#not to mention that it completely pull me out of the book and the fantasy aspect of it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugurouge · 1 month ago

Text

— a fire in a flask : lucilfer chrollo x f!reader

content warnings! rope play, possessive themes, jealousy, bratty reader, hair pulling, pet names (sweetheart, kitten, dear), dubcon, asphyxiation & marking @ chrollo, deep throating, rough sex, condescending chrollo, mentions of murder, spit, impact play

summary: after some heavy convincing, chrollo agreed to let you have full control over your play date tonight. unfortunately, the scenario you had imagined takes a different turn once you start dancing too close to the flame

wordcount: 2.2k | my kinktober masterlist

a/n: if you have stumbled across this fic on ao3 it is due to a tag issue i had on tumblr a little while ago

Not much can cause Chrollo to breathe unsteadily; barely anything could take him by surprise. Yet here he is, without power, without control—at your complete mercy. The rope cuts into his taut muscles, the contrast of red against his pale skin is strikingly beautiful. And the groan that escapes his lips something so utterly satisfying as your heel digs into his chest, accompanied by the warning words of, "No, no, you promised me full reign tonight. So behave, Chrollo." You grant him a glimpse of your bare pussy hidden beneath your skimpy dress while pushing him further back into the chair, reminding him to hold still.

"If I had known what you had in mind when you asked for control, I would have never agreed. Why can't you just ride me like all the other girls did?" A sharp hiss cuts off his complaints, teeth digging into the inside of his cheek as eyes filled with anger meet your delighted ones. "Don't tell me about your other flings... I don't like feeling jealous."

With a click of your heel against the ground, you return to standing on both feet and take a step back, allowing yourself a moment to rake your eyes over the exposed figure of your partner. You've made sure to bind him tightly to the chair, rope laced around his upper body and tied securely behind his back. But it's the nearly murderous intent in his dark eyes that really excites you. Being a brat is already so much fun, but being an insufferable demon in full control over the leader of a villainous group? Yeah, it's hard to imagine going back to being submissive.

"Are you done staring? Sweetheart, you're drooling." His smooth-talking voice returns, cockiness and arrogance painting a rather smug expression on his face—one you wish to wipe off. Yet as you remain unnervingly calm, you tick something off in Chrollo's brain, prompting him to nearly ramble. "Hm? Don’t tell me you've already run out of ideas? Tying me up can’t possibly be the beginning and end of your little fantasies. I thought you were smarter than that..."

One step, two steps, three steps, and you're closer than ever before. You bend down, eye to eye with someone who could kill you in an instant, to give him a show of your cleavage nearly spilling from its confines. Your fingers dig into Chrollo's cheeks, forcing his chin to tilt up as you search his eyes for something he can't quite decipher. You're not supposed to be an enigma to him; he’s used to reading you like an open book. That victorious chuckle of yours causes his eyes to squint in suspicion—he's getting nervous.

"Can I not stare at what belongs to me?" your soft voice whispers, almost too lovingly, a cat-like grin spreading across your face before you giggle. "You're mine, and I'm yours," you continue as you straddle his lap, your arms snaking around his neck while you arch your back to press your hips against his. The frilly dress you chose to wear for him rides up your hips, and Chrollo's fingers ache to dig into the soft flesh of your ass. Nose to nose, you turn soft, sickly sweet, as your lips capture his in a fiery kiss, tongues brushing against each other while your nails tease his scalp and neck. Your fingers curl into his dark strands, tugging until he grunts into the kiss—a fitting punishment for not reciprocating your affectionate words.

How could he focus on your words when his mind is occupied with finding a way out of these restraints? He tries to keep some blood in his brain, tries not to show just how much your little display turns him on. But it’s nearly impossible with the roll of your hips against him, with your plush breasts bouncing and pressing against his chest. "You're going to torture me because of my little act during the mission, aren’t you?" he finally deciphers, the possessive themes of the night at last forming a cohesive puzzle as Chrollo allows himself a moment to think. You need to hide your expression from him, need to avoid eye contact before he reads the answer from your face and makes you crumble in the palm of his hand.

"Think what you will," you sigh against the shell of his ear, praying that your lips on his neck and nails on his chest inflict enough sensations, painting his skin pink, purple, and red to distract him from thinking about your motives. You feel the moan vibrating through his body.

"If you tell me what you want, I might give it to you," you whisper against his skin, confident that he hears every word of yours. Your eyes flicker sideways to meet his hard stare. Chrollo is not much of a talker in these circumstances—his expression is usually enough to get people to behave. But in your case, it only spurs you on further. "Maybe you'll have to beg a little, but that wouldn't hurt, right?" His jaw tightens in response, lips pressing into a thin line, his eyes narrowing as his lids drop. Chrollo humours you by leaning in, the tip of his nose brushing along your jaw before he speaks into your ear: "Once I'm free, you'd better run for your life." The sparks that go off in your mind trickle all over your skin in the form of shivers and goosebumps.

"Baby..." you try to respond, but fuck, is that really your voice? You sound so aroused, it even catches Chrollo off guard. Maybe he's been too nice to you during your playtimes all along. Your eyes fall shut as your lips meet again, and you practically devour him, sucking the air from his lungs with a feverish kiss. One of your knees finds rest between his spread thighs while you cradle his neck in your hands, forcing him into submission as you lean above him.

You finally understand why he enjoys to torture you once you see the desperate mess you've turned him into: chest heaving and flushed, cheeks heated brightly as the red colour clashes with his messy black strands falling over his features. Your lips move on their own, forming words he would usually bring your way if the roles were reversed. "Such a pretty mess for me," you sigh in adoration before the creaking of the chair startles you slightly and turns you silent. You never expected Chrollo to be a man of sheer force to break free, but fortunately, the chair and rope are too sturdy to break that easily.

"You really wish to keep messing with me?" He warns lowly, his patience is starting to wear thin. Lucky for you, Chrollo's restraints only tighten further around his frame as he struggles, the friction burning his skin and making him moan—in pain or pleasure? "Do I look like someone who will surrender? You know better than that, kitten..."

The hands around his neck catch him off guard. You never expected yourself to hold him the way you love to be held, never thought your fingertips would push into his skin and constrict his breathing. But his shocked expression tells the tale, conveying his own surprise upon how brave you have grown to become.

"I told you to beg, Chrollo," you mouth against his lips, your thigh pushing against his cock. No matter how much he pretends to struggle and despise this, the hardness of his cock is evidence enough for you to continue.

"You won't make me do anything of the sort, sweetheart," Chrollo bites back, his pet names turning sour, you notice. Maybe playing with fire will get you burned. But he's tied up well—you made sure of that.

Actions speak louder than words—that’s the motto that guides you as you harshly release his face, pushing him back into his chair to do with his body as you please. Your fingers loop around the tight rope as you explore his body, tugging and tightening his prison, forcing reactions from his lips. Sharp hisses and low warnings to "Stop messing around" have long replaced his little act of keeping it all together. But how could you stop now? Not when you much prefer scratching over his abdomen and rubbing your palm over his clothed erection before unbuttoning his trousers to finally free his aching length. Chrollo would never deny himself pleasure—you know that much about him.

Hence why you push his thighs to spread further as you go down on your knees before him, your lips blowing cooling puffs of air over his cock. "Sure you don’t want to beg me to give you more?" your eyes flicker up to meet his lust-filled ones. Chrollo looks unnervingly calm given the circumstances, yet the alarm bells inside your mind take too long to go off.

"You will give me more, whether you want to or not." Chrollo watches with delight as your expression sours. All these emotions and thoughts running laps behind your pretty eyes—he can see them clearly. Good, be scared of him.

You take too long. Unfortunately, you are always two steps behind him.

"Too slow," his final warning, just before the ropes come undone in an instant. His large palm lands on the back of your neck, holding your face right in front of his crotch. "How!?" you whine pathetically, much to Chrollo's amusement. But he has no time for this farce anymore. Better to make you shut up, make you regret acting out like this. His free hand wraps around his cock, pushing the tip against your lips, tapping against your closed mouth once, twice, before the hand on your neck moves to grasp your jaw and force it open.

"C’mon, dear, don’t act like you didn’t want this to happen," he huffs while shoving his length into your mouth. There’s no mercy in his moves—not with the way Chrollo holds down your head, pressing your lips against the base of his cock until you choke on pre-cum, saliva, and his girth. "You’re in trouble now," he pants the warning over your back as he leans forward, blunt fingertips dragging over your spine while the fingers of his free hand fist strands of your hair. With little care for your scalp, he pulls you off, only to bring you forward to choke on his cock, again and again.

Chrollo bathes you in his moans, not bothering to hide the devious chuckles that mix with his sounds of pleasure as you cry for breath, your knees enduring the bruising pain of the rough carpet beneath you. "Can’t—can’t hear you, repeat that for me," he mocks as you try to protest his relentless assault. Your throat burns, your vision is blurred by tears spilling over your lash line. You smell only Chrollo, taste only Chrollo, feel only Chrollo. It’s too much to handle.

"Beg for me, huh? Beg for me to be nice and I might just be," yet the grip in your hair only tightens before he pulls you off. He wears a poker face, an expression devoid of emotion as he stares into your frightened one, basking in your pitiful state—puffy lips, tear-stained cheeks, and messy hair.

"Beg," he repeats, just as harshly as you did once before. One, two, Chrollo’s patience is already running thin thanks to your earlier games. Why even bother being nice?

"Chro—" you begin, only for him to shove you onto him again. "Scratch that, sweetheart—you brought this upon yourself."

You fully did. What were you even thinking when you tried to control a man like Chrollo? Did you really expect him to let you do whatever you wanted with him when he could, instead, face-fuck you until your filthy mouth is stuffed with his cum? All your mockery will now become a painful memory, a reminder of your place. A brat like you doesn’t deserve more than to be used without receiving any pleasure in return—your aching pussy will serve as a memento until your next encounter with Chrollo. You’d better not touch yourself until then.

divider by @/cafekitsune

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slut4thebroken · 1 month ago

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Mommy’s Pet

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary | You’re her pet.

Warnings | mentions of smut, blurb, mind control (obvi), mommy kink (obvi), idk

Words | 500+

Notes | lowkey I’m pretty sure this isn’t how her powers work but shhh 😭

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 3: mind control + master/slave

Wanda had found the perfect little pet. You were loyal and already attracted to her, which made it a lot easier for her to take control of your mind. The fact that you were usually fucked dumb also helped.

She got rid of all those silly thoughts that were running around in your pretty head— taking on the burden of making all of your decisions for you. In the rare event that she allowed you to wear more than a collar, she picked out your clothes for you. She liked to bathe you and brush your hair, treating you like a little doll. Then she liked using her doll for her pleasure.

Sometimes she liked to torture you instead. She rarely ever punished you because you were bad… She just punished you because she enjoyed it. If she was ever in a particularly cruel mood, she’d force all kinds of fantasies and scenarios in your imagination and tie you down, leaving you needy and aching for hours. Sometimes she’d take you over her lap and spank your ass raw, making you count every hit, starting over if you ever missed just one.

She didn’t want you to be completely brainless though so she left a small part of your head untouched— the part that made you a whiny, needy mess, begging for her and her touch. Wanda had gotten so accustomed to controlling your mind that any other thoughts of your own that might’ve slipped through her grasp were usually quiet enough that it didn’t take her focus away from what she was doing.

You were kneeling at her feet while she studied the Darkhold and she could faintly hear the thoughts that matched the way you were squirming a little. It was when your thoughts started getting disrespectful that she finally brought her attention down to you.

“Look at me.” She commanded, already able to feel the fear spreading through you. She suddenly reached out and grabbed your chin, pulling you up a little and closer to her as she leaned down. “I let you have some of your own thoughts and this is how you repay my generosity?” Your eyes were wide as you stared up at her, swallowing the lump in your throat. You opened and closed your mouth, floundering for a response. After a few seconds, you just bit your lip and shook your head.

“What mommy is doing is very important, baby. More important than you.” She noted the way her words made you frown. “And it’s especially more important than your needy little cunt.” She added, voice harsh enough to make you flinch slightly. Technically she could simultaneously study the Darkhold and give you attention, but since you resorted to calling the book stupid rather than asking nicely for her attention, she wasn’t going to give you any.

“I’m sorry, mommy.” You whimpered, biting your lip as a guilty expression took over your face.

“You are my slave, do you understand?” When her eyes turned red, you trembled beneath her and nodded frantically. Even her Sokovian accent was starting to slip out. “Nothing more. So, act like it.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximommy #wanda maximilf #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #Wanda Maximoff x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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mochie85 · 1 year ago

Note

As part of your 1k celebrations I would like to submit the following prompt for consideration 😁♥️ feel free to bend it to your will.

Your colleague Loki finds himself in your rooms at Stark Tower for (fairly) innocent reasons.

You arrive back unexpectedly. He hides, at first.

✨✨

Fairly Innocent

One Shot Masterlist | Follower Event Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

A/N: I apologize, with my whole heart, that it has taken me this long to finish this request. So long, that I have reached a new milestone since this request was made. But I hope you enjoy it. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Explicit. Smut, hand job, oral (female receiving), slight DOM vibes, voyeurism, shower scene, mention of 'toys'. Happy ending. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Your room was dark and cold. The curtains were shut leaving a small sliver of light shining from the cityscape outside. There was a stillness in the air from being untouched the last two weeks. “Now, where did she put you?” Loki hummed while looking around your room. He wandered in, using the access code you had given him. His prying eyes scanned and noted how orderly you left your room. And even after some time away, the room still smelled like you. Like citrus blooms on a winter morning.

Loki lent you some practice daggers a while ago and was keen to get them back. They were dull and lightweight. Perfect for beginner enthusiasts like the Widow, who wanted to add a new skill to her ledger. Whom Loki had promised to train, alongside you, in Asgardian combat.

Loki rummaged through your bookshelves, thinking you might have stashed them along with your books and souvenirs from your travels. He knew you loved to read. Your voracious appetite for mysteries and novels rivaled his own. He noted Robert Frost and Agatha Christie situated alongside the many romance novels.

Peculiar, he thought. He’d never known you to be interested in such fiction. You two had always discussed classic literature or Asgardian poetry. A Cheshire grin appeared on his face as he took a book with brightly colored Post-it notes sticking out of the top pages. He opened the paperback to a dog-eared page that was clearly read and reread extensively.

Lucy moaned as Cade’s fingers dipped inside her wet pussy. Trills of pleasure ran up her spine, making her unable to stand any longer. He gently stroked her as he whispered on her neck, “Don’t fight it, baby. Let go for me.”

Loki shut the book closed with wide eyes and a wider grin on his face. “Well, well, well. Who knew that the Avenger’s little darling liked to read smut?!” He said to himself looking at the volumes of romance books you had. He was quite impressed by your ability to surprise him. He thought he had you figured out. He might have to tease you about this when you return from your mission.

Loki searched your closet next, but he couldn’t find the daggers. He combed through hangers of clothing and shelves of shoe boxes till he stumbled upon several silk bags with rope tie enclosures. One bag had the length and shape of the daggers he was searching for. How sweet of her to care for the daggers and stash them in a silk purse. Loki opened the bag and reached in but was again surprised at what he found.

He pulled out a black, patent leather collar with a gold buckle. Glistening under the bright closet light, was a heart-shaped tag, hanging from the center. The name ‘Darling’ was inscribed in cursive. Stunned, Loki looked inside the sateen bag and pulled out what he mistook for his daggers- a short, riding crop that matched the patent leather of the collar. Hanging from the handle was a gold chain that had a tag etched, ‘Darling’s Master.’

An intrusive fantasy came unbidden in his mind. It was of you on all fours, with the collar adorning your neck and him standing behind you rubbing the tip of the crop against your dripping heat. “What other deliciousness are you hiding, my dear?” he whispered as he stowed the collar and whip and reached for another silk purse. Every bag he opened had a different set of negligees. Each one was more lascivious than the last.

The smile on his lips got darker as his body started responding to the different scenarios playing in his head. Each scene- novel and unique, to the set of lingerie he opened. More than once, he had to stop himself from reaching inside and rubbing the fine lace between his fingers. “Nope! No,” he chided himself. “Focus. I’m here for the daggers.” Loki took one last look and walked away before he could swipe one of your lace panties and put it in his back pocket like some pervert. “Daggers. Daggers…where are you daggers…”

He couldn’t stop smiling at the revelation he found. Memories of his last interaction with you played in his head under a new context. It was as if he was seeing you in a different light. Truth be told, he did always find you attractive. But he never once pursued it thinking it wouldn’t be favored by you, or any of the team. You didn’t get the title “The Avenger’s Little Darling” for nothing. You were beloved by all. And he was the untrustworthy, extra baggage that the team had to deal with so they could have Thor on their side.

He knew he couldn’t have you.

One last place he looked was your bedside table. If it’s not here, she must have taken them with her. Opening the drawer, Loki shouldn’t have been surprised at what he found, but he felt an exhilarating chill crawl throughout his body, nonetheless. A vibrator. A large, blue, silicone toy that was tapered at the end, was resting neatly inside. You naughty little minx.

Loki couldn’t help the state of arousal he was in. He stood up and stared at your toy, his fingers running puzzled against his lips. He imagined you spread on your bed, lost in the throes of your passion. What do you think about when you have your toy tucked inside your wet cunt? Who’s name do you moan when you’re at the edge of your climax about to fall? And how can he conspire to make sure you think of him?

Surprised, Loki looked up as he heard the keypad of your door unlocking. In a senseless rush, he closed your drawer and cloaked himself invisible. He didn’t want anyone to find him snooping around your belongings. He stood still as he blended with the shadows of your room.

He shouldn’t have hid. You did give him the access code to your room. You trusted him enough to be in here. But there was something so intimate about the things he found. He felt exposed and guilty. Loki didn’t want anyone to think of him being nefarious with you.

A small sigh of relief flooded him when he realized it was you, back from your assignment. He opened his mouth to speak and announce his presence, but he couldn’t. So many questions rushed through his mind. He wanted to ask all of them! Yet, he was struck immovable by your presence.

Had you always been so lovely? Had your eyes always been that bright and alluring? Your smile, an invitation for his lips?

Were his discoveries about you finally shedding light as to who you might be, underneath the perfect façade you seem to have cultivated for yourself? Everything he found was, he swore to the gods, erotic and arousing. But it was the fact that you surprised him that made his level of attraction to you grow.

You walked in with a heavy sigh, setting your duffel bag down on your bed and your boots onto the floor. You didn’t bother turning on your lights, as you zipped your body suit down and peeled off your armor. A rather tame set of black lace underwear shaped your body. Your exposed skin turned a rich shade in the darkness of your room.

Loki noted some bruises and scars peppering your body. The fresh welts were colored green and blue indicating they were recent and most likely acquired from your latest mission. You massaged your neck and rolled your shoulders trying to ease the ache settling into your bones.

Loki watched as you made your way, routinely, to your en suite and turned on the lights. A loud rush of water from the shower rumbled through, disturbing the silence that had enveloped you both. It took his entire strength as a god to keep standing where he was and not follow you to watch.

New fantasies came unbidden in his mind of you naked and wet in the shower. I need to leave. I need to depart before I do something that both of us would regret. He waited till he heard you close your shower door. The water made loud splashes as it hit against different curves of your body.

A few more minutes and Loki found he could move again. With a shaky breath, he exhaled and made his way to your door. He would’ve continued if it weren’t for your small sighs. Soft moans and whimpers traveled to his god-like hearing. She’s touching herself?!

Loki balled his fist to elicit pain. His fingernails dug deep into the pad of his palms, trying to overcome the overwhelming state of arousal he was in.

“…Loki…”

He stopped and nearly fell to his knees. You said his name! The honeyed tones of your moans dripped over him. Coating his entire body in primal need until it reached his cock and hardened.

He couldn’t leave now. He wouldn’t. He turned on his heel and slowly lifted his cloak, risking everything by pushing the door slightly more open.

Loki licked his lips at the sight of you lost in your orgasm. Your head was thrown back as water trickled down your body. The droplets guiding his eyes down…

…down…

…to where your fingers played with your aching cunt. Your hands explored your curves. Every dip. Every hollow. Every scrumptious mound that he wanted to devour himself.

He stood at your en suite door, his arms holding the frame above his head. He didn’t trust himself to come closer to you. Not until you allowed it. Not until you saw how his eyes became ravenous at the sight of you touching yourself to thoughts of him.

“Loki!? What the hell are you doing?” you screamed out, startled. His eyes traveled back up to yours as you finally acknowledged his presence. Your body turned flush from the heat of the water and the embarrassing situation you found yourself in.

Loki freed himself from your door and tried to answer. Nothing came out but a quivering breath and a small growl of desire. His eyes narrowed and he bit his lip. He took a step forward and closed your bathroom door behind him making your heart drop. He slowly made his way to you. Sluggish feet carrying him across your tiled floors. “Don’t stop on my account, Darling.”

“Why are you here?” you demanded.

“I heard you call out my name. And I am nothing if not a benevolent god who answers your prayers.” It was as if a switch was turned on and Loki couldn’t stop until he had you.

He watched you back into the tile of your shower. You looked like a caged animal put there for his viewing pleasure. “Why are you here?!” you repeated. It’s too late to be demure. He’s seen everything.

“I came looking for the daggers I lent you. I looked everywhere in your room. I couldn't find them.” Loki’s voice was deep but clear. You could hear the dangerous desire in his tone as he reached for the door to your shower. On instinct, you reached for the handle, stopping him from opening it.

The chase became real. He had to have you. The last hour he spent combing through your suggestive belongings had built a naughty little version of you in his head. Like a puzzle. It was the most erotically charged moment he’d ever spent. And now? Now, you were denying him!

“Last chance, Darling. If you want me to leave now, say so,” he said with a smile. “But I promise you this. I won’t stop till I have you.” His breath steamed the glass doors. Your heart pounded inside your chest as you looked into his dark eyes.

You let go of the handle and stepped back. Loki opened the door slowly, anticipation building up and pooling in between your thighs. “Good girl.”

Loki walked into your shower, still clothed. The scalding water penetrated through his white cotton shirt making it translucent under the spray. You could trace the lines of his muscle underneath. His hair became slick and affixed itself against his face. He towered over you, as he leaned over with one arm against the shower wall.

Fuck!

He lowered his face. His nose brushed against the tip of yours and you could taste his breath against your lips. “What were you thinking about?” he asked looking deep into your eyes. “And remember, I can tell when you’re lying.”

You quivered at his voice. You looked down embarrassed. “No, no. Look at me.” He said grabbing your chin and forcing you to look back at him. He kept his fingers on your face, gently stroking your jaw.

“I was thinking about you,” you admitted. Your voice was so small. You felt so fragile in his hands.

“Go on, sweet thing. What prayer can your god answer for you tonight?” he encouraged. You were mesmerized by his stare. His voice lulled you to a sense of heat and longing.

“I pictured…touching you,” you started. “I fantasized about your body holding mine.” Loki licked his lips and the tip of his tongue brushed against your mouth. It tingled and the sensation moved throughout your body, awakening every cell within it.

“Like this?” he asked, grabbing your hand gently and placing it underneath his soaked shirt. He guided your hand up his torso and held it there. You could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he guided you over his stiff nipple and then down his lean abs.

Loki didn’t take his eyes off you once. He watched how your eyes widened at his boldness. How your lips parted when you finally touched him. How your whole body moved just a fraction closer to him, capturing him in a lust-filled haze of his own.

He continued steering your hand down his body, past the hem of his pants to his aching bulge. He was big. And hard. You couldn’t imagine what he would look like, what he would feel like, once he took it out. He kept your hand on his cock, driving your hand up and down. “Keep your hand on me,” he instructed. The steam from the shower did little to prevent the shiver that ran down your spine. Nor did it hide the wetness that was now dripping from you.

“Can you feel how hard I am for you?” his arms encircled your body, pulling you closer to him. His mouth incased your lips in an uncontrollable kiss. He weaved his deft fingers into your wet hair, pulling your head back to kiss you at a deeper angle. He inhaled deeply, smelling the clean scent of your soap and shampoo.

He groaned into your mouth when he felt your hand reach inside his pants and squeeze him tightly. Loki’s eyes rolled back as you expertly palmed his stiff cock. You felt the veins pulsing in your fingertips as you pumped his dick mercilessly. He leaned over you, caging you between the wall and his eager body.

“Don’t stop, Darling,” he whimpered in your ear. “Don’t stop.” Loki bucked his hips into your hands. He captured your lips one last time before he moaned your name, releasing the pent-up arousal he’d been holding in. He fell apart in your hands, and you continued till you milked every last drop from him.

Before the water could wash away your efforts, you licked off two of your fingers, tasting his offerings. “There she is,” he said with a devilish grin. He was waiting for the real you to come forth. You seemed so demure and shy at the beginning. Nothing at all like what he found out you were. The one who reads erotic novels over and over again. The one who hides their toy on the bedside table, ready to go. The one who has a patent leather collar with their pet name etched into it.

Loki growled at the memory. He will see you in that collar. He’ll make sure of it. “But for now, I want a taste,” he said to himself. Loki started with your mouth, sampling himself in your kiss. You winced slightly when he reached for your waist. Reacting from a sensitive bruise that you acquired from your mission.

“Do you think your body can handle a couple more bruises from me, Darling?” he asked earnestly. You swallowed thickly and nodded. Loki proceeded to grab your hips and hold you in place, while his mouth eagerly marked your neck. He continued down to the base of your throat as he knelt in front of you. He captured your breasts with his tongue, paying them each attention. Your hands rested on his shoulders, gathering the white cotton in your hands as you fisted it.

When he reached your stomach, he was gentle and sweet. His hands secured your waist, pushing you slightly higher. “Wrap your leg around me,” he directed. You obeyed and placed your left leg on his shoulder.

Drips of water still fell from the shower. Loki licked and slurped each drop that fell onto your thighs. He flattened his tongue and licked a wide stripe on your warm cunt. “Fuck…Loki,” you screamed when he latched onto your nub, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He looked up at you and watched you as you threw your head back, your ecstasy showing through.

“Did you like that, Darling?”

“Mmyes,” you whined. “God, yes!”

Loki repeated his actions, holding onto your thigh, as he savored your clit. You couldn’t hold yourself up any longer. Your knees were weakening, and you had nothing to hold onto as your hands slipped against the tile of your shower wall. “Loki, please,” you panted.

“I need to be inside you,” he moaned. The sooner he can make you cum in here, the sooner he can properly bed you on top of your sheets. He looked deep into your eyes and you almost didn’t recognize him. Hunger and desperation were hanging on his brows. The sight of him in between your legs, the feel of his lips latching onto your folds, the weight of his fingers thrusting inside you. It was all-encompassing and all too consuming.

“Oh, God! Loki!” you screamed as he inserted another finger. You laced your hand through his drenched hair, pulling every time his tongue flicked your nub. “Please, I need you inside me too. I need…” your breathing came in harsher. The steam almost suffocating you as you come closer and closer to that edge, waiting to fall.

“Don’t fight it, Darling. Let go for me,” Loki quoted your book, making you clench around his fingers. One last thrust into you and you screamed your release. Loki lapped up your swollen pussy with a greedy smile, making you shudder.

Hours later, you and Loki were lying on the floor of your room. Blankets and pillows surround you while your legs and arms tangle with each other, holding each other tightly. You were running your finger up and down his chest as he read aloud a passage from one of your “smutty romance books,” as he called them.

His voice was magnetic and hypnotizing. Every word he said came to life inside your head. “Hmm, we might have to re-enact this one,” he teased after he finished a scene.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t hear the last word you said. It just came out. You couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. From bending to his will and wanting to please him.

“I was curious about something,” he grinned, biting his lip. “Which I hope you can enlighten me...”

“Yes?”

“When I was looking for the daggers, I came across this.” He conjured up your patent leather collar and held it up against the dim light. He next conjured up the matching riding crop and showed you the tag that was hanging from the handle. “Who was your master?” Loki asked, unsure whether he wanted to know the answer. “Why do you have this and not them?”

“I never had one,” you admitted sheepishly. “I bought that in hopes of using it one day. But we never worked out.”

“I see,” he said with a devious smirk.

“It was so pretty. I couldn’t just get rid of it.”

“Sit up. Hold your hair, while I put this on you.” You obeyed his instructions. A pool of desire is already forming in between your legs as he tightens the collar around your neck. The heart-shaped tag, ‘Darling’ felt heavy and cold as he placed it neatly on the base of your throat.

Loki wiped his thumb over the tag of the whip. Newly etched, in bold letters, was his name instead. “Well, it’s mine now, darling,” he grinned as he tested the switch on his hand. The sharp thwack stung his palm. Your heart started beating quicker.

“On your knees,” he growled.

“Yes, sir.”

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief ++

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eevees-hobbies · 3 months ago

Text

Like Magnets Do (Fem!Reader x Hayato Suo) - NSFW

Synopsis: Who wouldn’t want to work at a bookstore for the Summer?! But there’s just something about your boss, Hayato Suo, that rubs you the right kind of way. Sure, he’s an asshole, but the bookish types usually are! Enjoy your Summer job, and please try not to entice your boss!

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Hayato Suo. I do not condone the actions written in this story. As always, this is a piece of fiction, so please consume responsibly and mind the content warnings. Obsession, mention of stalking, boss-employee relationship (NO!), flirting/sexual activity at work (NO!!), fingering, panties in mouth, dominant/submissive play. Reader likes it all. Minors Do Not Interact.

Author’s Note: Part of the Help Wanted: @interstellar-inn collab event. This man is really hard to write 2K words for but this was a welcome exercise in brevity! Thank you to @suosgirl for reminding me of Suo’s tumultuous relationship with reader’s panties.

Word Count: 2.0K

Story banner by me. Dividers by Saradika.

You were ecstatic when you saw the “Help Wanted” sign on your college campus indicating that your favorite small business bookstore needed help for the Summer. Being surrounded by literature and like-minded bookworms was a life-long fantasy that was only a paper application away–yeah, paper.

Red Flag #1:

You filled out said application and were immediately called for an interview that day.

Red Flag #2:

You interviewed with the owner of the store, an older gentleman who rushed you through your answers to very simplistic questions: “Do you read?” “Do you know how to sweep?” To your non-surpise, you were hired on the spot.

The Reddest Flag of Them All:

On your first day, you asked a colleague about the whereabouts of the older gentleman who had hired you. They simply gave you a look of pity as they counted down their register to clock out.

“Oh, you must have interviewed with Bill. Bill doesn’t really “manage” the bookstore. He pops in occasionally, sure, but we report to something else.”

You tilted your head at his word choice. Something else? At seeing your confusion, your co-worker gave you a pat on the shoulder and dropped a bomb that you weren’t expecting on your first day.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s my last day anyway. Now you can deal with him.” As he concluded his dramatic sentence, the bell that indicated someone had entered the store jingled softly, and the most breathtakingly handsome man strolled in.

You put on your best customer-friendly smile, and as he approached you, your heartbeat thundered in time with the resounding tempo of his footsteps. He gave you a small smile, his eye closed, the other covered by an eyepatch, and he opened his mouth.

“Ah, you must be the newest meat. We’ll see how long you last.”

How’s that for an orientation?

The weeks that followed were like going through your own version of hell. Your new boss, who you had learned was named Hayato Suo, was a complete asshole. You could feel him breathing down your neck as he criticized your filing technique or how you couldn’t immediately identify the name of a book that a customer wanted. He had a snarky remark for everything, but worst of all was not how he spoke to you but how fucking attractive he was.

You constantly found your eyes lingering on how he smiled at customers upon helping them with daunting requests or how his fingers would stroke the spine of books as he determined if they were worth pulling from the shelf. And despite your best effort–and you really fucking tried—you found yourself developing a bit of a crush on your asshole of a boss.

To you, Suo was just a simple Summer crush. There was no way your boss could ever be into you, right?

You wouldn’t know this because of his calm demeanor, but the first time Suo laid his eyes on you, he nearly had to remind himself to breathe. To Suo, everything about you is simply perfect. His attraction to you felt natural, and it also felt painfully inevitable. Not recognizing the immediate pull he had to you would be like denying himself of oxygen, which was a fact that had him often drumming his fingers against his desk in annoyance.

But instead of pushing you away, Suo felt himself gravitating towards you every chance he could. He often stalked closely behind you to monitor the way you put away books in an attempt to catch the intoxicating scent of your hair.

Your voice, which sounded of gospel, had him tuning into the conversations you had with customers–his eyes narrowing as other students would enter the bookstore just to steal away the precious time you had together. Never mind that they may or may not have been flirting; they were simply a hindrance during a time when Suo needed to bond with you. They were an obstacle that limited his ability to make you see the truth: that you two were perfect for one another.

And Suo was painfully aware that he only had you for the Summer when, in actuality, he wanted a lifetime. Time was of the essence, so he needed to act fast.

Suo was solely responsible for the schedule, so he ensured all your shifts included working alongside him. If Suo was opening the following day, he saw you bright and early—never mind that he was pushing a cup of coffee in your hand that was your exact order down to the amount of sugar you liked; he was just very observant, ok?

If Suo were closing, he’d insist on walking you to your car because you could never be too safe, and he wanted to make sure that you were going home alone because if you were going home with any gentlemen, it should be him.

Next were the light touches.

When you would attempt to reach a book that was far too high for your reach—and maybe he was the one who sent you to that particular section in search of that novel knowing you’d have trouble–semantics! He’d watch as you’d outstretch your body, the way your curves beckoned to him, his eyes sweeping over you with lustful satisfaction that made the hair on the back of his neck stand. He’d slowly walk up behind you, lean against you to the point that the heat from your bodies entangled one another, and place a seemingly innocent hand on the small of your back and retrieve the book.

As you looked over your shoulder at his unexpected proximity, your eyes catching his, you couldn’t help but notice the look in his eyes. Something in the pit of your stomach told you that maybe you should run–or at the very least call HR because you were most certainly in the jaws of something predatory–but there were two issues: there was no HR department, and you kind of had a thing for men that looked at you like you were something to be devoured.

It all came to a boiling point one night while you both closed the store.

As you were wiping down one of the display tables, you couldn’t help but feel eyes on you. You made a show of bending over further to give him a better view of your backside. You hadn’t thought he took the bait until you felt hot breath on the back of your neck and a sharp, strained voice in your ear.

“You do that on purpose, don’t you?” Long fingers curled around your hips as you felt him pushing you against the table. You, being the asshole that you are, decided to do the worst thing you could do to someone who doesn’t take teasing well–you laughed.

“Do what on purpose? Whatever hard-on you have for me is your problem.”

“You think so? You don’t think I catch you staring at me? You don’t think I see how you look at me? You’re insatiably filthy.”

“You haven’t seen insatiable, Suo, and I don’t think you could handle me at ‘insatiable.’”

Suo’s eyes widened slightly as he realized he had misunderstood you all along–you weren’t as innocent as you looked, which made him far more excited. His gaze darkened as he leaned forward, pressing his erection against the valley of your fabric-clad ass in your skirt. “I’m going to have fun breaking you tonight. Finish closing up and meet me in my office when you’re done.”

As your eyes wandered to the ‘We are Open” sign facing into the store's interior, you briefly contemplated an alternative universe where you hung up your apron and left the bookstore, never to return. But that alternative universe sounded boring, and if you weren’t being threatened by intense sexual undertones from your remarkably hot Summer boss, were you genuinely having a good time?

No, of course not.

As you finished your duties, you cautiously pushed the door open to Suo’s office. He sat at his desk, and instead of appearing stern and upset, he seemed almost pleased, which frightened you more. He lifted a finger and pointed to the middle of the rug as he walked around his desk.

Your eyes flickered between the rug in front of you and him. As you hesitated, Suo was on you in an instant, pushing you up against the wall, his fingers digging into your thighs as the nearby items on shelves clattered to the floor,

He leaned in, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. “You’re still willing to play these silly games with me? Despite this magnetic pull between us?”

“I’m not going to ask you again.” Suo suddenly pulls away, strides back to his desk, and leans against it as he looks at you with a neutral expression. And despite every fiber in your being telling you to not make this easy for him, you feel your legs moving your body to the center of the rug.

It must be that damn magnetic pull he was talking about earlier.

As you lowered yourself to the floor, you were stopped in a crouching position as Suo's voice halted your movement. “Your hesitancy from earlier has cost you the privilege of wearing panties. Take them off and give them to me.”

Your eyes shot up to his, and you saw unwavering and unbridled absolution in his eyes. You shivered as you hiked up your skirt and hooked your fingers around the hem of your panties. You maintained eye contact with him as you tossed them to him. His eyes narrowed as he caught them, but he said nothing of your continued bratty attitude.

“Now crawl to me.”

Like a good girl, you follow his orders, and he offers you a hand–a kind gesture that puts you on edge. As he pulls you up, he presses your underwear to your lips, and once again, like a good girl, you obey by opening your mouth.

He gives you a pleased smile before leaning in; his lips pressed to your ear as he poses a demand. “Tell me that you need me to touch you. Tell me that you want this, bunny.”

As you give him a muffled whine of approval, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he tilts his head in mock confusion. Fine, you think, I’ll just fucking show you. You hike one leg up on the desk, effectively pinning him in and allowing him the inability to deny that this is something you want.

And with the urgency of someone who has been dreaming of this very moment with you, Suo pulls your skirt up and slips his fingers inside your heat. And at first, he’s gentle, but as your muffled moans spur him on, he can’t help how he curls his fingers to hit your g-spot or the way he simultaneously rubs his palm against your swollen and aching clit. He watches you with such intensity that it makes you feel akin to being under a microscope. You can feel him studying you, committing every expression and involuntary movement to memory.

His fingers explore you hungrily; he flicks his wrist, and his eyes stay locked onto your face as he finds the spot he knows that can make you shatter. His kisses along your jaw feel scalding, and you can feel the upward twitch of his lips as your eyes roll back for him.

He wants to see you at your most vulnerable and your most beautiful. He wants to see you unravel in the messiest of ways for him. And when you finally climax, he lets out a shaky breath, an indication that he’s so very close to losing control of himself—and all for you.

“There you go, bunny. You’re so much more tolerable when you have that look on your face.”

With a snort, you adjust your clothes as Suo’s intense gaze lingers. His voice sounds level as he speaks, “Semester starts Monday, but I can adjust your schedule to accommodate your classes…”

And while you hadn’t intended for this Summer job to be anything but a quick and easy way to make money, you truly can’t deny the force of the pull you feel for him.

“That sounds great, boss.”

#wind breaker #hayato suo #suo x reader #suo hayato #windbreaker smut #wind breaker smut #collaboration #collaboration event #interstellar inn

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bitethedevil · 1 month ago

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I swear, I’m minutes away from pulling out a giant bulletin board and covering it in pieces of string that connect Rafael to every single event in the game. I feel like a crazy person, but I know that he basically spiderwebbed most of the plot together.

Goddamn it, anon (said lovingly). Now I feel like making my own too. Because I swear, he pops up all over the place, even just for stuff that’s not even plot relevant.

Spot the Devil: Raphael's Involvement in the plot

I’ll start out with letters and books I’ve found that made me go “hmmmm”.

Letter in the Harpy Nest (Maybe)

When you’ve saved Mirkon he mentions something about a nest nearby. If you get to it there is a ring, a journal, and a letter. The letter is what made me go “hmm”. You can read the full thing here. Basically, a guy named Edmund tells wife/girlfriend that she doesn’t have to worry about someone named Maggie Two-Fingers anymore, because he has settled a debt. To pay off said debt, he makes a deal with a cambion and becomes a warlock:

”[…] I took the deal the cambion offered. I'm not going to say I had no choice, because that would be a lie. But I don't regret it. I'm a new man. I feel strong for the first time in my life. Aside from being awoken in the middle of the night by the smell of sulphur (he likes to drop by to 'see how everything is going') I have no complaints […]”

Now, there was a journal too, but I don’t believe the two things were related, even though the journal talks about a devil too. From what I can see, the journal is an easter egg for a campaign called ‘Tomb of Annihilation’. Besides, Edmund is going to Icewind Dale and the campaign takes place in Chult.

It just makes sense to me if its Raphael. We know he hangs out near the grove because we get jumpscared by him before going to this area. It could be our boy and with how much he pops up constantly it wouldn’t surprise me.

A Pleasurable Deal (Maybe)

You can pry this theory from my cold dead hands: Raphael was involved in making this play. It stinks of him.

So, A Pleasurable Deal is an erotic play. The plot isn’t completely written out, but a cambion, who is named Carlisle in the play, is involved.

“Carlisle: Weep not, young man, though free your wife has fled,

And comfort found in comrade's arms and bed.

She licks her lips and cries his name, oh my!

And now you seek to be the apple of her eye?”

Carlisle basically helps a man named Robert get a bigger dick, or…something along those lines. The ”apple of her eye” line is just so Raphael. The whole thing is, to be honest. In the A Pleasurable Deal: The Shocking Truth, it’s revealed that the author sold her soul to make it:

“Interviewer: So .. what was your deal?

Harp: I beg your pardon?

Interviewer: In fact, this was your directorial debut, wasn't it? You couldn't even get published in the tabloid 'Baldur's Bash' before this play came out. Did you honestly trade your soul for an erotic play?

Harp: I- all right, we're done here.”

I mean, come on. This is so him. It’s right up his alley.

Devil Don’t Rhyme

This is a book you can find in the Devil’s Den. Devil Don’t Rhyme is definitely about him:

“[This is a heroic fantasy in verse form, told in the first person by a bold poet who challenges a devil (clearly modelled on Raphael) to an improvised poetry contest to win back the soul of his lover. The following couplet has been circled in red ink.]

'If the line doesn’t scan,' the devil sneers, 'you forfeit your soul and end in tears.' / 'Ha! I’ll keep my time and make my rhyme, with vim and snap and no "down came the claw" crap.'”

Which is just so fucking funny to me. He has been seething and underlining the parts that prove it’s about him.

Alright, onto actual events: Netheril

Raphael was there when Netheril fell. He told us in the Devil’s Den. He has been searching for the Crown of Karsus ever since. He saw the entirety of Karsus’s fuck-up, but didn’t manage to snatch up the Crown of Karsus itself. We do know, however, that he has other Netherese artifacts (the Archivist says so). The Regalia of Karsus were three objects and Raphael has at least one, meaning that if Raph gets the crown, he has a much bigger chance at actually controlling it and using it like it's supposed to be used. This might also be why Mephistopheles hasn't used it: he doesn't have the other artifacts to properly harness its powers.

There are also theories that he has been skulking about and trying to find it after. There’s a really well written theory by @firlionemoontav that connects him to Lenore from the Arcane Tower in the Underdark. He has left no stone unturned.

Orpheus and Vlaakith

I learned about this from an amazing theory post made by @certifieddilfenjoyer

When you go to the Astral Plane, near Orpheus, there is this Githyanki slate that you can find. It depicts Vlaakith making a deal with a Devil, “his face twisted with wry charm”, for the Astral prism. Yeah, Orpheus’ imprisonment? Raphael helped with that. He even taunts Orpheus while he waits for us to approach him and says something about him looking good in chains or something along those lines (kinky old man yaoi).

And honestly, it makes perfect sense as to why he has the hammer then. The hammer has multiple purposes, but in About Creation of the Orphic Hammer he mentions it as “insurance policy”:

“The Hammer is not a weapon, it is an insurance policy. Its function is specific, but its utility is boundless. No chains forged by infernal hand can withstand its power, for its core is a metalifferous compound combining the purest of essence of all Nine hells. If I should ever need to liberate the prisoners held in the Iron City of Dis, to shatter the vaults of Nargus, or even to free the child of Gith, my hammer will be equal to the task.”

Makes good sense because what he has done with the Astral Prism is a pretty big deal and hard to undo otherwise.

Moonrise Towers, the Gauntlet of Shar and Astarion

So, Raphael makes a deal with the architect of Moonrise Towers, who you also see wandering around the House of Hope. The architect gives up his soul in exchange for Raphael ending Ketheric’s army.

To do that, he sends Yurgir who is tasked with killing every last justiciar. Raphael then makes a deal with one of the justiciars who he then turns into a bunch of rats so that Yurgir can’t fulfill his contract.

We then help Yurgir or kill him, and Raphael helps us with Astarion’s scars. (This is just me theorizing from here) I find it kind of interesting that Raphael seems to know so much about Astarion. You get the feeling that he has obviously done his research on all of the companions, but with Astarion he makes that nasty “you’ve kept your clothes on this entire time? How unlike you” comment. Astarion would be such an easy target to go after, which makes me believe that Raph definitely knew beforehand about Astarion AND Mephistopheles’ deal with Cazador, but he hasn’t been able to pettily do something about it before the things that happen in BG3. But he has kept an eye on it. He can’t be seen defying his father like that directly, after all. I just find it hard to believe that Raph wouldn't jump at the business opportunity of 7000 desperate vampires hiding in Baldur's Gate. Like he definitely knows.

Gortash

Raphael bought Gortash from his parents when he was a kid, and Gortash eventually got out. It’s quite possible that Gortash only knew about the Crown of Karsus because of Raphael. He even went through Raphael’s house to steal the crown (and probably took a portal from there to Cania).

Might also be the only reason that he would ever make a deal with Zariel. He knows the Hells and how they work. In a way its even more of a “fuck you” that he goes to Zariel because she is far above Raphael as she is the Archdevil of Avernus (and thus she is sort of Raph’s boss). We also don't know what Gortash gets in return for handing Karlach to Zariel. It's speculated that it has something to do with the construction of the Steel Watch, but it wouldn't surprise me if peace from Raphael was a part of it too.

A world without Raphael

So, basically: had Raphael not been there, Orpheus would be free and a whole people would have had very different lives under someone else than the Vlaakiths, because Orpheus would have rebelled and told everyone what she did to Gith (his mother). We wouldn’t have had the Astral Prism to protect us, but on the other hand, we might not even have had the whole tadpole business to deal with anyway if Gortash didn’t know where the Crown of Karsus was. The whole thing could literally have been avoided.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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delta-pavonis · 21 days ago

Text

Fic: Solar Futhark

Dreamling (Solarpunk Urban Fantasy AU) | Rated E | 8.2k words | complete

CW: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Solarpunk, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Drow!Dream, Druid!Dream, Half-elf!Hob, GunslingerBard!Hob, investigators, work partners, partners to lovers, banter, temporary bodyswap, being captured, held prisoner together, starvation, tied together, confessions under duress, love confessions, soulmates, mates, escape, prison break, animal transformation, possessive Dream, matriarchal drow society, subjugated male drow, male gestation, male pregnancy, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of platonic soulmates, Dream has a cock and a cunt, pussy eating champion Hob Gadling, cunnilingus, oral sex, vaginal fingering, squirting and vaginal ejaculation, vaginal sex, anal fingering, hair-pulling, rough sex, cum slut Dream, sex magic, Hob probably has a copy of the Belmont Book of Penis Spells, large cock, multiple orgasms, discussion of fisting, happy ending

(AO3 hates me right now, so I will post this there later.)

Hob cackles as he tucks the large hourglass under his arm and fucking runs.

“Oh, what the hell…” Dream drops the vase of flowers he had been planning on using as an improvised weapon and takes off after his partner. A partner who is rapidly climbing the rankings for stupidest sentient being Dream has ever known. “Gadling! What in the name of every god extant and extinct do you think you are doing?”

The half-elf startles for just a moment as Dream easily catches up to him despite his head start and the crowded market streets. “This is evidence, right?”

At this rate Dream is going to pull a muscle rolling his eyes at Hob. “We do not steal evidence! I do not have the least idea of where you learned how to be an investig–”

“Pirates!” He chirrups happily, skidding around a corner as horns start to sound the alarm throughout the resonant underground halls of the Duergar city.

The answer is so absurd that Dream is struck speechless.

Then a rumble sounds to their right and it has Dream reaching across Hob's chest to grab his gun in its shoulder holster under his duster. Luckily the gun and the hourglass are not under the same arm, because Dream is completely out of spells, both divine and arcane. He jumps ahead up the stairs and twists, taking two shots at their pursuers and grinning when he hears a shout of explicatives.

Another set of stairs, then they are scrambling up a wall, grabbing the bottom rung of a camouflaged ladder, and are back in the surface’s sewers before the next round of horns sound. Dream slides the cover over the secret entrance and breathes a sigh of relief as, with a golden shimmer, it seals itself once again.

Panting and apparently completely uncaring of the state of the water around their feet, Hob drops to his arse with a thud. Little bits of duckweed and algae slop up onto Dream’s boots.

“We should keep moving.” Dream scowls at his footwear as he also breathes in huge, heaving gulps. “We don't know the power of their artificers and–”

“Don't have ‘em,” Hob shakes his head. “It made bartering for certain items with them a total crapcircus because they didn't value the same basic material goods. Everything they do is mechanical. Non-magic. Luckily we didn't get stuck down there often.” Dream just stares at him; theoretically those are all common words, but fuck if he parses their meaning right now with the adrenaline crash just starting to take its toll. Hob smirks, lopsided and definitely not charming. Absolutely not. “Pirates, remember?”

He feels a headache coming on and so pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you actually trying to tell me that before joining the Houndsguild you were a Hawkshaw?”

“Uh… yes?” Hob blinks at him as if Dream is the one asking the dumb question. “Thirteen years. Is that so hard to believe?”

Dream just stares. If this half-elf was a Hawkshaw, one of the pirate codekeepers (the closest to lawmen such outlaws might ever get), then there is so much more here to uncover, so much more to Hob, that he isn't even sure where to start. Hob drops back down in Dream's mental rankings of stupidity. Dream breathes out and now, a little calmer, some of Hob's behaviors slot into place. The impulsivity. The recklessness. The charisma to get himself out of just about any problem caused by said impulsivity and recklessness. “No, actually, now that I think of it. It makes some sense.”

The smile that brightens Hob's face is also extremely not charming. Or cute. No. Not at all. “Help me up?” He holds out his hand and Dream automatically grips his forearm as he continues to speak, “I know we got off on the wrong foot when we first met, but I hope you are coming to realize that in this, in solving cases like these at least, I am actually competent.”

Dream grudgingly nods, but also cannot resist the opportunity for a good jibe. “It at least explains why when we first met you were balls deep in the barmaid bouncing on your lap in the middle of a crowded tavern.” He smirks back, trying to convey that he isn't really judging, just teasing. “Never met a Hawkshaw who didn't want to be the absolute center of attention.”

Hob splutters out a laugh and gets his feet under him, blushing all the while. “Hey there! It is a specific tactic! Think of it like slight-of-hand and bardic performance had a baby, but it acts on a group level. While everyone is busy watching me…”

“Your fellows are working without being noticed.” Dream shakes his head ruefully, ceding the point to Hob. “Not bad.”

“Fun, too.” Hob's grin goes lopsided again as he waggles his eyebrows and he stares at Dream for a beat longer than necessary. Dream has to resist fidgeting under that warm gaze and so distracts himself with their usual banter.

“If that is your kink, then I am sure it is fun.” Speaking of fun, watching Hob's eyes widen and his neck flush when Dream says the word ‘kink’ is extremely fun. He studies his fingernails and tries to exude nonchalance. “Exhibitionism isn't really to my taste, though. More of a leather and ropes type myself.” He hears Hob inhale sharply and smirks, still not looking up. “Did you know that if you get strips of leather soaking wet they shrink and constrict as they dry?”

Dream looks at Hob through his lashes, sees him open-mouthed and panting, eyes dilated. Delightful.

Maybe he will be able to get through this partnership with his dignity intact after all. Or, at least, Dream certainly won't be the first one to lose his composure.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“Got you,” Hob thrills at hearing the voice he now commands come out as that rumbling purr he loves so much. “Do you yield?”

He looks down to see his own face twisted with a sneer that is familiar but he has never seen on his own features. “Absolutely not.”

It is decidedly strange to hear his own voice this way–not quite similar enough to trigger the embarrassment one feels when listening to a recording, but still disconcerting.

Then again, all of this is disconcerting and decidedly strange. He is currently inhabiting the body of his work partner, a drow who Hob had fallen ass over tea kettle for decades ago. He is using said drow’s body to pin his own to the dirt in a forest clearing outside the overgrown castle ruins they just investigated. They are now speaking again after a long stretch of silence, a silence that was only interrupted because their respective bosses told them they had to work together on this case. Which was very much not how Hob had imagined their reconnection going, but beggars can't be choosers. Or so humans say.

Hob is learning quickly that drow not only look different than other elf-kin, but that they see, hear, and smell differently, too. It makes sense, given that their senses are attuned to a vastly different environment, but as a half wood-elf he had just never thought of it before.

As Hob lowers his face, Dream's long white hair cascades over his shoulder. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

He flexes his hands around the wrists he has pinned and spreads them wider, giving him a stance with the leverage to hop up and have his feet come down between Dream-in-his-body’s calves with enough force to pry his legs apart. The elf beneath him grunts as his thighs splay and their pelvises crash together. Even through the spelled denim they wear Hob can feel how aroused his friend is, no matter how he denies or ignores it.

“I feel it is rather narcissistic of you to enjoy the possibility of a sexual encounter with your own body.” He relishes the breathlessness he can hear in his own voice, how the body beneath him trembles. Hob knows exactly what has to happen to drive his own body to that point and if he is causing that in Dream… well. He was rather hoping they could have one of their catfight fuck sessions before the curse wears off.

“Come on,” Hob says, enjoying the rough, raw sexuality he can convey with just a slight change in tone with Dream’s vocal cords. “It gives a whole new meaning to go fuck yourself.”

It is fascinating to see what is so clearly Dream's eyeroll cross his own face. Drow vision is far more sensitive to movement than his own and it allows Hob to see even the slightest twitch of brow or flutter of lashes or movement of lips. It is kind of distracting, all this detail.

But that is nothing compared to the distraction of this sense of smell. Hob is no doubt never ever going to get this chance again, so he might as well indulge a little while he can. He drops his face into his own neck and inhales deeply. “Tannatell’s tits do I always smell this good to you?” Hob repeats the act, this time dragging his nose up into chestnut hair as he breathes in. “How can you work like this? I’d be on the edge of coming all the goddamned time. No wonder progress on this case has been so slow, you’re the smart one and you only have half your blood going to your brain. Fuck, it is like I am… your...” he trails off as that thought completes itself in his head.

Oh.

Now, drow vision might have traded brightness of color for its enhanced sensitivity to motion, but there is no doubt, when Hob lifts back up and looks down, that there is a fiercely red blush on Dream's cheeks. And Dream refuses to meet his gaze.

Hob lets go of the wrists he holds and sits back on his heels so he is kneeling between Dream's thighs. He watches as the other elf brings his hands to his chest, rubbing gently at them where Hob's grip was tightest. Dream keeps his head turned to the side the whole time.

“Dream, why didn't you t-”

“Don't. Just don't.” His eyes close and his face crumples into something pained. It guts Hob to think that this is something painful for Dream. “The first time we talk about this can't be like… I do not want it to…” Hob has never heard Dream fumble for words and it is distressingly alarming. “I would prefer to be in my own body when we have this conversation, please.”

Hob can't do anything but grant that request.

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“If we get out of this the first thing I am doing is getting a three hour massage, bloody fuck these chains are tight.” Dream tries to twist his wrist to get some wiggle room and can't even manage that; all the movement does is jostle their chairs. His partner whines. “You alright there, Hob?”

They are chained to a pair of chairs, back to back, with heavy steel links. The chains aren't spelled, but they don't need to be when they are this tight: there is no way Dream will pull off even the smallest somatic component restrained like this and Hob certainly can’t play an instrument or draw a gun. Even worse, the room is unnaturally dark.

Dream hadn’t realized how used he had gotten to the sunlight and the greenery of the surfacelands until they were taken from him. For a moment he takes comfort in thoughts of twirling tree branches forming the beams of great towers, arched windows carefully grown in between, columns of elevators going so high they meet the top of the buildings in the clouds. He thinks of winding streets made of sandstone and brass and overflowing with greenery, the whirring music of solar panels as they track the sunlight along with their flower-kin.

The thought of the movement of the sun reminds Dream that time has been passing, that they have been in here long enough that he is starting to have trouble tracking time–the only clock he has to go by is his heartbeat and that is only reliable for so long. Hunger has long since passed into a dull ache, which tells him it must be more than a couple days. Both of them have vacated all the remaining volume of foodstuffs left in their digestive tracts, removing another marker of time.

They have not seen another soul since they awoke here. There is a dim illumination that comes from… somewhere, but Dream cannot pinpoint it. It is only enough to see his own knees by, make out the faintest outline of the large stone blocks of the ceiling that is a mere few feet above their heads. It is not enough for Hob to see anything, dull as his half-human senses are.

Cruelly enough, water drips from the seams in the stone structure in a few places, landing on the top of their heads, on Hob’s shoulder and chest, on Dream’s cheek. It is the bare minimum to keep them alive and Dream suspects that is very much on purpose.

Dream leans his head back with a sigh and it presses against Hob's.

“You ever wonder what would have happened if we met under different circumstances?” Hob's speech is slurred enough that it makes Dream reconsider if those arrows they got hit with were a poison targeted for those of the surface. It adds a new layer to the puzzle of who has captured them. “Like, if I wasn't working that night in the tavern, wasn't being the biggest distraction possible?” He is silent for a beat. “I would've asked to join you at your table. Started to chat you up properly. Instead of pretending we were old buddies as part of the case I was working. Because we’re not friends, are we?” His chuckle is hollow. “No, most definitely not. Perhaps I would’ve tried to woo you with song… paint you a picture with music. Gods, you were so beautiful. Are. So beautiful.”

“Hob…” He doesn't sound like himself, can't possibly be meaning to say any of this.

“Do you have any idea how badly I want you? Fuck, like all the time. From the very first moment I saw you, the swish-click of your air walker boots on the tavern floor, noticeable to a trained ear even with the din of patrons.” Dream can hear him swallow. “It never goes away, you know? This yearning for you. It lives inside me now.”

He closes his eyes and tries to ignore it. Hob cannot be meaning to say this right now and Dream certainly does not want to hear it without Hob’s consent; he is relieved when they lapse into silence once again.

But it doesn't last.

“If you get a chance to escape, you have to promise me to take it, even if you can't get me out.” Hob’s voice is a threadbare whisper.

No. They can't talk like this. He won't have it. “Hob, you’re-”

“I am not delirious and I am not talking nonsense!” He is panting now and Dream swears he can hear Hob's racing heartbeat. It is another piece of evidence that he is not himself. “Promise me, Dream. Promise me you will save yourself if you have the chance, even at my expense.”

“No.” Absolutely not. Dream's answer is immediate and brooks no argument; he won't even consider it. The idea is anathema, like teaching the Druidic language outside of a Circle or attempting to unbalance Nature itself. “I will not leave without you.”

Hob’s breath rate is increasing, pushing into hyperventilating, and his voice is unsteady as a newborn foal’s legs. He sounds almost on the verge of tears and it makes something in Dream’s heart crack. “Please, Dream! I need you to promise me.”

He grits his teeth hard enough to make them squeak. “I will make no such vow.” Dream growls. It is harsh, he knows, but he will also not lie to Hob. Not after everything they’ve been through.

They never got a chance to talk about it, what lay implied between them from their adventure with that soul-swapping curse. Not properly. Not before this case, which pretty much immediately went tits up. Fuck, they should have spoken about it.

Dream adds this to his long ledger of regrets.

When Hob speaks again the words are clearly forced through a rising tide of panic. “I need to know you’ll be safe, that y-”

“Breathe Hob. We don’t need to plan-”

“Promise me!” he sobs. “I need to know you wi-”

The crack in Dream's heart cleaves it in two.

“I will not leave without my Mate!”

For a moment the only sound in the small room is Hob’s panting, then Dream lets his head fall back; this time it lands on Hob’s shoulder with a dull whump.

“You were right. What you felt during the curse.” Dream closes his eyes. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I just… we were… we’ve been…”

Hob turns his head, twists his shoulders, as much as possible, until his nose nudges the point of Dream’s ear. “Stupid. We’ve been truly. Amazingly. Stupid.”

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

They crawl out of the cave system into a raging thunderstorm. Might as well be a hurricane for how the wind is blowing the rain and trees sideways. However, the sight of cypress trees and the salty smell of the ocean limits the possible places that they have been taken to.

“Holy shit we're in Port Essen!” Hob gasps in breathless laughter. When Dream looks at him he is smiling, almost glowing, underneath all the dirt and grime and soil and debris they are covered with, that is all rapidly turning to mud as the forceful winds and driving rain wash them clean. He looks to Dream and it is like the sun has risen, warmth diffusing through Dream's skin. “I grew up here!”

That raises a red flag in the back of Dream's mind–he doesn't believe in coincidences.

“We need to move. Get as far away as possible. Fast. Get on.” Dream doesn't say more, doesn't explain, just grabs some of the reedy dunegrass at his feet and pops it into his mouth as he makes the appropriate hand motions.

Hob lets out a yelp as Dream transforms into a dire elk, huge and black. He wouldn't be able to fly in such rain and he has no meat for a spell component, so his dragon form is out; the elk will give Hob a smoother ride over the widest variety of terrain.

Once fully shifted Dream drops onto folded legs, but that still means his back is at about the height of a horse, so he angles his head towards Hob to lend an antler for leverage.

Luckily Hob catches on quickly, hefting himself up onto Dream with a grunt. “West,” he says as he buries his hands in the ruff of thick fur around Dream's neck, “We’ll hit forest and freshwater fastest if we go west.”

Dream stands, looks back at Hob once to make sure he is settled, and then leaps into action. Hob lets out another yelp the first time Dream lands from a bound, but he sets a rhythm and the bard in Hob cues onto it almost immediately.

Then he outright laughs.

“Dream,” he whispers into his fur, must be leaning over to get so close to his ear, “you are amazing, dove.”

Dream would laugh as well, if he could.

He has never had a rider before, not in any shifted form he has taken, and that it is Hob on his back, moving fluidly with him, legs around him, clinging to him… well. Apparently one doesn’t need wings to fly.

But first they need to disappear. They need to get gone and regroup and get food and maybe bathe in a cold stream and start assembling their meager knowledge of their captors so that they can send out feelers for information and start the tedious process of revenge.

Because Dream will eat their hearts raw for making this the bower in which he told Hob the nature of their connection. He will make them watch as he sucks the marrow from their living bones for how they have treated his Mate. He cares not that he himself has been tortured; Dream has done more than enough terrible things in his life to have earned such an experience. But Hob? No. He will not let them survive this insult.

However, getting to that point, when he will be able to revel in the suffering of those who caused so much of the same, will take time. Dream is always thorough in his planning.

And while they wait, keeping to the shadows and gathering their knowledge and power, Dream will sup upon his Mate. He will devour the finest meal he will ever have. Savor the small pieces that he can pick up between his fingers and drop into his mouth and lick from under his fingernails. Drink long draughts of pleasure of Hob’s body and thereby nourish his own soul. Dream has been starving and did not know it, did not really understand what he was missing, until his body was weakened by the captivity and his mind sharpened by the pain his Mate experienced.

Dream vaults over some rocky ground, avoiding it completely, and then as they crest a hill the treeline comes into sight and he could cry for the relief of it. Within the embrace of the forest Dream will have all the tools he needs to keep them safe. And then he can look towards the future.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

The most shocking thing, honestly, is how shocked Hob isn't.

“Dream,” he sounds like he is calming a skittish horse, “I have been in love with you for literal decades. This isn't a problem for me. So we're tied together on a metaphysical level, so what?”

The druid just blinks.

Hob sighs, running a hand through his hair as he relaxes back against the trunk of the tree. It reveals the gentle point to his ears and Dream has a bolt of desire lance through him, urging him to put his mouth there. He shoves it to the side.

They are deep in the densest portions of this forest now, having ridden for hours, past the midsummer sun setting and the quarter moon rising. They slept almost immediately once they stopped running, along the banks of a creek deep enough to wade into. Once sleep was had, Dream went hunting while Hob washed their clothing, which now lies drying on some rocks and tree branches close by. They have been so exhausted that only now is Dream noticing that Hob being completely naked is rather… distracting.

The trees, strangers though they are to Dream, have generously given them ample shelter on the creek’s bank; even if someone does get close they likely won't see or hear a hint of them through the lush greenery. The maple Hob leans against has been particularly taken with the half wood elf, although Dream is unsure if Hob notices the tree doting on him, swaying its leaves to keep him shaded despite the moving morning sun.

“I’ll be the first to admit that I know close to fuck all about drow, your culture, your biology… really just what is told in popular stories, movies, whatnot, which may or may not have truth in them.” His head thumps back against the tree trunk and he has to tilt to the side to look at Dream. “But tell me what I need to learn and I’ll learn it. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it. The last thing I want is to be a burden to you, Dream.”

A burden?

Dream shakes his head, as much to clear it as to disabuse Hob of such a notion. “No, Hob, I…” He searches for the words and none come, stubborn as they often are, so he decides on action instead.

Looking Hob directly in the eyes, Dream crawls across the space between them, over the gunslinger's legs, and sits with his knees on either side of Hob's thighs. He is so warm beneath Dream that the drow shivers, but all Hob can seem to do is stare in shock at the fact that they are naked and Dream is in his lap.

By the Gods it feels good to be this close to his Mate. It will feel better to touch.

Hob gasps when Dream's hands land on his chest, slide up slowly to his shoulders, his neck. He takes time to savor every hill and valley. Mine. One hand moves higher, fingers curling around the top of an ear, petting softly and making Hob’s mouth drop open and his eyes flutter closed.

“You are not a burden, Hob Gadling,” Dream reassures. “Far from it. You have heard that traditional drow society is matriarchal, yes?” Hob nods but doesn’t open his eyes, instead leans into Dream’s hand on the side of his head. “Add soulmates to that and who do you think gets to end up with the Mate they truly want?”

Hob looks at him at that. “Are soulmates not perfectly matched? Made for each other? Fated?”

“Mmm, a topic of much debate.” Dream cards through Hob's hair with his fingers as he talks. “At its core ‘soulmate’ for drow seems only to mean you are tied to each other deeply. For better… or ill. And it is certainly true that you can fall in love with someone who is not your Mate. There have even been drow who found themselves unattracted to their soulmate, at least sexually.”

Hob’s hands alight oh so carefully on Dream's thighs, a touch radically different than during the adrenaline-fueled ‘work partners plus sex' arrangement they have had for the past few months. And the touch is light years different than their first time together, when an actual duel to the death had turned into a battle of a totally different kind. To be clear, they were no less feral in their fucking when they were high on the rush of escaping imminent danger than when their lust had ignited due to mutual hatred.

Right now, though? Dream lifts up onto his knees, his ass leaving the comfort of Hob's strong thighs, as he leans in to nuzzle into Hob's temple.

“But attraction isn't in question here.” Hob isn't asking; they can both see their mostly erect cocks laying ignored between them.

“No,” Dream chuckles, “It certainly is not.” He drags his nose down so he can bring their lips close, not quite a kiss. “Rare is it allowed for drow males to be able to truly choose their Mate. So many are deemed unfit, taken to serve only as brooders for the Great Mother’s many children. And so it is not something I dared dream possible for myself. Before now.” He speaks against the corner of Hob's mouth. “I want you to fuck me, Hob. I want to know what it is to feel you spend inside me.”

With a wanton cry Hob is kissing Dream, crushing them together, and all the skin contact is glorious, as are the needy noises coming from his Mate’s throat. But Hob doesn't even know… he doesn't know.

“Hob!” Dream gasps, pulling away. “You don't understand.” They are both panting softly and Dream almost gets distracted by another kiss. “I said brooders. Female drow provide only eggs. Male drow gestate and birth our children.” That seems to get Hob's attention and he blinks his eyes until his gaze is sharp once again. Only then does Dream continue. “My cunt, Hob.” The wood elf inhales sharply. “I want you to fuck my cunt.”

Dream is barely finished with the sentence when Hob surges up and wrestles the druid to the mossy ground. Laughing, Dream pushes and scoots away, smirking up at Hob, parting his long slate-colored legs and reaching down to stroke his cock, tugging it up to reveal the wet folds hidden further down. Hob moans, eyes fixed to where Dream is showing himself off. Their fucking has always been frantic, hurried, and with Dream doing the penetrating, so Hob hasn't ever been given the chance to explore what lies deeper between Dream's legs. He looks ravenous for it.

And Dream is ready for such an exploration, except Hob doesn't even stop to touch: he grabs Dream's thighs, slings one onto each shoulder, and pulls Dream's hips to his mouth. “Hob!” Dream barks. Hob is ravenous, quite literally, licking and obscenely slurping up fluids, and Dream can do nothing but scream his pleasure.

Hob laves up and around until he can suck on the side of Dream's cock before purring, “Knew I smelled something more when you’d fuck into my throat, could swear I heard something more wet than just your spit-slick skin slapping my face.” He takes Dream's prick all the way into his mouth, sucks until the drow cries out, then backs off to allow filth to keep spilling from his lips. “Fuck, when we were under that curse I chalked up any feeling that what was between my legs felt different to the fact that drow senses are so different. I never thought…” He licks back down, exploring the wet folds with his tongue and lips. When he next needs air, Hob speaks with his damp cheek against Dream's thigh.

“I can't fill you with children, but I am gonna come in you so many times it is going to damn well feel like I did.” Each word is a puff of steam-hot air on where Dream is most sensitive, making him writhe. “Until there is enough spend in you that I can press on your belly and make it flood out. Cover these pretty thighs in my cum. Once it drips down to your ankles I will lick you clean so we can start all over.”

“Fuck, Hob.” The bard has always been good with his words in bed, but it hits differently here, with Dream revealed to him completely. Further, he’s hit upon a specific kink that Dream has the tools to actually indulge in and not just spin pretty stories about. “There’s a spell. Originally it was to increase chances of conceiving, but more often nowadays it is used in modified form by those of us with a cum kink.”

Hob's groan is muffled when he leans forward into Dream's genitals. “Those of us….modified…”

Dream laughs, fingers finding Hob’s hair. “I’ll take you to Elegy one night. There are many of us, if you know the right clubs.” Hob lets out a needy whine at that. “I’ll need some cum–preferably yours–as a spell component. Then I cast on your bollocks so that the next time you come you produce, ah, lots more.”

His eyes appear above the rise of Dream’s hip. “How much more are we talking about here?”

He smirks. “Let's just say that the modification I was talking about involved merging the fertility spell with a spell that summons water in a person's lungs in enough volume to drown th-ahAH!” Dream is cut off as Hob dips back down and his tongue snakes inside Dream's body, his moan vibrating through Dream's pelvis.

Oh, it is so good to be touched there, for Hob to know all of him, to be laid bare before him, his Mate.

Then Dream feels Hob shifting, moving away so Dream's knees are on his shoulders and he’s sliding a hand around from where it was holding up Dream's hip so that rough fingers can–“Oh yes!”

Hob pushes one finger inside and Dream’s entire body arches. “Let’s see, does your anatomy track with…” he mutters as he changes his angle over the course of a few thrusts and then it is like his finger strokes Dream’s cock from the inside and Dream screeches in surprised pleasure. “Yeah it does.” Hob sounds smug, which is so godsdamned sexy it only pushes Dream closer to tears. He slides a second finger in and Dream can’t stop himself from rocking into it. “Okay gorgeous, I’m gonna loosen you up with a couple orgasms and then you can have me.”

“Noooo,” Dream whines, plaintive, “Want to come with you in me!”

“Oh, you’ll do that, too.” And fuck him, he can hear Hob's grin. “Gonna make you come so many times you start babbling in Druidic. Break down every sense of propriety you have.”

Dream laughs through a moan, making it tumble and bounce. “An ingenious plan to learn the secret tongues.” He uses the word deliberately, playful and so fucking happy.

“Learn the-” Hob clicks his tongue against his teeth, chiding. “Are you saying that you are not satisfied with what my tongue currently knows?” Of course, he lays the flat of said appendage along the underside of the head of Dream's cock, rubs it back and forth as he looks up for an answer.

Seeing his Mate look at him like that, his cock aimed into his open mouth and his fingers buried inside him and his amber eyes burning so bright they are almost gold–fuck, it is so much. And the little movements just under the head of his prick plus the repeated deep massage of whatever that place inside him is, and Dream’s eyes widen as pleasure rushes in.

He barely gets out a surprised, “Hob I’m-” before something inside him feels kind of like it pops and suddenly there is liquid pouring out of him along with his orgasm. It is as if his climax spreads out from a single point within his pelvis, pushing out sweat and screams and cum and tears and whatever else it can squeeze out as it hits the edges of his body.

Dream watches, awed, as his cock shoots white onto Hob's tongue, Hob's eyes closing as he groans, collecting all of it before he swallows. But also fluid gushes down, over his folds and along the seam of his ass; when Dream moves a hand he feels it dripping all the way to the small of his back. The liquid is almost as thin as water. It is most certainly not cum, nor is it the same as the lubrication his cunt produces.

It takes another moment for it to click. “Holy fucking… did you just make me squirt?”

Dream looks up to find Hob licking glistening fingers that are no longer in his cunt. Which might be the most erotic, obscene thing he has ever seen and he feels like his brain short circuits a bit. Hob blinks at Dream twice before his own realization dawns. “Have you never done that before?”

“No!” Dream can't help but giggle. “I didn’t know that I could!”

Hob watches, eyes rapt, as Dream takes his own fingers, the ones that have a bit of the fluid on them, and sticks them in his mouth. Slightly bitter, not as alkaline as cum, not as earthy as his cunt.

His Mate watches his every move and looks like he might spontaneously combust. Dream can't resist teasing. “Like something you see?”

Hob actually growls as he lowers Dream's hips to his lap. His fingers, calloused from the instruments he plays and the grips of pistols, slip under Dream, to the top of his ass. Then Hob pulls his hand slowly forward, scraping, over one entrance, then then next, all the way to the base of the dark cock, collecting Dream's fluids in his hand as he goes.

Dream sees only a momentary glint of sunlight off the small pool of liquid cupped in Hob's fingers before they are heading for his mouth. Oh fuck. He opens his mouth, thinking to accept Hob’s offering as it is poured, but then Hob is smearing it, from one cheek, across his open mouth, to the other cheek. Hob tries to pull his hand away but Dream grabs his wrist, licks a long stripe up the inside of his fingers. When he releases his Mate’s wrist he purrs, “Again. More.” And that hits a goddamned button, because Hob repeats the collecting motion quickly, gathering as much as he can, and then turning his hand over as soon as he gets to Dream’s mouth, dribbling the liquid in. He uses Dream's bottom lip to wipe the last dregs off of his skin and then Hob is grabbing Dream by the neck and kissing him something fierce.

His tongue is a lick of fire and it catches on the kindling of Dream's body, creating a blaze that tears through the drow. Lust. It gnashes, claws, in its effort to get out through Dream's skin and if he doesn't get proper fucked right now–

He rips his mouth away from Hob's with a wail. “Fuck your plans. If you don't get your godsbedamned prick into me right the fuck now I am taking the control of this operation away from you, so help mYES!”

Hob drives into him to the hilt and Dream howls like he is worshipping the moon. “Bratty thing, aren't you?” He grabs a fistful of Dream's long white hair and yanks his head back with enough force to make his whole dark torso bend back into a U-shape. It pulls electric pleasure up Dream's spine as Hob sits back on his heels. “Seems you were never broken to saddle. Is that it? Do you need me to train you to be ridden? To be a good mount?”

Oh hell yes.

Two can play that game.

Dream gets a foot up onto Hob's chest and shoves him away hard, forcing him not only out of Dream's body, but also to sprawl backwards and drop his grip on Dream’s hair in shock. At the same time Dream twists, shifting from being on his back to up on all fours and then lowering his chest and face to the ground. It angles his ass up into the air and towards his Mate, and then he lets his knees slide apart. Presenting himself.

“My God…” he hears Hob gasp.

“You think I need training?” he purrs, all seduction as he looks back over his shoulder. “But you haven't even mounted me properly yet.” He hears Hob panting even from a distance. “Come on, lover, ride me hard.”

He can't help but chuckle as Hob scrabbles to comply, crawling up behind him and pressing their thighs together but holding their hips apart. Hob palms both sides of his ass, meager flesh there is, and parts them with groan on his breath. “How hard, dove?”

Dream sways back into his grasp, forcing himself open wider. The stretch feels good, like anticipation. “Pretend you’re hammering nails with your cock.”

Hob’s muttered curses accompany feeling the head of his prick lining up. They are perfectly ready and yet then Hob stops just so that he can gather all of Dream's hair carefully into one rope to loop around his fist. Dream whines and buries his face in his arms. He just… he just needs. Please. Please.

“Alright, baby, alright. I got you.” Hob soothes, free hand petting down Dream's thigh.

Hob fucking into him again is a homecoming; this, this is where he is supposed to be.

The first withdrawal and thrust back in slaps their skin together so hard it sounds like a whip crack. “YES!” Dream gets up on his elbows and digs his fingers into the soil. He feels his magic root him to the ground. “More!”

Hob tugs on Dream's hair hard enough to make him yelp. “You’re here to get fucked, so take what I give you. Brat.”

And doesn't that make lust curl hot in his belly. He whines and lets his head drop limply between his shoulders, as far as the grip on his hair will allow, hunches to rest his forehead on the ground. “Please Hob. I need… please.” Hob complies swiftly this time, fucking into Dream with these slow rhythmic thrusts that hit like a battering ram. He feels each one shake his very foundations. “So good,” Dream cries, “Yes! So good!”

It is the beat of a drum and Dream falls under its sway. He is hypnotized by it, losing his higher faculties and left only to scream his pleasure as he tries desperately to get fucked faster. But Hob continues the basic rhythm for what might as well be forever, until Dream is sobbing into the ground and smearing mud on his cheek as he hiccups out soft pleas.

Finally, he falls silent, nothing left in him but the ache of his need. And that's when he hears Hob's quiet chanting.

Pace like a drum.

Chanting.

It is a spell.

Hob is casting a spell using Dream's body as an instrument and the rush of arousal at the thought nearly makes him pass out.

“Was wondering when you’d figure it out,” the bard laughs, hands sliding down Dream's thighs and back up. “If your body is meant to birth children, then this spell is for you.” Hob sings one last phrase in a language Dream can't parse right now and then the magic snaps into place.

It takes a moment, but as Hob fucks back in Dream realizes what is happening: his cock is getting larger. It is incremental, but that stretch definitely wasn't there a minute ago, that insistent press against the insides of Dream.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” he moans, helpless to the rising tide. “So full. Oh gods.”

The bastard above him chuckles. “Not even halfway done, pet. This spell is calibrated exactly to the receiving party’s limits. Gonna find out exactly how much your pretty body can take, then fuck you loose on that. So next time you can take just a little bit more. And then a little more. And a little more. Until you can take my fist.” Dream wails at that. “Until you can take my fist wrapped around my cock.” The thought makes his entire body shake. “You like that idea? Want me to jack myself off buried inside your cute cunt? Move my fist faster and faster, use a finger to curl up into your G-spot, make you squirt around me…”

He keeps talking, but Dream can't make out the words anymore over the whistling of blood rushing in his ears, over the throbbing, thrilling fullness thrumming deep in his body. It is so fucking good.

But then on the next measured thrust Hob drives in deeper as well as wider and Dream loses the last thread of sanity he ever had.

Digging his fingers into the ground like claws, the druid snarls and uses a surge of strength to pull himself off of Hob and then quickly fuck himself back, feeling how Hob's cock gets a little bigger with the in and out motion. This spell was meant to be taken slowly, but Dream needs more and he needs it now.

Dream rolls his body again, making Hob groan and his hands tighten to bruising around Dream’s hips. “I told you to ride me,” he growls, “So fuck me like you damned well mean it. Fuck me like yoAAAAHHHH!!”

He screeches as Hob pulls him off the ground by only his hair, arms dangling and fingers brushing the ground, until he can get his hand around Dream's mouth. Dream lets his weight sag into Hob's grip and the gunslinger has no problem holding him up. “Fine, you want me to use this spell to ruin you?!” Hob bucks twice in rapid succession, the spell working each time and Dream splays his legs wider, as if that will relieve the building pressure.

It doesn't.

Dream mewls into Hob's hand. “Do you want that?!?” Hob roars.

He nods vigorously, as much as he can with Hob's large palm across his face, and presses backwards as much as possible.

“So be it!” Hob releases Dream's face, letting him flail to catch himself before he falls into the dirt. Then Dream hears the sound of Hob spitting and before he knows it a wet finger is sliding down the cleft of his ass. “If you want to be filled so badly, then I will make sure to fill you completely.”

On the next delicious thrust of Hob’s cock deep into his cunt a finger drives into Dream's ass and the noise he makes is nothing short of a squeal. “YES!”

It is so much. Fullness and pressure and stretching and it doesn't hurt in the least, more like it feels as if his body was made for this, to take and take and take. And on each pounding thrust in Hob gets bigger and bigger, and just when Dream thinks he can take no more, the stretch deepens and his body accepts another finger or another millimeter.

“Fuck, look at you,” Hob's hoarse whisper is tinged in awe. “Never seen the spell last like this. Never seen a body so greedily take more and more and more. So fucking perfect. And all mine. Mine.”

“Yes! Yours!” Dream wriggles, letting his shoulder and face take his weight as he reaches back and grabs behind his knees, pulls his legs further apart. “Please, Hob, wanna come like this. Please touch me, lover. Mate.”

Hob groans and the hand that is not buried in Dream’s ass finds its way to his cock. It barely takes two strokes before Dream is coming, shaking and screaming and oh fuck if Hob just keeps going…

“Don't stop,” he pants, Hob still driving into him, wider each time, making his body sing, “Oh fuck don't stop gonna gonna gonna—HOB!”

Dream howls as he comes again, writhing as Hob keeps thrusting, faster and harder, his fist still tight and pumping Dream's cock, and then Hob’s fist gets tighter and twists. It is too much so much too much, but then Hob fucks into him harder and his vice-tight hand starts twisting on every upstroke and he can't possibly not no oh gods oh gods!

He cries through his third orgasm in as many minutes, overwhelmed and overstimulated and Hob keeps fucking him, even as Dream’s entire body goes liquid and he slumps onto the mossy ground. Hob’s fingers leave his ass with a slick squelching noise and then his Mate’s whole body is pressing Dream down flat, legs splayed, his hips still pistoning his spelled cock in and out of Dream's cunt. “That's it baby, I finally hit your edge. Not gonna get any bigger than this today. You good to let me keep going? Want me to come in this pretty pussy of yours?”

“Yes, please, yes.” Dream rasps, throat raw from his screaming.

Hob presses his chest down onto Dream's back until not even a molecule of air is between them, his breathing heavy behind Dream's pointed ear. “Want you to do this to me, too, darling. Cast the spell and fuck me until I am gaping and exhausted.” He fucks fast and stays deep, never pulling out very far, and Dream doesn't know what is better, the images Hob paints with his words or how easily Hob‘s now-huge cock rams into his cervix on every thrust. “So good around me. You can already take so much… can't wait to see how far I can stretch you. Can't wait to try that spell of yours, fucking drown you in my cum, so stark against your gorgeous skin. Probably not healthy to cast it more than once in a day, but I’m nothing if not reckless. Wanna flood your cunt, your ass, and your stomach.” Dream moans, shivering and helpless beneath him. “Make you lick up whatever spills out of your holes. Swallow it down. Make sure you take all of it. Then plug your holes, gag your mouth, keep it all inside.”

It is like Hob had seen the beginnings of Dream's most depraved fantasies and he can't help but continue them. “That's… I want that so badly. And more, Hob. I want more. After all that I want you to tie me up, wrists to ankles behind me,” Hob makes a noise like a sob and buries his face into Dream's neck, rhythm stuttering, “And then I want you to spend all over my cock. Because I haven't come yet, you haven't let me.” That pulls a whine from Hob. “And after all that there will be paltry cum left in you, but that's all I get. That's all I get to use to rut against the hard floor. Smacking my hips down onto the wet tiles, but at that point any contact would feel like heaven. Would come so hard, for you, my love.”

A hitch in Hob's breath and he starts slowly pulling out as he climaxes, drawing it out using Dream's body just like he has used Dream's hand in the past, cock twitching wildly. He lengthens the pleasure enough that he gets to push back into Dream at the very end of his orgasm, gets to bury himself to the hilt as his last little jolt of overstimulation.

Panting, prick softening within Dream, Hob lets all of his weight collapse onto his lover. “Fuck, you’re amazing. I can't believe I get to have you.” He nuzzles into Dream's hair. “My beautiful Dream.”

“My Hob,” he sighs, “my Mate.”

#Dreamling #Urban Fantasy AU #Solarpunk AU #drow druid Dream #gunslinger bard half-elf Hob #both are investigators #partners to lovers #Pavonis writes

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onyourhyuck · 1 year ago

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Animal Instinct. | NCT SERIES

Title: PROLOGUE ‘Sour Grapes.’

— Prologue: “They don’t speak to people unless they want one thing from them. And they pick their prey very carefully. They don’t go for everyone.”

— Summary: You are a marine biologist. You should be able to understand animals and their way of living. When you encounter a new society in a bar under the name ‘Sour Grapes’ you find yourself in a troubling situation with seven different men. Seven different animals.

— Genre: Smut with plot. Minors dni. Fantasy with modern timeline. Female!reader. Secondary genders (but with animals) dreamies are complete red flags. Dub-con. Everything is very dark romance related. Nothing here is for the weak. Everything is just pure filth. It gets progressively worse and worse. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Pet names such as ‘my pretty who’re’ or ‘princess’ — minor hair pulling, blowjob male receiving. Fingering (female receiving) and sex tape mentioned. Breeding kink is a common theme here. Possessiveness.

— Notes:

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There was a new bar that took everyone’s attention and money away. Your friends have been nonstop talking about this new secret bar that is hidden away from everyone by a password. You wonder what the big deal was about it. It just sounded like a stupid bar to you. Apparently only ‘special’ guests could enter this bar. Your friend, Ningning has claimed that she knows what the password to the bar is, and that she will need to take a friend with her.

Which explains why you’re in Ningning’s car with the most absolute deadpanned expression when you see this empty isolating road ahead and the parking lot you’re now at.

You let out a sigh. “Ningning no offence but bars are meant to be welcoming. This looks like a horror movie in front of me.” The building that stood out to the both of you was looking bleak and dark from the darkness sorrowing it. You have a bad stomachache from all of this.

Your friend turns to you with a begging expression to make you come with her, because let’s be honest, Ningning wouldn’t want to go alone to this bar that no one has heard about. “Y/n please just trust me. The guy I was supposed to meet up with told me the password to this bar. I cant go along without you.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” You remark back furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance. You eventually gave in after five seconds of whining from Ningning because you can’t stand this at all.

Scowling out of the car with your friend you follow her inside with the least enthusiasm for partying tonight as well. Unlike Ningning you actually don’t have this much free time.

“If I see something weird I’m getting out of here and calling the police, Ning.” You tell her, your voice coming out more sternly.

But she was your friend and you love her. You can’t just leave her to go to this weird scam-looking bar alone. Good knows what could’ve happened to her if you didn’t come with her.

Ningning gave you a small smile. “Yeah! Deal.”

The building looked like it was probably abandoned for many years. The entrance itself gave you spooky vibes and you hated it. The girl in front of you was the first one to approach the singular bookshelf on the wall guided against the wall. Your eyes stare blankly at the set up.

You saw your friend touching every book on the shelf and you let out a sigh and a laugh at the same time. This was ridiculous.

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for a secret book-lever?” You mumble behind Ningning who gave a very optimistic smile. “Yeah. The guy said the passcode will work if we find the book that is the right one.”

You sigh. “This is a lot of effort to go through just to drink and find yourself a fling isn’t it?” You had a point. There was definitely something going around here that you’re missing. Maybe some information that your friend wasn’t telling you?

Few seconds later Ningning found the reddish book on the bookshelf stand that had peeked out and she pulled it out, only to find it reattach and the whole bookshelf moving to the left. Revealing a secret door. Your eyes widen at Ningning; because for a moment or two you’ve been doubting this whole bookshelf thing. Ningning gave you a proud-eating smirk which made you automatically scowl and roll your eyes. You walk ahead and Ningning followed behind you. The dark corridor welcomed both of you and the sound of bar music came in louder and louder. The more you both walked you’d see two patrolling bar security guards at the door.

Your feet tried to past them but they shoulders block. One gruff man gave you an intimidating look. “Password.” He said to you.

Ningning pulls you back a little. She knows you’d probably start an argument with someone tonight, you’re kind of like a magnet for starting fights.

“Green tea.” She said to the guards. You stare in disbelief when the two guards let Ningning and you pass through once the secret password was said.

You see, you don’t understand humans. But you understand animals on many levels. Humans are just something too complex for you to figure out. Ningning here was very confusing. She wasn’t telling you anything about this place.

But you had to admit. The bar looks expensive. Luxurious even. There was something so lush about this bar you couldn’t put your tongue on it. Everyone seems like they are a movie star. Or perhaps singers even.

Pushing through the crowd. Ningning instantly ordered a drink at the bar. The handsome man with a pale thinly skin and alerting brown alluring eyes pulled you closer. The bar owner tending to the drinks had really beautiful thick hair. There was a mixture of proud and sweetness about this guy. He looks like he has this whole place together.

“Two martini’s please.” Ningning told. Jaehyun gave her a glance and a single nod with a charming smirk. He turned around making the two drinks for you and Ningning.

You whisper to your friend. “This whole place is weird vibes Ning. What’s so special about this place?” You don’t understand why she was so eager to come here.

Your friend gave you a sympathetic response but she didn’t seem to find this all so suspicious like you. Sometimes you analyse things too much for her own liking. “I just heard it amongst people at my workplace. So I wanted to try it out.” Ningning said with a shrug.

The two glasses were plopped down and your head turns to the martini then to the guy with a small glance you take the martini to sip.

Your friend’s answer was so vague to be honest. So much effort just to find out about this bar?

Reaching for your phone you wanted to check if anyone has been texting you. To your answer you find out the signal here was completely nonexistent and crap. You grumble and Ningning saw you struggling. She furrows her eyebrows when you curse.

“Does this bar have no wifi signal or what?” You said with your tone of voice becoming frustrated. You put your phone down when Jaehyun reached over. “Actually phones aren’t allowed in this bar, miss.” He explained, even though his handsome face was definitely a distraction from how annoying this rule was.

“What? No phone. Isn’t that a bit weird and suspicious.” You grumble not understanding what kind of a rule was this?

Ningning switched glances between Jaehyun and you. You were watching him with a double sided glare like you were a mirror reflecting how much you hated this rule so much.

Jaehyun smirks and pulls back. “At Sour Grape’s whatever happens stays here. Therefore no phones. Just enjoy your night.” He reassures.

It sounds like everyone had something to hide what was was it?

Deciding to let your eyes wonder around the whole bar to check out what could take your interest; you found your eyes gravitating to a specific table of seven guys seated like they own the whole place. Crouching between girls. You find yourself wondering what the whole deal was with them.

You turn to the bar owner, Jaehyun was cleaning a few glasses with a cloth. He wore this white top with a black vest over and a tie neatly over it. The hair was slick back too.

“What are those guys all doing? They look like they own the whole damn place.”

Jaehyun laughs at your words. “Because they do. They are my main clients who make this whole bar popular.”

You furrow your eyebrows turning back to watching the group of men seating down. They all had a specialised accessory with an animal of their choice. You don’t understand why. But all you could see was that it somehow matches their appearance.

He leans close now, he decided to give you a little introduction to who runs this whole place like it is their kingdom.

“Let me explain to you who they are.” He softly said and you nodded watching the group.

“That man is Mark Lee.” Jaehyun said it with some pride when the name comes out of his mouth. As if he was some sort of king. “He is what you call a womaniser I believe. No intentions of settling down. However he is loaded with money.”

A blonde guy sitting in the middle with his legs spread while a woman was on his lap in the middle, his hand sneaking around the waist to pull the beautiful woman closer. His eyes felt deadly and sharp. You feel like nearly as a prey would when watching this encounter. On his right hand was a shiny silver ring on his middle finger — with a tiger face shaped on it. Engraved.

Your eyes move to the right. Jaehyun saw you checking out the guy next to Mark now.

Next to the man was a sickly pale man. He looks as cold as ice to you; it shouldn’t be possible to look this pale without looking like the clouds in the sky itself. However his facial expressions were the least exciting. He looks like he did not have intentions of getting woman. A necklace was hanging around his neck in shape of a wolf.

“That is Lee Jeno.” He said to you with a smirk. “This guy is probably the least you likely will ever meet. Jeno is a tough one to grasp. He’s very loyal to Mark and his friends. He doesn’t even show slightest interest in women.”

You roll your eyes. “Why is that? Is he scared of women?”

Jaehyun grinned shrugging. “Pack law maybe?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at the comment you tried to not think much of this. Perhaps it was a metaphor but you can’t really put your finger on why he said something like that.

Your attitude towards the group was getting more and more conflicting. You wanted to know more about the rest of them.

“Who is the guy standing up over there?” You try to point your eyes at the man standing up next to the couch that all the other men were sitting together. Jaehyun looks over there.

“Zhong Chenle, he is a reliable guy with source of information from everywhere.” Jaehyun smirks at you and you raise your eyebrows scoffing.

“Why?” You question. Jaehyun responded with an obvious tone. “Because he’s rich. They all are.”

Chenle wore the most expensive clothing you’d have to be honest. He wore and extended his beauty with all his money he could afford it with. But what caught your eye at the end was this hanging shark tooth down his ears.

Sudden arm around Chenle was wrapped by a much larger and bigger man in height with pale skin and black hair. Darkly covered clothes and makeup on his face. A choker was around the guy’s neck with a spider in the middle showing off.

“And that guy with Chenle?” You grumble staring the taller boy down.

Jaehyun puts the drinking glass down, lifting up his head over the bar. “Park Jisung. Chenle’s best friend; he’s also deadly. I don’t think you should go near him unless you want him to completely destroy you.”

“You make it sound like he’s a killer.” You roll your eyes not taking whatever he said about Jisung or the others too seriously.

Jaehyun scoffs. “You never know.” He points out and then leans over pointing over to three other guys that were speaking together as they sat down at the table table with the others.

“Those three are always together.” He explained to you and your head turns to analyse the other three people.

Sun kissed man with brunette hair and beautiful brown eyes with black moles; wearing a bear shaped pendant down his neck while discussing something with his two friends. Lee Haechan.

In the middle a smaller frame but a sheepish man with beautiful hair and fox-like eyes made you look twice. He looks unreal if anything. With a lip piercing on the bottom lip, you swore you saw a fox tail on the lip piercing detail. Huang Renjun.

And then a man with a bracelet on his wrist, he looked to be the most troublesome and quiet person in the group. The snake bracelet on his arm intrigued you nonetheless. Na Jaemin.

They all wore animal charms which looked silly but at the same time you wonder if it meant something more?

“Why do they all wear those jewellery? I don’t understand why they have all those animals on them.”

Jaehyun wasn’t aware if you knew why this bar was such a high secrecy but he leans down and now got a real serious one on one with you. “Can you keep a secret?” He asked as his face told you that he was being serious.

The information he’s about to tell you will change your entire life forever.

“Yeah.” You slant back watching Jaehyun sit up with a grin at your response.

“Everyone in this bar knows this but you.” Jaehyun smartly points out. “What do they know?” You became wary of what this was all about. Suddenly your stomachache was back again as if it was a warning from whatever you were about to find out.

Jaehyun trails with a devilish look. “The reason Sour Grape’s is such a secret place to enter is because everyone in this place has evolved from different species of animals.”

“For example, most people like you who evolve from monkeys exist in this world. But there are people who evolved from others.”

He whispers back pulling away to show you his arm bracelet with horses on it. You raise your eyes from Jaehyun’s wrist and back to his face in disbelief. This wasn’t making enough sense to you.

“So you’re telling me you and the other guys came from animals that weren’t monkeys? What kind of logic is that.” You grumble feeling that maybe you’re drunk and he was fooling around with you.

Jaehyun gave you a light shrug with his shoulders. “You said you can keep a secret. You can’t tell this to anyone.”

“Hyung pass me a bottle. You know what I want the usual.” A dark deep and striking tone alerts me from behind as if I’ve never heard any footsteps coming from behind me. The tall domineering man next to my shoulder peeking down at the bar. He saw my intense gaze fixated on him. Mark turns around watching my look with a bit of haste. “And you are miss? Do I have something on my face?”

You could practically pass out from the way he is watching you like you are just some thing, a bug that could be squished by the size of his palm. “No…I…”

The bottle being placed down made you flinched. Somehow all the things Jaehyun said to you now makes sense. Mark had a look of a tiger behind his eyes. He wasn’t no cub. He was a fully grown animal in a human body. It made you scared to even look the other way.

Watching him leave with the bottle in hand. Jaehyun knew by your expression that you finally found some truth to his story.

You look down at your hands. “How do i get to speak to him?”

You hate to admit it but you want to meet them all. You want to analyse them; to get to know them. Somehow deep inside you’re willing to even try and befriend them.

Jaehyun gave you a laugh. “They don’t speak to people unless they want one thing from them. And they pick their prey very carefully. They don’t go for everyone.” You grumble at the bar owner. “Okay what’s that?”

An obvious tone was spoken again. “To sleep with you, nothing else.”

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you. Reblog this fic and follow me for more it helps a girl out!

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artists-ally · 1 year ago

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I love your Harvey fics😍 and I have a this fluff thatmayleadto spice/smut scenario in which Harvey comes back home from home finding the reader reading a particularly spicy scene of a romance novel and in the beginning Harvey makes a little fun of her but then he sees the appeal and...you know😂

{That Kind of Love} Reader x Harvey Specter

Can I just say @kjbg-fantasymoon is so sweet??? Like ugh you are so nice ilysm. Told you I’d answer all your requests 😘😘 Anyway here is my two cents on the matter, enjoy!!! Title from this song (p.s. both books I mention in here, Flawless and Dirty Letters, are both real books and I high recommend both of them!)

Word Count: 1,481

Warnings: smut, minor d/s vibes, spanking

Summary: Harvey catches you reading a particular smutty scene from your current book.

~~~~~~

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea?”

“Is what a bad idea?”

“You know,” I said, motioning between us. “This. Us, alone together? We can’t keep our hands off each other.”

Griffin laughed, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me tight against his chest. “It absolutely is an awful idea. But you look so fucking good in that skirt. I mean Jesus Luca, it barely covers your ass. And you know how much I hate it when anyone looks at anything that’s mine.”

I clenched my thighs together when he pushed the skirt up my ass, not being shy with the noise that burned my core.

“Griffin,” I rested my forehead against his collar bone, gripping his shirt as he pushed my underwear down my thighs.

“Yes?”

“Please,” I begged. I needed to feel him. God, twelve years of sexual frustration was not helping me in any way. Every fantasy I had as a teenager was coming to life.

“Is my girl needy?” I whined. “Aww, do you need me to take care of you? To force you on your hands and knees and fuck you like you’ve always wanted me to? How about I tie you up and make you cum on my fingers, then my mouth, then my co-”

“YN!”

I flailed so hard the book clattered to the ground, and I could feel my pulse in my fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ Harvey don’t you know how to knock?”

“I did knock,” he countered, reaching down to pick up my forgotten story. “Twice. And I opened the door and called your name. And I’ve been standing in front of you for two minutes, watching you read. Watching you bite your lip in that way you only do when you’re completely lost. So, wanna tell me what you were reading?”

I blinked, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. He turned the book over in his hand, reading the cover. Harvey raised an eyebrow at me and offered the book back. With a blush to my cheeks, I plucked it from his hand and folded it into my lap.

“What’s the book about?” He asked again.

“Nothing you’d like, Mr. Harvard,” I stuck out my tongue, placing the book on the table beside me before walking into the living room. “How was your day?”

“Nothing, huh?” Wow, Harvey could not take a hint. “Come on, just tell me. Was it about vikings? Pirates? Viking pirates? What about some small town romance, where the city girl moves back home and the farm boy reigns her back to her roots? Just like his pops did with his mamma?”

“Please, I am far above that cliche bullshit.” I am most certainly not above it. At all. “And why do you care?”

“Because, you were so entangled with it you didn’t even hear me come in. whatever is in that book, maybe I want to find out what it is so you’ll pay attention to me that intensely,” Harvey cornered me in the kitchen, caging me in against the counter after I got a glass of water.

“I pay attention to you,” I argued, looking from his eyes to his lips when he licked him, very clearly looking at mine.

“Uh huh, sure you do. When it involves my wallet and my lips in between your legs,” Harvey teased, bringing me in against his chest. In an oddly similar way that the main character of my book did. “Just tell me, I’ll stop asking if you tell me.” “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” Harvey smiled, and I rolled my eyes. “It can’t be that bad, Yn. I’ve caught you reading smut more than once, so what was it this time?”

“How do you know I read smut?” My eyes went wide, and my heart sped up a little in my chest.

“I didn’t at first,” Harvey said. “But then I told Donna about one of the books you were reading, Flawless by Elsie Silver, and she told me how ‘spicy’ it was. And you are pretty bad at being subtle, my love. You don’t do a great job at hiding your emotions on your face.”

Welp. Fuck.

My eyes narrowed at the New York lawyer and he just gave me a cheesy smile. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But you’re gonna have to read it. Because you’ll understand why when you do.”

As I walked back into the den, Harvey in tow, I plopped the book in his hand. Dirty Letters follows Luca and Griffin, childhood penpals turned strangers, through their reconnection. He’s keeping a huge secret and she’s a recovering victim of PTSD.

“Well, with a title like that I expect it to be dirty,” Harvey rolled his eyes, reading the back of the cover. “Show me the good stuff.”

I flipped to the page I was reading, scanning to make sure I was in the right spot. I didn’t have to bookmark the page because someone decided to scare me half to death. He should know by now to just leave me alone when I’m reading. It’s not my fault that I get vaulted into another world when I do.

“Here, start there and let me know when you’re done.”

Was I entirely sure that leaving Harvey to his own devices with my book was a good idea? No I wasn’t. I knew he was going to make fun of me, but oh well. Everyone else in the world liked to watch porn, I just liked to read it. He didn’t have to understand it, but if it would get his ass off mine? I’ll take the embarrassment and get it over with.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before he set the book down on the kitchen island, clearing his throat. I turned to face him and saw a slight tinge to his cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get it over with,” I prepared for the roasting. “Tell me how much of a nerd and how much of a loser I am for reading word porn.”

Harvey just shoved his hands in his pockets. He no longer had his tie, or his jacket for that matter. His hair was unusually messy and that blush. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Harvey blush before.

“Well,” Harvey started. “I can see the appeal.”

He can what? There was no possible way I heard him right. “Say that again?”

“I can see why you like to read. That author is really good at being… descriptive.”

I smirked, “So, you thought it was hot?”

“Amongst other things,” he bent at the waist, resting his elbows on the counter. “I get why you get lost in it, especially with something like that. Griffin is very charming, something we both have in common.”

“Oh please, you read some of the best smut an author can write at that’s what you take away from it?”

“Not at all, my love,” Harvey stepped closer. “I also learned that you have a thing for being called ‘my girl’. And I don’t blame you, you like it when I’m possessive. When I tell you that you belong to me.”

“This was not the reaction that I was expecting,” I eyed him.

“Don’t worry, Yn. I promise I’ll make fun of you for it after I finish making you scream my name,” Harvey ducked his head down and wasted no time in showing his need.

His tongue brushed over mine and he pulled me in tight against his body. Damn him and his unrivaled ability to turn me on. All it took was a few well placed kisses to my neck, to my ear to get me to our room and on the bed, hands not able to get enough of each other.

If I knew Harvey would’ve had this type of reaction to reading smut, I should show him some real smut. That was nothing compared to some of the other stuff on my shelf. Maybe I could get him to do some of those things to me.

“Aww, is my girl already messy for me?” Harvey clicked his tongue, stripping the last of his clothes off. “Who knew you’d be so easy.”

“And who knew that you’d be so easy when it came to getting what I want by giving you a book.”

Harvey’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re gonna get what you want?” In a quick grab, I was on my stomach, ass up, and Harvey’s hand came down a lot harder than I was prepared for. “Wanna try that again, pretty girl?”

I gasped when the next one came, and the next. “N-No.”

“Okay then,” Harvey let out a dark laugh, fisting his hand in my hair and pulling me up. “You gonna stop being a brat and let me do my job?”

I nodded, eyes falling shut when he pinched my nipple between his fingers.

“Good girl.”

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #harvey specter smut #suits #harvey x reader #suits smut #smut #suits fanfic #suits fanfiction #suits tv

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beneathstarryskies · 1 year ago

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Day 3: Face Sitting - Vergil

Warnings: cunnilingus, fem!reader, sort of dub con? like not really but I guess Vergil does kind of trick the reader into sitting on his face

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan, @loki-love

Vergil couldn’t describe exactly what it was about the idea of you sitting on his face that drove him so crazy. When he imagined the act, his mind never focused on any particular detail. It was simply the fantasy as a whole that drove him crazy. He could imagine your soft thighs settled on both sides of his head, trembling and shaking, while he laps at your pretty pussy like his life depended on it. Just the thought of being completely surrounded by you makes his cock rock hard in his pants.

He’d mentioned his curiosity in this act a few times, but you always seemed to find an excuse not to do it. He found most of them seemed to be about your insecurity with your body. He knows he can bring you so much pleasure you wouldn’t even care about that in the heat of the moment. Not to mention he finds you drop-dead gorgeous at any angle. Eventually, he stops asking, and you think he’d let the matter lay for now.

That’s not the case. Vergil was just waiting for his perfect moment to strike.

One night, he comes over to spend the night with you. As usual, you cook dinner for the both of you and then you cuddle in bed while Vergil reads to you. You’re so focused on the sweet poetry falling from his lips that you don’t notice his hand slowly making its way down your stomach. Not until it slides down your pants and his fingertips brush against your core.

“Oh!” you gasp.

“Ssshhh, relax,” Vergil kisses the top of your head. He continues reading as his fingers rub your pussy slowly, teasing your folds before settling on your sensitive clit. He continues reading casually as though he’s not playing with your pussy. Meanwhile, you’re a trembling mess beside him. You’re barely holding back your moans and whines.

“V-vergil,” you whimper pitifully.

“What is it, angel? Do you need attention?”

“Please.”

He closes the book and sets it on the nightstand before lying next to you. His kiss is searing, distracting you from the fact that he’s pulled his hand out of your pants. He caresses your side then pushes his thumb into the waistband of your pajama pants and begins pulling them down. Once you’re undressed for him, he kisses you again.

You’re lulled into a lustful haze as the two of you make out. It’s a passionate, fiery dance when your tongues move together.

Then, you feel him lift you a bit. Your body slides against his, but before you can question it his mouth is on your neck, kissing and sucking on that spot he knows drives you crazy. Your hands tangled in his hair and you let out a wanton moan.

“You sound so beautiful when you moan for me,” he chuckles against your skin. “Allow me to make you moan even more.”

He eases you into a sitting position over his face. You gasp as you feel his breath against your core. All of your previous fears over doing this with him seem to melt away, replaced with need as presses a sloppy kiss to your clit.

“Divine,” he murmurs and suckles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You mischievous devil,” you giggle upon realizing how easily he’d maneuvered you so he could get his way.

“Is it a sin to desire being surrounded by the warmth of your thighs and to have my senses invaded by your delicious cunt?” He punctuates his question by nuzzles his nose between your folds, and growling as he breathes in your scent. His tongue teases you with a featherlight lick against your hole.

You don’t get a chance to respond before he begins sucking on your clit again. His strong hands rest on your waist, and he begins guiding you to move. You try to resist at first, but soon you can’t help riding his face at the sensual pace he sets for you. One hand tangles in his hair and the other holds onto the headboard. He grunts and growls as he tastes you. His steel blue eyes are dark with lust as he looks up at you, but the more of your arousal he takes in the heavier they become. Until finally, with a roll of pleasure, they flutter closed. His fingertips dig into the fat of your hips and his grunts become more like primal growls.

“Vergil,” You moan. “Fuck, please…I’m so close.”

He doesn’t open his eyes to acknowledge your words, but he begins licking your pussy with more fervor. His attention is focused on your clit, switching between rapid flicks of his tongue and gentle suckles between his full lips. All the while your hips buck with need.

“Oh god,” you cry out as the heated coil in the depths of your core becomes impossibly tighter. You grind your hips even more, and soon it’s just too much. Your vision cuts to static as the coil snaps.

When you open your eyes again, Vergil is panting beneath you. His eyelids are heavy as he looks up at you with flushing cheeks. His lips are red and swollen, glistening with your juices, as he smirks.

“Well, well, that was quite a treat,” he purrs as he gently caresses your trembling thighs. He kisses your mound softly. “I feel I should be greedy and have another taste.”

#kinktober2023🎃#vergil x reader #vergil dmc x reader #vergil sparda x reader

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i-arch-my-backula · 1 year ago

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Only his: Bo Sinclair x GN reader

I got a domestic Bo fluff idea and after deleting my initial idea I got something I'm so excited to share with y'all. This is pure romantic fluff about Bo so if you're an angst lover sit this one out.

Warnings: Brief mention of religion and brief mention of violence

It’s a quiet morning. A rare day Bo decided to just take off completely. He’s always doing something around town or luring in victims but today he’s completely free. You’re free with him too. Today is a day where you can just breathe and love and relax. You’re watching the sun rise from your window as you lay on Bo’s chest. He often pulls you close to him after he has a nightmare. It took awhile before he even admitted he intentionally pulled you over to him, but he can’t deny it now.

“You know I picked up a copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ from a victim’s bag. It made me think about marriage. I know you’re not the most religious person but I think marriage sounds nice.” You say softly, running your hands over your hair to push it out of your face. “I always had fantasies about a beautiful wedding when I was younger. I guess I just got reminded of it when I picked up that book.”

Bo stays silent but he runs his hand up then down your back, repeating this motion over and over again. You can tell he’s listening to you. He won’t admit it ever but he’s a big softie for you now. You’ve worn him down to a point he can be a bit more open with you.

“I never thought I was gonna get married. I just never thought I’d have anything past a one night stand or a friend with benefits. But marriage does sound nice.” You chuckle and look up at him from where you’re laying.

“I forgot how much of a manwhore you were before you met me.” You say teasingly. The first time you ever called Bo a manwhore he didn’t talk to you for the rest of the day until you apologized. Lester told you one time he called Bo a man whore and Bo almost broke his arm when he twisted it, granted that was when Bo was 20. But now Bo laughs and pushes your head down on his chest to shut you up.

You laugh too and move your head to the side again to watch that sunrise. It’s silent in the house, but a comforting silence. It’s a time where you don’t have to worry about any victims walking in and interrupting you. Either of his brothers pulling him away for something. This time belongs to you and him, this time is yours to share. This time with him is more valuable than anything you can own. This time and love is yours, truly and wholly yours to share with him.

“If things were different Bo, I’d love to marry you. I’d marry you with no ring, I’d marry you even if we couldn’t have a ceremony, I’d marry you no matter what.” You pause for a moment and wrap your arms around his neck, “I love you.” Bo pauses.

“I love ya too.” He whispers, almost like the words are too valuable to share with anyone but you.

A week later you’re sitting with Bo in his shop while you flip absentmindedly through a magazine. You have developed a routine over the almost two years you’ve been living with Bo. Every time he comes in here to work on this car you join him. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you help him. You’ve actually learned a lot about cars through this.

But today isn’t any different. Bo is mumbling something to himself and he eventually sets down the tool he was using.

“I need some grease. Do ya mind gettin’ that jar in the back for me darlin’?” Bo asks, wiping off his hands. You get up from where you’re sitting and you shake your head.

“Not at all.” You say before walking into the back of the shop and searching for the jar he was talking about. You’ve practically memorized where everything in the shop is at this point. But today you can’t seem to find where this jar is. You look around the whole back, then again, and again, and on your fourth time looking around you still can’t find it.

“Come on, where are you?” You check behind the shelves and boxes and in every possible place this could be and you still can’t find that damn jar. You groan and give up before walking back over to Bo, “I don’t know if it just decided to leave or something but the jar is,” You notice Bo’s hands are surprisingly clean and he seems a bit nervous, “gone.”

Bo doesn't show that he’s nervous, or most of his emotions really. It took him months to even tell you when he was feeling upset. While he doesn’t look nervous, you can tell he’s nervous. He walks over to you and presses a kiss on the top of your head.

“You know I’m not good with words.” He says, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a ring. “I remember what you said before. I know my mama would’ve loved you. I want you to marry me.” He says, holding up the ring to show you. A large, toothful grin grows on your face and you nod your head, positioning your hand so he can put the ring on.

He slides it on and it’s a little loose, but you can’t even tell because of how strong your heart beat is. Your eyes start to water and you look down at the ring.

“Oh come on now don’t cry.” He says with a chuckle, trying to downplay the moment. You playfully swat his chest and look up at him, your smile still wide.

“I…You’re…This…” You say as you try to gather up your words but all you can do is wrap your arms around Bo and start to cry happily into his shoulder. You feel his arms wrap around you too and that just makes you cry even harder. “All I want is to be yours. Even when you’re gone I’ll still be yours.” You say, your smile quivering with your tears.

“It’s funny you think death can get you out of this relationship.” Bo says with a chuckle. You swat his back this time and look at your ring again. The world is too small for the amount of love you feel for your husband. The world is too small for someone as lovely as him.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

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portgasmalia · 2 years ago

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daddy's favourite, rafe cameron pairing: rafe cameron & female reader summary: the kook princess, the good girl everybody thinks you are but rafe sees a different side. warnings: smut ahead! minor's don't read, please.

escaping the difficult situations at home was easy when the library was just around the corner. a good fantasy book always gave you comfort and enough time to blend out the constant arguments at home. being the kook princess seemed so easy from the outside, but keeping up the image was the opposite.

a book about the disparate historical events connected to the island in your hands, a certain page opened. the gold, you heard the pogues talk about, mentioned in multiple sentences. an amount that would buy you freedom from the tight restraints of being the golden child.

yet, your lids fell close for merely a second. teeth chewing harshly on the soft skin of your bottom lip, almost tearing it apart underneath the intensity of the bites. head fell back against the wooden shelves, the sound of the collision not bothering you at all.

no one ever made it to the section in the far left corner. dusty books waited to be read again after years, at least pulled out of the spiderwebs and tight space in the shelf. one of your hands left the leather book, reaching down.

delicate fingers brushed over the short strands on rafe's head, the buzzcut being a completely new experience for you. still, it fit the kind of reputation he had around figure eight. your skirt bunched up around the waist, one large hand placed underneath your right thigh to hold up the leg while two fleshy fingers of his left hand were deeply inside of your pussy.

pumping them in and out, rafe flattened his tongue against your bundle of nerves. there was no need to deny that the cameron lad knew exactly how to satisfy your needs. he gathered tons of experience around figure eight, it was no secret how much he loved women and sex. maybe, in combination with a little coke for his nostrils and an expensive whiskey for his throat.

tonight, on the other hand, he almost seemed sober. the dark corner in the library, the place that the citizens of figure eight ignored, it became your little hiding spot. as the daughter of a very influential man, almost like rafe with his father, the gazes anchored on what you were doing and with whom. rafe’s image around the north side and even the south side labeled him as a bad company.

“stop thinking. focus on me, babygirl.” he whispered, his warm breath fanning over your in wetness covered clit. a whimper coaxed out of the dry throat, you closed the book and focused on him as requested. the leg in his tight grip, placed over his shoulder, you allowed rafe to occupy his right hand differently. and he accepted the invitation without overthinking.

slowly, he leaned back to examine the image in front of him. rough fingertips grazed over your clit, while his fingers slowed down. „rafe, don’t stop, please.“ you begged, when the movement of his digits halted. just the fingertips left inside of your pussy, he tilted his head back to look at your flushed face. a tint of red spread across your cheeks, your bottom lip cracked open slightly from the assault of your teeth.

and he could not deny, that the scenario he was able to witness, was the most beautiful and addicting one he has ever seen. a sight for sore eyes, an image that stayed burned in the back of his mind.

„what do you want, babygirl?“ he arched a brow, waiting for the response. his usually attentive gaze glanced away from your face, taking in how the wetness pooled between your legs, and slowly flooded down his long pointer finger. „just do something, please.“ you whined, a hand still on his head and attempting to push him forcefully back between your thighs.

you’ve never been aggressive, yet, there was a small part of you that always wanted what she desired. an orgasm in the library was one of those particular things. „you’re so fucking pretty when you beg.“ his chuckles were light-hearted, a rather warm sound to the usual, mean comments he threw around himself as protection. words, to hurt the pogues, and any other person who glanced at you for too long. yet, this wasn't close to a relationship. it was fun, but rafe started to get possessive.

sliding his two fingers inside of your pussy again, he immediately felt how your walls stretched around the fleshy, long digits. a tightness and warmth, rafe yearned to feel with his dick. but you never agreed to more than the average foreplay. fingers and tongue on you, hand and mouth on him. the easy ways to get relief, without consequences. you also denied him the official title of boyfriend and girlfriend. the insanity that ran in the male part of his family, made it difficult to find enough to trust to not be treated like a slut after the good days were over.

with every stroke of his fingers, you found yourself slipping further into the pleasure-filled haze. the library, and the slim chance of getting caught by the staff, or residents of the island, faded out of your mind. your bottom lip repeatedly assaulted by your teeth, attempting to stifle the needy whimpers and loud moans that wanted to echo through the library.

rafe's hooded gaze stayed focused on you while pushing his fingers in deeply and curling them to hit the spot. it was a miracle how the kook always made you squirm and cum, and reach the spot that increased the bursts of pleasure. "shit." the word slipped past the attempts of keeping quiet, a simple curse word that rang in rafe's ears and evolved into a smug smirk on his lips.

his free hand found his place on the slick nub between your lips. the rough pad of his thumb pressed against the bundle of nerves, he slowly started to move in circles. a circle for each time he plunged his fingers deep inside of you. "come on, baby girl. let me watch you cum undone for me."

he didn't need to say another word. the sweet name he used to lure you into release and pull you further under his spell, was enough to burst the last restraints. head thrown back against the shelf, strands scattered across the face and hiding parts, your hand on his neck and digging your nails into the soft skin. moans swallowed, quiet whines still slipped through the swollen lips.

rafe did not stop the movements of his fingers until the orgasm washed over you completely. the desire to witness each second of the pleasure you bathed in, was almost enough to make a mess in his pants. when a loud breath escaped your mouth, he withdraw himself from your pussy, placing his arousal-covered fingers in his mouth to lick them clean. a satisfied growl coaxed out of his dry throat, the sweet taste always his favorite dessert.

carefully, you brushed the hem of your skirt down again, hiding the mess that flooded down the insides of your thighs. "so," rafe breathed out, the hands deeply in the pockets of his cargo pants, and a wide smirk plastered across the face. he took a step closer again, chest pressed against yours, a hand placed on the shelf above your head. "when will you let me fuck you? i think i passed the qualifications weeks ago."

"patience is the key, rafe." you giggled, manicured nails placed on the fabric of his polo shirts, and pushing him away with slight force. "but thank you again for taking the stress away."

the last words of gratitude he heard as you walked away. a glance over the shoulders, taking in the straddled expression on rafe's face and the bulge in his trousers. the first time, you ever walked off without giving him something back for his service. but you knew, he would come to get it, to get his revenge for leaving him exposed and needy in the library. a chase, you were excited for.

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goldenspringmornings · 1 month ago

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this is something I’ve said about h*td too but I really don’t think that writers and fans understand how fictional monarchies work anymore.

sjm has created a high fantasy absolute monarchy where the title is passed on genetically through magic, but fails to actually like….think about the consequences of that. absolute monarchs don’t answer to anyone, there is no council they have to get approval from or send out a vote on matters of state or anything like that- law is whatever they say it is, the monarch might have advisors but the final decision is always theirs.

which of course brings us back to the night court because unfortunately we spend the most time there. I’m not saying anything no one else has said but the night court is not run like a true (fantasy) monarchy. not with the way illyria and the hewn city are treated, the hewn city especially actually because how can rhysand still call himself high lord when he explicitly lets the hew city govern itself up until he needs something from them?

rhys even mentions at one point he either dismissed all his fathers courtiers or they left (I don’t remember which, it was tamlin’s thing first) and then he installed the ic in their places. but then doesn’t actually….do anything after that. well okay he does do one thing- bitch and moan. and that’s annoying.

western media (american media especially) has shifted imo into this cultural need to force everything they read/watch/consume through a narrow modern lens that just doesn’t fit well with this pretty well defined fantasy trope and you can see it reflected in the absolute vitriol people will spew in regards to h*td specifically. this is an acotar post I swear but to tangent for a second: the team black/team green divide is, again imo, largely based in the fact people aren’t thinking of politics when they’re watching the show- they’re more focused on having a good time and liking the characters. and a large, large percentage of people watching the show aren’t book readers and don’t understand that fire and blood is a piece of propaganda written long after all the events it’s talking about have happened. that doesn’t translate well to tv. and the showrunners hopefully know that and that’s why they’re taking the show in the direction they are (not that I like it, I’m team black and they’re even isolating me with the shit they’re pulling).

bringing this back to acotar though, you can tell this… irreverence ig is the best word for it, for monarchs right from the first chapters of maf and feyre’s complete disinterest and disdain for the role of Lady of Spring. yes it’s also due to her very recent trauma, and I do think it would have been best for everyone if they’d waited longer to marry, but feyre desperately doesn’t want political power and views tamlin’s incredibly mild and indulgent exercise of it through the tithe as morally reprehensible but finds the taxes of the night court as fine and good even though they’re the same thing in the end. one is a direct and obvious example of monarchical power- tamlin and feyre had to physically be there to collect the tithes- while the other is more subtle and not as harsh sounding and more palatable to the modern reader because just like irl it’s (presumably) an automated and invisible process.

feyre and rhys don’t have to engage with politics in the night court if they don’t want to, and overwhelmingly they don’t. they’re perfectly happy hiding away in velaris and leaving illyria and the hewn city to their own devices until it benefits them and even in velaris they have the city governors actually running things. at best feyre and rhys are figureheads and at worst they’re puppets.

for a world designed to need the high lords, they’re surprisingly irrelevant. high lords and their magic could just as easily be replaced with Some Guy and nothing would inherently change except the name were ostensibly supposed to remember as Important (I cannot tell you how many times I’ve have to look up kallias thesan’s names). high lords don’t really do anything and I’m sure that’s just the failings of sjm as a writer but it also makes the world supremely unserious. there’s no weight to the power they have, it’s just some words we as the audience are supposed to find significant because they would like they would be Important People irl with a title like that.

I’m starting to ramble now but hopefully this makes sense; I’ve got a lot of opinions on the politics of acotar obviously and it’s getting really tiring seeing people say that fictional monarchies are bad just because they’re monarchies and that everyone should just switch to democracy when it could be fun to have a monarch instead.

#sjm critical #acotar critical #fandom critical #I have a lot of opinions of fantasy politics and don’t know how to organize them well unfortunately #hotd mention #i’m so sorry #I derailed my own post damn

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shyvien-obeyme · 3 months ago

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⚜️ Little Moth

✧༺⚜️༻✧

⚜️ Summary: You need help researching local insects. Who better to ask than your favorite angyboi bookworm, Satan?

⚜️ Content: Satan x Reader. No gender specified. Mentions of insect taxidermy. Slightly grotesque at one part. Otherwise, it's all just gentle fluff. 🐈🪷🦷

⚜️ Word Count: ~1,500

⚜️ Note: Lepidoptera is the name given to butterflies and moths. This is my first ever fic. I don't ever plan on becoming much of a writer, I've just been wanting to get my thoughts and fantasies somewhere. But if you have any helpful constructive criticism, please let me know.

I had always has an interest in pretty things, so it was no surprise that I liked insect pinning. It was a small hobby of mine that I’d enjoy in the human world whenever I would come across deceased butterflies or other insects. I also just enjoyed spotting the different local Lepidoptera. But since being in the Devildom, I haven’t been able to partake in this hobby of mine, as I am not very familiar with Devildom creatures. And knowing that the Devildom is a rather magical place, I fear that picking up any random dead moth would leave me cursed or something. So that's when I decided that I should study more about the wildlife in this strange new place I‘ve been suddenly thrust into. I think it over. How do I obtain this knowledge? Maybe I should go to the RAD library?…Or perhaps I could ask Satan if he has any books on local insects. I decide on the latter; It would be a good excuse to spend some alone time with him and talk to him about a favorite hobby of his, books.

You leave your bedroom and hike upstairs to Satan’s door. Knocking on it’s antique wood, you whisper “It’s me, MC. Can I please come in?” “Ah!” He exclaims gently before you hear a quiet shuffle and his footsteps near the door. He opens it and asks “Of course you can come in. How may I help you, MC?” with a gentle smile gracing his soft pink lips. He steps aside and gestures for you to enter his room. It’s a large room, dimly lit with candles and ethereal moonlight pouring from grandiose arched windows. As usual, it’s something similar to a maze as you maneuver around piles of books stacked as high as pillars. He shuts the door behind you, creating distance between the both of you from the rest of the house so that you can have some much needed privacy. Standing before him you ask, “Umm, I hope you don’t mind… I was wondering if you had any books on the local wildlife. Insects specifically.” You twiddle your thumbs and blush slightly. Even though you love the boys to death and have spent ample time with each of them, you can’t help but to feel a little embarrassed about revealing your hobby. He pauses to think for a moment, hand on his chin as he averts his cerulean eyes. “Yes, I think I have a few, let me take a look.” Thankful that there seemed to be not even a shred of judgement, you take a seat and watch as he shifts his attention to focus on the given task. He gracefully paces back and forth, checking a few different places in the room for books matching your request. He pulls out books from a large stack with precise precision, as if taking a block from a Jenga tower, careful not to knock the rest over. About 6 different books pile in his arms as he meets you on his relatively stiff bed.

“Is something like this what you’re looking for, MC?” You take a look at the books. Some large and thick, others thinner. Some bound in leather, some very old and moth-eaten, and others that seem more modern. They all seem useful, but your attention sticks to the book with the title: Devildom Moths and Butterflies; A Complete Guide. “Ah, yes! Something like this.” You take a moment to peek through a few of the pages before Satan questions “Might I ask what you need these for? You seem very interested” “I‘d like to take a closer look at Devildom’s insects, even take some home if they’re no longer alive. So I wanted to make sure I did research on them first - lest I get struck with some unruly curse!” You gesture dramatically with your hands before chuckling lightly. Satan’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before relaxing into a sweet smile, as if he wasn’t surprised you’d take interest in such a thing. He loves the look of excitement on your face when you find something else that you’re fascinated by. He’s also happy that you came to him for that help, not one of his idiotic brothers.

He shimmies a little closer to you until your thighs and shoulders are touching. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and you can smell the subtle floral and musky scent of his cologne. You take a long breath in, letting his essence spill into your nose and send waves of comfort reverberating throughout your whole body, making you relax a little more. “Want to take a look at this book together then?” You look up at him and smile with a nod. “I’d like that a lot!” You gently pry open the aged leather-bound book, pages fluttering as you turn them, and your eyes wander at the pictures of the different butterflies of the Devildom. Together, you pore over the short blurb of information on each of the insects.

“•Demon Silk Moth

Located in only this specific region of the Devildom, the Demon Silk Moth produces silk that contains very special properties and is used for making the most luxurious clothing. The moths are also made into a wide variety of gummies. Yum!”

“•Devil Clothes Moth

A common and destructive pest that eats away at clothing, carpets and tapestries, causing significant damage to any and all fabrics. Is found all over the Devildom, and can be kept away with Mothballs. You can tell when a Devil Clothes Moth infestation is on the rise when you begin to notice holes and weakened spots in your clothing.”

He reads aloud in his smooth and feathery voice as you follow along with your eyes. You point and ask about some of the more eccentric looking Lepidoptera as you see them, to which Satan replies with stories of the occasions he’s found their beauty and grace in person. He places his pointer finger, tipped green with Asmo’s designer nail polish, onto a picture of a butterfly similar to that of a Blue Morpho in the human world. “These ones we often find residing in the garden of the Demon Lord’s Castle. They’re much more beautiful in person, you should see the way their scales glisten in the moonlight. It’s truly an enchanting sight” Your face lights up at his retellings, you feel the excitement surge through your body, letting your toes wiggle as an outlet for some excess emotion to spill out. His expression is warm and gentle, deepening your feeling of ease and comfort. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as you rest your head on his shoulder, continuing to read together.

“This butterfly here with what looks like eyes on its wings, charms it’s victim to eat it so it can lay eggs inside the hosts brain, and like a parasite, it takes over the victims body, making them seem like a zombie and controlling the body to find an area perfect for its offspring to grow and to then devour the corpse as it comes of age.” “Creepy. I’m totally glad a took the initiative to research before possibly ending up as a zombie, haha!” You almost shudder at the thought. “Good thinking. Not to mention, I don't think zombies make good exchange students” You respond by make a silly face and growling like you think a zombie would, extracting hearty giggles from both of you.

Holding the book with one hand, he snakes the other around your waist to pull you in closer. You stare at him again for just a moment, silently consenting to his touch. Your big, goofy yet content smile sends heat to his cheeks. He warmly beams back as you reposition your head back against him, he responds by settling his head against yours. “I value time spent with you, little moth.” You’re struck by Cupid as the words leave his lips. Little moth? “L-Likewise.” “Well, what do you say we make this insect spotting a date? I know perfect places for us to go looking. We should prepare a picnic as well.” “It’s a date, then!” Your glee and excitement is palpable. He takes the moment into his hands and lands a chaste kiss on your forehead with his warm lips, sealing the promise.

Your head spins. It’s at this moment, with wide and glazed over eyes that you realize, the butterflies you were looking for were in your stomach this whole time.

✧༺⚜️༻✧

𝒮𝒽𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 ༝༚༝༚

#obey me #obey me nb #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #satan obey me #obey me satan #obey me fluff #obey me satan fluff #obey me fic #obey me fluff fic #adhd mc #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #⚜️

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nametakensff · 7 months ago

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Come Here (S/teddie)

Decided to go off of this idea here and cooked up 3.4k of S/teve and E/ddie fucking 💕

E/ddie decides to tease S/teve with some quick inducing one hot summer day

~~~~~

Content:

M/M, established relationship, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, manually induced sneezing, mentions of allergy sneezing, mentions of handjobs, dry humping, blowjobs, masturbation, spray, a little tiny mention of mess, sneezing on someone's face, teasing, nose rubbing, nose blowing, some tiiiny sprinkles of foot fetish stuff (my bad), they are both very sweaty lol

CW: nothing especially? E/ddie is playing with S/teve but they're both completely into it, S/teve is very handsy

~~~~~~

NSFW, minors please DNI!

“Stevieee.”

Lying on Eddie’s bed in a spread-eagle position, Steve was pulled out of the depths of his semi-conscious afternoon doze by the insistent neediness of his boyfriend’s voice.

“Yeah?” He called out, rubbing his eyes groggily with the heels of his palms.

“C’mere.”

Steve sighed. Moving was the last thing he wanted to do. They were in peak summertime heat, and the Munson trailer had very little in the way of functional air conditioning. It was fine if he was permitted to lie around like a spoilt house cat, but Eddie was energetic today. Granted, he was always energetic – but this was a lot even for him, given the veritable furnace-like atmosphere they were sweltering in. He’d only been able to snag this little nap because Eddie had been so preoccupied with some fantasy novel or other, eyes flying over the words in the thick tome without pause. Not much interested in books and even less interested in watching somebody else read one, Steve had slunk away to sweat a man-shaped puddle onto Eddie’s sheets.

“Baaaby boy. I said come heeere.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open again, and he realised he had already started to dose off in those 10 seconds or so of sleepy contemplation. He knew Eddie wouldn’t stop, so with no small amount of effort he pulled himself to his feet and staggered in the direction of the living room.

He looked at Eddie through bleary eyes, an apathetic expression plastered to his face in sharp contrast with the beatific grin his boyfriend wore. They were both shirtless, dressed only in boxers. It was way too fucking hot for much more, and Eddie had only been persuaded to keep his underwear on after Steve insisted on it. He didn’t think Wayne would appreciate a great big ass-shaped sweat stain on his sofa, and Eddie had had to agree, if not reluctantly.

“What is it, Eds?” He mumbled, making his way over to sit on the couch next to the older man. Eddie promptly stopped him with a hand to the chest.

“Nope. No sitting for you.” Eddie smiled up at him.

Steve blinked, taking in the mischievous twinkle in those big brown eyes, and the electricity sparked by their mutual gaze woke him up the rest of the way faster than a shot of espresso. Oh. So it was like that. The boner he’d sustained in his sleep, though it had been flagging in the miserable heat, gave an interested little twitch. He smiled back as Eddie started to play absently with his chest hair, waiting to hear what he had in mind.

“How about you kneel for me, huh? Right here.”

Eddie gestured at the space on the floor between his spread legs. And sure. Steve could do that. He dropped to his knees, maintaining eye contact with his boyfriend as he did so. Eddie’s smile widened, all teeth and eyes crinkled at the corners, evidently very pleased with how easily Steve was willing to play along. He swung one arm over the back of the sofa; Steve watched the slight rippling of lean muscle as he moved.

“Great job, big boy.” Eddie praised him in a lilted, singsong like manner. Steve smirked.

“Thank you. I studied really hard for all my obedience classes.”

Eddie’s smile widened as he reached behind a couch cushion.

“Could have fooled me, Harrington. Always talking back, always sassing me.”

“Just following your example, I guess.” Steve shrugged, a little distracted from the verbal back-and-forth as he focused in on Eddie’s right hand – and more importantly, what he clutched between his forefinger and thumb. He opened his mouth to enquire, but Eddie was quick to interrupt him.

“Shhh, Steve.”

He didn’t offer any explanation, and Steve’s eyebrow raised in scepticism. It was only when Eddie began to move his right hand up to his face, and Steve recognised the small item in his grip, that he found himself genuinely wordless with anticipation. The small clothing tag had become a regular and happy edition to their sex life now that they had become comfortable enough to indulge in their mutual fetish. He had to admit there had been a little more reluctance on his part, but not for lack of desire; he often felt like his body was too tiny and mortal to contain the levels of excitement he experienced being around Eddie on a daily basis, let alone when he was sneezing for his – their – pleasure.

His sweaty cheeks were already flushed by the heat, but they darkened a little all the same. His mouth suddenly felt dry, his stomach full of butterflies. More importantly, his genitals were making themselves very well known, pitching a solid tent in his boxers in seconds. Eddie was looking at him through heavy lidded eyes with an almost predatory expression of hunger. Steve could relate; he loved when Eddie was equally as responsive and pliant for him. Still didn’t stop him from feeling just a little embarrassed at his own uncontrollable eagerness, though.

Eddie flashed him one last grin before slipping the little tag into his right nostril and beginning to tease. He was so sensitive, Steve thought with immense appreciation. The rim of the metalhead’s nostril twitched even before the tool was inserted, as if in lusty preparation for the tickle to come. As Eddie probed himself, both nostrils began to flare in earnest. He was a pro at this, and Steve knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the first sneeze would come trembling out of him. His allergies had been behaving today, likely because they had been sweltering inside with every window firmly shut. It didn’t mean they were completely under control, and they’d both ushered in the morning with gentle, rolling orgasms, courtesy of Eddie’s morning sneezes and both of their hands. By the cringing expression that was beginning to crumple his features as Steve looked up at him through unblinking eyes, his sinuses were as easily irritable as ever.

One final, shuddering inhale later and the metalhead was pitching forward with a ticklish little fit.

“Hh-HH! HDdt’TSsieww!! Ehdt’TChieww!! Hah’ESHH’ieww!! ‘TShhieww!! EhH’NGXtshh!!”

Steve couldn’t help it as he let out a closed-mouth moan, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Eddie had purposely leaned forward more than the natural propulsion of his fit, and so Steve had felt every droplet of the fine aerosol each sneeze pushed out of his boyfriend. He had tilted his head back ever so slightly, letting the sneezes mist his neck and chest. The cool kiss of spray felt even better than usual on his heated skin, and he shivered, breaking out all over in a pleasurable rush of goosebumps.

“Bless you,” He sighed. He wanted to reach out and grab for Eddie, but his boyfriend didn’t even so much as acknowledge that he had spoken to him, slipping the tool right back into his waiting nostril. Steve placed his restless hands on his own thighs, digging his fingernails into the muscular flesh just shy of breaking the skin.

Eddie tickled himself, gasping intermittently as Steve watched him in a dreamy haze, feeling like his bones had been replaced with jelly. He normally only felt this loose post-orgasm, but the combination of sweltering heat, his recent unconsciousness and the unexpectedness of this game left him loopy and soft.

Steve barely had to wait before the next round of sneezes was raining down upon him, the last few so unbearably tickly his boyfriend’s left leg jerked off the ground as they overpowered him.

“hh’NgXt’shieww! HAH’ENGXtch’tsieww!! IGSH’ieww!! Huh’IgKkShieww!! ESHhh’ieww! ‘DDZz’SHieww!!...Ahh, holy fuck, that felt good…”

Eddie sighed, looking about as wiped out as Steve felt. The younger man was happy to see that the metalhead was sporting an impressive erection, pressing up against his boxers and leaking a little through the fabric. His own cock jumped in response, and he swallowed down a sudden deluge of saliva as he drooled at the sight like a fucking dog.

“Fucking bless you, Eddie!” He moaned, fingers flexing as he continued to kneel in front of his sniffling boyfriend.

Eddie didn’t respond this time either, just rubbed at his tickly nose with the palm of his left hand, mashing it around roughly for a couple of moments. The wet clicking sounds the action produced made Steve throb again. He could feel the head of his cock dripping, now.

He jumped at the sudden feeling of Eddie’s heel pressing into his crotch, groaning in equal measures surprise and arousal. It was only for a fleeting moment, a cruel little nudge before Eddie placed his foot back on the ground, thighs spread even wider. Steve tried not to think too hard about how good the pressure had felt, about how much he would have liked to grip Eddie’s ankle and rut back against him. The older man laughed softly at the look of Steve’s wide-eyed incredulity, but then simply returned the tag to his nostril again, barely a pause as he worked on his next fit.

Steve wouldn’t take that shit sitting – or kneeling – down. He pressed forward, torso up against the couch cushions between Eddie’s legs, and gripped each pale thigh firmly before yanking Eddie slightly towards him. Eddie didn’t stop him; he continued to tease himself until his chest swelled with a definitive breath, forced out of him moments later with another attack of spraying, tickly sneezes.

“Hit’TSCH’hieww!! HdT’TScchieww!! EhD’TSchhiew!! ISHhh’ieww!! Hh-! Hah’ISCHHtt!!”

Steve’s eyes closed reflexively, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as those sneezes caught him squarely in the face. He sighed, shuddering slightly with adrenaline. This always felt so, so good. He was moments away from shamelessly fucking the couch where his cock pressed up against the worn cushion.

“Bless you, baby.”

Eddie sighed, a distinctly orgasmic and dramatic sigh, sinking back into the couch and luxuriating in the sensation of his own sneezes. Steve liked to sneeze, couldn’t really help the little fetish-fueled rush it gave him, but he wasn’t one to get off to the sensation itself. That Eddie did, admitted to him that sneezing alone, not even someone else’s, could make him cum – it just about made Steve’s head explode every time he thought about it.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

Steve peered up at his face, took in the way Eddie was watching him from under his dark eyelashes. Eddie was addressing him directly now, acknowledging his blessing. He reached for the metalhead’s cock, figuring if he still wasn’t allowed to touch, his boyfriend would be sure to let him know. And, yeah – immediately his searching hand was being redirected, placed right back on Eddie’s thigh. Steve bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed a low whine, feeling as though he was losing his mind just a little bit – even more so as Eddie reached up to tease his nostril again, barely skimming the rim before another set of irritated sneezes burst out of him.

“Hh’EHhTT’TCHieww!! IGSHhh’IEWw!! Hah’EScHh’IEww!!....IISCHhhhhh!”

That lingering, definitive sneeze was so incredibly desperate, so high pitched as it misted over Steve’s face that the resultant shiver of pleasure that rolled down his spine had his hips thrusting involuntarily against the couch. It had been a pretty wet sneeze, too – Steve reached out with a large hand to wipe away the little dribble of saliva that dampened Eddie’s bottom lip. The intimacy of it made both of them moan.

“God bless you. You’re so sneezy, honey. So hot.”

He was getting bolder, incrementally, with every time that they fucked, but Steve couldn’t help cringing just a little at the sound of those words leaving his mouth – even if the giddy rush of arousal they produced was intoxicating. He could handle the embarrassment, however, as long as his words continued to have the effect on Eddie they had evidently just done. His boyfriend almost whimpered, squirming in his seat, cock rock-hard and begging to be touched. Steve was dying. He wanted his hands on Eddie more than he’d ever wanted anyone else’s hands on him – and he always wanted hands on him.

“Mm, thank you. Tickles so much.”

Steve swore and reached for Eddie’s cock, groaning like a petulant toddler when he was once again denied with a quick slap to the wrist. His hands gripped into the flesh of his boyfriend’s thighs, flexing intermittently in restless irritation.

“Eddie,” Steve groaned, voice strained and gravelly.

Eddie said nothing, but as he made to slip the inducing tool right back into his nose, something in Steve snapped. He yanked Eddie forward with a hand behind his knee, causing the older man to yelp in surprise, before manoeuvring the captured leg between his thighs and pressing his straining cock against the older man’s shin. It wasn’t an ideal body part to hump – a soft thigh, an ass, a crotch were all infinitely preferable. Even the sole of Eddie’s foot, the arch of it, pressing up against his cock…but this would have to do. He was pushing his luck as it was.

He started to buck his hips, wishing he was fucking his boyfriend’s ass, imagining the tight clench of muscles around him. Gripping the sweaty skin behind Eddie’s knee was making the angle a little easier, and he found a rhythm faster than he’d expected to.

“Fucking hell, Stevie!” Eddie giggled, pressing his leg up, hard, squashing Steve’s cock and balls between the limb and his own body. Steve gasped – it felt awful and wonderful all at once, and then the pressure was gone and he was pushing himself forward, chasing the contact as if possessed.

“So sensitive.”

Steve huffed at him.

“Shut up. This all your fault, Munson.” He stared up at Eddie. “Look at what you fucking do to me.”

The look that Eddie gave him as he took in the sight of him, the nakedness of his desperation, was so loaded with emotion – burning desire, fondness, awe – that Steve almost swooned with the resultant rush of blood to his already swollen cock.

“Yeah. All my fault...” Eddie muttered, sounding breathless and ruined. Steve wished their chests were pushed together so he could feel the feverish beating of Eddie’s heart, the rapid in and outs of his laboured breathing.

When Eddie raised the tool back up to his nostril, Steve nearly came on the spot. He managed to hold back, gritting his teeth and choking back a strangled ‘fuckkk!’ He wanted to time it just right, bust a nut inside his boxers right as Eddie was showering him with spray. It was going to be an intense orgasm, judging by the way his entire body was beginning to heat up, so, so hot, sweat prickling on his skin as his universe narrowed down to the throbbing in his cock and the sight of his boyfriend’s twitchy pink nostrils.

Eddie’s face crumpled, tongue pressing against his bottom lip as the sneezes built, tickling himself in earnest. His chest jumped with violent hitching breaths, a single tear of irritation beginning to roll down the side of his face. It was so painfully erotic Steve couldn’t catch his breath – the oncoming orgasm leaving him stupid and operating on animalistic impulse alone. He felt his balls drawing up in preparation, felt the coiling pressure in his belly tightening, ready to explode in a euphoric release.

Eddie gasped – a huge, desperate intake of air that sounded almost pained as he pressed the clothing tag as deep into his nostril as he could. He held it there, frozen for an intoxicating moment, the cresting tickle as monumental as Steve’s approaching orgasm. When he did sneeze, they barrelled out of him, an intense rush of both air and sound, overpowering Steve’s senses and ushering his orgasm in so abruptly he yelled with it.

“HUH-!! HHIIISSHHH’IEww!! HahDT’TScHieww!! ENGXT’TSchieww!! IGSSHh!! Hh! HuH’ISSSH’Ieww!! EhH’NGXT’Tschieww!! DDZ’Zshieww-! Heh!! Hahdt’TSSCH’IEWww!!”

Steve came throughout, twitching helplessly, his face a twisted rictus of ecstasy. The sweet, throbbing pleasure of it pulsed through him, cock spitting cum into his underwear, soaked and sticking to the skin of his boyfriend’s leg. He finished cumming in time to tip forward and press his head against Eddie’s thigh, mouth still frozen in an ‘o’ of pleasure, as Eddie sneezed one last time over the expanse of his back. He groaned as the aerosol rained gently across his spine, thoroughly sneezed on and contented in a way only his fetish could make him.

“Ohh fuckkk…” He muttered after a moment, drooling a little onto the soft, pale skin pressed up against his face. Eddie laughed breathily.

“You’re welcome.” He sniffled, the sound of it ominously thick.

Steve gingerly raised his head, feeling almost drunk in the oppressive heat of the room and the closeness of their bodies. Eddie had covered his nose and mouth with a hand, and Steve knew those last few sneezes had been productive.

“Do you need a tissue, baby? Made a mess?”

Eddie nodded, eyes smiling over the protective cradle of his hand.

“Sure.” Another thick sniffle that had Steve’s cock twitching almost painfully with a pitiful, post-orgasm spasm. “But I think you made a bigger one.”

Steve blushed, sighing and pulling himself up on shaky legs. God, that had felt good. He’d practically painted the inside of his underwear, Eddie was right about that. He smiled a goofy, sated smile at Eddie before making his way over to the bedroom. He considered his messy state for a moment, then simply shrugged before removing his underwear and wiping his cock on the clean parts of the fabric. He sighed in over sensitised pleasure; he was still hard and it felt great to stroke himself. He indulged for a few moments longer before flinging his underwear onto the pile of dirty laundry on the floor and returning to the living room, entirely naked and box of tissues in hand.

Eddie was fumbling his left hand over his crotch, pawing lazily at his straining erection as his right hand remained covering his face. Steve’s cock gave an appreciative twitch at the sight of it. He knew in that moment that he wanted his boyfriend to finish in his mouth. He proffered the box to Eddie, waiting for the older man to reach up and take it before he returned to a kneeling position between his legs. As Eddie pulled back his hand, Steve caught sight of the glistening mess underneath for just a moment, and then the metalhead was scrubbing himself clean and indulging in a long, crackling blow. It ended with an awkwardly loud honk that had the pair of them locking eyes and giggling like stupid kids.

When he was done, Eddie simply let himself melt back into the couch.

“That was fun.” He drawled, eyes closed and head tilted back. Steve’s hand crawled up the inside of his thigh. “Did you like that?”

Steve snorted.

“Did I like that? You drained me dry, dude. That felt so fucking good.”

“Yay.” Eddie offered, the corners of his mouth turning up with a smug little smile.

Steve began to pull Eddie’s underwear down, and the older man cooperated by lifting his ass off the couch.

“Not going to slap my hand away this time?” Steve half-heartedly joked, pupils blown wide at the sight of Eddie’s leaking, solid cock. He was salivating in moments, leaning forward and inhaling the scent of him deeply. The press of sweaty pubic hair against his face as he nestled his nose up against the base of his boyfriend’s cock was familiar and intoxicating. Eddie’s breath hitched in anticipation, and Steve knew his arousal was fueled partially by the promise of a blowjob, but even more so out of the suggestible proximity of his pointed nose against his genitals.

“Go to town, honey. I’m not stopping you.”

Steve smiled, kissed his way up the length of Eddie’s cock before pressing his tongue into the slit of his urethra. Eddie uttered a garbled, broken moan, hips bucking uncontrollably and cock head leaking fluid in response.

“You know,” Steve started after licking his palm and wrapping it around Eddie’s sweaty shaft. “Normal people just ask for blowjobs when they want one without the pretence of sneezing all over their boyfriend.” He took the head of Eddie’s cock into his mouth, licking it a couple of times like a melting popsicle before sucking on it, hard.

“Ohh, Stevie…..my way is so much more – ahh! More fun-!” Eddie choked out, fingers reaching out to wrap themselves in Steve’s floppy hair.

Steve couldn’t disagree in the least, replaying the sights and sounds of his boyfriend’s sneezing in his mind as he sucked him down like he was best damn thing he’d ever tasted.

#so much for keeping this around 2k lol #i triiiied!! please take this offering whilst I drag out my longer fics OTL #s/tranger t/hings #nametakenfic #sneeze fic #sneeze fucker #snz fucker #snz kink #sneeze kink #snz fet #snzblr

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