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freedomfireflies · 4 months

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Tell Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

The one where your best friend Harry suggests a fun, friendly little game of horny Simon Says.

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, choking, Daddy kink

The look on his face is absolutely feral.

Your heart is in your throat. Pounding between your legs. Racing beneath your chest.

And he’s looking at you like he’s ready to take you over his knee and show you exactly how much he’s missed you.

He takes a step forward, expression firm and never wavering. He studies you. Studies your trembling thighs, your quivering lips. He studies and he plots and he grins because he knows you’ll do anything he fucking asks.

He reaches the bed and his chin raises. “Are you gonna be good for me, Bee?”

You nod quickly. Of course. Always.

“Good.” He smiles and it makes your insides wrench. “And you still wanna play our little game?”

You nod again. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl. Then are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He smirks. “Harry says…lift your pretty skirt up.”

Quickly, you oblige, pulling the black fabric along your thighs and toward your hips. An easy task and you're eager to make him proud.

You can tell he's tempted to look. But he doesn’t. He keeps his attention on you. Only. Always. “Harry says pull your little panties to the side.”

Again, you obey. Hooking a finger around the already damp fabric and peeling it away from your cunt until the cold air finds you.

You shiver. He grins.

“Harry says spread your legs.”

You do. Easy.

He nods and his arms cross and he’s oddly calm. Focused. He takes another step closer and you could almost grab him. “Harry says show me how wet you are.”

You lean back and now he looks. He’s intrigued. Pleased. Proud.

And the devious grin that splits his face is enough to ruin you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs and then he’s crouching down between your knees. Lining his eyes up with your cunt in the most intimate of ways. “Touch your clit for me.”

Your fingers twitch and you almost do, but you don’t. You follow the rules. You know better.

He chuckles and places his hands on your thighs, keeping you open. “Smart girl, too, hm?” He dips down and presses a kiss to your knee that has you sighing. “Harry says touch your clit for me.”

You do, instantly, and it’s everything. Even the slightest brush of contact has you reeling and you whimper as your thumb sweeps across the sensitive nerves.

He watches you for only a moment—the way you circle and pinch, the way you gasp—before he’s jutting his chin up. “Harry says stop.”

You whine. Breathless. Needy. “Harry—”

“Stop,” he repeats firmly, eyes flicking to yours. You mewl dejectedly and pull your hand away. “There you go. See, you can behave when you want to, hm?”

You nod weakly.

“Good.” He’s smiling again—coy, evil—and kissing your inner thigh. “Harry says suck your fingers.”

You bring your slightly soaked digits toward your lips and you’ve never felt so enamored. Because he is sex and he’s nipping at your skin in a way that reminds you of how good his mouth is. And you love his mouth. And the way he tugs on your body as though tempting you with the idea of tasting you but never actually giving in.

You suck and you moan and you make a show of it.

He hums. “Harry says give me your hand.”

You relinquish your trembling hand to him and he licks a long, slow stripe up your palm. All the way to your fingers while your eyes nearly roll back.

He hums again. “Always taste so good for me, Bee. You know that?”

You watch his lips. You don’t speak. And this is an evil game, a cruel game, and even if you win, you lose. But you don’t mind because he is your prize and that's all you've ever really wanted.

He drops your hand and returns his hold to your thighs. He smiles at you. “Harry says spread your pussy for me.”

With a strained inhale, you slip your fingers down and pull yourself open. His soft, warm breath fans across your dripping cunt and you whimper quietly. Desperate to weave your fingers through his curls and bring him closer.

And he knows you, knows what you really want, so he taunts you. Kisses up your thigh, over your hip, along the band of your underwear. Everywhere but where you need him most.

He watches you soak the bed below and he’s so incredibly smug. “Harry says tell me what you want.”

“You,” you breathe instantly. “You, Daddy, please.”

The use of the nickname surprises him. You haven’t slipped into your subspace yet but you quite enjoy the way his expression grows dark at the use of the moniker. And, truth be told, you also happen to love the way it tastes to say.

His eyebrow lifts and his hands curl tighter around your legs. “What do you want Daddy to do, Bee?”

You swallow. Thick. “Want you to fuck me. Please.”

His lips part. He’s mesmerized and wildly intrigued. And even if he knows you’re trying to cheat by using the more dominant nickname, he doesn’t seem to care.

He stands up. “Daddy says lay down.”

Suppressing a grin, you slowly crawl back toward the pillows and settle onto the mattress. And he looks at you like he’s never seen anything so beautiful, so enticing. You imagine if this were a cartoon, he’d be drooling, and you don’t miss the twitch in his fingers as he attempts to resist chasing after you.

Instead, he’s deliberate. Practiced. Following you onto the duvet and hovering above you before nodding again.

“Daddy says take me out.”

You reach for his belt. Pulling it through each loop before tossing it toward the floor and continuing to his zipper. Once you have enough room, you slip into his briefs and find him. Hard, heavy, and leaking in your palm. You almost drool, too.

You take him out and your lashes flutter as you glance up at him. Looking for his approval which he gives you almost far too easily.

“Good girl,” he whispers. His voice is labored. Thick with lust. “Daddy says put me in.”

You bring him closer and run him up and down your pussy a time or two while you both shudder. And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he slips in. And everything changes.

He curses and you gasp and the game is over. It doesn’t matter who won because this is why you play. For this feeling, this moment. This familiar and addictive stretch as he pushes in and sends you over the edge.

He puts a hand on your throat and his mouth finds yours. He kisses you—hard, hungry. Sloppy and rushed but full of love. He adores having power over you, but he loves you more. Getting to take you anyway he wants you.

He squeezes your delicate neck and your vision blurs around the edges in the most delicious of ways. He knows what you like and he knows that you’d gladly put your life in his hand any goddamn day of the week. So, he holds you, and he chokes you, and he waits until your gasps are shallow before loosening his grip ever-so-slightly.

“Shit,” he exhales before he’s pulling back and thrusting in. “God, you’re so tight today, lovie.”

You arch off the bed and reach for his back. Nails scraping down his spine while his dark shirt wrinkles beneath your hands. “Daddy, please—”

“I know.” He bites your neck. Pulls the skin between his teeth and laps at it with his tongue. “Fuck. I know, baby. Feels so good, doesn’t it? Poor little cockslut was just so empty while I was gone, hm?”

You nod fervently. You hate when he leaves, hate when his job takes him on trips away from you. And fucking yourself isn’t nearly as good as when he does it.

And he knows it.

“Say it,” he hisses. “Fucking tell me how good I feel.”

You reach for his ass and grip. “So good, Daddy. Needed you so bad.”

He nips at your earlobe and then returns to your mouth. The sound of his cock fucking into your pussy is loud, almost as loud as the sound of him sucking your tongue. And it almost ends you, right there.

He smells like vanilla and sex. A musky, familiar scent that seems to seep into your bloodstream and go straight to your clit.

You don’t imagine either one of you will last much longer, not after being away all this time. But you try, you do. You meet his thrusts as best you can and you kiss your name into his neck until he groans.

“So many things I wanna do to you,” he whispers and he’s gentler now. “God, Bee. You have no idea what I wanna do to you. All the things I imagined as I fucked my fist just thinking of you.”

“Tell me,” you whimper. “Tell me, please, Daddy—”

He curses again. “Want you to sit on my face until I can’t fucking breathe. Wanna taste you—gotta taste you, baby. Missed it so fucking much.” He reaches for your clit and you moan. “Wanna eat my cum out of your pretty pussy and I wanna make your thighs fucking shake.”

God. You tug on his curls and you’re so close. So fucking close.

“Then I wanna watch you bounce on my cock,” he says. His thrusts are harder now. Faster. Sharper. “Wanna bend you over and watch this pretty little ass shake for me.”

Your leg hooks around his hip and you whine his name.

“Wanna have you in the shower, in the kitchen, in the living room, in the car, against the window so they can all watch. Fucking everywhere.”

A strangled sound leaves your throat and you know he means it.

“Want you to fucking own me, Bee.” He slips his hand around the back of your neck and pulls on your roots. “Cause you do. You know that? You fucking own me. I’m yours. Always—”

“Harry,” you gasp.

“Show me you know that,” he hisses. He’s almost there. “Show me you fucking know that I belong to you—”

You come and when you do, everything changes. Lights are brighter, sounds are louder, life is sweeter. You see stars and you see him and you don’t need to see anything else ever again.

He follows right after, unable to resist the way your pussy clenches around him as you come. He’s warm and it feels like heaven. You hold tight to his shoulders and you ride each other through. It’s not until you writhe away from the ministrations on your clit that he slows to a stop and drops his face to your neck.

“Fuck,” he exhales. You have to agree. “M’sorry. I tried to make it last longer, I swear—”

“No,” you whisper. You take his cheeks between your hands and lift his face to yours. “No, it’s okay. It was perfect, I promise.”

He sighs. “I know, but after all that time, I just…I wanted to do better—”

You shush him and nuzzle your nose against his. “Harry, it was perfect. Trust me. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Yeah?”

You grin. “Yeah.” You kiss him. “That was quite a fun game.”

He laughs now and the sound is like magic. “You think so?”

“I do. Love it when you tell me what to do.”

He smiles again but you notice the devious expression returning. “Is that right, lovie?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He hums and it’s wicked. “Then maybe we should play another round, hm?”

Your stomach flips. You nod.

He smirks.

“Then Daddy says…on my fucking face.”

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @jessitpwk @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @harrysgf01 @spinningoutwaiting4ya @vyctorya @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @wolfmoonmusic @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream

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moonstruckme · 5 months

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Hi omg could I request Remus comforting insecure reader who makes jokes about her looks all the time and stuff and kind of tries to avoid talking deeply about it because it actually really hurts deep down but Remus wants to address it and when he talks to her she’s like “you wouldn’t get what it’s like to be ugly you (as in Remus) have always been beautiful” ? I hope that makes sense 😭Totally understand if you don’t want to write this!

Of course you can lovely! Thank you :)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 884 words

Remus’ self control starts to fray when you discard your third outfit.

It’s not that he’s impatient to get to the restaurant—you’ve both got plenty of time, and watching you try on clothes for him is a far from unappealing way to pass it. The issue is that you don’t seem to get how fucking phenomenal you look in all of them.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, making a face at yourself in the mirror before lifting the top over your head. It’s tossed onto the bed, where Remus picks it up to put it back on its hanger. “That color makes me look sickly.”

“Dove,” he reprimands. “It does not.”

“Rem,” you mimic his tone teasingly. The late afternoon light filters through the window, and he honestly isn’t sure if the glow he’s seeing is from that or from the smile you give him. “I already look like this, I don’t need to accentuate it.”

You do that. Self-deprecate. Like it’s anticipatory, like you’re in on a joke that hasn’t been told yet. It makes Remus’ skin prickle.

“Anyway, I’ll be with you, handsome.” You set one hand on the bed and lean over to peck him on the lips. You take the top with you as you go, hanging it back up in the closet with a nod of thanks to your boyfriend. “I’m not aiming for mind-blowingly gorgeous, but I’d like to look at least remotely in your league, if I can.”

“You always look mind-blowingly gorgeous,” Remus says softly. His chest aches with earnestness.

You select a different top, tossing a coy grin over your shoulder. “Thanks, honey.”

“No, really.” He feels suddenly hot with desperation. Remus doesn’t usually get in your way like this. You make your jokes, he disagrees politely, and he lets you move on. But the need to make you hear him, to talk until you finally get it, see how obsessed he is with you, has been building. If there’s one hill he’s going to die on, he wants this to be it. “You looked lovely in that top, and in everything. You’re exquisite, dove. Do you get that?”

Your smile falters, and you turn away. You speak into the closet, over the schwick of hangers sliding. “Exquisite.” Humor bends the syllables of the word. “You’re too sweet. Careful, or you’ll give me an ego to eclipse the sun.”

Remus wishes, but he seriously doubts there’s any danger of that. Your perusal of the closet picks up its pace, criticism a shadowy gray cloud above your head. He stands from the bed and steps forward to wrap his arms around your waist. You still, relaxing into him automatically.

“I don’t understand why you have to deflect like that,” he says, doing his best to sound kind even as a protective ire burns fiercely in his chest. “You’re always making these cruel jokes about yourself, and you won’t listen when I tell you how wrong you are. Why?”

“Remus.” It’s hardly a murmur, and yet the plea is clear. “Can we drop this, please?”

Just like that, the fire in his chest is smothered. A dull ache takes its place. “Not if you’re going to keep doing it,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck. “Just tell me why, please.”

You clasp your hands over his, seeking comfort even as you stiffen in his arms. “You wouldn't get it.” There’s no venom in your tone, but Remus hears the slight edge. “You don’t know what it’s like to be ugly, Rem. You’ve always been beautiful.”

A laugh barks out of him, sharper than he means it to be. “I wouldn’t get it?”

You’re quiet. He takes you by the shoulders, turning you to face him. Your eyes drop to his chin.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t know how it feels to be insecure?” he asks. “Dove, I grew up with giant tears and scars on my face. People stare at me.” Your eyes flit up to his, shame and apology clear within them. When they go back down, Remus follows, ducking so you can’t hide from his gaze. “I understand that when you feel like something about you is ugly, no one can convince you it’s not. You have to do that on your own, pretty girl.” A flicker of emotion—discomfort, aversion, something else—passes over your face at the endearment. Remus has to swallow against the upset that clogs his throat. “But do you think you could try talking about yourself more kindly? For me, if not for you. It hurts to hear you being so cruel to someone I care about,” he says softly.

Every line of your face is tense with discomfort at the topic, but you finally meet his eyes. Remus’ smile is reflexive. He’s not sure how you can find things not to love in this face so full of sweetness.

“Sorry,” you say, sheepish.

“Don’t be sorry.” He rubs your upper arms affectionately. “I know you don’t do it to spite me, darling.”

You bring your hands up around his neck, hugging him loosely. “You really are beautiful,” you murmur into his sweater. “With the scars, too. I’m not just saying that.”

“So are you.” Remus kisses the top of your head. Someday, he’ll get you to believe it.

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hungharrington · 1 year

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☁ — sweet talk !

summary: you're interested in your boyfriend's history- well, more like what he used to do that made the stories about king steve in bed spread like wildfire during school. you find out for yourself. fem!reader. 2k. minors DNI

Look, you love your regular ol’ Steve. Stevie. Steeb. He’s a sweetheart through and through — holds the door for you, holds your hand, gives kisses on your cheek, in your hair.

He’s a generous lover. Knows each little thing that makes you tick and just gives and gives to you. Answers your whimpers for more with a deeper grind of his hips, holds your hand as he buries his face between your thighs. He’s a giver.

But a small part of you, just a small part, has always wondered about King Steve.

You don’t want his sneering jabs and aloof disinterest — no, that’s all very much better off left in the past.

But the stories, the stories of how he left girls’ heads spinning, of the filthy fucks at bathrooms, all teasing and cocky King Steve, panty dropper.

You’re just a little bit— alright, marginally interested. Maybe decently interested.

So, you ask. It’s one of those games Steve likes to play sometimes at parties, the two of you begin as though you’re strangers. You’ll act coy, leaned against a wall with a low-cut shirt and a tight skirt and Steve puts on the moves.

It’s always the same stuff and it always makes you nervously giggle. A hand rested above your head against the wall so he can lean in low, whisper in your ear, something cheesy like, “I saw you from across the room and thought you looked so sexy,” that never fails to make you both break, spilling into laughter.

It’s one of the song and dances you two do, flirting like it’s your first time time meeting to keep things fresh. But tonight, when he cages you against the kitchen counter, hands planted on either side and he’s leaning in close, showering you compliments— you ask.

Your fingers tuck into his collar, keep him close, keep his lips ghosting the shell of your ear and whisper to him. “And what would King Steve say?”

You turn, just enough to see his face. The flush that climbs his cheeks as he considers it is glorious to see, but too his credit, he remains cool.

Steve’s eyes darken, rake over your expression and finds what he’s searching for. One of the hands on the counter shifts to cup your waist, dragging his thumb over the exposed skin tantalisingly.

“He would ask what colour your panties are,” Steve murmurs in your ear, voice somehow lower than before. The gravel in his tone shoots straight to your core. “And then ask you to prove it, in the bathroom.”

Before you even get a moment, his thumb dips into the waistband of your skirt, just an inch — and you suck in a breath instinctively. Steve chuckles and it has a condescending lilt to it. You’re nearly ashamed of how much it turns you on.

“So,” you reply, more breathy than intended. “Are you gonna take me to the bathroom then?”

Steve’s eyes light up and a pleased smirk plays on his lips — his hands wandering further from your waist, over your ass, toying with the edge of your skirt.

“Pretty girl like you?” He hums, the air of cockiness you know is King Steve beginning to take over. “No way, baby. I’d have you in the car.”

The way he says it, like he knows he’s already got you wrapped around his finger has heat crawling in your tummy, thighs squirming just a bit. The party is all but abandoned and you have to try your best to not look too eager on your way out. Steve’s wandering hand, which follows a line straight from your tummy down your thigh, doesn’t help in the least.

His hand is glued to your thigh, the entire drive home, the sweet caress of his thumb driving you crazy. Worse, Steve knows it — he takes his eyes off the empty road to watch your expression when he grazes closer to your hot cunt. Laughs a bit at the flutter of your lashes, the shuddering breath you take.

“Y’gonna let me fuck you properly when we back?” He asks, all smug, rolling his head in your direction. He doesn’t even give you time to respond, not that you can think of words at the moment.

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” He hums, his other hand draped lazily over the wheel. He squeezes your thigh, some murmur of ‘being good’ you can’t quite catch.

Despite his cool composure, you can the effect this whole act is having on him. His hips shift upwards for a moment, adjusting himself and clearing his throat. It thrills you more to know you’re both getting off on it.

You don’t make it inside once Steve kills the car’s ignition, parked in the shadow of his house. It’s dark out, a few streetlights here and there, but just light enough to see Steve. He smiles at the way you turn to him, looking for what’s happening next.

He puts his seat back just a bit, backing away from the wheel, and beckons you over. It’s an awkward clamber and when your knee knocks the gear stick and you whisper an “Ow”, only then does Steve break character for a moment.

“Shit, honey, y’alright?” He asks, pulling you into his lap, one hand travelling to your knee instantly. He gives a comforting rub. Concern knits his brows together. It hurts, but barely. You smirk and wind you arms around his neck.

“Wow, who knew King Steve was such a sweetheart.” You tease. You sink down, settling atop his thighs, and move to grind down against him but Steve’s hands are faster. His hands grip your hips, holding them tight in place, and you whine in retaliation before you think.

Steve huffs that cocky laugh, squeezes the flesh of your thighs, pawing back to grab at your ass. “Too needy, aren’t you? You’ll just have to wait, mhm.”

Then his lips are on your skin, on your neck, sucking and scraping. Steve knows all your sensitive spots, the way to play with your lobe to make you slick and whimper aloud. He’s merciless, nibbles and licks that make your tummy burn tighter and hotter — your hips move against his hold automatically, beginning to get desperate for friction.

“Stevie…” You rasp after a couple minutes. The air is just your heavy pants, Steve’s fervent motions, the sound of his hands scraping across the fabric of your clothes. His hands cup your ass, move to under your thighs, and he curls his fingers around the edge of your skirt and tugs it up just a bit.

“I know, baby.” He coos against your skin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You groan aloud softly, all his words travelling right to your cunt with a throb. You nod instantly, hoping, praying he’ll give you more. That he’ll let you kiss him.

“Let me have a kiss,” You pout, fingers curling into his hair, ready to tug his face up. Steve smiles at your words, despite his act, but he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t even move his face out. Just mumbles, “Nuh uh, baby. Not yet.” against your neck, breath hot, just to draw it all out.

While you still have a single coherent thought, you consider this the main difference between your Steve and this King Steve. King Steve is a fucking tease.

Your hips shift again, feeling his hardness beneath you. The desperation for some relief is building but Steve’s hands are already firm, holding you in place. He pulls back this time and fuck, if it isn’t a beautiful sight.

Lips pink and sheened with spit, cheeks a tad pink, eyes half-lidded in his lazy motions.

“Baby,” he begins, an annoyed drawl to his voice. “I’m taking care of you, yeah? Wait your turn.”

And before there room for protest, he’s back on you, lips pulling out every single sound from you he can. His hands move up to grope at your boobs, his fingers pinching at your nipples to make you whimper, then massaging it into pleasure to make you sigh. Your neck must be littered in hickies by this point.

It’s heaven. It’s torture. You grip his hair tighter as he works at a spot below your ear that forces little mewls out your throat and you try to contain your hips.

As Steve’s hands work downward, tracing the crease of your thighs inwards, you shudder and lean forward into him. Your forehead presses against his shoulder, still exposing your neck, and you can’t help how good it feels, you go a bit slack. Steve notices in a moment.

“Mmm, there you go.” He hums, voice low and still coated in smugness. “That’s it, just like that, huh?”

The dirty talk is making your head spin, making your cunt throb in want, your nipples tighten. You know the moment Steve’s fingers delve under your skirt, he’ll find a wet patch of slick.

His hands, however teasing, don’t venture under your skirt — and instead, he grips your hips again. This time, he pulls you closer and down, grinding up against at the same time. The pleasure burns hot and you moan lightly, fingers clenching in Steve’s hair and you find yourself chasing another grind instantly.

Steve doesn’t let you, hips still holding you in place. He sets the pace, a slow back and forth grind that pulls filthy noises from you. “That’s it, huh baby? That’s what you need, isn’t it? Taking what I give you, so good.”

His low voice, dripping in smugness, makes it hotter. Just a little mean. You force yourself to tug your head up, wanting more friction against him.

Despite the hardness in his jeans giving him away, he’s the most collected you’ve ever seen him for the situation. Eyes half-lidded, pink lips curled into a smirk, like he’s just observing you, not even partaking.

It’s all apart of King Steve; he gets you all hot and bothered, chest heaving and nails digging into his skin, while he looks cool as a cucumber. You let out a pathetic sounding noise, hips bucking against his hold.

“Oh, baby,” he crows, all faux-sympathetic, like he’s not grinding back up at you in that moment to make you mewl. Finally, one of his hands shift, pushing the fabric of your skirt up you thighs. Steve’s eyes gleam at the sight- sticky panties that are every bit of evidence of your arousal.

“Look at you,” He murmurs. You fight back every noise building in your throat, but they melt out when his thumb comes down to rub you through your panties. It’s a soft touch, a gentle stroke that’s nowhere near enough for you. Definitely on purpose.

You whine, arching against him and try to press forward, asking silently for more, more more. To your surprise, Steve doesn’t tease you, doesn’t draw this part out. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing firm circles that he knows makes you fall apart — and your resounding moan is much louder than you’re expecting, barely managing to muffle it into his shoulder.

Steve chuckles at it, doesn’t let up his pace, adoring how your hips twitch against his touch — you want more and yet, this feels like so much. You feel delirious, feel flushed in every part of your body, feel your hole clench around nothing and whine aloud because of it.

“Too much f’you?” He asks cockily. “We haven’t even made it inside yet, baby. How are you gonna handle it then, hmm?”

How indeed.

now with a part two here.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader smut #steve x reader #smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #howdy! <3 first post tehe #jay writes

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katsumiiii · 1 year

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hobie brown x gn! reader

omg was at work and had a hugeeee hobie moment!!

hobie being a nuisance and popping up at your job. let’s say you work at a local pub right around the corner from his apartment complex, be sure to be on the look out for rabid hobies because he will come and beg for your attention.

he always thinks you look so cute in your uniform, a simple black tee and some tight jeans, you never really see the appeal but his gaze lingers appreciatively at the curve of your ass and the plush of your hips.

your coworkers think it’s so cute whenever he pops in, doing everything in his power to gain your attention for more than 30 seconds at a time, whether that be sending you a coy smirk, or looping his fingers between your belt buckles and pulling you in. his goal is always the same, wanting desperately to see that flustered look on your face, and he will get it, no matter the cost.

today the bar had been particularly empty. only a few customers toggled in and out, and they all had simple requests, a glass of beer and the check. the day went on without a hitch, night soon seeped in and you were starting to close down, checking out the last six individuals which sat at the bar.

“surprised hobie didn’t pop in today.” your coworker teased, brushing the side of your shoulder as you wiped off the countertop below you.

“shhh, don’t say his name, you’ll summon him.” you shuttered playfully, grinning at your quip.

“funny funny, so is he sick or wh—”

“wha’s going awn? who you havin’ a chat about?” speak of the fucking devil. you slowly tilted your head towards the seat in front of you and watch as hobie leans his upper body towards your own, sniffing as he licks his bottom lip, tongue clashing with metal.

“what the fuck?” your coworker cackled, shaking their head in disbelief.

“hobie, what a surprise.” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“well you don’t sound too chuffed to see me, love.” hobie tapped his fingernails against the freshly wiped counter, his black polish (which you painted) shinning dimly from the lights above.

“well usually you’re here earlier so I didn’t know if you were coming to bother me or not.” you set an arm beneath you and placed your head against your palm.

“bother? didn’t know that’s what it was.” he shrugged his shoulders, inching his head closer to your slouched figure.

“really? then what would you call yourself?”

“your only source of entertainment. ‘m livenin’ up the place, a bit drab in here ain’t it?” hobie turned to observe the area around him, chuckling at the lack of customers.

“well we are supposed to be closed, bee.” you muttered, turning to place your cleaning supplies into an opened cabinet on your left.

“really? wouldn’t ‘ave guessed that.” he sucked his teeth at the sight of you bent over, nodding his head in appreciation. “why don’t you put that down and come gimme a kiss, hm? been waiting on one all night.”

“yeah, you say that every time you come see me.”

“don’t make it less true.”

#a little smt short #this was inspired by my bkg drabble #found this so cute #I’m getting the hang of writing hobie I feel like !#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #atsv x reader #spider punk x reader #hobie brainrot !

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vixstarria · 6 months

Text

Confession, Astarion POV

This is the fluffiest thing I have ever written (or, most likely, will ever write). Consider yourself warned. Linked with my Astarion’s romance with bard Tav series, but very much a standalone as well.

Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, soft Astarion, Astarion POV

Comfort, fluff, love confession, cuddling, banter, angst, non-explicit, no spoilers, tooth-rotting sweetness (after the first few paragraphs anyway)

Approximately 1,000 words

You were back in the dungeons. Darkness. Filth. The dreaded cold and the stench of old blood. He was there, as were your ‘siblings’. And so was she...

She writhed on the ground in agony. And you were useless. You couldn’t move a muscle, having been ordered to stay still, your body refusing to obey your will - all you could do was watch the horrible things that were being done to her. The only thing that could possibly make this worse, was if you could move, because you would only move as a puppet, obeying his commands.

“Fetch the pliers, Astarion.”

A terrible howl tore from the depths of your chest.

“Astarion... Wake up... It’s only a dream. It’s not real.” a hand was shaking you awake, and you opened your eyes to see her lying next to you, concern written on her face. Unharmed. In your tent.

Breaking free of the sleep paralysis was like trying to move with the weight of the ocean on you. Once you finally escaped it, you grabbed her, wrapping her in a bear hug and clutching her against your chest, and wordlessly rocked her, kissing her forehead, as though she was the one who needed comforting.

She must have guessed what your dream involved.

“I’m okay... I’m with you, my sweet.” she nuzzled into you, stroking your back.

“You were...” you couldn’t say it. “...Gods, that was the worst one yet. I couldn’t do anything.” You held her tighter.

“It’s not real. I know you’ll keep me safe... You always do...” she murmured into your neck.

If your heart could do anything but sit as dead weight in your chest, it would have melted.

Once you’d calmed and your breathing was back to normal, she lifted her head and planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“Awfully sentimental of you to be having nightmares about losing me.”

Back to laughing about everything...

At that moment you knew you’d finally had enough. You’d had enough of being coy and putting on a display of nonchalance, you’d had enough of turning everything into a joke, you’d had enough games, enough pretending. You said you wanted something real with her, and you meant it.

“I love you,” you whispered.

And just like that, it was out, and you lost all care about any self-restraint.

She grew still, and you slipped your hand gently over her mouth, just firmly enough to let her know you didn’t want her to say anything just yet, and rolled on top of her, tracing her face with kisses, repeating it over and over again in between, like a manic mantra.

“I love you... I love you...”

Tears sprang from her eyes, and you kissed them away, as your own tears fell onto her face, still repeating those words.

You wanted to live in this moment, for it to never end. If there was even the slightest chance that the next words out of her mouth were anything but reciprocation, you didn’t want to know yet. You couldn’t. You didn’t think you would survive it.

But you could tell she was smiling, and kissing your palm, and still you continued, kissing your way down her face, until you landed a kiss just at the corner of her mouth, whispering a final “Love you... so much” before removing your hand and catching her lips with yours, still not letting her say anything.

She returned your kiss, letting out the softest whimper, and she was clinging on to you in a tight embrace, so tight you could feel her heart like it was your own, beating wildly, and you knew, of course you knew, but you were still terrified, until...

“I love you too, Astarion,” she finally managed, breathlessly.

Your whole body shuddered in a sob. More than two hundred years... More than two centuries since you’d last heard those words in earnest.

“I love you too... Should I say it twenty more times as well?” she was beaming, her eyes still wet. Gods, had she ever looked as happy and beautiful as in this moment?

You breathed a chuckle, trying to recompose yourself.

“Would you? Please..?”

You lost all track of time, as you laid in each other’s arms, legs tangled, kissing, whispering and giggling like lovesick teenagers. Nothing had changed, really, yet somehow at the same time everything had. You knew it was silly, but were too happy to care.

“When did it start for you?” you asked, linking your fingers through hers.

“Do you remember that time near the risen road, when a bandit got close enough to have his knife at my throat?”

“You were hopeless in battle then, darling,” you nodded.

“...Thanks. Anyway, I thought I was done for. And then next thing I knew, you were on him, tearing out his throat with your bare teeth, spraying us both with blood.”

“I got disarmed and couldn’t get to my weapon fast enough, it was the only thing I could think of doing,” you admitted.

“And then you stared at me with that smirk of yours, licking the blood off your hand.”

“And you, instead of vomiting or threatening to stake me like Gale and Shadowheart, just stared back, looking impressed, and thanked me,” you chuckled.

“Yes, that was definitely the moment something stirred in me.”

“You asked if I wanted to help clean you up as well, you absolute freak,” you broke into a full laugh.

“I was joking,” she huffed. “...I think.”

“I know... But that was when I knew something was wrong with you in a way that I found absolutely delightful.”

More time passed.

You were still lying in an embrace and looking into each other’s eyes, whispering, when you started to hear movement in camp. You didn’t know how you were going to get through the day, it was as though everything but what you held in your arms had lost all meaning and importance.

“My Astarion... My sweet elf...” she murmured, running her fingers softly through your hair.

This is what you were to her. Not a vampire, not a killer, not an instrument or means to an end, or a personification of some deranged fantasy. But something so... unsullied. You couldn’t possibly even begin to conceive how that could be, and yet...

“My sunlight,” you whispered back.

~~~~~

Next in series - The morning after

Series master list

AO3

#astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic

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ohnococo · 3 months

Text

JJK Men | Reactions to you saying “I love you” during sex

❧ Choso, Toji, & True Form Sukuna

❧ Warnings: fem bodied reader, rough sex, size difference, slight/hinted angst, dacryphilia

“I love you.”

Choso’s eyes are wide as he looks down at you, cock throbbing inside of you even as your words have left him frozen to the point that you’re not quite sure he’s breathing.

“Ch-Choso?”

The noise he makes is somewhere between a sob and a moan as his eyes get misty, and you brush a little of his hair behind his ears - both to see his face better and to stop it from tickling you as it hangs down. You tighten your thighs around him, hoping to get a more solid response from him, and when that doesn’t jolt him from whatever path his mind was taking him down, you clench his cock gently.

His arms give, as he lets his full body weight fall on top of you, suddenly giving you frenzied sloppy thrusts. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, moaning and panting until he can finally form his thoughts into words, even if they’re hot and slightly muffled against your skin.

“I’m that special? That you love me?”

You run your fingers through his hair, trying to stay coherent even as his thrusts get harder and harder, thick head of his cock outright battering your sweet spot as his emotion moves him to be much rougher than he usually was.

“Y-yes, Choso. I love y-“

“I love yoooou.” He can’t help interrupting, face still buried and arms pinned helplessly beneath you like all the strength left in him was only able to go straight to his hips in pursuit of rushing you into joining the orgasm that was now fast approaching him. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Toji is tricky. Soft when you need it, rough when you need that too, even if you don’t realise it. But then he’s not there when you need him, not all the way. Between the coy smiles and teasing words, plucking the very things you want to hear straight from your mind to present to you in a way that makes you second guess the nature of things between you two, he still has a gauzy slip of distance between you two. You know there are things about him you don’t understand, and you think he’ll never give you the opportunity to.

Still, when he’s fucking you like this it doesn’t just feel like fucking, it feels like more. With his hand on top of your head to keep you held firm beneath him as he rolls his hips into you in that way that has tears forming at the corners of your eyes. With his scarred lips kissing away the dew as it slips past your fluttering lashes and down your face. With his words low and sweet and filled with assurances that you were made for this, made for him.

He’s holding you so close and so tight, like you might just fly away if he didn’t, like you mightn’t let him take care of you like you needed if he doesn’t keep you wrapped up in him. It’s not all that different from how you treat him in a way: slow approach, soft words, but you haven’t quite gotten to the part where you pounce. Where you grasp him as tightly as he has you, wings flattened to writhing sides, because you don’t think you’re strong enough to hold him like that.

So you keep with the soft approach, slow and steady, this time adding sweet words as you let a breathy cry slip past your lips - half hoping he might not hear it.

He does, both hands holding your face now, brushing your hair back, beckoning you to open your eyes even as his hips keep moving you deeper into delirium. “Hm?”

You look at him, hoping he can see how much you meant it in your eyes, hoping to see the same in his, but he’s as unreadable as ever.

“C’mon, say it again.”

You don’t know if you can, but he pushes you the way he always does, like only he truly knows your limits.

“I wanna hear it again, sweetheart.”

“I love you.”

All sense slips away when Sukuna is pounding you like this, hips snapping viciously, cock finding depths you did not know were there each time he presses forward. You’ll say anything, do anything, while he fucks you until all you have are your basest instincts. He just always manages to turn you into something you don’t even recognize and loves every second of it.

He’s grinning, chuckling and panting all in one as he watches you - hips held in the air by his lower arms, shoulders sliding against the hard wood, feet planted on the floor beneath you like they were truly aiding in the balance you were long past having. His upper arms move between groping roughly at your breasts, or making sure you watch him as you drool and whine and beg for more even as your eyes are rolling and your body is on the verge of collapse.

He tells you this is the real you - pushed to the brink, hair matted, sweat clinging to your body until you’re unsure how he can keep such a firm grasp on your slippery skin. You make noises you didn’t know possible, noises that would embarrass you if you didn’t have that pride lodged in your chest at knowing Sukuna sounded just as feral when he fucks you.

The thoughts that come to you in moments like these, when you can form any thoughts at all, are so muddied that you can’t tell if they’ve truly come from you or if they’ve been picked up from the string of filthSukuna chants from all mouths.

“This is how it’s meant to be.”

“This is what I’m good for.”

“I need it.”

“I love it.”

“I love you.”

For once, you try to keep clear headed on the tip of his cock, trying to find the source of such an admission. Your eyes try to focus, only to be met with the same wicked gaze you’ve been performing under all along. So you repeat it, hoping to parse if it had been your voice in the first place, if it felt as jarring and fulfilling as it had before.

“I love you.”

He bends down, massive form covering you, obscuring everything but him as he bites down onto your shoulder, drawing weak cries from you as you clamp down harder on his cock - yet another orgasm approaching at his behest.

“I love you.”

#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #my writing #choso x reader #choso x y/n #choso x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #reader insert #self insert

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the-travelling-bitch · 1 year

Note

i demand an explanation-

act fool act fool act fool act fool

ahem, just imagine…

a deep, melodic voice, brushing right against your ear as his warm breath fans the side of your cheek; he pulls back as you lower your head in embarrassment at the heat flushing your face just from his words alone but he’s not having any of it

with two fingers under your chin he’s tilting your head up to meet his gaze, entrancing eyes swirling with something darker as his other hand on the small of your back pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the bulge in his pants

“you’ll be good for me, won’t you, doll?”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… zhongli, al-haitham, kaeya, draken, osamu, semi, lucifer, malleus

he’s teasing, you know he is, but there’s not much you can do about it; no, not when he has you sat between his legs with your knees hooked over his thighs as his fingers flutter over your skin, dangerously close to where you need him most but never. quite. there.

this is how it has been all day; a fleeting touch here, an amused whisper in your ear there and your thoughts were spiralling out of control just like that, getting more lewd the more you tried to fight them off

and you also know he’s enjoying this, riling you up and acting coy about it later on, biding his time until you give up and give in, begging him to do something; his chuckle vibrates against your back, enough to make you whine out for him again before his fingers finally run through your soaked slit to collect your arousal

“look at you, so worked up all because of a few words? tell me what’s been running through that pretty head of yours~”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… childe, bachira, reo, asmo, belphie, solomon, koko, hanma, ran, suna, oikawa, mattsun, jamil, leona, lilia, ace

soft praise is rolling off his tongue like honey, clouding your head and slowing your thoughts; not that you’d need to think much anyway right now, all that mattered was the feeling of plush lips on yours, biting down on your bottom lip gently before he pulls back, so you can catch your breath

his knuckles brush over the bones of your cheeks and you lean into his touch, basking in the comfort of his warm and familiar embrace; attentive eyes study your features as if he saw them for the first time, drawn to the movement of his thumb swiping across your kiss-swollen mouth

“you’re the prettiest sight i’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. truly, nothing could ever compare”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… kazuha, diluc, thoma, satan, barbatos, simeon, akaashi, kita, chigiri, isagi, inui, mitsuya, riddle, trey, jade, vil, silver

somewhere in the back of your head you wonder if he ever shuts up; he’s been running his mouth since your innocent kiss evolved into something a little friskier, tongues tangling together and your hand gripping his hair tightly

his babbling turned more incoherent the second his hips bucked against yours, in desperate search for friction to relieve the tension building in his stomach; how could you not give him what he wants when the roll of your hips forces a whimper as pretty as this from his throat?

“fuck, you always feel so good, baby; you’ll let me make you feel good to, right?”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… mammon, levi, gorou, hinata, shinichiro, takemitchi, ruggie, idia, kalim

he’s so mean, downright cruel, words not even teasing anymore but already mocking you in that condescending tone; he knows you love it that way though and he’s holding that fact over your head, making white hot shame burn through your veins

as if your sweet whimpers aren’t evidence enough, the clenching of your cunt around him certainly is; with one hand around your throat he’s making sure your looking right at him while he’s making you agree with the lewdest of statements

“what’s with the tears, sweetheart? i thought you liked being used like my personal little cock sleeve? so be good and take what i give you”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… scara, pantalone, sae, kaiser, futakuchi, izana, floyd

stoic and expression unreadable, a few deep grunts and groans are what you mostly get to hear, his actions doing most of the talking instead, big hands splayed on your hips and pulling you back down onto him with every thrust

but then again, his mouth practically moves on his own when you keep whimpering his name, pulling him back in with every flutter of your walls; you don’t think he even knows he’s talking to you, doesn’t even consciously try to make you melt under his touch more; the bluntness of his words is what has your head spinning, the genuine way he merely describes what he sees and feels when he’s got you spread so nicely for him

“this is the spot, isn’t it? can feel your cunt clench, ‘s real tight around me right now, you’re making it so hard to move”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… xiao, nagi, rin, kunigami, beelzebub, rindou, sakusa, iwaizumi

wow, i got way off track, what were we talking about again—

obviously, no character is solely in one category only but these were my initial thoughts, i’ll see myself out now (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

#˗ˏˋ– signed by holly #˗ˏˋ– meet & greet #˗ˏˋ– fan mail from mei ♡#jsjsisjsb #i have no excuse #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #obey me x reader #obey me smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland smut #minors dni

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petit-etoile · 8 months

Text

everything i see, everything i feel (you are my universe)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 8746 content warnings: astarion is not a vampire nor ascended & tav is not the dark urge but i use pet names from his ascended route because i think they fit & some of the dark urge connections are necessary, brief mention of tav being raised as a child soldier by gortash, tav is gender neutral, nearly 8k of pure smut other tags: alternate universe - royalty, character study, porn with plot, dom/sub undertones, mi.ssionary style, do.ggy style, riding, cr.eampie, marriage proposal, sort of archiveofourown: here. note: depending on reception & if i have time, there may be a part two or a prequel. i ended coming up with lore for this verse so i like it a lot. summary: ‘We are the Prince and his Shield,’ Astarion tells you sweetly, voice melodic in your ear. ‘This will be our world. You were made for me, and I was made for you, and we will do as we are meant to do.’

　　　　　　𝐈. ﹕previous fic　　　　𝐈𝐈. ﹕next fic

You can already tell what kind of evening it will be just from the way Astarion looks at you from beneath his eyelashes, so coy and pretty and unabashed in the way he glances over you. Whatever happened tpday at court has pleased him. He practically purrs when he steps past you to enter the sanctuary of his expansive bedroom.

‘You’ll come,’ he murmurs, ‘won’t you, darling?’

You’ll play his game because he likes it. You keep your lips pressed together in a firm line despite the way his hand slides gracefully across your waist, warming the chainmail that you wear dutifully every day so that you can keep the crown prince safe. He pouts when you pretend to not notice the playful mood he’s in. And when you change your mind after only a few minutes, Astarion will wear the same mischievous frown and think he has claimed victory over you once more.

You recite your vows to yourself to keep your mind from wandering, but it’s difficult. I am the Sword of the Crown, the Shield of the Realm. I serve no one but the Rightful King, the First of His Name, the Soul of Truth, Astarion Ancunin. It’s…admittedly hard to remember the rest. You’re distracted by the most impure thoughts. Memories of nights before. The taste of him on your tongue, the feel of him between your thighs, the sight of him as he grinds above you, the gleam of his skin as dawn begins to creep over the horizon. You squeeze your thighs together and try to wait out at least five minutes before you cave.

You peek down the hallway. There are no other guards skulking around at night. You’re not technically supposed to leave your post, but if the prince commands it… Well, it’s an excuse. You rush inside before you can feel the call of your valor and close the door after you with a soft click. Astarion sits with his legs crossed at the edge of his bed. He grins. It’s almost as predictable as you are, but you would never admit it.

‘You called, my prince?’ you ask carefully, trying to keep your tone even.

‘I did,’ he says with a delicate shrug. ‘I thought I could use entertainment, and you were there…’

You smile beneath your helm. You were always there. Astarion tries to hide it a little too much, but there’s no one else he would seek out to keep him entertained when his mood is like this. He tries to play into the expectations everyone has of him. That he’s ambitious, unpredictable, easy to rile up. The truth of the matter is that Astarion longs for you in a way that he will never admit except into the curls of your hair when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. You care for him — love him — and there’s nothing you adore more than the way he laughs around you as though you were born for him and him alone.

‘I take it the court wasn’t too uneventful,’ you say.

He grimaces. ‘I saw Lord Gortash, unfortunately. I believe the sight of him has ruined my week.’

‘So cruel,’ you hum. You touch the buckles of your cape and release it from your bodice.

‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Astarion asks defensively, playfully.

You touch the latch of your armor. ‘He’s head of the city guard.’

‘I ought to fire him,’ the prince says darkly. ‘Hire a new one.’

‘Who would protect the city instead?’

‘You,’ Astarion says without pause.

‘Alas, I am duty bound to serve the prince,’ you disagree. You pull the weight of your chest piece off your shoulders and drop it to the floor. ‘How can I serve the city when my mind is filled with nothing but you?’

Astarion smiles, a true smile. ‘Oh, you honor me. You truly mean every word.’

‘Without question,’ you promise.

You think about kneeling before him and looking up at him, but your chest piece is still in the way. You pull and untangle and twist until it all slides to the floor, leaving you in a simpler top. His honor, a single white rose, is pinned to the front of your shirt. You can still remember the day he gave it to you, the day you knelt in the throne room and he pressed his sword to your shoulder to claim you.

‘You are mine,’ Astarion says slowly.

‘I am yours,’ you repeat fondly.

‘Until the end of time?’

‘Until the end.’

‘And,’ Astarion begins playfully, ‘if I asked you to please me?’

‘I would be duty bound,’ you reply.

‘Then may I ask you to please me?’ he murmurs, eyes dangerous.

Astarion practically preens under your careful attention, his eyes unwavering as he watches you. You take your time. You remove the rest of your armor slowly, savoring the hungry way he watches. Even in court when you are his shadow, Astarion barely hides it. The hunger. The longing. The darkest of desires. He would claim you in public if it wouldn’t be a scandal.

You lower yourself before him, groveling on your hands and knees. You place your head in his lap and sigh when he threads his fingers through your hair. These are the moments you live for. When he is no longer a prince and you are no longer a knight. You are you, and Astarion is Astarion.

You don’t have to wonder where his mind is. Not during times like these. He’s anxious to feel you, but you take your time in this. You slip his fancy boots from his feet then take your time undoing his belts and buttons, sliding everything down his lean legs with careful intent. His cock greets you, already half hard and growing still.

It still makes you nervous, deep down inside. Astarion is a prince and the pinnacle of perfection. He could have any duke or duchess he wanted, yet it’s you he takes care of when the standing watch for hours on end from dusk til dawn has caused your bones to grow weary. The least you could do is love him like this. You lean forward and kiss the side of his cock, and Astarion’s fingers tighten in your hair.

‘Please, your highness,’ you whisper.

You are perched at his feet still awaiting commands. Like a good little pup. You shiver.

‘Go on,’ Astarion encourages.

You barely stick the tip of your tongue out and watch as his cock throbs in anticipation. This is dangerous. Obscene, even. You’ve seen him hundreds of times yet it still excites you. Carefully, you take him into your mouth and admire his debauched moan.

You have half a mind to tease him, but when you glance upwards at him, he’s as pretty as an aasimar. Or something worse, but you don’t give yourself much time to think about it. You know his desires. What he enjoys. What he tolerates for you. You know Astarion likes your little hums as you glide your mouth over his cock. He likes being pampered more than anything.

Astarion’s hand is tender as he moves your bangs out of your eyes. It’s the eye contact he wants. He likes to see and always acts like it’s the first time. He holds the edge of your jaw while you rub the tip of his cock against the inside of your cheek, eyebrows scrunching. It’s divine for you as well.

Astarion lives for the pomp and circumstance, absolutely devours court rumors with a delight you barely understand — but he would let his kingdom fall into the Underdark if it meant he could spend every hour of every day fucking you.

It’s the same for you.

It always has been ever since your coronation.

You were not like the other knights who were born into houses of servitude, second born sons and daughters who were the spares of their family names. You were given to Astarion by Lord Gortash as a way to buy favor from the crown. You were once his favorite, well-trained dog.

But unlike Lord Gortash, you are coveted by the crown in a way no other knight has been before. Astarion kisses you every morning and finishes against your spine every evening. But he is your salvation, your savior, and you are on your knees to show what that means to you.

Astarion stirs beneath your ruminations, his thighs tensing beneath your elbows, his hips doing those unconscious lusty jerks that you like so much. His head falls back as he gets lost in the feel of your tongue and mouth and he moans so sweetly that it almost distracts you from your ministrations. You take his cock as far back into your mouth as you can manage, closing your eyes to squeeze out any embarrassing tears that might threaten to fall. Like the prettiest bird, he sings for you.

‘Wait,’ he moans. ‘Not yet, I want — ’

You pull away from him as commanded, licking your lips clean of spit. His hands dance frantically against your shoulders as he pulls you up against him, cock hard against both of your bellies. He kisses you hotly, one hand fisting in your hair and the other tugging uselessly at your shirt.

‘You are needy today, my prince,’ you whisper against a barrage of kisses.

‘You were too perfect,’ he whines. ‘Always perfect for me.’

You laugh against his cheek. ‘You did say to please you.’

‘And now I’m saying to get on the fucking bed,’ Astarion fusses. ‘Oh, and clothes off. I want to see you.’

‘Yes, your — ’ you begin.

‘You,’ Astarion accuses with an affectionate pinch to your side, ‘are being quite the obstinate charge tonight. I want to taste you and be tasted in return, but be familiar with me, my love. Come back to me. Share my bed.’

You are in the middle of doing as he requests, sitting with one leg on either side of his thighs when he slides his hands to your waist and forces you to roll to the side. He pushes you further into the many adorning pillows of his bed and starts devouring you, his mouth dancing from your neck to your collarbones while he tears your shirt apart with his hands, though he does slow down enough to place the white rose on the bedside table. He pushes his palms flat against your chest and leaves bite marks and bruises across your chest and down your belly, chasing after you as you try to squirm away. Astarion finally takes interest in leaving his mark on your throat.

You set to work pushing your leggings and small clothes down your thigh, but Astarion, in all his impatience, gets in the way of that too. He presses his thigh between your legs on purpose, rolling his cock against your hip while his thigh applies almost perfect pressure to the most sensitive parts of you.

You moan and turn your face away, but Astarion chases the sound. He nuzzles your noses together until you look at him, bleary and dazed, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He rolls his hips again with intent. He catches the sound of your moan on the tip of your tongue and returns it, his own ragged breath warm against your cheek.

‘There you are, my love,’ he whispers deliciously. ‘I’ve missed you. My treasure, my pet…’

‘Yours,’ you moan.

‘Mine,’ Astarion agrees. ‘All mine.’

He drags his fingernails across the swell of your hip, and you can’t help but chase the curve of his wrist. Your cheeks burn, but you’re tempted to beg him. To ask if he’ll please you with his hands. You want to feel his fingers pressed up inside you, to feel them curl and twist. You want it more than anything else you’ve ever wanted to. Astarion watches the way you twist and turn with a small smile on his face. He pets your hip and slides his fingers between your thighs. You can feel the cool of his jeweled rings against your heated flesh.

Astarion is grateful for your reckless display. He acquiesces to your silent begging, brushing his fingers between your folds and pressing the tip of his middle finger against you. He watches with delight as you grind against the pressure. His cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears are ruddy, and though he’s pretending to be controlled right now, you can hear how shaky his breath has become.

And then, like a god answering a prayer, he presses a finger inside of you so painstakingly slow it’s almost maddening. You mewl, watching his expressions in fascination, because his own mouth falls open as he cranes his next to watch. He adds another. He twists and twirls his fingers as deeply as he can reach it. His eyes flutter with desperation. He’s so beautiful that you can hardly stand it. You want more, so much more, and you press your wrist against your mouth to keep from begging.

‘Don’t hide from me,’ he says hoarsely. ‘I want to hear everything. Please, sing for me.’

‘More,’ you whisper thickly. ‘More, I need more, I want more.’

He kisses your jaw sloppily. ‘I’ll give you everything.’

‘It’s not enough!’

‘You’ll take it,’ Astarion tells you. ‘You’ll take what I give.’

‘Astarion,’ you weep. ‘I want you. I want — ’

This time, he might as well have ripped the rest of your clothes with his haste. You aren’t sure what he does with them, you just know that you’re naked and in his bed, surrounded by all his pillows with your thighs slick from how wet you are.

Your eyes watch your star’s every movement. He rids himself of his finery as well, shrugging out of his layers until there’s nothing left. The moonlight hits his skin prettily, almost as dainty as the way his eyes catch in the candlelight. He chases you, chases your mouth, presses his cock against you and ruts for a moment. You can’t help but be dizzy with lust yourself. You leave your own marks across his collarbones and chest, mindful of his neck and what skin would peek above his elegant collars. You wonder how he’ll take you. Astarion has always been the creative type. Sometimes you’ll ride him, and sometimes he’ll ride you until you see stars. Despite his urgency, he seems tender tonight.

Astarion wants to make you feel good. He wants to find your heat and bask in the warmth. You can tell in the way he watches your face ever so fondly. He’s always been so good at masking how much he prefers you to anyone he’s spoken to before. You’ve stood and listened as the perfect guard during meetings with dignitaries from neighboring cities, and Astarion always spoke to them with practiced politeness bearing a practiced albeit bored undertone. Yet with you, he seems to hang onto your every word. He takes it in until there was nothing left to share. He cares when you are supposed to be nothing more than a knight at his door.

‘I have a gift for you tonight,’ Astarion says suddenly. He blushes. It’s adorable how much it’s unlike him.

‘What is it?’ you ask.

‘Patience,’ he complains, but he doesn’t mean it.

Astarion reaches for something just beyond your sight, and when he sits back up, you feel as though someone has released a cage of birds in the pit of your stomach. He holds out a small silver band for your inspection. ‘A warding ring,’ he explains. ‘I had my Master of the Arcane enchant it for you — for us.’

‘Kiss me,’ you whisper. ‘Please.’

‘Put it on first,’ he insists. ‘For me.’

Something must show on your face, because he’s quick to show you his own hand. There is a matching silver band there, and it causes your heart to swell so much you think your heart will give out. Astarion, with great care, slides the band onto your finger and then looks at you, hopeful.

‘Whatever you feel, I shall feel,’ he says like a promise. ‘You and I, together.’

You guide his mouth to yours before you can do something silly like cry. When you touch his chest, intent on finding his heartbeat, you can feel it so frantic against your palm.

What is a better story than a prince and his knight? A savior and his sword? The bards will sing forever about the prince and his favored knight, their matching rings, their sacred vows. You ache with longing. You surge with love. It is all Astarion’s fault.

You push your hands through his thick curls and guide him to lie on top of you. You can feel the ring humming with magic. Though you are sure this isn’t its intended use, you can’t help but feel nervous.

You take him into your arms. He collapses into you and your only thought is that it’s a little poetic. You have caught a star as it fell from the sky. Now, it rests in your hands again and again and again until, slowly, you cannot exist without one another. His mouth finds yours, and your hands with the matching rings reach out for one another as though choreographed. Astarion presses you against his sheets and you willingly let him devour you once more. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Astarion kisses down your chest again. He kisses your tummy and all the muscle you’ve earned from being a knight. He kisses every scar from every battle you’ve ever endured all the way down to your hips, to that warm core that lies between them. You moan unapologetically, head rushing until you’re almost positive you’re going to faint. Astarion presses a kiss between your legs, growls as though he was a man starved before finding you, and takes you into his mouth.

It’s a little romantic how you’ve grown together. You were each other’s firsts — Astarion taught you how to kiss, and you taught him how to fondle someone else’s body without feeling shy about it. You had first used your mouth on him, but he had taken all of the knowledge you had given and weaponized it against you the next moment that he could. He’s determined to please, desperate for compliments, hopeless in all his endeavors to please you almost as much as you’ve pleased him. But unlike you, Astarion is selfish and he reaches for fruit to pluck that anyone else would have discarded as soon as something better came along. He chose you.

He licks and bites and nuzzles and feasts upon the very fruit of you, groaning at how you taste. It’s his favorite taste in the world, and he would brag about it if it didn’t make your cheeks flush. He laps at your folds hungrily and squeezes the thickness your thighs until they’ve bruised.

‘Little star,’ you whine, pressing your hands to your eyes. ‘Please, please.’

His tongue is like torture. Astarion never does anything without fully committing, and from your time together, you know he’s memorized every little thing he can do to drive you absolutely wild. He’s pulled your legs over his shoulders, his fingers moving on after bruising them to dig into your hip bones, and he hums so prettily for you.

Even you aren’t sure what you’re begging for. You want Astarion to stop teasing you so insistently. You want to feel his heartbeat, you want to taste his lips. There’s a part of you so empty and full of longing that if you wait any longer, if you withhold anymore, you might lose yourself. The only thing serving to ground you to this world is depravity, twisting carnal lust, and the depths of your love. You shiver under his touch and moan even as you try to hush it.

‘ — star!’ you cry sharply.

You try to twist out of his grasp, crying at how determined he is, but Astarion simply drags you back down to where he is as if it’s nothing to him. He doesn’t stop torturing with your tongue until you’ve choked out a sob and chased your release, chest heaving from the effort. He doesn’t let you go for long either, climbing up your body so that he can press encouraging kisses to your jaw, pushing your damp curls back from your temple.

Astarion pushes his nose against your ear and breathes in, almost so desperate to have memorized your very scent. It’s always been his little habit. As if just by knowing your smell, he is able to do whatever he needs to accomplish in this world.

‘You,’ he murmurs between kisses, ‘are always so magnificent for me.’

You reach for his hip, the back of your knuckles sweeping against his sharp bone. ‘I want to do the same for you,’ you say shakily. ‘Let me have you, please. It’s all I want.’

He moans, soft and quiet, and settles between your legs. He kisses you again with that same hunger. The same, almost desperate kind of lust. He presses you so far into his sheets that you’re not sure you’ll ever be released from them again. And you think you would be fine with that. There’s nothing more that you want than to stay here with him. His hands joined with yours, your hips pressed to his, forever until the world has ended.

You slide your hands across the broad sweep of his shoulders and feel as his muscles shift. He is so gentle with you even when he doesn’t have to be. He’s cautious, meticulous, almost ridiculously polite because it’s you. His love is like an apology for everything you’ve been through, and when he cradles the back of your head, you lean into his touch.

‘You are mine,’ he says tenderly. His thumb sweeps across your cheek.

‘Take me,’ you say hungrily. ‘I am your prize.’

‘You were created by the gods for me,’ Astarion tells you sincerely. He sits onto his knees and pulls your hands flush against his stomach. ‘Look at how well you fit against me.’

You were never one to be shy before, but his praise causes you to turn your cheek aside and look away. He pushes his hands up your thighs, searching, admiring. He says pretty words, but he’ll never understand if you were to repeat the things he’s said back to him. Underneath that prestigious bravado and practiced façade, Astarion still understands little of his own divinity and worth. You’re thankful for him as much as he is for you, and you allow him this. He finds his worth at your core and marvels in it, allowing you to see him as Astarion. Like a mortal making a deal with a cambion, he reaches for you.

‘Do you want me inside of you?’ he asks in a graveled voice.

‘More than anything else,’ you reply, choking on how thick your want is. You think about how it feels every time he’s claimed you and shudder. ‘Please.’

‘I am going to get lost in you for hours,’ Astarion promises. He smiles, dangerous and dark. ‘When you return to your post, you’ll feel me still. You’ll be sorer than you’ve ever been.’

You are so aroused it’s painful. You ache and twist, spreading your legs so that he might take you then and there without so much as a second thought. You need the closeness. His grounding touch. His cock, as much as it would embarrass you to say aloud, has been on your mind ever since he invited you inside his room. He strokes your hip.

‘You’re shaking,’ he says fondly.

He leans forward and kisses you. He connects with you like that, nose brushing yours affectionately, before he stares at the little shivers you’re now aware you’re doing. He sees everything, knows everything. It delights him.

And then he slides his cock into you. Slowly, agonizingly, inch by inch. He squeezes your hip in encouragement, but you’re too full and he’s too thick for you to manage any coherent thought. He’s determined to reach the deepest parts of your core.

Astarion speaks through gritted teeth. ‘You are perfect.’

‘No,’ you say. ‘You are.’

‘I like to watch,’ he says honestly. ‘I like to see how you take me. You’re so tight here, did you know?’

‘More — ’

‘Use your words for me.’

You swallow. ‘I want you — to fuck me.’

‘You’ve been a good pup,’ Astarion says with a small laugh. ‘I’ll make love to you until dawn calls.’

For the faintest few heartbeats, this is the only way you want to exist. He is pressed inside of you, and you are surrounded by nothing but him and his scent and his bed and his pretty words, longing so intently to memorialize this moment. Astarion is haloed by the silver moonlight. He shines prettier than the crown he wears at court.

He shines brighter than the stars.

You’re aware of how fragile your breathing sounds. You forcefully drag air down into your lungs and hold his gaze, so warm and soft when he looks at you. You don’t know why it’s so different this time with him, but you reach out until he entwines your fingers together and you lose yourself in a way you haven’t before. You don’t realize you’re crying until he coos at you and calls you beautiful.

Astarion only moves once he’s assured you’re not in any pain. He’s conscious of the way you tense, but you shake your head and try to dry your tears.

If you’re being honest, you aren’t really sure why you’re so emotional tonight. You’re ignoring what the rings promise on purpose. A meaning that you are too nervous to confront. You know it’s how much you wish this was your fate. It all comes to a boil when he leans forward and kisses the tip of your ear. Astarion wraps his arms around you and moans softly in your ear, the heat of his cheek flush against your temple.

‘I love you,’ he whispers.

‘I can feel you,’ you whisper back, voice uneven. ‘All the way inside.’

‘Our souls are touching tonight,’ Astarion promises you. ;This is what I want to give you.’

Once he’s assured that you’re fine, Astarion begins moving inside you. You still feel overly full. It’s almost difficult to breathe, that you’re so aware of how deep his cock is inside of you — as if it’s the first time you’ve experienced him before. He murmurs encouragement into your hair and ruts further and further, but when you press your fingers against his biceps, you can feel how he’s shaking too.

‘Let me be yours,’ you say softly, eyes fluttering closed. ‘Let me be with you, Astarion, please.’

‘You are my pretty consort,’ Astarion says fiercely. ‘You belong to me, and I to you.’

His consort, his knight. The one he comes home to, that he ignores all the other lovely people at court for. The idea of it makes your blood warm, makes you feel a little wild and different. You rock your hips back against Astarion’s. Feeling him lose what little of his control pushes you over the edge. You start mumbling nonsensically, thank you, thank you, my prince, my star, thank you, I feel it, Astarion and he growls low in the bottom of his throat. His hips stutter against yours and you know with a little wiggle, you could make him spend then and there.

It’s only when Astarion pushes into you as far as he can go, the tip of his cock pressed as deep into your core as you can handle it, that you remember what a devout worshiper you are. You’re fully aware of how your spine protests the way your back arches up off the bed. You feel Astarion’s mouth hot and desperate against the side of your throat, his hands slowly sliding down your skin to grip your hips, the tips of his fingers digging in harshly to the curve of your ass.

When you dare meet his gaze, you’re mesmerized.

Astarion has always been the most beautiful person you’ve ever set eyes on. The height of his cheekbones, the way they flush when you moan his name. His uneven smile, the way his teeth point when he laughs. His intense eyes that take in even your faintest moves. He is sharp and calculated, cunning and keen on dramatics — but underneath, you can see the gentler side. The warmth in his gaze. The way he laughs ugly with you instead of with practiced finesse. You fit rather well together. Perfectly, like a puzzle. Intoxicatingly. He catches you staring and his breath catches in his throat.

You must be quite the sight as well. Astarion always lavished you with the utmost attention, often buying you things you’d never need as a knight. Rings, gowns, circlets and other finery to wear with him on your occasional strolls through Baldur’s Gate when you were off-duty and carefree.

You feel nearly feral at this moment. It takes all your self-control to not rake your nails down his spine or bite his shoulder because you’re too full and he’s too much and you’re almost certain you’re going to explode, but you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him tighter to you until there’s almost nothing else he can do that grind uselessly, desperate sounds coming from both of your mouths as you try to hold on just a little longer.

Without thinking, without caution, you whisper, ‘Inside — Tonight, I want you to — ’

‘Gods,’ he chokes out. ‘You’ll be the death of me.’

‘Please,’ you beg. ‘I’ve been good. I’ve been — ’

Astarion burrows his face against your collarbone, whining unceremoniously. That’s when you can feel it, his cum, hot and warm, so wonderful and dizzying that you also forget to be dignified. Your fingers stutter against his skin, and if it was painful to experience, the only proof is the way Astarion hisses at the burn and coils dangerously beneath your touch.

‘That’s it,’ he soothes proudly. ‘You’ve done well, my sweet.’

You murmur, ‘So much.’

‘Don’t tease me,’ Astarion says. He pouts his bottom lip. ‘You’re quite beautiful, you know.’

‘Not as beautiful as you,’ you say.

‘Well,’ Astarion allows with a small laugh, ‘I am rather perfect, I agree.’

He groans when he pulls away from you, brow furrowed in concentration. He trembles with exertion, and whatever other plans he might have had are forgotten, for Astarion drops down into his sheets beside you in all his naked and exhausted glory and presses close to you, an arm thrown over your waist.

A pang of guilt hits you at the sight of his closed door. Your armor is thrown carelessly across this floor, and while you wish you could enjoy this moment of bliss with him, you must continue to do your actual duty of guarding the prince. You move, delicate, to stand up. Astarion wraps his other arm around you.

‘Where are you going?’ he demands tiredly. ‘The sun is not yet up. Come back.’

‘My post — ’

‘Fuck your post,’ he snorts. ‘Your only duty is to lie in my bed and look pretty.’

You open your mouth to protest, but Astarion fusses. It’s hard to deny him even though you know only what the Captain of his Kingsguard has instilled in you. The moonlight is a gorgeous embellishment on his skin, and the ridges of his body are enticing enough that you forget your vows for the time being. Your heart squeezes at the tenderness. Astarion welcomes you back into his arms without further complaint. It’s your turn to tuck your head against his shoulder, basking in the warmth of his body as he cradles you close.

‘This is where you belong,’ Astarion tells you plainly. ‘You and I belong in bed having forgotten our other duties forevermore. The kingdom may fall to rot and ruin for all I care. As long as I have you, I care not.’ He touches your hip. ‘I know what you must be thinking. That it isn’t that easy. But it is that easy. I’m the prince and I want it to be so. I see our fate in my dreams.’

You allow yourself to daydream and doze for the moment. He’s murmuring sweet things into your hair, and your eyes are so heavy you know when you close them, it’ll be hard for you to wake up if you give in. The ache in your muscles is comforting. It’s a reminder of all the ways Astarion has ever had you, and you can’t help but wonder if this really is where your life was always meant to head.

You do fall asleep. Despite your best efforts to stay awake, you fall into a peaceful slumber with Astarion’s hand petting your spine. When you next awake, Astarion is no longer at your side. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed staring out of the window watching as dawn begins to peek through.

He hasn’t left you entirely alone. He’s draped his many fancy satin blankets over you and somehow managed to coax your head onto a pillow without waking you. You’re almost inspired to fall back asleep at the sight, but the view of Astarion basking in an orange glimmer keeps you from entering the depths of your mind once more.

‘No,’ Astarion says. He’s smiling. ‘Don’t move. I like the way you look.’

‘And how do I look, your highness?’

‘Sated.’

‘Come back to me, my love,’ you say. You try to hold one of your hands out, but you’re still so very tired from before. You press your cheek further into the pillow. ‘’m cold.’

‘I was thinking,’ he says.

‘Enough thinking,’ you whine. ‘I miss you beside me.’

‘Promise me something first.’

‘What shall I promise?’

‘That when I am king, you will help me create my new world,’ Astarion says, peering affectionately at you from over his shoulder. ‘A world where you are both my shield and my consort. A world where no one else like us has to get hurt.’

You start to sit up at that, blood suddenly rushing to your head as you try to think of what he means. Were you not already his Shield, extending your Sword to his greatest foes? Were you not already his Consort in all but proper name? You furrow your eyebrows, too sleepy and overwhelmed, but Astarion is quick to come to your side, to press kisses into your hair and against your ear and at the tears on your cheeks.

‘When I am king, there will be no need for us to hide like this,’ Astarion promises, petting his hand comfortingly down your spine. He shushes you. ‘I will sit on the throne and you will sit beside me.’ When he’s certain you’re done crying, he adds, ‘Or in my lap, if you prefer.’

Somehow, there’s only one thing you can manage to say. ‘I love you.’

‘And I love you,’ Astarion says. ‘That’s why I will do this for us.’

‘Will it go well?’

He hums. ‘Of course it will go well. I will be king. I will make it go well.’

You say again, ‘I love you.’

‘We are the Prince and his Shield,’ Astarion tells you sweetly, voice melodic in your ear. ‘This will be our world. You were made for me, and I was made for you, and we will do as we are meant to do.’

‘I promise,’ you say, ‘to help you.’

‘Then say no more, my love,’ he whispers. He kisses the side of your throat again and slowly pulls his silk sheets away from your skin. The cold morning air leaves a trail of gooseflesh down your spine, and he tastes every knot of it with his mouth and tongue. He gives you commands, ‘Let me have you again. You’re so beautiful in the morning light. I need you now more than ever. Gods, the things you do to me.’

You rock your hips back to meet his. It’s an alluring situation straight from your wildest, most longing of dreams — a world where you might sit alongside Astarion as he rules, no longer a simple guard dog to follow commands, but something else. Something sweeter.

It was like marriage but better. The thought of you and Astarion rising to godhood through his own determined means rather than falling into the same song the bards often liked to play on unrequited love. You allow him to trace his fingers down your stomach to that place between your legs, your warm core where you’re certain he’s found his divinity. Astarion presses his cock against your lower back and gives into his own avarice. He bites your shoulder almost a touch too rough and leaves a bruise in the shape of his teeth, reveling in your shocked cry.

You want him.

You want to be by his side, to kneel at his feet. You want to watch him dress in the mornings and fall into his arms every evening. You want to place his crown atop his brow. You arch your hips against his waist, and ponder about the creation of the empyrean heavens above. You will guide him to become celestial.

It’s with a near untamed fervor that Astarion tears through his sheets to get to you. He slides his knee beneath yours and pushes it forward, his breath warm and hiccuped against the blade of your shoulder. He doesn’t hurt you and he never would, but he slides his cock inside, the tenderness of earlier forgotten.

‘Be loud,’ he encourages you, groaning, his hand still scrambling against the arc of your belly. He sounds debauched. ‘Let them all hear. Let them know.’

He fucks into you like he wants you both to grow together. One body and one soul. You’re glad for it. It only intensifies the burn from the evening and pushes you to a place you’ve never been before. You’re almost certain you see sparks in your vision, but you do as asked. You don’t swallow down your moans. They’re taut, sharp, staccato ah-ah-ahs that match the sun’s rise.

It’s almost sweet how hard Astarion fucks into you. His princely demeanor is gone now, the control he tries to exhibit. He moans freely as well and kisses without meaning. Your shoulder, the back of your head, the nape of your neck, and he’s babbling things that don’t make sense. But you’re no better. Your cheeks are so warm you’re feverish, hands clenched in his sheets, and the pleasure borders on welcomed pain when he sits up behind you, knee still forcing you to be pliant, as he drags his cock in and out of you from behind. Astarion is watching again, one hand on your lower back, the other on your ass. When you try to hide your face in mild embarrassment, he scolds you.

‘Let me see you,’ Astarion rasps. ‘Let me see, I want to see everything — ’

So you let him, shifting and arching as much as your back will let you. Your muscles feel strained. Your mind is hardly there. But the prince has asked, and it would be rude of you to not heed his call. It’s not as though it matters. You’re easily distracted by the way he presses himself in and out of you, intoxicated by the gravitational pull he’s created between you. You can’t help but lean into his every touch, to mewl, to whine the exact way he likes.

You wonder what Lord Gortash would think of his loyal dog if he saw it now. You were taught the blade and the bow, how to use a lance and a shield, and you were never meant to be anything more than a warrior given to the ground so that he could get on the good side of the king. There isn’t much of your life you can remember before you were brought to the steps of the throne room and thrown down before the prince and his father. All you remember is looking up and seeing an angel smiling down at you.

So you arch your back and push up into your elbows, looking over your shoulder to catch Astarion’s eyes. He’s constantly looking between your face to make sure you’re alright and looking down at your hips where your bodies meet. He has the audacity to blush. It makes him look sweet and less severe.

‘More — ’

The fairest thought you have is that you’re not sure you can take more. There’s something ferocious building in the pit of your stomach, a volatile hunger unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Your almost delirious with how much greed is inside you, how you long to do this all day if you could. Sitting pretty on your hands and knees and belly while Astarion ravishes you — forgetting your duties and the kingdom — but it’s somehow worse than before when you’re aware that he would do the same. Gone is any sense of decency, replaced by something carnal, something infernal.

Just when you think he might be done with you, Astarion pulls out and drags your body along. He lays handsomely in the center of his pillows, a deep blue and rich satin and silk display, and pulls you into his lap. His bottom lip is ruined from where he’s bitten it in an attempt to maintain control.

He arranges for you as he likes. He tilts his head to the side as if looking upon a painting. Finally, he coaxes you upwards and whispers kind encouragements as you guide and slide his cock back inside of you. You aren’t sure how far it can go, but then it goes deeper and deeper and deeper until you’re sick.

‘Oh,’ you cry sweetly. ‘It’s too much. It’s too much, I can’t — ’

‘You can,’ Astarion promises, rubbing his thumb across your hip. ‘You can do anything. You were made for me, and I was made for you, and we were created for this.’

You sit atop him, your ass flush against his hips, and try desperately to not squirm in his lap. The wiggling makes it worse, you think. You feel swollen around him. He feels thickest inside of you. And you can’t help but lean forward as he rubbs his hands up and down your spine, kissing your temple and cheek and jaw. You can kiss him better this way. You can taste the sweetness of his mouth, taste his words.

‘I love you,’ you say over and over.

‘I know,’ he murmurs, kissing your tears.

And you do cry in this position, overwhelmed and stuttering. Astarion guides your hips back and forth across his so that he’s not necessarily drilling inside of you, but watching how you dance across his cock. He always watches so intently as if he’s afraid to miss anything you do. He guides you intently, humming, tensing beneath your thighs as you try to balance yourself with your hands on his belly.

Astarion moans at the sight. He sounds positively wrecked. You decide that you want to hear him sing for you again, so you raise your hips this time and slide them back down. You squeeze your eyes shut in concentration, treating it more like trying to hit a tricky shot with an arrow rather than taking and un-taking every inch of his cock. You’re trembling so much that you seek out his hands, guiding them away from your hips so he can tuck them under your thighs for help.

‘Ah,’ Astarion says hoarsely. ‘Fuck.’

And that’s how he helps you, his hands helping carry your weight so that you can bounce on his cock and enjoy every minute of it. The physical strain is worth it. You know Astarion likes to watch, possessive of the way you look and ride, and his eyes shine with a certain kind of deviance that you’ve grown to love.

It’s a long way from where you started as a poor soul standing on the steps, but you lean forward and kiss your raison d'être on his open mouth, savoring the way his bruised lip tastes in your mouth, enjoying just how much he enjoys you. The sunlight warms your skin and basks Astarion in a golden glow, so impossibly handsome that they should write songs about the way he looks after a night of lovemaking. He groans, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard enough you’re almost certain he’s drawn blood.

You don’t mind it. You welcome the rougher things, enjoy them as much as he does. You lean back, hands now behind you on his thighs, and try to not feel too self-conscious about how open you’re being with your body. You’re encouraged to do it. His reactions are what drive you to be better. Because Astarion’s eyes widen slightly to take in the sight of your legs spread apart as you sit on his cock, your skin shining with a delicate veil of sweat. He comes with a rough moan.

Gods, you could listen to the sound of him all day.

You fall forward onto Astarion’s chest. Your limbs feel like nothing after a night of increasingly more difficult sex, but it’s worth it for the way he spoils you after. Astarion kisses you nice and slow, lips and tongue and teeth, as if an apology for the roughness you willingly endured. He cradles you close to his body. He always seeks your warmth, always tries to press as close as he can.

It’s your turn to preen under his careful ministrations. Astarion pushes your sweaty hair back from your face and runs the tips of his fingers across your cheekbones and forehead, following the delicate lines of your bone structure. He lightly pinches your cheeks as if to savor the heat of your blush, but it doesn’t hurt when he does it. He kisses them better. He helps you slide back down into his sheets and takes note of the mess, smoothing his fingers against the bruises and love bites he’s left as gifts against your skin.

Astarion takes gentle care as he lifts your hand. He admires the ring on it and watches as he slides his fingers into yours so that his ring can crowd the empty spaces of your fingers. He kisses the back of your hand like a proper prince and then unceremoniously collapses down by your side, boneless and lazy.

‘You’ve made a mess,’ you accuse him sleepily.

‘I made you happy,’ Astarion corrects.

You reach out and touch his throat. ‘You’ve ruined your sheets.’

‘These sheets are perfect, my love,’ he murmurs. ‘Just like you.’

Later in the morning, after you’ve rested again despite your attempts to stay awake, you’re coaxed back into existence by Astarion’s lips dancing softly against the nape of your deck. You’re almost certain he’s going to ask for more — a thought that startles you — but instead he lifts you from the depths of his blankets and carries you to a bathing tub in the corner of his quarters. He lowers you into freshly warmed water, and you try to not let how much you long for him show.

‘The maids — ’

‘They’ve seen you,’ he says with a shrug. ‘But they did not care. You should have heard the way they swooned over us.’

He lavishes you again with rose petals and fancy perfumes and soaps. He guides a cloth over your skin and even massages a rather determined knot in your hip. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. You’d let him pamper you for the next month if you could.

‘I will have you like this often,’ Astarion warns. ‘Tonight. Every night. You have no idea what you’ve done to me. It’s like you’ve enchanted me.’

He’s climbed in with you at this point, tucked behind you so that he can style your hair in a plait. He likes the way it’s gotten long. You can tell how hard he’s thinking by how silent he is. His fingers trickle water down your spine and occasionally trace the shape of a petal against your skin. You shiver and allow him these idle distractions, basking in his touches and singing while he allows himself to wander in his lost thoughts. You fall asleep again briefly, lulled into a dream by the warmth and the relaxing scents of the many perfumes and Astarion humming softly in your ear.

Astarion washes your chest again to avoid having to leave the bath. He’s in one of his contemplative moods, eyes somewhere a thousand miles away, lips twisted in curiosity. You would’ve stayed forever as well, but the water is slowly getting colder and you’re beginning to shiver. You look over your shoulder at him. You watch as his eyelashes flutter and close as if he too is moments away from falling asleep, but then you see it. A sign of melancholic hope.

‘You and I belong together,’ you tell him.

‘We are the greatest match together the world has ever seen,’ Astarion agrees. ‘There is no one else.’

‘It is an honor,’ you say. You catch a petal in your palm and show him.

He pulls your fingers up to his mouth with his own hand guiding you. He kisses your palm and the petal, and then each of your fingertips one by one.

‘I’m doing this for you, you know,’ he murmurs.

‘You are doing this for us,’ you say, shaking your head. ‘We are a family.’

‘We are more than a family,’ he insists. ‘We are more than lovers. Our souls belong together.’

‘I’ve never been happier,’ you say.

Whatever world Astarion is imagining, you’re beginning to see it too. A world where being a king means more than throwing extravagant parties and hosting masquerades and balls and ignoring those in need. Astarion cares because you care, and that makes your heart squeeze dangerously. You are with Astarion when he usurps his father’s court. He had called them weak-willed men in front of his own council, his lip curled in distaste. They had allowed a shadow ruler to take his father’s place for years, had controlled the crown like a puppeteer would his prized puppet. And now, Astarion has pulled together enough favor to overthrow those who had betrayed him, who had betrayed you, and who had betrayed Baldur’s Gate most of all.

‘I believe you are sitting in my chair,’ Astarion calmly tells Ketheric Thorm.

The removal of the pretenders is fairly certain. Ketheric’s own daughter Isobel aids in his arrest. The installation of Astarion’s council is relatively easy with such esteemed replacements. Wyll Ravengard takes his father’s place as Lord Commander of the Flaming Fist. Karlach takes Enver Gortash’s place as leader of the city guard, betrayed as you were, and her eyes burn with heat when she pulls him from his tower. Gale and Shadowheart had been planning the entire thing for years behind the scenes, favoring Astarion against the old court. All you do is stand beside Astarion with your hand on the hilt of your blade though no one dared raise their arms against him.

Astarion’s coronation takes place later that week, and even with all the planning, he does not allow you to stray from his side. You are with him when meeting with the emissaries Lady Lae’zel and Lord Halsin and Lady Jaheira. You are with him during his fittings. You are with Astarion the night before when he fucks you so hard you see stars.

You are there the day of his coronation. He is dressed in brilliant reds and off-whites and wears a crown with rubies. You stand alongside him in the armor he commissioned for you styled after Dame Aylin’s and hold the sword gifted to you from the crown.

It is a wedding as well.

A wedding of peace and resilience. A wedding of love and understanding.You drop down before him to one knee and swear anew your vows, though now they taste sweeter on your tongue. I am the Sword of the Crown, the Shield of the Realm, the Consort of the Chosen. I serve no one but the Rightful King, the First of His Name, the Soul of Truth, Astarion Ancunin. When you rise, Astarion kisses you.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #* et toi，et moi

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shamrockqueen · 1 month

Text

Omega Retreat : Chapter 3

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, reference to physical ailments

Word count : 2083

Masterlist

Summary : As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat.

You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?

You tried to focus on your work, but you found yourself losing focus time and time again. Your eyes kept leaving the dull glow of your computer monitor to steal glances at your phone.

“You seem distracted.”

Her tone was playful, but the abrupt interruption still had you jumping in your seat. Your boss had snuck up behind you easily as you were rechecking your email on your phone.

“Geez, we’ll have to string a bell around you if you're going to sneak up on people.” You laughed back, reassured by her coy smile.

“Something’s got you in a good mood.” She hummed behind you.

“Oh, yeah I guess.” You try to hide your pink cheeks, too embarrassed over getting caught texting a new flame like a love-struck teenager.

“All the girls can smell the change. Even the betas, dear.” She sang back.

“Who is he?” She tried to hide her beaming smile behind the back of her hand as she leaned over on the wall of your cubicle.

You scoff, trying to cover your warm cheeks as you answer. “You sound more excited than my mother was.”

She gasped with a wide smile, like a schoolgirl getting gossip from a friend. Omega’s always connected more closely, and it warmed your heart that she could be equally happy for you. So, when she leaned in for a hint of another scent that may have been left to linger on your skin, you quickly answered the anticipation in her eyes.

“We haven’t met in person yet; you're not going to catch a whiff of him, so don’t bother trying.” You laughed up at her before she pulled away.

“No fun. You could at least tell me what he is.” You knew it had to be the question bugging her the most.

You hesitated for a second, biting back on your lip before whispering back, “An alpha.”

“I knew it!” She nearly jumped with delight, leading you to try and shush her before the other cubicles were privy to your personal business.

It made you happy that you could feel like you had bonds even at work, and we’re thankful for her gentle omega nature.

“Keep your voice down.”

“I’m sorry; I’m just so happy for you. After everything, I just..”

You didn’t want her to finish that sentence. Luckily for you, she wouldn’t, looking back into your saddened eyes instead. “I’m just so happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You think you’ll meet him soon?”

You chuckled alongside her, glad to have the conversation shift back to a lighter tone.

“We’ll see. We’ll see.” You shoo at her, hoping to get some of the work she’d given you done today.

She gets the message, realizing she’d been gushing for too long and had work of her own.

“Fine, but I expect an invite to that wedding.”

It was the last you heard of her before she walked back to her office.

You smiled back at your computer, a drab Excel sheet still painted over its background. You sighed back at it until a telltale ding rang across your previously ignored phone.

A relationship with an alpha was still scary, but Bucky seemed to dampen those worries every time you looked at his photo blipping over your screen.

You pulled the phone towards you to glance over the notification of Bucky’s message.

“I wait to see you tonight.” You read along with the small message box.

You ran your fingernail along the power button before pressing on it, letting the passcode window light up the screen before tapping on a handful of numbers.

You looked back at the few cubicles behind you, making sure you had a moment to answer.

“Me either. I can’t focus on work,” you typed fervently.

“I’d rather meet you in person, Omega." The message pops up in the next second.

You let out a breathy chuckle with a smile, still in disbelief that you could be his omega even in text.

“I know. Hopefully soon, but I’m excited about our video date.”

You were more than excited; it was all you could think about as the hours ticked away slower than they normally would. When 5 p.m. finally rolled around, you nearly lept from your seat. You nearly forgot to shut off your computer before grabbing your stuff and rushing away.

A giddy drive home was a delightful change of pace, spurring you to drive just a tick above the speed limit as you neared your little house.

You fly through the house, letting the door slam behind you before tossing your purse over the couch. You stumbled past the mirror, only to twist back towards it after catching sight of your messy hair.

Your fingers only tangle into it as you fight to take it out of its messy bun. You only tied it up halfway through the day for a little comfort, only to ruin all the work you put into it that morning.

You didn’t have any time to fuck with it now, yet you continue to burn through the few seconds you have left trying to tame your tired looks. Could each flyaway be seen through your laptop's webcam?

You stopped for a second, closing your eyes and sucking in an uneven breath before looking back up at your reflection.

You looked red—nothing new, of course—but not a face you wanted him to see, and yet there wasn’t anything you could do to fight it except to finally calm down.

Your hair wasn’t bad, and your reflection wasn’t meant to scare you, and as you continued to breathe, that red blush began to fade. You can do this.

You leave the mirror, setting your eyes on the laptop still sitting on the coffee table. You lowered yourself to the sofa to sit as comfortably as possible before pulling the computer to your lap and switching it on.

A brief photo of you with your arm wrapped around your mother’s shoulder flashed in the background of your screen before you set up the video call.

It was just more of those bouncing dots with a different ring as it all danced along a blue screen. You held your breath, waiting patiently for his image to take over. Yet, when the square zoomed over the page and movement took over your screen, every ounce of air seemed to force its way from your lungs.

He was there, tucking his hair behind his ear and smiling at his own screen as you gave a shocked smile.

“Hi!”

You mouthed back an overwhelmed ‘hi’ as you watched him intently. Your mouth moved in an attempt to form words, but you were far too mesmerized by the real alpha on your screen. That is, until his smile fell.

“Is your sound on? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” You were quick to reassure him, wanting desperately to see that smile set upon you again.

Just as you hoped, it was back in an instant after hearing your voice.

“Sorry, I was just a little speechless for a second.” You blinked at his image, wanting to make sure it was real as you spoke to it. “It’s amazing to finally see the real you. Not that I thought your photos were fake..uh it’s just.” You fought your way through your ramblings as he chuckled at your giddy and nervous demeanor.

“No, I know what you mean. It’s so exciting to finally see you, Omega.”

It was like a dream, finally laughing and talking where you could see one another and study each of his expressions as he took each word that left your stuttering lips. Hours pass, and the conversation continues to burn through the night as it’s carried happily between the two of you.

It was so much better, but not nearly enough. A frustration shared by both you and him began to show as the veneer hiding it broke away.

“But, I wanna bury my face in your neck.” His voice deepens, showing a glimpse at a small possessive side. It was something you’d initially feared from an alpha.

“I gotta see you for real.”

It’s so sudden, you could hardly believe it would always be like this for omegas, but how could someone who had shut themselves away for so long really know?

You think back on what others spoke of during their tales of pleasure and even the more harrowing words from your physician only a few weeks prior. They’d cut off your suppressants ‘for your own safety’, and urged you to seek a sexual partner in the most blatant terms. But, they weren’t wrong, and with another possibly fatal heat on the horizon, you had to make a very difficult choice.

“Maybe we should. It's just...” You stopped for a second to calm yourself. “It hasn’t been very long, and you're already..so smitten.”

“Can you blame me?” His voice rang low over the speaker yet still sang through your worries so melodically.

His tone drops, becoming more serious and heavy, so much so that it only echos the ever-grave voice that bounced around the back of your mind. “What are you scared of?”

It hit close to home, like he could be looking right through you and seeing every mounting fear you tried so hard to bottle up.

“It's just, with a heat coming in a couple weeks..” you tried to ignore the breaking of your own voice as you spoke. You didn’t want this to be the reason why, and you didn’t want it to be so soon that you two had to meet or finally be intimate. “...and I just don’t want to rush things. But I agree; maybe we should consider meeting in person soon."

You fought not to let your true emotions show and not to let your true fears come to light in front of him. It was a relief when his face lit up with so much joy. He just stared back at you, his eyes beaming through the screen.

You could nearly cry. After ripping off this first bandage, it was such a relief that you finally felt you could breathe properly. You chuckled happily together, taking in each other's joyous reaction when he finally spoke again.

“I can send you an invitation right away. I can be there for you.” He spoke so passionately, looking at you with big, wet blue eyes before typing away at the keys on his keyboard.

“W-what invitation?” You nearly coughed on the words as they left your throat.

You do think back on the vacation packages on the original website and how they boasted about safety as well as elegance. The thought of having that kind of special getaway with the Alpha often, finally seeing Bucky where the sun could hit his skin instead of in the glow of your laptop monitor.

But, he was still technically a stranger, in spite of the two of you consistently sharing messages over the course of several weeks. Running away with him seemed, in the most juvenile sense, stupid. Yet, a twinge in your stomach urged you to leap at his offer.

“It is such a beautiful resort.” You chuckled nervously. You recalled all the photos you’d scrolled through before he’d matched you on the website.

“I’ll meet you anywhere you want me to, Omega. I just want to feel you so bad.” The low drag of his voice wasn’t unfamiliar by now, after having heard similar sentiments during a steamier exchange over a phone call. You felt a little embarrassed as your skin started to flush again.

“I don’t want to make you spend that much money on me.”

"This is not about money. I just want everything to be perfect for you.”

You try to force yourself to speak, but each word falls flat on your tongue. He was offering you what felt like a lifeline with open arms. You never wanted something like this to progress so damn quickly, but maybe you were really that desperate. Maybe you were really that scared.

It was so nice to be wanted, and by him especially, an alpha unlike any other you’d ever met. You still wanted time to think about it, but what time do you have left before a possible disaster? The date of your heat was growing closer, but you had to afford at least a night to ponder something like this.

“C-can I have a few days to think about it?”

Chapter 4

Tag list : @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll

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written-in-flowers · 4 months

Text

Red Satin and Pink Leather: YunSangGi x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Kang Yeosang x Song Mingi x fem!Reader

Genre: SMUT MINORS DNI

Word count: 9k

Summary: Catching Yunho on a special video call with you and Mingi, Yeosang is pulled into the party and couldn't be happier for it.

Tags: sub!yeosang, sub!mingi, femdom, dom!reader, dom!yunho, facials, titty-fucking, nipple play, breast worship, voyeurism, filming sex, sex over video calls, phone sex, overstimulation, hand jobs, masturbation, pet names (pretty, baby, baby boy, etc.), anal sex, anal fingering, sex toys, cock rings, orgasm denial, edging, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, dom/sub themes, dom/sub relationships, poly relationships, polyamorous, cum swallowing, cum play, shower sex (brief).

Previously on Idol Companion

*****

He found you where he’d expected: by your mirror, half-dressed, doing your makeup routine. Yeosang leaned against your doorframe, seeing you at your desk applying blush. He liked watching you do your makeup. You always put so much concentration and thought into your appearance regardless of where or who you’ll be with. Tonight, you’d put on your usual routine with an added winged eyeliner and dark lip color. Sexy. Seductive. Yeosang liked the look on you.

“You know,” he coughed, “You don’t need to put on makeup if you’re staying indoors.”

His voice made you jump, and you turned to him, startled for a moment. Seeing him, you laughed softly. “Yeah,” you said, going back to your mirror, “I know. I just like feeling pretty.”

He walked further into the room. Yeosang noticed the outfit you’d laid out on your bed. A satin halter top in red-wine color with a pair of black denim jeans. His heart nearly stopped at the sight of it. The Top. The Shirt. The Blouse of Death. Yeosang’s blood already pumped thinking of you in the flimsy blouse. Mingi mentioned a night-in rather than going out, but this outfit seemed too formal for an at-home date. Perhaps you’d both changed your minds and picked a destination. Perhaps you’re wearing this to ensnare Mingi into a night of rough, wild, sex. Yeosang pitied Mingi. He’d be helpless against you in a low-cut blouse that sometimes showed flashes of whatever bra you wore underneath. Every Ateez member knew this shirt by sight, and knew what it meant.

You wanted sex.

“You’re going to wear this?” Yeosang asked, more amused than anything. He felt the smooth fabric between his fingers, “I hope Mingi’s prepared.”

You looked at him in the mirror, liquid eyeliner in your hand, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t act so coy,” he replied, “You know what this top does to us.”

“Not my fault a simple piece of clothing turns you all into animals,” you said, trying not to smirk as you applied the black liner. “It’s one of my favorites, and I wanted to wear it tonight.”

“But Mingi…” he frowned, “Is so innocent. Please, have mercy upon him, YN!” He changed to a pleading, desperate tone. “Wear it for me. Wear it for me instead! He's only a boy!”

“Oh hush,” you laughed. Wadding up tissue, you threw in his direction. “Mingi’s been feeling down lately and I want to cheer him up. You know, uplift his spirits a bit.”

“It'll definitely uplift something alright,” he snorted, coming to sit beside you on the bed.

“Ugh, you're such a guy” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “I mean it. He's been upset lately, so I wanted to be there for him.”

Yeosang quieted. Neither of you wanted to think about Mingi’s depressive stages. They did not happen often, but when they did, they could be terrible.

“Are you going to be coming back or staying there?” He asked curiously, picking up a cotton swab to gingerly wipe off a stray streak of eyeliner.

“I might stay there,” you said, smiling gratefully. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” he said, admiring how your hair framed your face. “You could've called me. I would've helped you get ready.”

“I didn't want to bother you after you had a long practice day. Besides, I can dress myself, Yeosang.”

“But I like helping. I want you to look your best all the time.”

You pouted, “Aw, my sweet Yeosang. You can help me get dressed then.”

So accustomed to seeing you in your underwear, Yeosang didn't mind when you disrobed. A dark red lingerie set covered your intimate areas, mesh and lace showing enough skin to arouse a man. He gazed over your legs, thighs and hips before landing on your chest. The mesh material in the middle thinly covered your breasts, and Yeosang gulped thickly. Yet, he still took up the top to slide over your body before clasping the back behind your neck.

“Mingi’s going to be a very happy man,” he said as he fixed the draping neckline. Straightening out your small heart necklace, he said, “I don't know how he's going to resist you.”

“Who said I wanted him to?” You grinned at him taking up your jeans.

He put them at your feet and you stepped into them. Yeosang slowly slid the fabric up your legs and thighs, feeling your smooth skin under his knuckles as he went upwards. At your hips, he couldn't stop himself from leaving a kiss on a spot of skin before covering it. When he stood at eye level, you pecked his lips.

“You're so helpful,” you said in an alluring voice. “I'm lucky to have a sweet prince who treats me so well.”

Your ‘dom voice’. He loved that voice. It sent tingles that made him shudder. “I only want to take care of you,” he then squeaked out, “Mistress. Your happiness means a lot to me.”

You cupped his cheek and kissed him. “It's too bad I can't reward your behavior right now.”

“Getting to help you is good enough for me.”

He guided you to your bed where he slipped on your sandals for you. Yeosang wished you'd worn tights again. He liked helping you put them on; it gave him an excuse to touch you further. He placed a gentle kiss on your exposed ankle, buckling the sandal enough to keep it on you all night. You looked down at him lovingly, the way an owner looked at their favorite pet. Yeosang took you aback when he mentioned his submissive tendencies to you. He didn't mind being dominant from time to time, but he liked being babied by you. Something about your dominant personality felt comforting and warm. It made him feel safe. When you first dominated him, he worried it might not work out but you'd gone above and beyond to please him.

And he'd do just about anything to please you back.

“There,” he said with finality, standing up from the floor. “You look spectacular.” You tilted your head expectantly, and he added, “Mistress.”

He helped you off the bed onto your feet. “I wish you were coming back,” he pouted, “Then I could help you get ready for bed too.”

You giggled, “You can help me tomorrow night.”

He didn't tell anyone why he really liked living with him and Yunho. Living with you gave him opportunities to serve you in subtle ways: preparing your favorite meals, helping you with morning and night routines, and overall taking care of you. You did not expect it of him every day and he honestly did not do it often, but he liked caring for you. You are not only the princess to his prince or the Yorkie to his Maltese, but you're the mistress to his servant. After the struggles you've had in life, and juggling eight boyfriends, he wished to make your life as easy as possible. If that meant helping you put on shoes or cook you a cup of ramen, he’d do it.

You went with him into the living room where Yunho sat eating dinner. Cross legged on the couch, he stopped halfway eating noodles when he saw you.

“Wow,” he said, slurping up the rest and wiping his mouth, “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” you grinned, sitting next to him.

“You guys are staying in, right?” He asked, stirring the soup with his chopsticks, “Because otherwise Mingi better learn how to control his boners quick.”

“We might go get coffee or something small,” you shrugged, taking out your phone.

“I should tell him to put on a big hoodie,” Yunho reached for his phone nearby, “He can hide it that way.”

“Oh my god, you’re all so ridiculous,” you chuckled, scrolling through your phone as you idly played with Yeosang’s hair. He’d grown it out for this exact reason. “It’s just a top.”

“Yeah, the top,” said Yunho, who quickly typed a message to Mingi. “You know how weak Mingi is for you. He’s going to crumble right away.”

“I told her it was cruel of her to wear it,” Yeosang joked.

He shut his eyes as your fingers gently ran through his scalp. Being this close to you felt comforting. He’d fallen asleep so many times this way, engulfed by your warmth and scent as you pet him. You and Yunho continued talking about your plans for the night as he relaxed into your lap. He didn’t want you to go yet, not when he’s enjoying your body so much. He thought of asking if you and Mingi might stay with them, but he refrained. Every member deserved alone time with you, and Mingi needed it a bit more than the others. Another “baby boy” who needed lots of love, praise and attention from his Mistress. He watched the television before he realized he’d missed something.

“Mistr-YN,” he quickly corrected him, “You didn’t get your bag.”

“I can just get it when Mingi comes. He won’t be here for a while,” you assured him. “I don’t need it at this moment.”

“I don’t want you to forget it and then have to come back,” he sat up from your lap, already feeling the cold, and said, “You tend to forget stuff.”

“I do not,” you retorted.

“No, no, Yeosang’s right,” Yunho intervened, “Yeosang, go get your mistress’s purse before Mingi shows up.”

His cheeks warmed at his words. He walked back to your room, finding your bag on your bed still, and came back. Yeosang noticed Yunho sat closer, trapping you on the couch with his arm, and talking low. He only made out Yunho’s deep voice and your sweet one but nothing you said. Yeosang did not blame Yunho for trying. The red blouse is every Ateez member’s kryptonite.

“Here you go,” Yeosang came over, handing you your bag and returning to his spot on the sofa.

“So sweet,” you cooed, bending to kiss his temple.

He could be like this forever. The doorbell sounded throughout the house, and Yunho went to answer it. “Mingi’s here,” you said to him, smiling softly at Yeosang’s relaxed position. “I gotta go now.”

Yeosang grumbled and sat up. “Hope you have a good time,” he said, already feeling cold without you, “Kiss?”

“Kiss.”

You let your lips linger on his a few seconds before pulling away. Mingi walked in right as you reached the living room threshold. He didn’t wear the hoodie, but seeing his amazed expression, he likely regretted not taking the advice. Yeosang watched you and Mingi kiss, then say goodbye as you went out the door. The silence built back up once you’d left, your scent and warmth going with you.

“Atinys are always saying I’m her puppy,” Yunho stood nearby with a teasing smile on his face, “But you’re more of a puppy than me.”

“Shut up,” he laughed softly, throwing a small pillow at him before getting up from the bed. “It’s been a while for me, that’s all.”

“You can always ask her the next time you two go out,” Yunho said, walking to his room with Yeosang behind him. “She’d never say no to her prince.”

Yeosang’s blush crept from his cheeks to his ears, “It’s what I like, okay?”

“I wasn’t dissing you,” he turned when he reached his bedroom door, the smile gone once he saw Yeosang’s face. “We all have different kinks. I mean, I like CNC which isn’t everybody’s thing.”

“You do? When have you done it?”

“When you went to visit your parents’,” he answered as Yeosang passed him. “She wanted to do it, so we did. YN doesn’t mind experimenting,” he smirked, “She loves trying new things. You should ask her to go full dom with you next time; she might do it.”

“You think she would?” he asked meekly. “We kind of do it in bed sometimes, but not all the way. I don’t know if she really does like it.”

“Just ask, Yeosangie. You won’t know until you do. It’s what Wooyoung told me.”

Yes, Yeosang heard all about Wooyoung’s free-use fantasy and how you’d tried it for him. “It’s not really only the sex,” he said. “It’s things outside of the bedroom too. I like taking care of her, and doing things for her.” He snorted a laugh, “I know she likes to be independent so I don’t push it on her.”

Yunho’s eyes darkened with lust, and moved towards Yeosang. For a moment, all the breath in his body came out at the close proximity. “If she doesn’t want a cute submissive to serve her,” he lifted Yeosang’s chin so he looked up at him, “I wouldn’t mind taking her place. I personally think you’d look pretty with one of my collars around your neck…”

“Hyung…”

“I prefer my subs to call me ‘Sir’, but if you like ‘Hyung’ we can use that.”

“Hyung,” he giggled at his forwardness. “I’m gonna go game for a bit before bed,” he said, body flushed in heat when he met Yunho’s eyes, his words sending more warmth to his crotch. “We have a free day tomorrow, but I need to go to the practice room early.”

“Alright,” he accepted, “But if you change your mind, I’ll let you pick your collar.”

He brushed Yeosang’s lips with his thumb before kissing him softly. The kiss alone flared up the fires kindling inside. Yeosang thought of joining him in bed. He used to do it all the time when they lived in the dorm. On nights where sleep was impossible or stress of debut life became a struggle, the members slipped into each other’s beds. Yeosang remembered falling asleep to Wooyoung and San’s heavy breathing or Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s low whining and whimpering. He particularly enjoyed the nights where he woke up to Yunho stroking him slowly, wanting intimacy and release.

“Night, pretty,” Yunho said, kissing him one more time before retreating into his bedroom.

The pet name shook him. Alone in the hallway, he knew he should go before he did something stupid. Yunho is only teasing. He doesn’t actually want to. He probably has a big game session planned anyways. Yeosang walked away from the doorway, taking deep breaths.

And trying not to think of the old days.

****

He’d heard your voice. He swore he did. Walking by Yunho’s room, your voice caught his ear and he’ll admit it piqued his curiosity. Yeosang wondered how you’d gotten back in without anyone noticing before he heard another voice, a deeper voice. Mingi. How could you both be here? Why were you in Yunho’s room? Yeosang pictured the three of you entangled in each other on Yunho’s large bed. He remembered the satin top and tight dark jeans; no way any man could resist you in it. He thought Mingi might take you to his dorm, but he’d brought you home instead. He wouldn’t be the first member you brought home.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Yeosang quietly cracked open Yunho’s bedroom. He expected you there, half naked and laying between the two tall men. A surge of arousal burst through him thinking about it, yet when he looked inside, he only saw Yunho. In the bright lighting of his bedroom, Yunho sat against the headboard, legs parted and hand rubbing his crotch. He spotted a miniature tripod at the foot of the bed, his phone attached and facing him. A myriad of dirty thoughts went through Yeosang’s mind. His eyes remained fixated on the screen in front of him, and Yeosang immediately knew what he was doing. Yeosang knew because he did it multiple times himself when you weren’t nearby: Yunho put on a video of you. He shivered hearing your low, seductive voice come from the TV speakers.

“-Oh, is that what you want, huh? And here I thought you only wanted to watch a movie with me.”

“I’d prefer to shoot a movie with you instead.”

Yunho licked his lips as you giggled at Mingi’s response. Yeosang pictured you in Mingi’s arms, likely in his bedroom, about to be ravaged. He thought about your outfit again, and the lacey underwear you wore underneath. You’d look spectacular. He swallowed thickly thinking about your nipples poking the mesh and lace fabric, ready to be licked and sucked. Yeosang is the first to admit his fondness for your tits. He loved kissing, sucking and licking them whenever given the chance. The sounds it drew out made him hard instantly. Soft moans muffled by kisses broke him from his trance, a mixture of your voice with Mingi’s low tone as he undressed you. Would he slide his dick between those tits of yours? Would you suck the tip while he tit-fucked you? Yeosang remembered when you poured oil on them, making them shiny and slippery, as you then let him fuck them. He’d oiled up the rest of you after that.

A deep groan cut off his reminiscence, and he saw Yunho biting his lower lip. He still teased himself outside his boxers. Yeosang himself enjoyed drawing it out. He never immediately jumped to jerking when he watched videos of you by yourself or with the other members. He’d lightly brush his hand over his bulge, much like he was tempted to do now. Yunho traced his outline down to the hem of his shorts, which had ridden up in his sitting position. Yeosang’s jaw dropped seeing him lightly graze the head with his fingers, then pull back the pant leg to reveal it. Nobody outside of ATEEZ and you knew about Yeosang’s sexuality; that he enjoyed both men and women. How could he not when his members had such nice cocks? He was lucky the other members also liked men, otherwise he’d be screwed.

Yunho trailing his fingers up and down his length made Yeosang’s mouth water. His own dick started pushing the fabric of his sweatpants; he felt it throb at the sight of Yunho sliding a hand up his shirt. When the man started pinching his own nipple, Yeosang did it to himself through his shirt. He saw Yunho’s soft lips, and envisioned them latched around his nipple. His hot tongue would slowly roll around them before giving a gentle suck. Yunho loved to tease.

He recalled the first time he and Yunho slept together. It’d been in their old dorm room when Yunho walked in on him masturbating. Being comfortable with one another, the confident Yunho carefully unraveled a blushing Yeosang by removing his shorts to grab his dick. He’d eventually returned the favor by licking Yunho’s nipples and stroking him to climax. The same dick that was feet from him now, being teased while Yunho watched you and Mingi on his TV screen.

“God, I love it when you play with my tits like that. It turns me on so much.”

An odd thing for you to say out loud. They all knew you enjoyed that. Wooyoung once made you come by teasing them with toys and his mouth. Yeosang knew this because he’d been there helping him.

“Turn this way, baby. Let him see them.”

‘Let him see them?’ Who? Who else was there?

“Do you like them, Yuyu?”

“Especially in my hands?”

Were they video chatting? He got his answer when Yunho spoke up.

“Yes,” he breathed, “Yes, I do. Keep going just like that.”

Oh god, they were. Yeosang gulped back more saliva as he listened to Mingi continuing to play with your breasts. He wished he had a better view, but he enjoyed watching Yunho in the moment. Yeosang nearly let out an audible whimper when Yunho pulled his pant leg up more. Even just half the shaft had Yeosang drooling. Using one hand to continue teasing his tip, Yunho started palming the balls underneath. The moan he released sounded absolutely erotic. Yeosang wanted to suck those balls, lick and rub them while stroking that cock. You could join too; he never minded sharing.

Yeosang continued rubbing his nipple while his dick started making a tent in his pants. He gave it a gentle tug to relieve pressure, but this tug led to a sudden moan. One loud enough for Yunho to stop and look at the door. He saw Yunho. Yunho saw him. He stood there like a deer in headlights, not sure how to proceed. Should he pretend he saw nothing? This was meant to be a private moment between him, you and Mingi.

“Yeosangie?” Yunho called out to him, still touching himself. “Is that you? Don’t be shy. Come over here. The party’s just getting started.”

Timidly, Yeosang opened the door. Finally exposed, he couldn’t help himself from blushing at being caught. He kept himself a good distance from the bed, not meaning to intrude or interrupt.

“Come,” Yunho beckoned him over, spreading his legs further apart and patting the space, “Sit here and watch with me.”

“Yeosang is there?”

Yeosang looked at the TV, where you’d leaned into the camera to see him more closely.

“Um, uh…”

“He is,” Yunho grinned, “He was watching me. Little pervert.”

Yeosang blushed at the words, meant to be affectionate instead of insulting.

"I’m sorry,” he said, flustered. “I didn’t mean to…I only heard YN and thought she was home…Don’t let me-”

“-Yeosang, shut up and get over here,” Yunho leaned to the edge and brought Yeosang closer.

Yeosang walked to the edge of the bed but didn’t sit down right away. He took in the young man laying on the bed. His nipples hardened from teasing, his dick already started blushing red as it grew harder. Need filled his round brown eyes, his pink tongue licking his lips at Yeosang. How could anyone resist such a sight? His long legs and thighs remained spread out on the bed so Yeosang could sit between them.

“Do you want to wear your collar, baby?” Yunho asked him, reaching forward to touch the bulge forming in Yeosang’s pants. “You can pick whichever one you want.” Yeosang nodded shyly, and he grinned, “They’re in the top drawer.”

Reaching the dresser drawer, he opened it to find a box labeled ‘necklaces’ across the side. Yunho carried collars of every shade and fabric available. He recognized a few right away, and picked out the one he liked the most: a pink leather collar with a heart shaped bell hanging from a hook. Yeosang knew it jingled each time Yunho’s thrusted into him. This only excited him more. Yunho chuckled at Yeosang’s choice, taking it from him when he brought it back.

“A pretty collar for a pretty boy,” he smiled, clasping it on when Yeosang bent down.

Wearing the collar boosted his excitement to the roof.

“Which one did he pick?”

“The pink one with the bell,” answered Yunho. “Sit here and get comfy.”

Yeosang absentmindedly sat between Yunho’s thighs. He could feel a distinct warmth pressed to his lower back, and resting against Yunho’s hard form built up the anticipation. He stared at the screen to see you and Mingi smirking.

“I wonder what Atinys would say if they knew how perverted Yeosang really is,” said Mingi. “Those YNteez episodes are nothing compared to what we’ve done together. Right, Yeosang?”

"Ye-yes,” he breathed.

“They’d love it,” you giggled, kneeling up to show your torso. “I think secretive perverts are hotter than obvious ones. They’re always so kinky and dirty-minded.”

You brought Mingi’s hands back to your chest where he grabbed them right away. His face buried in your neck, Mingi rolled your nipples between his fingers until you moaned. Yunho’s hands started slowly sliding up his thighs, starting on the outer sides before moving inwards towards the top. He continued doing this, his mouth close to Yeosang’s ear as he spoke.

“She looks good, huh? I told her to wear that top. It’s so sexy and Mingi really likes it on her,” he circled around Yeosang’s pulsing tip, “Her cleavage just barely shows and if she’s wearing that deep red bra, you can see more of it.”

“She’s so fucking hot…”

“She is,” he said. “It’s why we all want to fuck her when she wears it out in public. At least, I know I do,” he went further up, lifting Yeosang’s shirt to see his nipples. “Last time she wore it, I fucked her in the train station bathroom. She was already wet from me touching her on the train.”

“Fuck…”

Yunho licked the pad of his thumb and brushed it over Yeosang’s nipple. A trickle of sensitivity shot down to his center, making him squirm slightly. On the screen, he saw Mingi carefully unbuttoning your jeans. Laying longways across the bed, you lifted your hips to help him remove them, leaving you in the bra and panties. You’d pulled it down underneath your breasts, so Mingi squeezed one of them as you felt up his back on top of you. He pictured the sensations you must be feeling and how wet they made you. Yeosang imagined Mingi’s dick, only three layers apart from you, growing harder and harder. The first time they touched one another had been with you and Jongho. Not the biggest of the group, it still made Yeosang cum hard at the end. He loved sitting on it just to hear Mingi’s drawn out groan of relief.

“Who knew we’d get so lucky?” Yunho asked him, one hand toying with his nipple while the other stroked him through his sweats. “Having two big sluts in this relationship of ours? We have YN, who will open her legs whenever we like, and we have Yeosang, who bends over whenever we want. The both of you are so dirty apart,” he licked the edge of Yeosang’s ear, “But even dirtier when you’re together.”

When he looked back at the screen, Yeosang saw your back facing the camera. You’d worn the g-string thong tonight, instead of the regular panties. Your ass cheeks sticking out, the string threaded between them, you bent over the bed so Mingi could spank and grab your ass. Yeosang’s mouth dropped open when he rubbed his fingers in the middle of those cheeks, outlining the thong string that went down to your pussy. A ring light behind the camera made the scene much brighter, so he saw everything. Your soft whimpers matched his own soon enough.

“Think he’ll fuck her in the ass tonight?” asked Yunho. “I leant him a few toys to use on her if they did anal. You know how much she likes her holes being filled. I mean, what’s the point in sex if we’re not gangbanging her with toys?”

Yeosang moaned, imagining the sight. “She…She…”

“‘She’ what?”

“She always looks so good with toys inside her,” he breathed, wriggling around as Yunho finally pulled out his cock. Flushed red, the veins continued pumping blood through it so it hardened. “I hope he does use them. Her ass is even nicer with a-with a plug in it.”

“Don’t worry, Yeosang,” said Mingi from the screen. “She’ll get a toy in there soon.”

“Oh god, yes!”

Mingi placed a few well timed spanks on either cheek. Yeosang did not know who he’d rather be: you or Mingi?

“Do you want a plug in you too?” asked Yunho in his ear. “Or do you want that vibrating sleeve you like so much?”

Lord, the sleeve. A single band of two vibrating bullets that Yunho straps to his shaft then turns on always leaves Yeosang drooling. Yunho chuckled hearing Yeosang’s whiny groan. “How about we start off slow?” he emphasized this with a gradual tug of his dick. “Hm? I want to see how hard you can get before I use my toys. Like I told YN once,” he pressed his lips to Yeosang’s ear, drowning out any other sound, “I like to make sweet, pretty things cum all over my toys.”

This nearly took the breath out of Yeosang. But, then the sound of you moaning caught his attention again. Mingi and you mirrored his and Yunho’s position against the headboard. Mingi had finally stuck his hand in your panties, and the touch alone had you grabbing his arms. His other hand massaged your breast, grazing a thumb over your nipple repeatedly. Yeosang would give anything to be there with you, lapping at your soaked cunt while stroking Mingi’s hardon. He’d pleasure both of you until you could barely comprehend anything else. Yunho could even film it before joining in himself. Yeosang’s arousal brought on a slew of dirty images, and Yunho’s dirty talk added to them.

“Isn’t she beautiful like that?” Yunho asked him, thumb swirling over the head. “Her pussy so wet it's seeping through her panties and her nipples hard to the touch? Oh, look what Mingi’s pulled out.”

Yeosang noticed Mingi quickly reach into a drawer and withdraw a short body wand. He couldn’t really hear the low vibrations, but he heard your high-pitched whining. Thighs and legs shaking, you remained still as Mingi slipped the toy in your underwear. The waistband keeping it in place, Mingi started rapidly rolling your nipples.

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” Yunho moaned. Yeosang felt him start grinding into his back, his full length nestled between the both of them. “But, I know someone who’s equally hot.”

Yeosang helped remove his pants and boxers, leaving his bottom half naked and exposed. Yunho moaned as he felt up and down Yeosang’s thighs again to see his cock twitch up to his stomach. He placed soft kisses along Yeosang’s shoulder as the other man gripped the knees on either side of him. Yeosang couldn’t help but push back into the cock against his tailbone. He did not protest when Yunho took out a bottle of lubricant, and coated his entire length in it.

“So pretty and shiny,” he moaned in his ear again, observing the cock glistening in the half light. “Just like when your mistress drools and spits all over it.”

“Oh god…Sir…”

The title made Yunho breathe deeply. “I’m your dom tonight, hm? Because your mistress isn’t home?”

“If you…If you want to be.”

“I very much do,” he answered. “I told you as much before you went to bed.”

Your whimpering moan caught their attention. You started trembling, holding Mingi’s hand tightly as he slid the wand up and down your pussy rapidly. However, you then broke away from Mingi and grabbed the camera. Clearly a phone on a tripod now, you placed it in front of your pussy. Yeosang groaned at the close up shot, saliva building up when Mingi finally pulled the thong aside. He put the toy aside, and used both hands to rub the wet lips.

“Fuck,” Yunho panted, “Look at how wet she is already. I’d love to have that sitting on my face, don’t you?”

“Ye-y-ye-yes.”

“Remember the time we shared a room, and she sat on my face while you rode my dick?” he asked, adding more lubricant to Yeosang’s balls below. “How you both made out on top of me? I’d love to do that again. I love having the two biggest sluts in our group in my dorm…ready to be fucked and used at my whims.”

“Oh my god…” Yeosang held onto Yunho’s thighs and continued grinding into him. “That was so hot,” he answered, “I’d love to do it again.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckled, “I’m going to hold you to that, pretty baby. When that woman comes home tomorrow, you two better clear your schedules,” he kissed his ear once more, giving his dick a squeeze, “Because I’m going to fuck you both like the whores you are.”

“Yes,” Yeosang breathed, “Yes, please, fuck me.”

“I will, baby boy,” he cooed. “I will. I just want to play with your body for a little longer. Can you hold it off for me until then?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Yunho finally reached over to his bedside table where he’d been keeping the vibrating sleeve. Yeosang watched with bated breath as Mingi spread your lips apart and used a single digit to tease your clit. He’d suck those fingers just to get a taste of you. He’d eat that pussy for a taste of your sweetness. Yunho grabbed a silicone connected cock ring.

“Sit on your hands for me,” Yunho directed, pleased when Yeosang immediately did it. “I’m going to put this cock ring on you first, so you don’t cum too quickly.”

He watched Yunho slip his dick and then his balls through the two rings. He gave Yeosang’s length a few more strokes before finally pulling the vibrating sleeve over it. He slid the tube right to the middle of his shaft, leaving his tip for Yunho to tease and squeeze at his leisure. Mingi started fingering you, his long fingers filling your heat slowly. He occasionally circled them around your clit before pushing them deep inside you again. The mewls and moans you let out made Yeosang’s cock stand up all the way. The pleasure heightened once Yunho turned the toy on a low setting. The vibrations sent down to his cock rings, adding more pleasure to it.

“Yes, just like that,” he heard you say, “Finger me just like that.”

“Am I making you feel good, Mistress?”

“You are.” You then said, “Are you using a toy on our Yeosangie, Yunho?”

“I am, YN,” he answered, “You should see him.”

You pulled the camera from your pussy to you and Mingi. Seeing Yeosang half naked, succumbing to the sleeve on his dick, the both of you melted at the sight of him. Mingi clearly began fingering you quicker as you watched Yeosang and Yunho.

“He looks so pretty,” you whined, “My sweet prince leaking and moaning like that. Does it feel good, baby boy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he moaned, spreading his legs farther to make room for Yunho’s hands. Adding even more lubricant, Yunho massaged both testicles and sack. “It feels so good, Mistress. It feels so fucking good.”

“Do you wish we were there?” asked Mingi, kissing your shoulder.

“Yes,” he whimpered.

“I told him I’m going to fuck you both tomorrow, YN,” Yunho said.

“Really?” you asked hopefully, “Can Mingi come too?”

“Of course. We’ll tell the group, and anyone who wants to join can come over.” He kissed the spot beneath Yeosang’s ear and said, “Have a little Yeosang-centric gangbang. You always looked so pretty whenever one of us came all over you. I remember the pictures,” he breathed deeply, using Yeosang’s precum to coat his tip. “Seonghwa-hyung’s fat cock splitting you open or San sticking his tongue inside. I saved the one of Jongho fucking both you and Wooyoung, and you moaning like a bitch in heat. Our slutty baby boy is always so eager to fuck us. You were YN before there was a YN.”

Mingi laid you on your back, straddling your chest and sliding his dick between your tits. He’d added lubricant or oil at some point, but Yeosang caught sight of a particular shine on them. Yeosang nearly came, but held himself back. You suckled the head just like you did with him, keeping your eyes on the camera.

“Titty fucking,” Yunho said, “Your favorite. You think he’ll cum on them?”

“I hope so…”

“I will if you’re a good boy,” you said, having heard him. “You sit there and do whatever Yunho says, and if you don’t cum,” you sucked Mingi’s tip hard enough to make him moan, “Then Mingi will cum on my titties for you, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re going to be good and not cum?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?” you buried Mingi between your breasts as much as possible, and Yeosang imagined you doing it to him.

“I prom-m-mise.”

“Suck my dick,” Yunho ordered, “I want those lips on my dick now.”

Yeosang trembled as he crawled from Yunho, who removed his shirt and shorts. He helped Yeosang out of his shirt, but not before landing several passionate kisses on him. Once he removed Yeosang’s hoodie and shirt, he bent down to suck and nibble his nipples. Kneeling on the bed, profiles facing the camera, you could watch them make out and continue teasing each other. Yeosang clenched his jaw as he reached down to Yunho’s heavy, throbbing dick. When he pressed his toy to Yunho, the other groaned loudly and began rocking into it.

“I want you to suck it, baby,” Yunho told him, laying back against the headboard and stroking himself. "And don’t take it out.”

He never said it out loud, but Yeosang thought his dick looked delicious. Red, underside vein standing out against the smooth flesh, and leaking precum, Yeosang immediately licked right up to the slit. Yunho’s groan matched Mingi’s on TV. Laying right at Yunho’s hips, Yeosang began hungrily sucking Yunho’s cock. Salty precum spilled onto his tongue at the first touch, and he eagerly swallowed it.

“Don’t take it out of your mouth, sweetie,” you instructed. “You keep that in there for me.”

Yeosang did as you asked. No matter how much drool and spit it made, Yeosang’s head continued bobbing up and down. The bell on his collar clinked lightly in each bob of his head, adding to the arousal in the room. He couldn’t stop himself now. The suppressed desires finally broke through the surface, and all he wanted to do was serve Yunho. His moans became louder when Yunho spread his ass cheeks apart. He breathed heavily once cool lubricant trickled over his hole, and a warm finger started circling the entrance. Yeosang quivered at the light touch, large hands grabbing and smacking his ass cheeks every so often before returning to his hole. The teasing finger and the vibrator on his dick had Yeosang desperate for an orgasm.

“Keep watching, baby,” Yunho said, cupping Yeosang’s balls for a tender feeling. “I think things are starting to get interesting.”

He then angled himself so Yunho remained in his mouth while he watched the TV.

“I need you to relax for me, okay?” you asked Mingi, gradually stroking him as your fingers rubbed further down. “It won’t hurt if you stay still.”

“O-Okay…”

He realized what you were doing, and whimpered. You gave Mingi a few more slow strokes before reaching for a toy nearby. He recognized the black prostate massager you often used on him. You held the camera at an angle where they both saw the toy slide easily into Mingi, who immediately became a whining mess. Yeosang groaned at the finger sliding around his entrance threatened to slide inside. He wanted it so badly. He went far too long without a proper orgasm, and he knew Yunho could give him one. He always did.

“There we go, good boy,” you praised Mingi, who did his best to remain spread out and not touch himself. That was when Yeosang realized something: you’d cuffed Mingi to the bed. He’d kill to be Mingi. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Yes,” he whined, stomach tensing each time the toy pressed to his g-spot. A very faint buzzing told Yeosang you’d turned on the vibrating function. He cried when you continued stroking him.

You placed the tripod on the bedside where he got a sideways view of you both. Mingi tied to the bed, a toy vibrating inside him, he was helpless to stop you from sitting on his face. Your reversed position had your ass right on him as you rocked back and forward.

“Lick it for me,” you moaned, pinching your nipple and keeping your hand on his cock. “Be a good boy and start using that tongue on me.”

And Mingi did. Yeosang sucked Yunho firmly in his moaning, hips bucking as the sleeve continued vibrating softly in well-timed pulsations. He started using his hand in a twisting motion as he greedily sucked the tip.

“Fuck yes,” Yunho breathed, head tilting back. “Like that. Like that, baby.”

Yunho then slid two fingers into his ass. The sudden plunge made Yeosang yelp around the shaft in his mouth, but he soon settled into it as Yunho started at a slow pace. Using one hand, Yeosang stroked Yunho in a twisting motion while he kept sucking in tandem. He was so close. He could feel his orgasm approaching, tightening his abdomen yet stuck right between dick and balls. His quivering thighs clued Yunho into what was going on. To avoid it happening, Yunho turned off the vibrator which was absolute torture. He whined his displeasure around Yunho, who started pushing his fingers right to Yeosang’s prostate.

“Look at the screen, baby,” Yunho moaned, thrusting up into Yeosang’s mouth. “Look at what they’re doing.”

You still sat on Mingi’s face, but this time you’d bent forward to start pulling and pushing the plug inside him. Mingi shuddered each time you pushed inwards, moaning against your pussy as he sucked it. Enthralled by desire, Yeosang nearly came at the picture of your ass bouncing against Mingi’s face. He wished he could be there pleasuring you too. He loved bringing you to orgasm every time with just his mouth and fingers.

“Do you like what you see, Yeosangie?”

He nodded, moaning when you started sucking Mingi’s red, leaking tip. Eyes heavy with lust, you laid there using Mingi’s face and cock to pleasure yourself. He is only a toy right now. A toy meant to please his mistress, just like Yeosang is meant for Yunho’s pleasure.

“Do you want to be filled too?” Yunho asked gently, putting his fingers in knuckle deep. “With something bigger?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Yeosang finally pulled his mouth away, cheeks and jaw slightly burning. Yunho turned so his head faced the foot of the bed to give the couple on the screen a perfect view of Yeosang. He couldn’t wait. The desperation left Yeosang with very little care. Yunho aligned himself with Yeosang’s body, and let him slide down on it. While the stretch did take him by surprise, it brought a bout of relief that also pushed his arousal. Hands on Yunho’s chest, he began rubbing his thumb over Yunho’s nipples as he slowly rocked on top of him. Your own raspy, needy moans started coming through the speakers, Mingi’s muffled groans following soon after. When Yunho flicked the switch back on, the vibrating sleeve drove Yeosang senseless. All he could focus on was the pleasure pulsing inside him.

He could hardly move, instead letting Yunho take control and push up into him.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby?” Yunho awed, sliding the sleeve up and down Yeosang’s length until his eyes rolled back, “Is my dick that good?”

Yeosang let out several whiny moans as Yunho pumped in and out quickly.

“Answer his question,” you encouraged him. You took up the body wand to slide up and down Mingi’s shaft. He saw Mingi’s thighs and legs tremble each time you circled his head. “Is his dick so good you can barely speak?”

“Yes,” he panted, starting to bounce on top of Yunho, “Yes, yes, yes.”

That's all he could say as Yunho settled himself into a lower position, grabbed Yeosang’s hips, and guided him. Yeosang saw him reach out for the small phone tripod and place it on his lower stomach. Now, you and Mingi had a perfect view of Yeosang’s leaking member wagging up and down in every thrust. He held it upwards, using the sleeve to add more pressure, and your mouth fell open.

“My special boys are leaking so much,” you moaned, licking up fluids sliding down Mingi’s cock. “I wonder how much longer they can last before they’re making big messes of themselves.”

“Mistress, please,” Yeosang caught Mingi’s pleading words. “Please fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck you, Mingi?” you asked in a fake surprised tone. “But I’m having so much fun teasing you like this. Your dick is so nice all hard and twitching. It’d be a shame to stop all of that now.”

“Please!”

Your giggle must’ve filled Mingi with desperation. No. He wouldn’t be getting his orgasm any time soon. He’d have to earn it, and he knew that. Hearing your moan suddenly grow louder, and seeing Mingi’s bury his face between your thighs, he knew Mingi planned on earning it the only way he knew how.

“You’re doing such a good job, pet,” Yunho smiled, sitting up to let Yeosang hold onto him as he rode. Arms wrapped around his waist, Yunho cupped both ass cheeks and spread them apart. “Your tight little hole feels so good squeezing my dick. Are you making it extra tight just for me?”

“Yes,” he said, squeezing his cheeks so his walls hugged the cock inside him. “I want to make you feel…feel good, Sir.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If you keep going just like this,” he tugged Yeosang’s head back by pulling on the back of the collar, “I might just cum inside you. I know how much you like being cummed in…just like your mistress.”

The yank of the collar cut off a bit of air, nearly choking him, and Yeosang loved the restriction. His moans struggled to get through the collar, but they came in an endless loop of curses and mumbled words.

“Mingi, Mingi, Mingi,” your voice caught his attention and he looked over Yunho’s shoulder. “You wanted to fuck me so bad, go ahead. My pussy’s right there. Why aren’t you putting it in?”

Yeosang saw you’d knelt just high enough that Mingi’s tip touched only your folds. When Mingi desperately pushed his hips upwards, only his head went inside you. This clearly drove Mingi wild. His arousal took over all sense and he’d do anything to be sheathed inside you. Even with a condom on him-as expected-Mingi shuddered when you slid your clit over the throbbing tip.

‘Mingi…Baby, I thought you wanted to fuck me. You need to put it in me to do that.”

“I bet you wanna fuck her really badly, huh?” Yunho asked, squeezing the vibrator against Yeosang’s cock until he screamed. “Like the way I’m fucking you?”

Yeosang muttered a reply, dazed and drooling now. Not getting a real response, Yunho lifted Yeosang and flipped him onto his back. “Do you want to fuck your mistress like this,” he said, pounding into Yeosang so their hips snapped together, “And make her cum all over your dick?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Answer me properly,” he slowed down, keeping himself hilt-deep inside.

“I wan…I wan-want to fu…fuck her like thi-is-s,” he managed to reply, eyes fully shut and body turned into putty in Yunho’s hands.

“Good,” he bent down over Yeosang, kissing and sucking his neck as he talked. “Your mistress deserves only the best dick,” he turned off the sleeve again and gently thrusted into him, “Just like you do.” He captured Yeosang’s lips with him, and kissed him deeply. Sloppy with tongue, the kiss alone made Yeosang mewl pathetically. “I meant what I said,” he hooked his fingers on the collar to keep him still as they kissed, “I’m going to fuck you tomorrow. Mingi is going to fuck you. YN is going to fuck you. Our prince is going to get as much dick as he wants.”

The thought had Yeosang drooling. He pushed himself into Yunho to get him further inside, pressing on the g-spot over and over again. “Ye-y-yes-s oh god!”

“Oooh, look at you go,” he chuckled, “So cock drunk you can barely talk.”

He turned on the vibrator a third time on a higher setting, and Yeosang let out high-pitched wails. His fingers dug into the covers underneath him, trying to keep himself grounded as Yunho fucked him. Yeosang didn’t know how much longer he could go on before he broke completely. He wanted to cum, but it felt too good to stop.

“I wan-want to-to cum,” he cried, eyes watering from the pressure. “Ple-please.”

“Then go ahead, baby,” Yunho said, pushing the vibrator right against his tip. “Go ahead and cum for me.”

Yeosang felt himself finally reaching orgasm. He could almost taste the sensation rolling up to his balls. He parted his legs wider, giving Yunho full permission to go as deep as possible, and moaned louder.

“Come on,” Yunho urged, “You wanted to cum, right? Go on.”

But it never came. The cock ring kept it from happening. It was even worse when Yunho turned off the sleeve and pulled out at the last second. He laughed watching Yeosang writhe and cry underneath him.

“Aw, what happened, baby?” he pouted, pulling out to rub himself against Yeosang’s groin, “I thought you were going to cum for me?”

“I can-can’t.”

“Why not?”

He knew why not. “I ha-a-av-ve…”

“Have what?”

“The-t-the rings!”

“Oh, that’s right!” he smacked his forehead, “You have cock rings on. I totally forgot,” he smirked, giving a low chuckle as he slipped back inside. “You can’t cum with those on, can you?”

“No!”

Meanwhile, on the screen, you held the mini tripod to where you and Mingi met. You’d finally given in and let him fully fill you. All the bravado from before slowly peeled away as Mingi pushed in and out of you quickly. Yeosang wanted to bring you pleasure like that, and he planned on it.

“I don’t know if your mistress wants you to finish before she does,” Yunho said, sliding the toy up and down his shaft without turning it on. “It’s not right to cum before your partner. Maybe we should ask.” He grabbed the tripod on the table at the end, and raised it above Yeosang, who stared into it pleadingly. “YN, should I let Yeosang cum?”

“Hm, I don’t know. What do you think, Mingi?”

“Nobody should cum before you do, Mistress,” Mingi answered, panting and whining as he continued thrusting. Yeosang watched you bend down to unhook his bindings and lay on your back. Mingi’s hands ended up back on your breasts, which you held there as he raised your legs and went back into you. “Not before you.”

You didn’t say anything back. Impaled on his dick, your eyes fell shut as you savored the sensations.

“You heard them,” Yunho said to Yeosang, withdrawing once more to roll him onto his stomach. He rested on top, hand reaching around to turn on the vibrator again. “Only when your mistress comes.”

Yunho slipped back inside him, keeping one leg up for access to the vibrator on Yeosang’s cock. His pace matched Mingi’s on screen, the both of them almost moaning together as they fucked their respective partners. He'd never done anything so erotic before. The smuttiness alone had him reaching to the end again, but he knew he'd only be denied again. Yeosang’s fingers curled into the bed spread, balling it up to keep himself from succumbing as pleasure numbed him to every other sense. Soon enough, he heard your breathy moans grow louder, being sounded through gritted teeth as your orgasm hit you hard. He looked to see you in a similar position to him, hunched and frozen in place as Mingi helped your climax along to the end. That was when Yunho gingerly removed a ring and massaged Yeosang’s balls once more.

He then let go.

All over Yunho’s sheets.

Hard, paralyzing, and desensitizing orgasms rocked Yeosang’s body. If any of the other members heard him, they’d know exactly what Yunho was doing to him. Heat rose up around his neck and ears, eyes squeezing shut as streams of white shot from his tip. Yunho halfway rolled him onto his side so everyone could see the thick, white strings dripping from Yeosang’s cock. The sleeve suddenly became too much against the sensitive muscle, and Yeosang wriggled as Yunho kept stroking him even once his orgasm subsided. Just because he’d finished didn’t mean Yunho was done.

Mingi and Yunho finished almost in perfect unison. Both men charged faster and harder, only withdrawing once they’d gotten right to the edge. Yeosang laid on his back, elbows propping him up, as he opened his mouth to stick out his tongue. Yunho, kneeling over him, quickly jerked himself over him until he finally came. He kept his eyes locked on him the entire time, not moving or daring to turn away. Yunho, sweaty and panting, aimed right for Yeosang’s tongue and got it nearly every time. The streaks that fell onto Yeosang’s chin or cheeks were eagerly licked up and swallowed.

“Yummy…” Yeosang smirked, licking some he’d swiped off his cheek.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he said, breathing heavily and pushing his tip to Yeosang’s mouth. The low groan he gave once Yeosang started sucking again would’ve been enough to make him want a second round. “Plenty….Plenty more…But, let me clean you up. I didn’t get a taste before.”

Yeosang laid back as Yunho removed the sleeve and started licking up his shaft. Little twinges of pleasure followed the bundles of nerves his tongue sparked. Clearly, you had a similar idea since Yeosang turned to see you stroking and sucking Mingi dry…on your back…your breasts still in view. He held his breath when he saw translucent streaks on your breasts and chest. He whimpered seeing droplets of cum squirt out when you pressed the head to your nipples. Mingi, clearly being overstimulated, did nothing but moan as you played with his cock. With Yunho’s warm mouth sucking him slowly, he laid there watching Mingi’s dick be buried between your breasts. God, you really knew how to keep him going. He knew he’d be a dead man if you did that to him, especially right now.

“Feel better, Yeosangie?” Yunho asked, still near his crotch, and smiling. “Or do you want to go again?”

“I…” he breathed deeply and realized how sticky he must be. He grabbed a towel Yunho kept in a cabinet next to his bed, and sat up to wipe his face. “I feel great,” he finally sighed, “So much better.”

“Me too.”

Yunho helped him clean up, occasionally breaking it to kiss him, and they looked at the couple on the screen. Yeosang’s legs felt like jelly, so he was more than sure yours felt the same way. Yet, somehow, you were standing and wiping your chest with a wet towel. Your eyes locked with his and you both smiled. Mingi came into the shot, putting his arms around you and kissing you deeply. He only broke away to mutter a question, and when you nodded, he picked up the tripod and brought you to the bathroom.

“I guess we’re taking this party to our bathroom,” Yunho grinned at him, picking up their mini tripod as well.

Yeosang, standing on wobbly legs, followed him to their bathroom. As Yunho and Mingi set up their showers, you and Yeosang sat on the toilets with the tripods in hand.

“How was your date, babe?” Yeosang asked casually, resting his head in his hand as he waited.

“It was nice,” you replied. He could tell by your hazy eyes you’re slowly surrendering to your exhaustion. “We didn’t do anything particularly crazy. We watched movies, ate snacks, ordered take-out and got coffee. Ooh, he did buy this new game he wanted to play with me, so we did that too.”

“What game?”

The two of you idly chatted. Yeosang loved talking to you after sex. You always acted as if the rigorous sex did not tire you out, but he knew it did. He wished he could cuddle you. Falling asleep between your soft body and Yunho’s hard one sounded like heaven. Both of your showers ready, Yeosang stepped into his with Yunho and you stepped into yours with Mingi. What started off as simple scrubbing became much more when Yunho brought Yeosang to his chest. Lips on his neck, Yunho started lathering the body wash up and down Yeosang’s petite body.

“Still want more, pretty?” Yunho asked him, using both hands to stroke Yeosang’s cock. Waves of pleasure pinched the sensitive nerves there, which aroused Yeosang more. “I’ll be more than happy to give it to you here.”

“Sir…”

The slippery bubbles made it easy for Yunho’s thumbs to circle his nipples. Yeosang pushed his ass against the cock pressing on him.

“Again, Yeosangie?” you laughed in your own shower, against the wall as Mingi trailed kisses up your neck. “You boys are insatiable.”

“Only because our owners are so beautiful,” he heard Mingi say. “May I at least keep kissing and touching you? I want to be close to you.”

“Of course you can.”

You soaped Mingi up as he kissed and touched your body. Yeosang imagined you must be very slippery. Holding him close, Yunho and Yeosang gently washed one another. Bath poufs grazing over nipples or hands sliding up and over ass cheeks, both men gradually became hard again. Yeosang heard your soft moans over the running water and saw Mingi charging into you from behind once more. Both Yeosang and Yunho started stroking one another in earnest, Yunho slipping two fingers back into Yeosang’s bottom. They stayed in this position, squeezing and jerking, before they came once more. Each of them pointed the other upwards to shoot all over their stomachs. This second orgasm came harder, their orgasms bouncing off the tiled walls in the enclosed space.

“Yeosang…” Yunho breathed, forehead pressed to his as he came down from his high, “You’re so…”

“Arousing? Desirable? Horny?” Yeosang suggested, unable to stop himself from touching the tender Yunho still. “I only want to make my owner happy.”

“You make me very, very, very happy, pretty,” he said, briefly kissing his lips a few times. “Let’s get to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

After a warm shower in Yunho’s gentle embrace, Yeosang was on cloud nine. “Tired, honey?” you asked him when you were all in your beds.

“So tired.”

“Now, you’ll sleep like a baby,” said Yunho, bringing him close and kissing his cheek.

“Me too,” you yawned as Mingi encompassed you, snuggling close as he nuzzled your neck again. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, already drifting to sleep.

Saying your farewells, Yunho ended the call and put his phone aside. Yeosang knew he should attempt to clean the bed, but he fell so deep into his relaxation, he didn’t want to do anything. Thankfully, Yunho didn’t say anything about it. He only turned off the lights, and shut his eyes.

He wondered who he'd be waking up to tomorrow.

*****

A/N: another steamy installment! I really let my self-indulgence get the better of me with this one. I hope y'all still like it <3 More coming soon!

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