provoke and a theme many recognize. The french is google translate!

Silver Bells, Silver Bells… It's Christmas time in the city…

I looked at the mountain of gifts in front of me on the floor. It was silly I still received so many Christmas presents and that my parents still said it was from Santa Claus. I was twenty-one years old, a whole woman, but I still got everything from my wish list. I sat and looked at an eyeshadow palette from Dior, swatching the shades on my hand while my dad sat and looked at me like I was still his five-year-old little girl. I would always be his little girl, even if I went to college and had my own car. Or technically it was his, but it was mine. What would he have done with a little white beetle?

“Are you happy with your gifts, Jacqueline honey?” Asked my mom when she came into the room, carrying her coffee mug. She was still dressed in her red robe that matched my red pajamas.

“Oh yes, thank you so much, I mean Santa,” I said with a giggle and laid the palette on the neat pile of gifts by the well-decorated Christmas tree. My mom smiled, pleased, and sat down next to my dad, who also drank his morning coffee.

“When will the others be here?” I asked as I stood up, ready to take a shower and make myself ready for our Christmas guests. It was my older brother with his family and my aunt with hers. There would be thirteen people, and I would sit by the kids table as usual. I didn't complain because I had never had a reason to leave the table, and I probably had more in common with my teenage cousins than the grown-ups.

“They will be here at one, but you know Jason is always early,” my mom said looking at her phone, probably checking for Christmas greetings on Facebook. I nodded a little before leaving my parents in our Christmas-decorated living room to walk to my bedroom on the second floor. I had my own en suite bathroom there and could take the time I needed. It was just family, so it wasn't really that important to look great, but it felt better to do my full routine even if no one would touch my smooth legs or check if my eyeliner was completely even.

While I stood in front of my mirror, after my shower, there was a knock on the door, and in confusion, I answered, “yes.”

“Can I come in?” my mom asked, against the door. Doubtfully I opened it even if I was just dressed in a white spaghetti top and panties, but my mom didn't seem to think about that; she just looked at me with big eyes.

“Would it be okay if you took Jason's old room for a few days?”

My first thought was that my aunt and her family would sleep over, but a few days sounded like a very long time.

“What? Why?” I looked around in my bathroom, all my expensive things and light colors. Children were not allowed in there. My mom looked stressed, fixing the red jacket of her velour tracksuit over and over.

“Your dad's friend, Keith, has suddenly showed up.”

I looked at Mom with furrowed brows. I have heard about Keith but more in a nostalgic way from my father’s old stories. I knew he was a musician, and my dad had been close friends with him when they went to college but seemed to have drifted away because of their different lifestyles.

“Why? It's Christmas Day? You can't just show up on Christmas Day?” I said, pulling out a drawer under the sink to search for a warmer shade for my lip pencil. My mom leaned against the marble sink and sighed.

“He has separated. Seems like he has been kicked out and needs somewhere to sleep. Awful woman who kicks him out on Christmas morning!”

“Maybe he is a pig? Maybe he has cheated? Or he's abusive? I dunno, men can be trash.” I continued to search for the right pencil, comparing them to each other. My mom shook her head but then looked at me seriously.

“So can he take your room?”

I had forgotten about the question, and when she asked it again, I felt my hackles go up. Some cheating, gross man would not sleep in my bed.

“Why? He can take Jason's room?”

“Yours is the only one with a bathroom. If he will live here for a while, he can't use the bathroom in the hallway all the time.”

I crossed my arms and pouted.

“Why not? I can't just move all my stuff to Jason's room!”

“We’ll move the important things, and he will let you in to get stuff. I'm sure of it! Keith is nice!”

I made a frustrated sound and pouted, trying to make my mom feel sorry for me, but she started to go through my drawers and cabinets, probably to see what I actually needed to move into the other room.

“Mom...! I whined and stomped my foot like a toddler but didn't get a reaction. Instead, I walked out to my room and looked at its cream color palette. It was so light, fresh, and clean, and a man would absolutely destroy that. I had never even had a guy in my bed, and I wanted it to be that way. I didn't like the smell of heavy cologne or cheap hair products.

“He will destroy something!”

“He will not,” sighed my mom as she walked out from the bathroom too, looking at my room. I think the both of us found things that were a bit embarrassing. My prizes from spelling competitions, my old children's books and movies, but also a super old picture of me and my high school boyfriend I still hadn't thrown out. There were leftovers from my time as a teenage girl in the room; it wasn't a grown woman's bedroom completely.

“Maybe you should stuff some things away…” My mom said gently while looking at my collection of seashells that lay spread out on the windowpane. Once again I huffed in frustration, but Mom didn't care.

“I'll go and find some linen for him, and you can start to move your things to Jason's room.”

I watched my mom leave while I stayed in the middle of my room with crossed arms. I didn't want to leave my room to a stranger. It felt intrusive, and I wondered if he would go through my stuff, read my journals, sniff my panties, or something. I had so much makeup he could break, and he maybe would leave hair and body fluids on my stuff, but my mom had made the decision. I knew she wouldn't change her mind, but I knew there was maybe another way to go, and that was to ask Keith.

I pulled on a pair of silky baby blue pajama shorts with my spaghetti tank. I fixed my hair, long and flowy, and then my makeup the sweet and girly way I've noticed other men liked. I maybe wasn't so experienced in having relationships with men, but I knew how to get their attention and use it for my own gain. Every good-looking girl knew that.

I walked down the stairs while practicing what I would say in my head. I would talk to my dad so Keith could overhear my fake sadness, and say to him how I can't sleep somewhere else. When my dad would say no, because he would, even if it pained him, just because he couldn't go against my mom, I would leave and go by Keith and say hello to him. I would look sad with shiny eyes but sweet and kind, playing with my long hair and fluttering my long lashes. I would brush my hair over my shoulders so he could see my chest, and I would play with the bow in the front of my shorts. I felt quite sure that he would give in.

When I had descended the stairs, I tried to locate my father and listened for sounds and heard someone sniffle in the living room. Knowing that my dad had a cold for a long time, I was sure it was him and prepared myself to look like his sad little girl. I walked into the big living room, looking around the corner by the open fireplace to see if my dad sat on one of the couches, but he wasn’t; instead, another man sat there.

I had never seen a photo of Keith, and I had never thought anything else other than that he was the same age as my dad, but the man who sat on the couch was probably just a few years over 30 and also looked handsome, even if his face was covered by his two big hands. He was crying, and something told me it had been far worse earlier because his hands shook, and in front of him on the table lay several used napkins. He sniffled again and dragged the back of his hand over his eyes, and it was then he saw me.

Both of us looked surprised at one another. In silence, we looked at each other up and down. I couldn't say how he saw me or why we didn't say anything. I just knew I was looking at a really attractive man with big, sad eyes.

“Are you okay?” I said carefully, and he smiled sadly and nodded. My first instinct was to run from him, run from the awkward moment of seeing a grown man cry, but my curiosity took over, and I felt a need to know more. Slowly I walked up to him and sat down in the other corner of the couch with my feet pulled up.

“Are you Keith?”

“Yeah… You must be Jacqueline?” He changed his position so he sat more towards me. I nodded a little and looked away in embarrassment after having looked at him a bit too long.

“Thank you for letting me come like this to you… And on top of that, take your room. I understand if that doesn't feel good; I can sleep wherever-”

“It's okay. It's okay,” I interrupted with a smile even if I had felt something completely different before. He dried his cheeks and smiled with a lowered gaze that made him look boyish even if he probably was ten years older than me. A giggle escaped my lips, but it caused him to just look at me with a bigger smile.

“I can show you the room...”

“Oh, thank you,” he said and stood up with me. He was much taller than me, and I got a tingle in my stomach that moved down lower when I looked at him up and down discreetly.

Been an awful good girl. Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…

He walked behind me up the broad stairs, and I wondered how his view looked. How much of my ass could he see? Could he see how closely I've shaved my legs?

My cheeks heated like I've been sitting by an open fire, but thankfully my makeup covered a bit of it. I stepped into my room a bit embarrassed but also overwhelmed over having such a big man so close to me. His presence was almost overbearing, and I could feel my heart beating faster and faster.

He took some steps into the room and looked around at the interior, but I just looked at him. He was the first guy, except family members, who had been into my bedroom. He had on a pair of loose lounge pants that sat more tightly over his ass and also in the front, and I couldn't stop myself from looking. I could feel a pulse in my nether regions that made me squirm a little in my place. I had never had the feeling of wanting to be close to a man before just by looking at him, but there was something special with him, but I couldn't say if it was his eyes, lips, or body that made my limbs get soft.

Just by reflex I looked up at his face and met his questioning look.

“Hm?” I said, laying a hand over one of my glowing cheeks.

“I should give you a gift; it's Christmas, and you let me sleep in your bed and… Yeah, it's really nice of you. I should give you a gift.”

I smiled at him sweetly even if my thoughts were far from sweet. Something had taken over me after just meeting Keith, and my otherwise sweet thoughts were dripping with promiscuity. The only gift I wanted from him was to be able to share my bed with him and feel that Christmas spirit taking over us completely.

All I want for Christmas is you…

×××

Have a holly jolly Christmas; it's the best time of the year…

I wore a velvety burgundy dress with a big white collar and a black bow in my half-updo hairstyle. I had always dressed sweet at Christmas, going back to my childhood style, but I felt silly when I stood next to Keith. He was in a deep conversation with my brother about some soul artist I had never heard of, so I stood awkwardly next to them and just listened. During family celebrations, I most often was with my sixteen-year-old cousin Savannah, but I was afraid Keith would see me as a teenager if I was with her and talked about young actors and influencers.

The men continued to talk over my head while I played with my fingers nervously. Earlier, before my 28-year-old brother began talking to Keith, it was he who had been awkward. It was understandable; he would celebrate Christmas with a family he didn't really know, invited due to unfortunate events. He didn't seem to have had much clothing with him either because he had one of my dad's plaid button-ups on, but he still wore the gold band on his left hand. I didn't know what to think about it because I had no idea how it was to be separated, but I still thought he should have taken it off; he had been thrown out on Christmas.

“Chéri, aide-moi au lieu de rester là comme un imbécile.”

My mom began to carry out the dinner to the table and told me to help with a snappy voice. I woke up from my deep thoughts and met Keith's eyes. I couldn't read him, and I swallowed hard before giving him a shy smile. My brother mentioned another musician, and Keith turned his eyes to him quickly to be able to follow the conversation and made me feel silly that I believed he would give me his attention. I started to help my mother, even if my hands shook, and from nerves I did everything thoughtless and messy. My mom groaned, irritated, and fixed the cutlery I knocked into and moved the serving plates I put in the wrong place.

“Tu vas bien? Tu es si maladroit aujourd'hui.”

My mom asked if I felt alright but more irritated than caring, and I looked at her tired; she always stressed on Christmas.

“Je vais bien j'ai juste un peu mal dormi.”

I blamed my sleep and shrugged my shoulders. My mom accepted my excuse, but when she walked back to the kitchen, I looked towards the living room, where I could see Keith now talking with my aunt's husband. I wished I could join them and talk with ease and charm to him, but I didn't even dare to go up to him again. It felt like I had stood awkwardly next to him too much this evening. Instead, I stayed by the dinner table still just as awkward and looked at him with wide eyes. He didn't look like any other guy I've met, and he was so tall he was towering over my whole family. Even if he looked so manly, he moved softly and had a kind aura.

“Are you avoiding me or something?” Savannah had walked up to me with crossed arms.

“What? No.” I looked down at the table and pretended to correct a glass.

“Good.” She pulled out a chair and began playing with a fork, something I would never dare to do because of my mom.

“Do you keep up with Barry Keoghan?” She said excitedly, like it was the most important thing in life. I gave her a fast look and right after that at Keith. If he walked in and heard me talk about such shallow things, he would never talk with me for real.

“I must help Mom…” I said instead and gave Savannah a shoulder shrug.

There wasn't much left to do, and just minutes later, everything was ready. I took a last look at the tables. The dining table sat seven people, and then the other table sat six. I would sit at the smaller table, the kids table. I looked at the childish napkins and the soda in the middle and then thought about Keith. I would sit at the kids table. I felt a weird mix of panic and shame and looked at my mom, who took a last look at the arrangement. It was now or never.

“I want to sit with the grown-ups.”

I sounded like an eleven-year-old that wanted to play adult, and I felt my cheeks glow. My mom turned to me and looked at me confused, but then she shook her head. She gave me a sharp no in French.

“Why?” I whined and felt the panic even harder.

“It's good you're there and can help the younger kids.”

“But Savannah is there!”

“I said no,” said my mom with a louder voice, probably to make me give up, just like she did when I was a kid. That got my dad's attention, and he peeked into the dining room looking confused.

“What is it?”

“I want to sit with the adults. I'm 21! But Mom won’t let me!”

My dad gave my mom a look with furrowed brows. For many years he had felt that I should have a spot at the adult table, so for him it was given that I would change seats. My mom looked at us and then sighed and muttered something in French I couldn't hear. I didn't care what she said because I had won, and I couldn't hide my big smile… It wasn't really that I wanted to sit with the adults; the thought made me slightly nervous, but it was a relief to not look like a kid in front of Keith.

I'll have a blue Christmas without you. I'll be so blue just thinking about you…

Savannah looked hurt when she saw the kids table get filled up while I stood by the dinner table. I had taken a seat at the end where I knew my dad would sit. It felt safe to have one of my parents close, even if I knew everyone except Keith around the table. I looked at an empty seat, and that's when I realized the only seat left for Keith was the one right next to me. I stared out in front of me, scared to look toward my side when he walked up and filled my nose with a warm, musky scent.

“Is it okay if I sit next to you?” He asked, and I gave him a glance. I stared right into his chest, forgetting how tall he was, and looked away again. I gave him a little nod, then looked at my father, speaking to my brother, while standing by the chair next to him and opposite of Keith.

“Thank you…” Keith mumbled, and I gave him one more glance, this time remembering his eyes were higher up than mine. I met the green of his iris, and he gave me a smile before he took a hold of my chair and pulled it out for me. I didn't know where to look because to me that was a thing guys did on a date, or at least for a woman they were attracted to. I looked at my father, afraid he would be upset with Keith, but my dad shared a smirk with Keith, his friend, who just did it playfully to amuse his little daughter.

Keith let go of the chair when he realized I hadn't sat down, and I could see my dad looking on still amused, as if he had made fun of me. I felt the shame rise again but tried to swallow it down because I really wanted to make a good impression in front of Keith. I didn't really know why. It wasn't like I believed anything would happen between us, that I had a chance with a married man, but I wanted to be able to at least pretend something could happen between us.

I sat down, trying to do it smoothly, like a lady, and then looked at Keith when he had sat down next to me. I could feel my cheeks heat, like they had many times that day, but I pretended like it wasn't there. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to feel I was closer to him.

“How old are you?”

As soon as I heard what question I had picked, I bit my tongue. I had so many questions, but clearly my mouth had chosen the question I wanted an answer to the most. Keith smiled a little and took the wine bottle in front of him and the cork screw that lay next to it.

“Younger than your dad, if that's what you're wondering.”

Instead of looking at me, he looked towards my dad so he could gain his attention. “I'm not an old man!”

My dad laughed and threw out a finger towards Keith.

“Still, you look older than I do, Toshko!”

Keith laughed like it was impossible, and then they continued their banter. I sat and looked between them with a small smile even if I wasn't amused. I wanted a real answer to my question and had a silly thought about how I didn't want Keith and Dad being friends, even if that was the reason why Keith was in our home.

The men quit joking when my mom came to my father to ask him something, and Keith looked at me again.

“I'm 38. So yeah, a bit younger than your dad.” He smiled kindly at me, and I could see small lines around his eyes. He was almost 40. My dad was 47, so the age difference wasn't as big as I had thought between them. The age difference between me and Keith was bigger, though. 17 years.

“You're 20, right? I think you were, like, four when I met your dad.”

“21…” I stared at his big hands while he opened the wine bottle skillfully and I felt something itching in my stomach.

“Did you meet me then?” My voice was small.

“No, it never got that way.” He shrugged his shoulders, then showed me the bottle.

“Wine?”

I looked between his handsome face and the bottle before shaking my head. 

××× 

Santa, tell me if you're really there. Don't make me fall in love again…

I had said to myself that I wouldn't be with Savannah so much to make a more grown-up impression in front of Keith, but after he had told me his age, I gave that up. After dinner I played cards with her and her fifteen-year-old brother and then watched Miracle on 34th Street with the rest of my cousins. How Keith would see me as an adult felt impossible when he had heard about me since I was three years old. I would be a little girl in his mind forever. 

I saw him drink whiskey, smoke a cigar with my uncle, and was loud in that obnoxious way only middle-aged men could be. My ex had been a boy, a boy who liked tennis and Fortnite. I shook my head to myself when I thought about it but still felt an exciting curiosity when I looked at him. He smiled at me a few times, and a couple of times I succeeded in smiling back, but that was the only contact we had the rest of the day until it was time for me to go to bed. 

After my brother, Savannah, and all the others had left, I helped my mom in the kitchen so there wouldn't be so much work to do the next day. Both of us could feel the tiredness in our eyes and bodies and looked at each other confused when we could still hear my dad laugh loudly from the living room. On past Christmas Days he had even fallen asleep before the guests had gone home, but now he listened to jazz, drank, and laughed with Keith in the living room. He seemed to have lost ten years on his age by having Keith there, and I could see my mom was annoyed. She probably wanted to be able to lie down in bed with him because she marched out to them and told him sourly it was time to go to bed. I smirked, amused in my loneliness, because with age, my mom's diva behavior started to become funny instead of scary or annoying. I walked up to my room, skipping on saying goodnight so I wouldn't need to wait for them to finish their nagging. I was tired and lost in thought, so I forgot an important thing: I wasn’t sleeping in my bedroom. It was loaned out to someone else, but I just walked in and, in my sleepiness, closed the door and started to take off my clothes. 

I thought about Keith's marriage while I pulled off my tights. Who was his wife? How long had they been married? 

I thought about their separation while I pulled off my dress. Why did she kick him out? Would they make up? 

I thought about who he was as a husband while I pulled off my bra. Was he loyal? Was he romantic? Was he a generous lover? 

When I stood in my panties, laying my clothes on an armchair in the corner of the room,I heard a creek and looked towards the door that was being opened determinedly. I concealed my chest but didn't do more than that to cover my modesty. In my mind it could only be my mother. No one else would just open my door like that, but in the doorframe stood Keith, so tall his messy hair licked the top of the doorframe. I looked towards him in confusion for a few seconds. His eyes showed shock at first, but then we both seemed to relax under each other's gaze. I could feel him looking at my body from top to toe, and I basked in how his eyes glittered.

“I can take the other bedroom…” he said as he smirked a little. The smirk made me feel a sensation take over me, and a need for rebellion came over me, so I let go of my chest slowly. Keith swallowed hard but his smile grew while dragged a hand over his face. He looked over his shoulder like he was afraid someone would come, but at that moment I didn't care. He pulled his lip and shook his head a little. 

“Um... Good night.” 

“Good night,” I said, with a teasing smile, playing with my hair while I walked to my bed, letting him see my breasts in motion. I didn't know where the confidence came from, probably just seeing his eyes swimming with attraction and his cheeks rosy. 

“Merry… Merry Christmas,” he mumbled before taking a last look and closing the door to my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the door for a few seconds before starting to giggle. I couldn't believe I had done that. I couldn't believe how he had looked at me. Keith was a grown man. A tall, sexy man. 38 years old. But he was also a friend to my dad. 

×

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Adoration

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 9503 Tags: dream sex, public sex, fantasy fulfillment, claiming, exhibitionism, possessive Dream, costume from Baldur's Gate 3, Wavemother's Robe (Baldur's Gate), blowjob, Dream with multiple arms, eldritch deep throat, gentle facefucking, facial, glass sex toy, butt plug, rimming, eldritch tongue, anal sex, top Dream, bottom Hob, size kink, eldritch size kink, Hob loves it when Dream gets big, human cocksleeve, the Dreaming is full of possibilities, finger sucking, manhandling, shapeshifting, unreal anatomy, belly bulge, tentacles, consentacles, more hentai than octopi, no suckers involved, sounding, anal gape, Dream has a vulva, cunnilingus, Hob Gadling 600 year reigning king of eating pussy, squirting, squirting facial, vaginal sex, top Hob, bottom Dream, more tentacles, wet messy sex, there are puddles, multiple orgasms, no refractory periods in the Dreaming, unintended uses of the New Inn's bar, cuddling

Notes: Third in the Appropriate Applications for Aesthetic Armors series (prior bits are Anticipation and Appreciation on Tumblr if AO3 is down). Took a year to finish but prompts lined up like dominos for this October and 9500 words later here we are. This is for the @dreamlingbingo adoptable prompt Monsterfucking, replacing square A3 Crossover on my card. Unless the BG3 costume Hob's still wearing counts as a crossover, lol. Also covers @monsterfucktoberbingo squares Eldritch and Tentacles, and then there's @gabessquishytum's Unofficial Sandman Kinktober prompts Dream Sex, Shape-Shifting, Monsterfucking and Size Kink (technically also Costumes and Body Hair but in an incidental-not-focused inclusion, and Toys and Hands feature briefly also). Lastly, if you're unfamiliar with the costume Hob's wearing, please see my RobeRef tag for proper imagery 🩶

Summary: Dream's fantasy of publicly claiming Hob in the middle of the New Inn is played out with a very enthusiastic Hob in his dream, as offered.

On AO3

"You should be flattered, Hob," Dream purrs, hand stealing beneath Hob's costume, caressing his leg, fingering the texture of his hair. "Their thoughts are fitting, when such exquisite and untouchable beauty moves among them." His hand travels firmly around the shape of Hob's thigh, curves possessively up the back of it beneath the armored skirt, fingertips stroking soft skin high up and in, grazing his nutsack. "And I am immeasurably pleased that I am the one who gets to take you home tonight."

"Aren't you sweet." Hob flutters his lashes coyly to cover the surge of arousal, the way he kind of wants to swoon at Dream just saying that sort of thing so easily while touching him so brazenly. "Promise, I'm all yours tonight. As long as you don't mind I'm getting a bit sweaty down below." His grin is a little breathless; Dream is fully fondling his balls now, rolling them between delicate fingertips, the knuckle of his thumb pressing lightly against Hob's perineum, and it is absolutely thrilling to be touched this way in secret when they're still in the middle of the crowded pub.

"You know quite well that I find it appealing," Dream says, with a sweet little glitter in his eye that makes Hob's pulse jump, and then Dream's hand drags warmly out from between his legs and up to grope his arse as Dream turns and leans in to kiss him. Dream's other hand sinks into his hair, gently grips around his nape and tilts his head back as Dream's tongue slips authoritatively into his mouth.

It is wet and filthy, insistent, devouring; Hob makes a sound into the kiss, opens wider to it, shivers as Dream squeezes his arsecheek firmly. This is not exactly publicly-acceptable behavior but that was kind of the point, wasn't it, even if it hadn't quite gone this way before—

Wait—

There are cheers and whistles around them, catcalls, someone yelling 'Get it Professor G!', and Hob is surfacing through his own awareness even as he buries both hands up into Dream's hair and sucks on Dream's invading tongue.

This is not how it happened—

Dream ends the kiss, draws back to a rippling murmur of approval from the crowd, and full clarity settles over Hob like sunshine burning away morning mist.

"I'm dreaming."

"Yes." Dream's tongue runs hot and heavy up his throat above the choker.

"And you're you-you."

"Yes." Dream straightens up enough to look him in the eye, caresses his face with reverent adoration. "Do you recall what I wished for, what you offered me, dear Hob, before you entered my realm?" His other hand moves out from beneath Hob's costume, settles warm on his bare hip between chains.

"I do." The words feel oddly, or perhaps appropriately, like a wedding vow.

"Then." Dream's fingertips trace down the scruffy line of Hob's jaw, curl under the end of his chin, tip his face the tiniest bit upward. "May I take command of your dream, and shape it for my pleasure?"

"Our pleasure. Please." He's always been pretty middle-of-the-road about public sex and exhibitionism, all things considered, but the notion that he can make something happen for Dream, can fulfill the fantasy of an unfathomably ancient and inhuman being, that definitely gets him going and he cannot wait to see what Dream will do with him here where anything is possible, how far he'll go.

The way that Dream's smile curls is both predatory and beautiful, and Hob's heartrate kicks up as Dream kisses him again, still holding beneath his chin. "Our pleasure, then," he breathes against Hob's lips, and the next kiss leaves Hob's head spinning. Slim fingertips move softly to the back of Hob's neck, undo the jewelled choker and tear the decorative chains free from Hob's torso, and then Dream's spread fingers are running up the center of Hob's chest, carding through his hair unobstructed as Dream ends the kiss.

Dream unfastens the cape from the pauldrons next, swirls it from around Hob's shoulders and lets it settle on the floor, where it spreads and shimmers and changes until the two of them are standing on a comfortably plush red carpet, warm and soft between Hob's toes, a clearly defined circle separating them from their audience.

Dream is currently taller than Hob by a handsbreadth and when he kisses him again, pulls Hob's head back with a gentle fist in his hair and plunges his tongue into Hob's mouth, filthy and possessive, Hob moans aloud. His hands scrabble for a hold along Dream's front and find that the black fantasy armor is gone, that Dream's instead clad in floaty layers of gauzy silky something that are warm and liquid beneath Hob's touch.

He grips two handfuls and hangs on while Dream devours him.

Dream's hands move next to Hob's hips, glide around beneath the skirt to grasp Hob's arse and squeeze. One hand stays; the other—something hard and warm and slick presses insistently against Hob's hole and his body yields readily, takes it in easily. He recognizes the shape of one of their favorite toys as it fills him, a slender glass plug with a mild flare, perfect for opening him up and smooth as silk when Dream slides it out and fucks it back in.

Hob moans into the kiss, lets go of Dream's gauzy robes and wraps both arms around Dream's neck. He rises up on the balls of his feet, arches his back to take the glass deeper as Dream pushes it in again. It's good, the angle and the pressure just right to really get him going; Dream fucks him smooth and unhurried, kissing him much the same way, and when Dream pulls away from his mouth Hob draws a shuddering breath.

"Dream—love—" He whines as the toy bottoms out in him again, a beautiful pressure in exactly the right spot.

There's a murmur in the crowd, a ripple of disappointment, and Dream purrs, the sound full of satisfaction.

"They know what I do to you, Hob, but they cannot see, not while you still wear this garb that so excites them." His mouth claim's Hob's again.

He recognizes what Dream is doing, can see where he's leaving Hob buffers, exercising restraint where he thinks Hob might appreciate it, and Hob loves him so so much for it. But he's not here for consideration; he's all-in, whatever Dream wants, however Dream wants this fantasy to play out.

He wrenches free of the kiss, both hands framing Dream's face. "Let them see, love." He kisses Dream again, short and fierce. "Let them envy. Show them everything we have together, everything you do to me, rub their noses in the fact that they will never have what is yours—"

Dream makes a sound that would be a whine if it were not so deep and rumbling, kisses Hob with abandon and seizes both halves of the armored skirt. He rips them away as easily as Velcro, leaving behind only what was connected to the chains across his hips—the slant of them means the full curve of both cheeks is now exposed and there's barely a miniskirt's length in front, easily pushed out of the way. The boots never made it into the dream so he's barefoot and now all but bare-arsed.

It's perfect.

And then Dream dips to kiss his throat and moves lower, lips dragging down through Hob's chest hair, down his stomach as Dream folds to his knees. He looks up at Hob and presses a warm kiss just below his navel, in the trail of hair that disappears into the silver filigree lace where the costume comes together; then, still holding Hob's gaze, he sits back just enough to flip what's left of the costume skirt out of his way, exposing Hob's prick to the crowd.

Dream lowers his gaze, then glances back up with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile.

Hob flushes, just a little. "Dreamed myself a little bigger, didn't I?" he says, awkwardly. "If they're going to be envious, let's make it really worthwhile?"

"Indeed," Dream purrs, smile turning positively wicked. "I tasted so many daydreams of kneeling for your cock, Hob. Of. Crawling up beneath your costume, there in the pub." He licks wetly all about the head, the pushed-back foreskin, peppering more words in between. "Imagining the girth of you. The weight. The scent, the flavor, as they. Worship with their mouths." He swirls his tongue deliciously all around again, eyes finding Hob's and holding them, making a show of the way he slowly sucks Hob into his mouth.

His eyes roll as he takes Hob in, lashes fluttering, and he moans obscenely—which Hob gets is for the crowd, flaunting how good it is to have what they had fantasized, but it stokes his own ego and arousal all the same. To have someone as beautiful and unfathomable as Dream on his knees, hungry for Hob's cock—it is heady indeed, and he will never be immune.

Dream works his cock with flair and showmanship, which is of course incredibly sexy to watch from up here and also feels amazing, and it's only made more so by the one hand still snaking around his hip to work the glass toy inside him. Between that sweet pressure and the wriggling warmth of Dream's tongue, it takes him entirely too long to register that Dream has more hands on him than the usual two; there is a hand splayed on either thigh scratching through his hair in addition to the one working the plug in his arse, and another fondling his balls besides.

Hob can't say that he minds, honestly; Dream surpassing human limits has never been anything but a turn on.

And then Dream, who has precisely whatever internal anatomy he wishes, takes Hob's full up-sized length smoothly to the hilt, swallows tightly around him, lips pressed flush to the hair at Hob's groin. He draws all the way off, sinks all the way back down, slow and smooth, and Hob makes a trembling sound of approval. Dream does it a third time and stays, swallows Hob down and then sucks. He sets up a gently nursing rhythm, suck-swallow-suck with his gaze locked on Hob's all the while, as if he could truly draw sustenance from Hob's cock like this. One hand is caressing his hip and one is still twisting the slim plug in his arse; the other two move from the fronts of his legs to the back, further, wrapping tight around his thighs to keep him close. Dream is making hungry satisfied little sounds, muffled by the cock in his throat but carrying clearly to Hob's ears and the crowd all the same.

And Hob is dizzy, unsteady with how good it is, grateful for the firm grip around his legs that keeps them from giving out beneath him. His hands are light on Dream's shoulders and he's trying so hard to keep his hips relatively still under the onslaught of Dream's attentions. He bites his lip, stifling a moan on a trembling breath, and then Dream pulls back, lets Hob's cock slide wetly out of his mouth, wipes at the sloppy mess of his lips with the back of one hand and smirks.

"You are. Delicious," he murmurs, voice warm and dark; he presses the glass toy in a sudden sharp thrust where it's already buried deep and Hob jolts, gasps out a whine. His dick jumps as Dream does it again, bumping obscenely against Dream's plush parted lips.

There's a rippling murmur from the watching crowd; Hob had nearly forgotten about them. "Are they wishing they were you, love?" he asks, breathless; it's not much in the way of sexy talk but it's the best he can manage currently and Dream's smile curls up in satisfaction all the same. "They suitably jealous of you sucking my cock?"

"Indeed," Dream purrs, eyes half-lidded as he gazes up at Hob. "How they long to taste your spend, Hob. They are. Hungry, so hungry for it." He darts his tongue out, laps up the bead of precome leaking from Hob's tip. "But I would have them know—" Two of his arms guide Hob's hands to his head, then return to his thighs. "Show them, Hob. That this delicacy is for my tongue alone—"

He opens his mouth and grows still, waiting, placing the moment in Hob's hands.

And so Hob takes control, combs his fingers gently through Dream's hair and guides his beautiful face forward, onto his cock and all the way down, Dream's eyes never leaving his. The slide down Dream's inhumanly-open throat is so perfect, gliding and smooth, snug and so hot; he draws Dream off his full length and then slowly back on again, careful, savoring every inch.

Dream still has a hand on the toy in his arse and when Hob draws him back off his cock next, Dream mirrors the motion with the plug. Hob whines at the double slide, the glass out of his body and his cock out of Dream's mouth; then, as he reverently pushes himself back in, Dream matches the slide with the glass and Hob's head falls back, panting. It's so good, hot and wet around him, hard and full inside him, tandem strokes of mounting pleasure pulling breathless moans and little whines from him on every pass. He looks back down, down the length of his own furry chest in the deep plunging V of his costume and finds Dream gazing up at him still, docile and dangerous, mouth shaped beautifully around the lazy gliding rhythm of his cock. And it's. Hob's hands are buried in his hair, in Dream of the Endless' hair, and he's—face-fucking is entirely too aggressive a term for what he's doing, but he's gently fucking into Dream's beautiful face, he's allowed this privilege and he's swiftly unraveling as he takes it. His hips rock in a smooth steady cadence, in and out of Dream's mouth and throat, deep onto the toy inside him and he is soaring dizzily up to the precipice, ready to fall.

He's moaning helplessly as he nestles himself snug into Dream's throat, throbbing as he holds off his oncoming orgasm and Dream swallows him down, greedy, voracious, nose buried in Hob's pubic hair and eyes unblinking, locked with Hob's. Hob keeps one hand curled around the back of Dream's head, gentle, inexorable; the other he moves to Dream's face. He strokes his cheek with a trembling touch, drags his thumb down the stretched-open corner of Dream's mouth pulled taut around the base of his cock; he cups Dream's chin, feels how Dream swallows around him, brushes the backs of his fingers down Dream's throat and presses where he can feel the head of his prick lodged. Dream moans, which feels amazing, and presses the toy all the way in against Hob's prostate, twisting it as he goes. Hob's hips twitch helplessly at that surging jolt of pleasure, pushing him impossibly further into Dream's throat; he feels the crown of his dick bump past his pressing fingers and that's just—that's it.

"Fuck me, sweetheart," Hob gasps, voice shaking, hand trembling where he cups Dream's chin, "fuck me with that toy until I come down your throat—" He's so close, can feel it swelling thick and hot in his gut and then Dream slides off him.

"No, I think not," he purrs, over the desperate sound of loss Hob makes, and laps at the swollen head of Hob's prick with his tongue. "There is something else your admirers dream, and I would have it for myself—"

Hob is teetering on the edge, tense and ready to burst as Dream wraps a hand around him and strokes. Two of his other hands are still on Hob's thighs and the fourth wriggles the toy in Hob's arse, the tip of it stroking firmly across his swollen prostate and that's all it takes.

He comes with a bitten-off whine, great pulsing threads of spend that land all over Dream's face, thick and sticky in his eyelashes, vividly white in the red of his open waiting mouth.

The murmur of the crowd swells briefly, equal parts envious and approving.

Dream moans, deliberate and decadent, stroking Hob through the end of his orgasm, tongue out and poised under the tip of Hob's dick to catch the last weaker spurts. He curls it around the head lovingly, draws Hob back into his mouth just far enough to close his lips around the tip and suck, to tease the last drops from the slit with his tongue, making a show of savoring it. Hob's pulse is pounding in his ears as Dream pushes him right to the glorious edge of overstimulation but still he can hear the mutters of longing skittering through their audience.

Good.

When Dream has finished milking Hob's cock dry, he pulls the toy from his arse as well and drops it somewhere aside. He rises swiftly and yanks Hob into his arms, steadying him and descending eagerly on his mouth. He's vanished most of the mess on his face but his lips are still a bit sticky; he kisses Hob fiercely, possessive and thorough, and abruptly spins him around. Hob finds himself up against the bar, Dream stroking down his thighs with a small tap to either knee. "Up," he murmurs, lips against the dip of Hob's spine in the diamond left bare by his costume, and a quick glance down shows a pair of comfortably-spaced barstools right in front of him. He climbs up gamely, one knee on either stool, and then Dream is pressing him forward, down, until he is bent over the bar with his legs spread wide and his arse in the air, left completely bare at this angle by the remnants of the skirt.

"Delectable," Dream murmurs, hands roaming over the hairy curves of either cheek, thumbs stroking into the dimples there. His other two hands curve around the front of Hob's legs to stroke up the insides of his thighs. "Beautiful, magnificent, mine—" His mouth presses firm and wet to the open rim of Hob's body, where the toy has left him empty and wanting, and then Dream's tongue slithers into him, slick and hot and long and thick. It fills him, delicious and deep and Hob groans, breathless, delighted. He rubs his cheek against the bar top, splays his knees a bit wider on their barstools and arches his back, shamelessly begging for more. Dream's hands shift, pressing his thighs and cheeks wide, spreading him all the way open, and Hob cries out as Dream's tongue twists inside him, licking over his prostate with precision strokes. Dream is also running one slender fingertip around Hob's hole where it's stretched wide on his tongue, layers of sensation that are driving Hob mad with pleasure.

"Dream, sweetheart, oh shit it's so good," he babbles, heart pounding, hips flexing. He loves this about sex in the Dreaming, that he can come long and hard and be seamlessly ready for more, can take as much as he wants, as much as Dream will give him. He bears down on Dream's tongue, wriggles back onto it with delight; Dream's nails prick sharp at the insides of his thighs and the hair of his arsecheeks and Hob whines, breathless. "More. Please—"

There is a growling rumble from Dream behind him and the hands on his thighs yank, spreading him wider; the barstools clatter away so that Dream is supporting him fully. Hob yelps in surprise and then Dream's tongue is burrowing further into him in a rush, thick and wet and so fucking good and Hob cries out, panting, his body stretching eagerly to accommodate. Dream's mouth presses flush up against his hole and Dream growls again, the vibrations carrying through his tongue and into Hob, who moans helplessly. His dick is rock hard, the tip bumping up against the edge of the bar and smearing wet against the polished wood as Dream eats him out.

Dream lifts his hips a little higher, tongue wriggling inside him, expanding and contracting and twisting about; Hob keeps his knees drawn up, toes flexing and curling as his pleasure spikes and ebbs with the writhing fullness inside him. He's insanely turned on by the way Dream is just. Holding him up, like he's small and insignificant, like Dream will move and arrange him and fuck him however he likes—

Dream growls again, Hob whimpering at the sensation, and then he speaks. Which is clearly not happening with his mouth, occupied as it is; his voice rings in Hob's mind, in the fabric of the Dreaming around them, presumably audible to their audience as well.

Yes, Hob Gadling, I will move you as I please, fuck you as I like. You are mine—mine to taste, to have, mine to please in every way I choose. The rumble shifts, broadens; it's clear that he is addressing the audience now. Watch. Watch, and want, and envy, as I give my Hob everything he wants of me in ways you can only imagine—

Hob whimpers, dick twitching, grateful all over again for his immortality; he's not sure he would survive this otherwise.

Dream's tongue unwinds from within him abruptly, retreating swiftly in a way that makes Hob cry out as the shivery-hot sensation of it races down every limb; his cock spurts a little, not so much an orgasm as simply a sudden excess of pleasure and then he is empty again.

For only a second, though; instantly Dream's prick is there, pushing into him, and he can feel that Dream has Changed. He's tall enough to get his cock up Hob's arse while he's over the bar, for one, but also. The four hands that have been on him have multiplied, are six at least, eight, maybe more and he can feel Dream's presence swelling behind him, a magnitude and intensity that are spilling past any possible containment by a human-sized form.

But the fullness and the weight of Dream inside him occupy his attention with far more immediacy and he can hear himself moaning, gasping as Dream moves smoothly out and back in, picking up speed.

"Dream—Dream—aaaahh, Dream—" He can't get out much more than that, it's just so incredibly good. Dream has several hands on his legs holding him up wheelbarrow-style, is fucking into him fast and furious and the indignity of the position would make him laugh except it's not an indignity, it's fucking hot to be manhandled like this and he can't believe how much it's turning him on.

Dream nudges him forward, extra hands bending his knees up onto the bar proper, spreading them so wide that his leaking cock is rutting slickly against the polished wood every time Dream's dick sinks deep into him. His head and shoulders are beyond the far side of the bar top and he's gripping the edge tightly, hanging on for dear life while Dream pounds him senseless and he's never going to be able to tend bar at the New Inn again without thinking of this, ever—

Dream shoves deep and stops, suddenly; a pair of arms wind about Hob's chest to pull him upright, back against Dream's nebulous form and the way that changes the angle of Dream inside him has Hob crying out, tears pricking at his eyes. He's so full, it's such a sweet sweet pressure in all the right places and if Dream moves even just a little he's going to come—

Dream rumbles a pleased note; two hands slide through Hob's chest hair crosswise and beneath either edge of his costume, spindly fingertips brushing unerringly over both nipples in tandem. At the same time, the hands gripping around Hob's inner thighs tighten and Dream thrusts gently up into him.

The sound Hob makes as he spills would be embarrassing if he could bring himself to care, high and thin and gasping, again and again as he shoots all over the bar top, chest heaving under Dream's hands. And then there's another hand gently gripping Hob's hair, arching his head back while he's still panting out the last moans of his orgasm. Dream tilts in from above him, kisses those sounds right out of his mouth, another hand gently cradling his throat. It's light, possessive, sensual, and Hob loves it.

Dream kisses him down from the high until he has sense enough about him to reach, to cradle Dream's otherworldly face, to kiss him back, and to wriggle his hips demandingly because he wants more and he doesn't have to give his body time to recover.

Insatiable, Dream purrs, unmistakably pleased, and then. Then. There are just two arms around his chest and only two hands on his legs, hands that are spindly black claws, fingers like knives that are so very careful as they grasp under his thighs from the back and lift. Hob leans into Dream behind him, feeling the vast unknowable reaches of the cosmos condensed into whatever nebulous form Dream currently holds; he arches his head back and scrabbles for any kind of grip as Dream pulls his legs where he wants them, knees drawn up and spread wide, displaying him to the gathered crowd unmistakably speared on Dream's cock.

BEHOLD, Dream thunders, and turns a slow flowing circle, letting absolutely everyone see Hob open and impaled and wonderfully hard about it and Hob is whining at how utterly feral it makes him, being shown off like this. He meets a few eyes in the crowd; these are all nebulous theoretical people, no one he'll ever face in real life, and it drives him absolutely wild to see the hunger and the envy in these strangers' faces, for him, for Dream having him. His upsized dick is rock-hard, standing tall, straining untouched, beads of precome welling steadily from the tip and rolling down his shaft.

The hands splayed over Hob's chest are still relatively human shaped, fingers just a bit more spindly than normal, black nails a bit more claw-like. One of them strokes possessively through his body hair in the opening left by his ridiculous costume; the other wanders lightly up his throat and down again, back up to touch his face and Hob turns his head, sucks two fingers into his mouth, heedless of the claws. He laves them with his tongue, wet and thorough and unhurried, and Dream makes an encouraging sound that rattles Hob's bones, dick flexing inside him.

He's bigger, filling Hob more tightly than when they had started, but this is the Dreaming and Hob's body will take whatever he wants it to. Dream rumbles a growl and lifts where he grips Hob's thighs, drawing Hob up the length of him, then lets him slide down again, and Hob moans shamelessly around Dream's fingers, pleasure pouring through him. Gravity seats him all the way to the root of Dream's cock and it's exquisite, his own weight pressing Dream deeper inside him.

"Dream, love—" He breaks on a moan as he's lifted and let down again, the fingers in his mouth disappearing. "Deeper, sweetheart, fuck me senseless—"

The hands on him lose form, all of them, dissolving into shimmering tendrils of darkness wrapped secure about his thighs, keeping his legs up and open effortlessly. More tendrils edge beneath his costume to tease over his nipples and through his chest hair. Dream's face is all but gone, an impression of eyes and attention in the dark mass roiling above and behind and around Hob; it's like being cradled by a sensual black cloud with talented 'fingers' and an amazing dick and Hob is delighted to cling back against the nebulous surface of him and let Dream move him up and down as he pleases.

He's loud about his pleasure, moaning and cursing effusively while Dream wields him like a cocksleeve, sliding him up and down his eldritch length, spread open and on display to the riveted crowd. Hob's barely paying them any mind, his body alight with Dream's attentions, eyes heavy-lidded as they flicker over the audience. There are multiple people among the onlookers who are clearly touching themselves, faces full of envy and excitement, getting off while watching him get fucked by Dream, and that just pushes Hob higher. He squirms, wriggling all the way to the bottom of Dream's massive prick, clenching tight as Dream draws him up again, over and over.

His own cock is straining neglected with every pass and he whines, not touching it himself, that's not how this goes when his hands are busy clinging to Dream, but aching for the extra stimulus to drive his pleasure higher. Especially when Dream's just formlessness and tentacles (and that glorious dick) now, he'd desperately love some of that wriggly stroking attention paid to his boner.

"Dream, love, I need—"

Shall I allow your cock to your admirers, then, let the eager offer their skills that you might choose one fortunate soul for your pleasure?

There is a palpable stirring of interest in the crowd at that, more than one hand shooting up, but Hob shakes his head. This is about Dream flaunting his privileges, not sharing them, and besides. He doesn't want a stranger.

"No," he moans, arching his back and writhing against the eldritch bulk of Dream behind him as he's moved on that cock. "You, I only want you, just touch me please I am begging—"

Patience, dearheart, Dream rumbles, and Hob whines with frustrated anticipation. One of the tendrils at his chest draws out from beneath the open edge of his costume, lingers in the texture of his hair before sliding gently up his throat and around the back of his neck to carefully grasp his jaw from underneath, tilting his head back. Dream roils and a thick new tendril of shimmering black covers Hob's mouth; it is relatively enough like lips and tongue that he opens for it easily and loses himself in the filthy approximation of kissing, lets Dream devour his moans with relish. Other tentacles wind about his arms, down to his hands, split to intertwine with his fingers and Hob clings, delighted with the sweetness of this eldritch hand-holding.

And all the while Dream is still lifting him up the length of his cock and letting him slide back down, and Hob is very sure that every time he's let down Dream's cock is a little thicker, touches that much further inside him. Which is heady, and hot, and Hob hopes it's making the audience jealous as fuck to see him filled with so much; he can dream his body any way he likes here and if Dream wanted he would gladly dream himself unencumbered by any internal organs, a warm fleshy vessel meant exclusively for Dream's cock, no matter its size. He thinks maybe that's worth exploring later, a Dream so big Hob could sit on his cock and let it peek out his mouth, a fuck and a backwards blowjob at once, all of Hob perfectly formed for Dream's pleasure—

A low rumble of mirth tells him Dream caught that vision. Another time, beloved, comes Dream's voice, reverberating through and all around him. For now…perhaps this? The slender tentacle of Dream around one arm lifts and moves it, splays his own hand over his own belly right where the costume comes together as he slides to the base of Dream's cock again—and yes, there it is, the thick head of Dream inside him, deep up inside him where it shouldn't fit but here in the Dreaming it does and Hob can feel it, can trace the bulbous shape of it with his fingers, oh god—

He moans into the bit of Dream that's kissing him, caresses Dream's dick in his belly reverently, fervently, and then Dream is lifting him again, all the way up, dropping him again, all the way down, and it's so fucking good he thinks he might burst. He keeps his hand splayed over his stomach, the better to feel Dream pushing inside him on every pass, and the tentacle that had moved his arm unwinds, flows down past the crumpled remnants of his skirt to his groin and splits into tendrils. They snake lovingly through the thickness of his pubic hair, caressing the creases of his legs, curling around his balls, winding up around his rigid cock at last. His sound of desperate relief is swallowed by Dream and he quickly loses track of how many tendrils are in play down there, touching him everywhere, squeezing his cock and teasing around the head, the slit, with little touches that leave him panting. His balls are snugly wrapped and separated and receiving the same sort of soft teasing touches and there are at least three of these eldritch tendrils stroking around his hole, stretched wide on Dream's girth as it is.

When they slither inside the next time Dream lifts him, Hob shivers. And when Dream lets him slide down again, those tendrils are all curled directly against his prostate, pressed deliciously into it as the massive girth of Dream stretches and fills him. The tendrils wriggle where they're trapped, a beautiful stroking layered into the sweet pressure of maximum fullness and Hob cries out, muffled by Dream's pseudo-mouth on his, chest heaving.

And then, as if that were not the most exquisite pleasure he's yet been subjected to, the tendrils on his cock slither up and around the head, tiny threadlike delicate things lapping at his leaking slit before delving down into it, wriggling gently one after the other until they're intertwined down his dick shaft, stroking his cock from the inside. It's certainly not the first time in his very long life he's tried sounding but he's definitely never had anything so wonderfully squirmy down his slit before and sweet mother of god, but it's good.

It's even better when Dream lifts him and slides him down again, the wriggling in his arse around the mass that fills him, the bulbous rub of that mass deep in his belly beneath his hand, the soft writhing twist of the tendrils in his dick—and the ones under his costume up top, stroking his nipples, the pseudo tongue in his mouth that may as well be a cock the way he's sucking on it, the bit of Dream still wrapped behind his neck and cradling his chin, stroking his arched throat, he is being bombarded with pleasure in so many ways at once and his body is careening happily toward overload.

He's not even trying to temper it, clinging to Dream's tentacle-hand in the mass of Dream behind him and caressing Dream's dick in his belly and moaning with abandon as Dream moves him faster and faster. He can feel orgasm approaching, a great tidal swell bearing down on him and he is helpless to do anything but let it sweep him under.

It hits like a tsunami, crashing over him, wrenching a sound from him that is nearly a scream and leaving him breathless and gasping. His cock pulses, come oozing out of him around the tendrils that Dream has in his shaft and running down the length of it, messy and glorious. His arse clenches weakly, stretched too wide around Dream's massive girth to really bear down and that's a new delight to enjoy, definitely one for the record books. His chest heaves, he's moaning into the bit of Dream in his mouth, and Dream is absolutely roiling with pleasure in turn. His tentacles wrap tighter around Hob's thighs, lift him nearly free of his gigantic eldritch cock, and a thought flashes through Hob's mind, high on the tail end of his orgasm as Dream brings him back down. The tendrils down his shaft, the finger-tentacle-bit Dream had used on him in the waking world earlier—how amazing would it feel to be stuffed full of thick writhing tentacles like the ones currently holding him aloft—?

The thought must be vivid enough here in Dream's realm for him to 'see'; in an instant his enormous dick and the little tendrils that had been playing with Hob's prostate are gone and there are three tentacles rearing into Hob's view, each not quite as thick as his arm, their tapered tips shaped exactly like the head of Dream's prick.

WATCH, Dream thunders, to the crowd that Hob has all but forgotten about. Behold, as I give my Hob everything he should want, in ways only I can provide—

Hob whimpers into the bit of Dream in his mouth, pulse pounding, dick leaking around the tendrils still within it.

Dream lifts him high, tilts him back a tiny bit, and then the three tentacles dip out of his view, nudging wetly through the hair on the exposed bits of his thighs, his arse, zeroing in on his surely gaping hole. He has no real idea how much he's been stretched open but when the first tentacle pushes into him he barely feels it, despite its size. Then the second is there, wriggling alongside the first, squirming into him and that he can feel, gasping, moaning as the two together fill him. The bit of Dream in his mouth disappears and he lets his voice rise on a long, overwhelmed note as two arm-sized tentacles twist about in his arse, stroking everything, not at all in concert.

And then the third, it presses in between the other two and Hob cries out, wails long and loud as it wriggles in. He's stretched well beyond any realistic limits of his actual body, he knows, and yet here it just happens, because he wants it, wants Dream to work that third tentacle up into him, squeezed tight against the other two, burrowing deep. The way they squirm and slip past one another feels incredible, and the feeling just becomes more and more intense as they go. He's so full, deliciously gloriously unbearably full and his cock his full too, leaking continuously around the tendrils within it; his hand is still on his belly and he can feel the cock-head tips of each tentacle curling around each other as they push their way deeper and deeper. He's stretched taut on the girth of all three, spread open on display still by the tentacles around his thighs, and the view must be incredible for the watching crowd; he hopes they're absolutely ill with envy, witnessing Dream fuck him in so many ways not humanly possible.

Dream rumbles, a great bone-rattling sound that Hob feels in his teeth. I will have you now, my Hob, his voice sounds, and Hob wonders for half a second what he means, has he not been having him this entire time—

The tentacles within him writhe, separate, one sliding out while the others push deep, and then the one plunges back in while another draws out and then another and Hob throws his head back against the roiling there-but-not mass of Dream's shapeless form behind him, wailing to the heavens. It's incredible, so far beyond good, beyond whatever he might have imagined, the wriggling and the pistoning and the trading off, the slick twisting of each tentacle going out and back in, plunging so deep he can feel the sweet flares of pleasure all up his spine, the way each writhes against his pressing hand like Dream is getting off on that particular touch as well—

The tentacle of Dream that's supporting Hob's head caresses his arched throat lightly, and there are still tendrils toying with both nipples beneath his costume, another slim tendril curled in his navel and stroking the back of his hand on his belly; the tendrils in his cock are thoroughly drenched in his spend and squirming happily down inside him, almost a scaled-down mirror of what's going on in his arse and Hob can feel himself peaking again, helplessly, inexorably. His voice is one long continuous cry, broken by gasps for air, and then he is spilling again, shaking and shuddering through it, Dream barely pausing to let him ride it out before his pace resumes.

Dream's tentacles continue pistoning into him, frenzied and driven; Hob whimpers, overstimulated and strung out on pleasure, absolutely loving it. He clutches at his belly where Dream keeps filling him deep; it's good, it's too much but it's so damn good and he wants more, wants everything Dream can give him spilled thick and hot inside him and Dream is almost there, he can feel it—

Dream comes with a rolling groan like thunder, a tentacle pulsing deep inside Hob, and he can feel the heat and strength of its ejaculation against the hand on his stomach, which is so bizarre but still terribly hot. And then that groan sounds again and the second tentacle stabs up into his belly, bursting mightily, and Hob's breath catches in realization while his insides tingle with pleasure. Three of them. He sucks in a breath and then there's the third, burrowing frantically past the other two and spilling forcefully up inside him, Dream shuddering, that eldritch groan rolling all around them. It's so bloody weird to feel the familiar blooming of warmth so far inside him and there's so much of it, his belly sloshing just a little as the tentacles thrash weakly inside him, quivering, spent and shrinking. They make the most obscene squelching noises as they draw out of him one by one, and Hob has a brief second to imagine keeping all that come inside him, full up with all Dream could give him, before he feels the wet rush of it out of his gaping hole behind the tentacles, hears the way it splats on the floor below. Dream has stretched him marvelously open and trying to hold anything in is entirely fruitless, no matter the fantasy. It runs deliciously down the backs and insides of his thighs, his calves, as Dream lowers him and sets him on his feet, holds him until his trembling legs steady.

God, he is such a glorious mess.

Dream has shrunk back into a more person-shaped form, draped in one of his usual robes, by the time Hob trusts himself to stand on his own. He's inhumanly slender and willowy in a very fae sort of way, a handsbreadth shorter than Hob now and his still-otherworldly face is expectant, eager, just waiting for Hob to recover before he speaks; clearly they are not done yet.

"There is one final set of dreams, Hob, that I would claim from your admirers, if you are willing?" Black-clawed fingers reach to toy with the sweat-soaked hair on Hob's chest and his starry eyes blink sweetly.

"Anything you want, love." There's no exhaustion in the Dreaming, either, not if he doesn't want it.

"Thank you, my Hob," Dream purrs, drawing his hands back and rolling his slender shoulders so that his robe ripples off of him like water. Hob follows the movement with his eyes and finds that Dream's traded his cock for a sweet little mound, already dripping, trickling down his silky thighs.

Of course, naturally; they've covered Dream's claim on sucking and fucking Hob; it's only natural—apparently—that there would be people fantasizing about getting serviced by Hob, in turn.

He leans in to kiss Dream, brushes a knuckle over the silky hair above his slit. "And what is it we're doing here, love, mouth or cock?"

"Both, if you please. Leave no doubt. That all of your talents are mine to enjoy."

"Absolutely." He kisses Dream, picks him up with a firm grip behind his thighs, walks him over to the bar. Dream wraps pale legs around him, holds himself exactly right so that his cunt is teasing at the head of Hob's dream-enlarged prick with every step, warm and slick and wet, trickling down the underside of Hob's dick to collect on his balls. Hob is ready to shift him down onto it, put his back against the bar and fuck him senseless, but Dream had asked for his mouth too and Hob is so eager for a taste.

He considers putting Dream on the bar and seating himself on the barstool to eat, but he's still a bit open back there, Dream's eldritch fluids still a slick-sticky mess inside him and all over his thighs, which might leave him sliding around a bit. Plan B, then.

"Up you go, love, lay out for me," he says, sitting Dream on the bar and swinging him sideways so his legs are up on the bar as well. He hoists himself up after, Dream crabbing backwards on his elbows to get Hob in between his legs as they fall open and Hob dives in.

He's up on splayed knees, his well-fucked arse in the air and on display to any who'd like to see while he buries his face in Dream's juicy wet cunt. He groans his appreciation, licking and slurping with noisy enthusiasm; Dream tastes divine, as always, and Hob is suddenly ravenous. Nor does he care if he's blocking the audience's view; even if all they can see are his own hairy cheeks and open dripping hole, they can still hear precisely what he's doing to Dream.

And Dream makes no secret of it either, loud moans and sharp gasping cries that tell everyone gathered exactly how good Hob is at this particular art. Dream's hands—there are four of them again, and god but that's still so hot—Dream's hands are all buried in Hob's hair, stroking, tugging lightly, holding his head while he works.

Once he has lapped up most of the silky fluids spilling out of Dream's cunt, he slides three fingers deep into his pretty pink hole, crooks them so that Dream cries out, pulls sharply on his hair. Grinning, he sets his fingers to work, thrusting and stroking in merciless rhythm while his tongue flickers delicately all over Dream's straining clit. Dream gasps and cries out and clenches tight to his hair, hips tilting up into his attentions; Dream moves one set of hands, strokes them over the bare skin between Hob's shoulder blades and down, stretching and shifting form as they go until there are two tentacles at Hob's open arsehole, burrowing inside him and wriggling eagerly.

The sudden stroking fullness has Hob groaning, mashing his open mouth ardently to Dream's cunt, fingering him desperately all the while. His knees slip a little wider, encouraging the tentacles to delve deeper, his upsized dick just bumping the surface of the bar; he flicks and laves his tongue all over Dream's clit, drooling on it helplessly as he gasps and moans, flexing and squeezing around the flesh within him, just barely rutting the tip of his prick against the bar top and working his fingers deep inside Dream.

Dream is wailing, legs trembling, spindly clawed hands buried tight in Hob's hair and then with a shriek he is clamping down hard and rhythmically on Hob's fingers, thighs squeezing tight about his head. A jet of fluid hits Hob's chin and he shifts, mouth open, so that it hits his tongue instead. He groans, salty-sweet liquid fountaining into his mouth and running out again, collecting on the bar top beneath them. Hob crooks his fingers sharply, earns a jolt and a cry and another jet of fluid to his waiting tongue. He swallows a bit, savoring it as Dream finally goes limp, his narrow arse splatting prettily in the puddle that's formed beneath him.

His tentacles are still moving inside Hob, deliciously insistent; Hob is sure he's dribbling precome on the bar top and then there's a ripple of motion and Dream has hands on his shoulders again, the tentacles disconnected just like he'd done in the middle of the actual New Inn earlier and still wriggling away inside him, a good bit on the outside as well. Surely it looks ridiculous, like he's got two stub tails wagging to the gathered crowd but he doesn't care, it feels amazing and his focus is on Dream, just Dream.

Dream is panting, desperate and insistent as he hauls Hob's fluid-glazed face out of his cunt, hands tight in his hair. "Your cock, Hob Gadling, give it to me—"

Hob doesn't need telling twice. He scrambles upright on his knees, spreads them as wide as he can in the puddle of Dream's fluids, wraps his arms around Dream's thighs and hauls him up into his lap. His upsized prick finds its target unerringly and he thrusts in eagerly, earning a cry from Dream and a delirious plea for more, harder. The thick tendrils in his stretched-out arse writhe deliciously in exactly the right spot and it's so fucking good, sitting speared on that squirming mass with Dream sopping wet and steaming hot around his dick, with the heady scent of Dream all over his face and Dream laid out wailing in pleasure before him. One of Dream's arms is curled above his head, grasping at his hair; another is flung over his eyes and the other two hands flutter black claws delicately over his nipples and scrabble at the bar top, helpless and overwhelmed as Hob drives into him again and again.

Hob looks down his own body, past the damp curls of his chest hair and the ragged remnants of the costume skirt to where his dick disappears into Dream's slick pink cunt, pistoning in and out; he sees the swollen bud of Dream's clit straining and neglected between those shining wet folds and that just won't do. He briefly considers dreaming himself a third hand to take care of it, but between the fucking he's giving and the fucking he's getting he doesn't think he's got the focus. Besides, Dream's got extra hands right there—

"Touch yourself for me, love, let me see your fingers on your beautiful clit while I fuck you, Dream—"

Dream moans, moves a hand instantly to obey, slender fingers with their elegant black claws sliding close on either side of the little bud, stroking circles against the side of it with careful fingertips, another hand pinching a nipple at the same time. His head arches back and he cries out, gasping, so much wetter in an instant that Hob's barely got any friction inside him. It's glorious, but also frustrating and he speeds up, fucks harder, clenching tight on the wriggly bits in his arse at the same time, chasing orgasm with abandon.

Dream arches against the bar, legs trembling in Hob's hold, wailing a long note of ecstasy that climbs higher as Hob leans forward. He plants his hands on the bar top next to Dream's ribs, Dream's knees hooked in his elbows, and pummels into him until Dream is screaming, spraying liquid between them again in a glorious mess that Hob fucks right back into him, that runs down Hob's thighs to expand the puddle beneath them. Dream is panting these short sobbing moans with every deep thrust and one of his hands clings behind Hob's neck; the one that was just on his clit touches Hob's cheek, slick and wetness fragrant upon it as he combs it back into Hob's hair and clenches tight, tugging beautifully. His other two hands skitter down the bare diamond of Hob's back and scrabble wildly at his arse beneath the remains of his skirt, clutching, pressing, as if he could pull Hob any deeper inside himself. And then they change, shift, returning to the thick tendrils of before and slithering to reconnect with the bits detached earlier. Proper tentacles again, they quickly establish a rhythm, fucking into Hob in perfect counterpoint to his own pounding thrusts into Dream, who is coming again, warm liquid flooding between and beneath them. He's clinging and trembling around Hob's neck and gasping in his ear, and thank fuck this is a dream because they would never get the bar food-service suitable again—

The combination of Dream's dual-wielded tentacles and Dream's soaking wet cunt mean he stands no chance of lasting more than another minute and indeed he doesn't, pumping furiously into Dream's jackknifed body until it overwhelms him and he spills with a grunting cry, gasping, groaning, Dream squeezing tight on his cock again and again and wriggling ferociously inside his arse to milk him absolutely dry.

He collapses at last, panting heavily, disentangling his arms from Dream's legs and propping himself on his elbows. Dream's extra limbs slither out of Hob's arse and become arms again and the crowd, whom Hob had all but forgotten at this point, begins drifting out the doors of the Inn before they just dissipate, the building with them. Dream's hands are still around the back of Hob's neck and Hob dips to kiss him, sated and spiraling high and so very much in love.

When he draws back, they are no longer atop the New Inn's bar but in his bed in the flat above it. Or rather, in an upgraded hi-def version of his bed since this is still the Dreaming, plenty of room to roll about, the sheets just that extra bit softer. Dream is still beneath him and the stupid costume is finally gone so they're pressed naked together under the blankets, no trace of messes or fluids on either of them any longer.

Dreaming cleanup is a blessing, truly, though his brain still insists there ought to be a shower, at some point, just on principle.

He shushes it, kisses Dream again gently, savors this softness and come-down a long moment more. When he lifts away at last, it's with a besotted smile down at his beautiful Dream, and he reaches to brush a stray lock of ebony hair out of his pale perfect face.

"Well worth it, love?"

"Utterly," Dream purrs, with that smile that makes Hob want to offer himself up again. And he could, sure, but they have fucked quite a lot already, and it's really lovely just to lie here cuddling at this point, actually. Hob shifts so that he's beside Dream instead of atop him, pulls him close and nuzzles lips against his forehead.

"The tentacles in my arse while I was eating you out—that was absolutely inspired, love, holy shit." He plants a soft kiss at Dream's hairline.

"You were wet and open and presenting for it; I could hardly leave you unfilled." Dream snuggles contendedly up under his chin, against his throat.

"Hardly," Hob agrees, grinning. "I do hope you got everything you were looking for?"

"Without question," Dream sighs, happy, content, which Hob loves to see more than anything else. "I am satisfied beyond measure, in this regard, to have lain claim to you before all and sundry." He plants the softest little kiss against Hob's adam's apple, worms his arms—he's still got four of them—beneath and around Hob to hold him close.

"I'm glad," Hob says, grin softening to a smile, and he is. He's delighted to have done this for Dream, to have made him happy, to have given him something he wanted. "If you ever want to do it again, or—or anything else of the sort, just say the word. I like playing to your fantasies, that you'll trust me with what you want, that simple ordinary human me can give you something that's maybe just a little bit like what you give all of creation every time they sleep." God, but he gets sappy in the aftermath, doesn't he.

Dream burrows down against him, rubs his cheek against Hob's chest hair. "You spoil me, Hob Gadling," he says, warmth and fondness in his voice. "You know me to be greedy and intemperate, yet you offer so willingly anything I might wish. I should like to do the same for you."

"Oh love, honestly, I'm spoiled enough that I get to have you at all—"

"You had. Many interesting thoughts, during our lovemaking," Dream interrupts, two sets of fingertips tracing up and down the dip of Hob's spine, and abruptly Hob recalls his 'backwards blowjob' idea, the whole thrill of Dream filling him up with come, the potential of those tentacles. "If you wish to explore them, I am at your disposal."

And Hob, well. That's not something he's going to say no to, but.

"I will take you up on that," he says, with a yawn, "but another night. Right now, I'm in a fantastically comfortable bed with my dear, precious love who has just fucked my brains out in so many ways; I should like to hold him awhile longer, sleep with him close and safe in my arms until I wake back in my actual bed."

"This, too, I can provide," Dream says, a soft smile in his voice.

And he does.

= Started: 9/23/23 Drafted: 10/7/24 Posted: 10/9/24

[suraemoon]

Rosie Rosenthal Headcanons

~Mr. and Mrs. Rosenthal Edition ~

🌹: Hi, Mrs. Rosenthal. Hope you’re doing well. How’s the hubby? These are some Rosie x Reader cute and domestic headcanons that cover some tiny details that make married life even more special

♥️: Fluffy fluff. If you’re feeling horny, stay to the end and I’ll help you, doll. Thats really it. Hope u enjoy.

Humming. He hums softly during the most comfortable silences, making them even more cozy. You could be reading a book on a quiet May afternoon, watching him work at his desk on a cold January night, holding hands while watching the August sunset from your balcony.

Whenever you’re singing a tune, he’s going to hum along with you

Can’t remember the name of that one Ella Fitzgerald song for the life of you? Hum it together until a namesake lyric pops into one of your brilliant minds. Followed by a “Ohhhh, you’re right. It is that one!”

A comfortable hum during the times when you’re crying on his shoulder, his hand rubbing your back in small circles, your cheek against the fabric of his grandpa sweater

Rosie’s blue eyes have always been one of your favorite features of his.

They are as vibrant as technicolor, always displaying so much emotion.

Looking into Rosie’s eyes is a constant reminder that as long as you have him, life will never again be sepia toned.

Rosie spoils you in the most nonchalant ways. Buying his wife a gift is never made into its own big event.

He notices how you eye a certain sparkling necklace while walking hand in hand by the jewelry store window? The next day, those same diamonds are lying on your vanity, waiting to be worn.

For some reason the flowers in the vase on the dining room table never seem to die? Hmm I wonder why.

Little do you know, those roses were replaced with fresh ones last night

Rosie buys beautiful bouquets of flowers as pink as his wife’s cheeks on a chilly day

Hides them in places you’d never look until the sun goes down to rest for the night and you are securely fast asleep next to him

As soft light floods through the windows in the morning, the glass of the vase creates a rainbow and the flowers sitting delicately on display look new as ever

Another small detail that your home would like an incomplete puzzle without?

Him and Hers plaid robes hang gently on delicate hooks behind the bathroom door

Technically, both robes were bought and owned by Rosie before he even met you

But they’re so damn comfy that they’ve become happily coparented between the two of you

Whenever your choice of robe starts to lose the distinct and comforting scent of your beloved husband, the two of you switch in order to replenish

A constant cycle of robe wearing

The record player is the most used and well loved item in the household

Soft jazz fills warmly lit rooms

Not much of a dancer are you? Rosie insists that the two of you slow dance to his favorite love song anyway

Don’t worry, it is not a game of skill. Maybe he hits a silly dance move now and then to distract you from the worry of accidentally stepping on his feet.

He spins you around like Prince Charming does Cinderella until both the rotating and romance makes you a little lightheaded.

He also loves a good candle. (Don’t we all?)

Not only for when he is trying to set the right mood for homemade dates at the kitchen table and nights full of lovemaking in your bedroom

but also to further enhance the warm and comforting atmosphere that fills any room that his love steps into

Cuddling in eachother’s warmth where the cold evening air of the bustling city outside cannot touch you

What else sometimes happens while you two lying in bed on a weeknight? Gossip.

It’s a safe space to talk about anyone or anything

When your little ones start school and the two of you join the PTA, the reason being not because you want to but instead having the “new parent” fear you were the only ones not in it. Do you regret it? No. The tea is unexpectedly piping hot.

“Remember how late we stayed up making those cookies after finding that bake sale flier at the bottom of her bookbag? Today, the Joneses went on and on about how they had a family recipe. Guess what?…their brownie container had a price tag, Rosie.”

Maybe a family member said something utterly ridiculous at the family reunion that you aren’t able to talk about until you’re in the comfort of your own walls

Something that even has Rosie uttering “Now if I was his wife…” or “I don’t know about his mother but if my mother caught me doing that…”

A lot of “I can’t believe that happened” head shakes

A lot of “You were right about that, honey” nods in agreement

Rosie also takes the time to tell you about his cases. Him and his co-workers always act so professional but sometimes you need an outside opinion to confirm how ridiculous some people are.

That outside opinion is Mrs. Rosenthal sitting on the bed stirring a cup of cocoa

Speaking of drinks, Rosie likes his coffee black

You learn that the morning after you spend your first night at his

What else do you learn after that riveting first night? Your man fancies a bath. A warm bath after sex is only part of his phenomenal aftercare routine.

He puts oils into the water, massages your sore thighs, and wraps you in a comfy soft robe when you get out

You two don’t argue often but when you do? You hate to admit it but Rosie is usually right

Even when he isn’t right, he has you second guessing yourself because…he’s a lawyer and being a good arguer is part of the job description

He’s a “I need to get the last word in” kind of person, even if it’s just a snarky or sarcastic comment

You two always make up though!

Make up, makeout, and make love is always the order

My last thot for today…dad jokes

If Rosie is going to do one thing, it’s make you laugh

He’s goes out of his way to see your pretty smile as much as he can

Your sweet giggles can easily compete and win against the sparkling sound of wind chimes

Your laugh is as melodic as his favorite song. It *is* his favorite song.

He’s so good at dad jokes, you have to make him a father. That’s good logic, hm? I definitely think so.

They’re purposefully bad and cheesy. So unfunny that they’re funny and trying to hold in the laugh always fails.

Your husband’s a dork and you love him that way

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! If you’re like “Excuse me ma’am, wheres the smut?” I know where to redirect you. All my dirty thots went towards my friend Marina’s (@precious-little-scoundrel) lovely post about Rosie. It’s so chef’s kiss. 110% recommend. xxxx 💋

[wooziorgans]

HOLIEST | KINKTOBER DAY 1

pairing: angel!jihoon x male demon!reader

main prompt: corruption kink

warnings: anal sex. loss of innocence (technically virginity loss). bottom jihoon. top reader. biblical themes. jihoon can stop/slow time w his angel powers. reader knows people’s desires. jihoon’s a little hesitant at first but fully consents. jihoon has punched reader in the past. “taking your wings out” is a euphemism for sex. jihoon is not biblically accurate. angels don’t need to clean themselves out for anal sex.

word count: 4k WHOOPS

a/n: happy october! this is officially the start of my kinktober event and we’re starting off strong! this is wayyy too long, but for the first day i think i’ll let it slide. also tysm for 300 that’s insane. what.

also if anyone wants to be added to the tag list pls lmk

You raise the glass of whiskey to your mouth. Just as the amber drops start to fall into your mouth, they stop. You huff, half in annoyance, the other half an unbridled amusement. You remove your hands from the glass and lean back in the comfy armchair. The glass stays in its place, floating, and you know it’s him.

“What do you want, Jihoonie?” You purr softly, not bothering to turn around to face him.

“We had a deal.” The angel huffs, and though you can’t see him, you can almost imagine the furrow of his brows, the way he’s surely stomping his feet as he speaks. You hum, still not acknowledging him, and that seems to piss him off more. “You were supposed to send him to hell. Not purgatory.” Jihoon sighs, and you look up to the large bay windows to see his reflection running a hand through his long blond hair.

Jihoon’s wearing actual human clothes, and not the white robes you see him in most of the time. You swipe your glass out of the air, hand covering the top of it to trap the whiskey inside as you set it down. Angel physics are weird; even after all of the encounters you’ve had with Jihoon, you still haven’t gotten the inconvenience of his powers. Finally, you turn towards him.

“I don’t know what you mean. I sent him to hell. Where were you? Blessing his wife so that she could continue her affair now that her husband was dead? For someone who preaches that he’s so holy, you really must not see the irony of your decisions.” You laugh, stark and short.

“She wanted a child. It’s not my fault our schedules interfered.” Jihoon snaps, and you stand abruptly. You walk towards him, confident strides that seem to knock the air out of his lungs. The angel has interacted with plenty of demons before, but none of them seemed to have the same effect on him as you did.

Jihoon suspects that it has something to do with your own power. The ability to know exactly what people desire. It’s quite troublesome. “Blessing people seems to be your scapegoat for all of that desire bubbling under the surface, angel.” You coo, hand sliding under his jaw to tilt his face upwards. Your thumb catches under his lip, tilting him up by the chin, and you can hear his breath shutter. Jihoon takes a few steps back.

You laugh quietly. The sound is low and sultry, and it has Jihoon forgetting why he’s even here. “I- I do what I’m told to.” You follow his steps, smirking.

“Is that so? I’m sure no one told you to wear human clothes, angel.” Jihoon steps back more, trying to get away from your touch, but he does nothing to remove your hand from his face. “You’re getting the hang of being on Earth. Though, you’re not wearing shoes and your shirt is made of mesh.” You back him into the counter of the bar, still maintaining a bit of distance between your chests.

“I had business to attend to in Busan. I was on the beach. This is a perfectly acceptable outfit.” Jihoon scoffs, hands reaching behind him to grip the ledge of the counter. You step closer, tightening your hold on his chin. Your thumb swipes over his bottom lip and you can feel the muscles in his throat move as he swallows.

Jihoon finally actually looks up at you, face flushed with parted lips. “You’re such a sweet angel; always looking out for humanity.” You push your thumb against his teeth, and Jihoon pulls back slightly. But you can feel it; the thrumming throughout his whole body. You’ve felt it in your soul thousands of times with humans, but the only angel who gives you the privilege is Jihoon.

“We agreed this couldn’t happen again.” Jihoon’s breath picks up as you slot yourself against him.

“No, angel. You said it couldn’t happen again. I said nothing of the sort.” Your grip on his face falters, other hand sliding up his side to grab onto the waist of his jeans. “What was so bad about last time?” The lilt in your voice is teasing, and if you didn’t have Jihoon trapped against the bar, or half as worked up as he is right now, he might’ve taken the opportunity to punch you. He’s done it before, but only in your first few meetings. Distant history.

“You kissed me!” He hisses, in a half attempt at getting away from you. If he wanted to actually leave you, he could disappear just as fast as he arrived. He stays put, and you know that it’s driven by the desire he so desperately tries to cage down. The part of him that must remain holy tries to fight back, no matter how much he wants this.

“What else happened?” You tilt your head to the side, nose brushing against his as you lean forward towards his face. You can hear him audibly swallow, and it only makes you want him more.

“I got… well, y’know… worked up.” There’s a slight shake in Jihoon’s voice, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him.

“But you enjoyed it, yeah? You kept thinking about me, didn’t you?” You purr, breath hitting his ear as you whisper. Your eyes darken, a slight red sheen to your irises. If Jihoon could see your face, you’re sure he’d fold a lot faster. You like the chase though, and so you graze his earlobe with your teeth.

Jihoon lets out a small whine. If you weren’t so close to him, you might not have heard it. One of his hands lets go of the counter, moving to your side to grip at your dark shirt. You place a kiss to his jaw, nipping at the smooth, pale skin.

“Tell me what you thought about last time,” you whisper, “tell me what you desire.” The bite in your voice isn’t malicious. You’re using your power on Jihoon, and there’s a chance it won’t work. It typically doesn’t work on other celestial beings.

“To feel good. Please. Let me sin; just once.” The distance in his voice shocks both of you. It worked.

You pull away from him, lips smacking as they disconnect from Jihoon’s neck. You stare at him for a moment, taking in the flush on his face in the low lights of your penthouse. He won’t look at you. He can’t, not with his involuntary omission.

Jihoon is undeniably beautiful; truly devine in the careful chisels of his face. Though he is, by creation, an angel, angelic is one of the only words you can think of to describe his features. He’s so innocent and pure, even with the slight fuzz of distortion caused by him stopping time, and god do you want to ruin that.

“Come. Sit, and we’ll talk.” You don’t give him the option to follow you on his own. Your arm wraps around his waist as you pull him back to the armchair you were sitting in when he showed up.

You take a seat, stretching out as you wait for Jihoon to sit down. There’s one issue with that: the armchair is the only seat in this section of the penthouse. Jihoon just stares at you, and you pat your lap. He doesn’t move.

You sit up in the chair, arm snaking out to grab Jihoon by the waist and pull him down onto your lap. His back hits your chest as he squeaks softly as you spread your legs to sit him in between them. The wide seat holds both of you with room the spare.

The warmth of your skin, that which is a part of you from being forged in the depths of hell, sends chills up Jihoon’s spine. Your hands smooth the weird fabric of his undershirt, pressing down on his stomach. Your lips latch onto the side of his neck, teeth grazing against his sweet spot.

Jihoon’s full body reacts to you, back arching away from your chest as his head falls back. “This is what you want, right?” You whisper into his ear. Jihoon nods, gasping softly as your hands slide over his thighs. “Good, because I’m going to ruin you.”

He’s so sensitive and responsive, moaning lowly at your confession of your own desires and the hot sparks that shoot through his entire body from your hands on his thighs. You massage the flesh through the smooth denim of his jeans, squeezing the firm muscles as you reattach your lips to his neck.

Your thumb brushes over the growing bulge in Jihoon’s pants as your other hand travels up the mesh of his undershirt. Briefly, your nail catches on his nipple, eliciting another moan from the angel as you continue to move your hand upwards. You reach the light blue fabric of his button up and carefully slide it off of his shoulder.

Jihoon takes the cue, shrugging the other side of it off. The oversized shirt pools at his elbows, before Jihoon pulls it down, over his wrists and off of him completely. Your lips work steadily on his neck, littering the flawless skin with deep purple bruises.

You pull away from his neck as your hand slides over his growing cock. Jihoon mewls, hands gripping at the arms of the chair. You run both hands under the mesh tank top, feeling his radiant skin with your full hands. Jihoon stiffens as your fingers brush over his nipples.

“So sensitive.” You whisper, hands finding the bottom of the tank top as you pull it up his torso. “So pure.” You press your nose into one of the dark bruises on his neck as you reach his armpits with the shirt. Jihoon stalls for a second as he lets you just feel him.

His head short circuits until he feels you tug at the tank top again. He lifts his arms for you, and you slip the fabric over his head. Jihoon’s bare back presses against your chest. One of your hands snakes around his neck to cup his jaw. Your thumb presses into his chin to tilt his head back against your shoulder.

Jihoon goes willingly, lips parting as he closes his eyes. He already seems gone, head fuzzy with lust. That’s when you tut softly, other hand tracing the defined muscles of his chest. Your fingers pinch at his nipple, twisting and prodding carefully. Jihoon moans rather loudly, disrupting the quiet atmosphere.

“Unfreeze time.” You mutter into his neck. You know your senses are muted because of it, and you want to feel the full effect of the angel. Jihoon pulls away from you, straightening his back out. You can see two, almost scar-like lines on his shoulder blades. You run your hands over the skin, and he shivers, head falling forward as a low moan slips past his lips. You do it again, this time dragging your nails around the area.

Jihoon stifles a cry, jerking away from you. In a moment, the lines on his back are gone, replaced by beautiful white wings that start to unravel themselves. And then the fuzz from the time dilation is gone.

The glass of whiskey clatters onto the table, rolling in its place before settling on the wood. Jihoon’s wings are at full span, only for a moment, before they’re tucking themselves back into his shoulders. You pull him back to your chest, one hand slipping around his waist. He moans, but it’s louder, whinier, higher.

He’s getting desperate.

You abort your mission, opting to pick him up and flip him around a you stand. Jihoon gasps, hiding his face from you as he wraps his legs around your waist. “Don’t get all shy on me now, angel. After you’ve just shown me your wings?” The euphemisms goes way over his head, and he only offers you an actual explanation.

“I have to take them out to… you know, do the time thing.” You chuckle deeply as you walk towards the bed. The back of your leg hits the side of the mattress and you sit down.

Carefully, you peel Jihoon away from you to look at his face. He goes easily, hands finding the side of your face. All at once, both of you lean in with closed eyes. Your lips meet carefully, but the softness is gone quickly.

Your hands squeeze at his ass, and Jihoon whines into your mouth. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, and Jihoon attempts to match your movements.

It’s messy, wet, and a little uncoordinated, but Jihoon’s a fast learner. His hands grip at your shirt, tugging it as he kisses you with a fire that wasn’t there the last time. It makes your stomach twist with your own want for him; how eager he is, how much he wants this— wants you.

You can already see the effects of your teasing in how desperate he’s getting for stimulation. You shift back on the bed, supporting yourself with one arm as the other grips his ass tightly. Jihoon pulls at your shirt again, and you help him slide it off, only breaking your kiss to fling the fabric off your body and onto the floor.

Quite quickly, your hands find Jihoon’s jeans, toying with the button. He whines softly, hands raking over your back, across your own shoulder indents, and you shutter. The skin there has always been incredibly sensitive. You grip his ass once again, flipping him over and onto his back.

Jihoon gasps against your lips as he hits the mattress. His large brow eyes are sparkling, pupils blown out. Your hands get to work quickly, undoing the button on his jeans and sliding the zipper open. He’s gotten better at wearing pants, as weird as that sounds. You were the one to teach him about boxers, and you’re presently surprised to find a pair of black ones sitting on his hips.

You pull away from his lips to see him, and he whines softly, chasing your lips. You don’t give him what he wants. Instead, you dip your hand into his pants and run your palm over his hard cock. The weight of it seers your palm. It’s heavy, thick, and so incredibly hard. Divine, you think.

Jihoon moans, back arching off the bed as his hands grab at whatever they can find, which are the white sheets of your bed. “What do you want me to do, angel? Tell me and it’s yours.” You growl, squeezing his cock as your fingers continue to travel downwards.

“Ngh, fuck. I want you to fuck me. Please, oh god- please.” Jihoon whines, chasing your touch as you start to pull off his jeans.

“You—” You nearly tease him, for using the big guys name in vain and for swearing. But you opt out of it. For once. “Ass up, angel.” You instruct, and he listens, planting his feet into the mattress and lifting his hips up.

Your thumbs catch the band of his boxers, and in one quick motion, both remaining articles of clothing are down to his knees. Jihoon’s cock slaps against his stomach as you pull him free. He’s long and thick, dripping precum from his tip. His balls are round and full, and he’s completely hairless. You never knew a dick could be so pretty, but then again, it’s Jihoon. Of course his cock is beautiful.

Jihoon moans at the reverberation of his dick hitting his stomach as you pull his jeans all the way off. You smirk at the way he tries to thrust his hips towards you, silently begging for you to touch him. You want to, oh how you want to wrap your hand around his cock and show him no mercy, but you slip the knot in your waistband and push your own sweatpants down.

Jihoon stares at you, mouth watering as your own cock springs free. Finally, you give him what he wants. You lean forward, lips finding his once again as your hand wraps around his cock. He gasps into your mouth, tongue tangling with yours.

Your hand coats his cock in his precum, giving him time to adjust to the new sensation. You might be a demon, but you’re not an asshole. You can’t give him too much right now or he’ll break, and no matter how much you want to see that happen, it’s too soon for your liking. You speed up your hand, other hand caressing his thigh.

“More, shit, please. I need more.” Jihoon pants, his voice whiny and unsteady. You peck his lips, pulling away from him once again. He whines, as expected as you crawl off the bed to grab your lube from your bedside table. You flip the bottle in your hand, throwing it up as you get back on the bed.

“What’s that?” Jihoon asks, eyes wide. You smile softly at him as you settled back in between his legs.

“This,” you pop the cap off the bottle, “is lube. It’ll help me fuck you.” Jihoon whimpers softly. His pink lips, which are swollen from kissing, part with a quite wet sound. You push his thighs apart, and he goes willingly, spreading his legs as he lifts his knees up to his chest.

“How… how does it work? What am I supposed to do?” He asks softly, slightly breathless.

“Just sit back and look pretty for me, okay? I’ll do all the work. Just let me ruin you.” You squirt a bit of lube on your fingers. Jihoon just nods as you press the dollop of cold lube against his hole. He squirms, head falling back as you carefully push your finger in.

You give him a few seconds to adjust to having something in his ass, before you start pumping your single digit in and out. Jihoon grips at the sheets, unable to really form sounds— just silently gasping.

You push a second finger in, watching his expression carefully. “That feel okay, angel?” You ask, voice low and husky. Jihoon just nods. “How about you go ahead ‘n touch yourself for me, hmm pretty?” Jihoon takes a moment to wrap his hand around his cock, but he listens to you.

“So much,” he gasps softly, “so full, shit.” You just smirk, leaning down to kiss his chest. Jihoon isn’t really sure what to do with his hand around his cock, so he gives it hesitant tugs.

You wrap your hand around his, helping him slide it up and down his cock. Something about seeing him like this, so inexperienced and eager to learn, has you needing to leave him ruined. You want to see him crack. You twist your fingers inside his ass, scissoring them open against the tight muscles protest.

Jihoon gasps, pushing his hips down onto your fingers, accidentally pulling you in closer to his prostate. The tips of your fingers brush against it, and his eyes roll back as a strained moan leaves his lips. You twist them again, prodding at the spot to hear him squeak out such beautiful sounds again.

You push the tip of a third finger against his hole, sliding it all the way in. Jihoon gasps, fingers twitching under yours. You pump them in and out a few times, scissoring as best you can to open him up. He’ll need it.

He gasps as whines against the mattress, exhaling deeply as you finger him. When you decide he’s ready, you pull your fingers out. Jihoon whines softly at the sudden emptiness. “I think you’re ready.” You whisper, releasing your hand from his cock. Jihoon just nods, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. “I can’t wait to ruin you.” You purr, placing a soft kiss to his chest as you find the bottle of lube again.

You coat your cock generously, sighing at the stimulation before you like yourself up. “Ready, angel?” You place a gentle hand on Jihoon’s thigh. He nods, squeezing his eyes shut as he waits.

“Look at me.” You demand, and Jihoon listens, eyes snapping open. “I want you to watch me put it in.” You pull him up to sit on his elbows. Jihoon looks down, lip in between his teeth as you tease his entrance with your tip.

You slide home in one motion, and Jihoon closes his eyes halfway through. The stretch is too much, so good, not enough. It’s foreign and it’s uncomfortable, but something twists softly in the angels stomach, has him craving more despite the discomfort.

You still your hips, letting him adjust to the stretch. Three fingers almost isn’t enough with how tight he is. “Ngh, fuck. Move, please.” Jihoon pants, chest heaving. You do as he says, pulling back out before thrusting back in. Jihoon moans loudly, back arching as his thighs shake.

You thrust in again, angling your hips up slightly, and his moans get louder. That must be his prostate. “Gonna get you addicted to my cock, angel. Gonna make you think about me all the time. Gonna turn you into my slut.” You groan, completely enamoured by the warmth of his wet walls. “I wanna see you break. Wanna teach you everything there is to know.”

Jihoon just nods, chest heaving as he takes it. “Please, shit. Teach me.” He babbles, too far gone to recognize what you’re saying properly. You can see it in his eyes, the way he can only focus on the pleasure of your thick cock kissing his prostate. You can see how gone he is, how much he loves this, and it drives you insane.

You pick up your pace, hammering into him to hear his pretty, high moans. It’s brutal; raw and messy. Animalistic almost, in the way you’re taking what you need from him. Jihoon can’t even really move or think, far too fucked out from the pace you set. But he loves it.

He loves the full body sensation of white noise that fills his ears and the rest of his head. All at once, it’s nothing, and then a hot flash of white floods his eyesight. Jihoon’s eyes roll back, and he cums, cock untouched as thick white ropes coat his chest.

He’s squeezing so tight around; you it’s too much. “Oh god.” Jihoon sobs, fists tight balls at his sides as his back lifts off the mattress. You give a few more thursts before you cum inside of him, palm pressing down on his stomach softly.

You’ve never been to heaven, but you think the flashes of white that coat the back of your eyelids must rival the pearly gates. You pant softly, hips stalling as you fill him up.

And then you pull out and collapse next to him on the bed. Your hand finds his blond hair, as you smooth it down over his forehead. Jihoon smiles softly, eyes heavy, as he rolls onto his stomach. He buries his face in the pillows, exhaling deeply.

Truly, there’s never been anyone or anything more beautiful than Jihoon to you. He’s truly divine; perfectly sculpted and soft. The fact that you got to have his first time, in the millennia you’ve known him, is slightly surreal as he lays next to you, completely naked.

“I should go. I’ve got to get back to Busan.” Jihoon sighs softly.

“Stay a while. Have a drink. We just had sex. You can’t expect yourself to get back to your angel duties right away.” You laugh softly, hand cracking down on Jihoon’s ass.

“Yeah, sure. As long as this means I don’t lose my wings. I still have to be holy.” He sighs, flinching at the sting, a soft moan leaving his lips.

“Oh, you’re the holiest thing I know.” You whisper, nipping at his neck softly. And you mean it.

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