Swan

I’m gonna do my first Kinktober this year but I’m gonna do it in November if you guys don’t mind because I’m tired and I forgot. A few rules:

What I won’t write about:

1. Minors

2. Non-con

3. Pedophilia / incest

4. Excessive gore

5. Anything with animals

What I don’t want to see in comments:

1. Stranger things spoilers - I’m purposely not watching the trailer as to enjoy it more.

2. Requests of things outside my boundaries

3. Hate on any actors my work relates to

Characters + Fandoms I write for (subject to change):

Stranger Things - Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers, Robin Buckley, Joyce Byers, Billy Hargrove (but slightly ooc because I hate canon Billy), and Eddie Munson.

Marvel - Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Loki, Johnny Storm

Josh Hutcherson - Josh Futturman, Mike Schmidt, Derek Danforth, Clapton Davis, Sean Anderson and Peeta Mellark

Extras - Kurt Kunkle (Spree), Walter ‘Keys’ Mckey (Free Guy)

Day 4 - Dacryphilia - Billy Hargrove

MDNI

Dacre-philia haha, get it? Yes that’s the only reason I used Billy for this one.

Contains - toxic ‘relationship’ dynamics, fingering, crying, degrading then sort of praise but both are light, use of word ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ as degradation, unprotected piv sex - USE A CONDOM, creampie. Author is allergic to plot.

He’s such a dick. A truly bad person. He’s awful. So why can’t you get him off your mind? It’s got to a point now where you can’t chalk it up to a ‘drunken mistake’. Because you weren’t drunk and it’s happened multiple times now. It seems every time you lay in bed awake, you think of something he did to rile you up that day. And it turns you on instead of infuriating you. Or maybe, a bit of both. Either way, it always has the same outcome. You reaching over to your phone and dialling his number (which is regrettably in your speed dial). And he ends up inviting you over. And you always end up climbing out of your window, and heading off into that familiar direction.

You walk up the drive, noting that stupid blue Camaro parked just as obnoxiously as the night before, and the night before that. You peak into the window and note that the seats have been cleaned from your previous… ‘rendezvous’ (only you call it that, he just calls it ‘fucking’). You sneak up to the window you know is his, and knock lightly, not wanting to make too much noise, but when he slams the window open you quickly realise he’s somehow home alone. You don’t question it, partially because you don’t care, and partially because you’re not even fully through the window before his lips are on yours.

Billy kisses you like it’s an attack, or a conquest to win. You never thought dominance could actually be established through a kiss, but he manages it every time, tongue pushing into your mouth without really waiting for accommodation. He pulls you into his room, hands going shamelessly straight to your ass. He tastes like smoke and faint mint. He pushes you onto his bed and climbs onto you, mouth kissing and biting at your neck, unafraid to leave hickeys and bites. “Knew last time wasn’t the last, you filthy slut. You always end up coming back…” he mutters, his hot tongue travelling down your neck to suck and lick at your pulse point, ripping an embarrassing sound from your throat. It’s not as embarrassing as how wet you already are for him.

He unbuttons your jeans and shoves them down, mouth now travelling to your collarbone and leaving painful little bites, causing tears to prickle in the corners of your eyes, which he delights in. He shoves down your panties with your jeans and pauses to let out a low groan when he finds you already wet. “Always so wet for me, such a desperate little slut.” He groans as his fingertips circle around your clit, then your breath hitches as he collects the wetness coating your cunt and plunges his fingers into you. You moan out his name and he lets out a string of curses as he feels your pussy envelop his fingers. “Sucking me in, god you’re gonna feel so good around my cock…” he leans in to kiss you, then bites down on your bottom lip, causing you to gasp, opening your mouth and granting his tongue access. He curls his fingers to hit that spot that makes you see stars and you let out a whine that’s almost pornographic, and it makes his cock jump in his trousers, straining and aching with desire.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, watching your face as he draws out little noises and groans from you, watching your brow crease and your mouth fall open, eyes finding his desperately, waiting for him to push you over that final hurdle. But he doesn’t yet, instead he stops. You whine and buck your hips against him, but he just pins you down by the pelvis with one hand, using the other to free his cock. You reach out to touch it, but he slaps your hand away. “Not yet, greedy whore.” He sinks his fingers back into you, pumping in and out at a superhuman pace, going so fast you feel the tears start to fall down your face. His dick twitches once he watches them spill down your cheeks, and he leans down to kiss where they make their salty paths down your face, groaning and savouring the accomplishment.

He brings you right to the edge, and you hate (but love) that he knows your body well enough to know when you’re there. “Hold on for me…” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers before you can cum, instead moving to circle the pads of his fingers over your clit lightly, enough to keep you wet and electric, but nowhere near enough to build you up to orgasm, something he’s learnt how to master perfectly.

He leans down to kiss you bruisingly, then you moan out as you feel the head of his cock push against your cunt. Without giving you any time to adjust, he thrusts his cock into you, grunting as he does, and immediately settles into a pace so hard his balls slap against your ass almost painfully. By this point you can’t stop the tears from falling, your body so overwhelmed from the sensations, eyes crossing, brain so fucked out all you can think to do is moan his name. He grins wickedly, cockhead bruising your cervix as he jackhammers into you, hitting that spongy layer inside causing you to clench around him. He wipes your tears, then leans down to taste them, tongue on your cheek as he continues to rut into you as you gasp out and whimper his name. “Such a good bitch…” he groans as he picks up to an impossibly faster pace, gripping your hair and pulling your head back as he presses open mouthed kisses to your cheeks, tasting the salty tears that run down your cheeks, each taste causing his dick to twitch wildly inside you.

His balls smack against your ass even more painfully, and you feel more tears brim and fall at the delicious combination of pain and pleasure, managing to look up at him and hold eye contact as tears run down, and he groans loudly, shifting you to wrap both your legs around his waist in order to reach deeper into you, cock stretching you beautifully. He reaches down in between your bodies to stimulate your clit, finally ready to push you over the precipice and feel you pussy clench and spasm around him. He nudges your clit and pulls back to watch your face, knowing your body’s signs as you start to tense up, the coil in your stomach building and building in tension until it bursts.

Day 4 - Voyerism - Eddie Munson

MDNI

You come home to watch your boyfriend enjoy the sneaky Polaroids you’ve been leaving out for him

Contains - voyerism, masturbation (f! And m!) and ‘sending’ pics. No plot, too lazy.

__________________________________________

You make your way over to his trailer, hair done half up with that pink bow he likes so much. The cold air blows against your stomach in the crop top you’ve opted for. You sneak towards the window and peek through, watching as he enjoys the gifts you left him.

For his birthday, he’d been confused when you bought him a half used Polaroid camera. But ever since he’d started finding pictures from an evening you spent with the camera before his birthday, he’s come to understand. In fact, you’re probably the best at giving gifts. He’s found about one a day, one tucked into the strings of his guitar of you in that black lacy thing he likes, one in his favourite jacket pocket of you in a…compromising position. But the one you snuck over and ‘hid’ today is the first one that leaves… nothing to the imagination. And he found it right in the centre of his bed, just waiting for him.

You watch through the glass as he finds it, you’d purposely come over when you knew he’d get back from work, and you watch his jaw literally drop and his eyes widen. You watch as he picks it up and examines it, then shuts his door and kicks his trousers off, already clearly half-hard in his boxers, palming himself and it sends a rush of heat to your core.

You watch as he lightly caresses his thigh and squeezes the now obvious bulge in his pants. Your breath hitches as he pulls down his boxers to free his weeping cock, which bounces up and then falls onto his stomach where he grips it hard in his hand, massaging the tip where the pre-cum is budding and spreading it down his shaft in slow, languid strokes. You watch as he holds the Polaroid in one hand and his cock in the other. You strain to hear his desperate breathing as his hand speeds up. You look away to glance around your surroundings, you’re alone. You slip a hand under your skirt to slowly circle around your clit, watching as your lover’s face contorts in pleasure, pretty little lines appearing on his forehead as his eyelids flutter shut and he pictures you sprawled out in his bed.

You watch as he bends his legs to prop the Polaroid up against, then reaches down with one hand to pay attention to his sack, somewhere you know he loves attention, as the other hand speeds up its stokes up and down his length. You bite back a moan as you imagine him sinking into you, the blaze in his eyes mirroring the blaze he had in them now, desperate for you. Just the way you like him. He groans and whispers your name out as he focuses on his balls, and his dick jerks beautifully, and you dare to slip your fingers into yourself, all wet and needy for him. You imagine how his mouth would water if he could see you now with your fingers inside yourself - and you decide on that as the next little Polaroid gift.

Day Two - Coming Untouched - Kurt Kunkle

MDNI

Your neighbour needs his millionth favour, but you think it’s time he repayed you…

“I’m coming around on my promo tour for Kurtsworld96!” He proudly says to you, stood at your door with a box of about six ‘Kurtsworld96’ buttons. You take one, because, why not?

“Are you subscribed? Because I can show you how to subscribe if you don’t know how.” He says, pushing into your house.

“I am subscribed, actually…” and he looks at you with the most pathetic little look on his face. Like you hung the moon. And that’s where it all starts.

After that he seems to come round at least once a day, to ask for miscellaneous items (once flour which you saw him spill on himself on the way home). It bordered on creepy you supposed, but he seemed utterly harmless. Today he shows up after sugar. And as he says those words he looks up at you hopefully, holding a cup in his hand - an elaborate plan for a few minutes, perhaps you could… make it worth his while.

“You gonna let me try one of your bakes one of these days, Kurt? You seem to make something once a day.”

He looks fearful for a second (you’re sure it’s because he can’t bake) and then just smiles and nods, never taking his eyes off you, trying to act like he doesn’t have a cupboard of miscellaneous baking or kitchen items provided by you. You pretend not to catch on. “What do you bake?” You ask, deciding just to tease him a little, it’s hard not to when he’s staring at you, in that cute fall jumper, his hair admittedly slightly greasy, but such a good length. Maybe it’s not the only thing with the perfect length for you. You let your eyes trail down and thank god he’s in grey sweatpants, and probably too much of a virgin to know what that does for you. He shifts, not aware of your stares, or the direction your mind has gone, scrambling with words to try and think up something believable that he could bake. Anything too elaborate he wouldn’t be able to pull off and show you. So he picks something his mother can bake, feeling clever. “Apple pie.” You smile, you’ve caught his lie.

“Apple pie huh?” You smile, eyes agleam. “That’s what your mom brought over for housewarming when I moved in.” His smile drops, and he looks pathetic, his oh-so-convincing facade shattered. “I’m assuming that you’re no baker, then?” You say, lifting his face to look at you. He turns red, either from being caught, or you touching him. He just shakes his head and tries to look away from you. God he’s just delicious. “Do you bake anything Kurt? Or do you just come over to see me?” You trail your finger from his jawline to his lips as you speak, and he’s putty in your hand, already letting out a pathetic little whimper, looking at you through his thick eyelashes. “Come to see you…”

You’re not sure who leans in first to be honest, for your pride you’d like to say it’s Kurt, and as for his pride? It’s non-existent. He’s a clumsy kisser, all teeth and saliva, but there’s something so sexy about his desperation. He’s letting out little whines and whimpers as he kisses you, tongue awkwardly jabbing around your mouth and it’s when you really put two and two together. You pull away softly, and revel in the way he tries to chase your lips. “Kurt?” He looks up at you with those pathetic brown eyes, pupils blown wide, waiting for you to continue. So you do. “Are you a virgin? It’s okay. Just wanna know.” He looks away for a second, then in his true style immediately tries to lie “No… get loads of pussy.” You just raise an eyebrow and he folds, butting his head into your neck and whispering, “lied… m’sorry… never done this before…. so pretty… don’t wanna mess up…” he presses kisses and tries to mark your neck in between obvious lies and you just chuckle. “So what’s your endgame here Kurt?” He moans pathetically at the idea of there even being an endgame here, half expecting you to turn him away in disgust, clammy hands clinging to your sweater, before he finally gets his words out “just wanna taste you…”

You stare at him for a second, there’s no way that you’ve got your pathetic neighbour here, desperate to see you, not to get his dick wet and move on like some crass teenager, but to taste you, something some boys have to be begged for. Holy fucking shit. You nod, shocked, and he takes it as a sign, jumping back up to kiss you and clumsily manoeuvring you to your couch. You flop down on the couch and he falls to his knees before you, staring up at you through his lashes like you’re his goddess. He thinks you might be.

All thoughts fall away when he lifts your dress and presses tiny kisses up your thighs, each one sending butterflies to your stomach and floods to your core, a burning white heat developing. He whimpers and groans like it’s him being worshipped, and you tangle your hands in his greasy hair, gripping onto it and pulling slightly and he lets out the sluttiest little moan that nearly pushes you over the edge there and then. He whines and you pull him to your clit, desperate for him to give you the attention where you so desperately need it. He whimpers at the sight of the wet spot forming on your panties, and looks up at you pleadingly as his hands fumble to the sides of your panties, silently begging you to let him peel them down. You can only manage a choked moan of his name, and he obliges, bringing them down your legs.

He lifts them to his nose once they are off and sniffs them shamelessly, burying his beautiful Roman nose in the fabric, letting his tongue dart out to taste the wet patch and you watch his eyes roll back as he does. He looks up at you, not a hint of embarrassment to be found, and slides them into his back pocket.

He finally dives in, and despite a clumsy technique, it’s clear he’s never done this before, he makes up for it with his obedience to your tugs of his hair, and his utter desperation to please. He hones in on your body like he’s trained to hear it’s every whim. Each little twitch, each slight gasp has him repeating his actions tenfold. He starts by licking your clit delicately, then licks up your slit and lets his tongue press into your desperate cunt, clenching around him immediately as his nose presses into your clit simultaneously. He feels you clench and doubles his efforts, desperate to see you come undone, savouring every single taste, his eyes half lidded with utter bliss when you look down. He looks up to make eye contact with you, before his eyes roll back and he pushes himself further in, dick straining pitifully in his boxers but he ignores it. He’s not here for him, he’s here for you.

He doesn’t get tired, or give up, he just focuses on you, licking diligently, groaning softly into your pussy, and enjoying how the vibrations cause you to clench more around his tongue. He listens as your moans travel up the pitch, and increase in volume, and he keeps consistent, listening to you and his body, pressing his tongue into your clenching cunt and letting his nose nudge your clit and push you over the edge, a white light overtaking as you cum, caging him in with your thighs (and by god he’d die there if you let him), legs spasming around him as you let go. He doesn’t stop as you come down, and you can’t pry him away as he eats. His eyes roll back into his head and you swear you’ve never seen something so angelic yet sinful as he stills, groaning your name loudly, then collapsing his head onto your thighs.

He lays there on the floor, slumped between your legs until you stand him up, and it’s then that your suspicions are confirmed as you notice the unmissable wet stain on the front of his pants. He’s cum in his pants completely untouched just from eating you out. He looks at you shamelessly, then collapses next to you on the sofa, cuddling up to you, and pressing his face into your neck like the pathetic little man he is. But you wrap your arm around him and let him, the two of you in fucked out bliss, which you quickly ruin for him.

Day One - Orgasm Control and Masturbation - Josh Futturman

MDNI

A long and painful work crush reaches its climax (hehe)

———————————————————————

My god he’s pathetic. You’ve seen him at work and yeah, he’s cute, but he’s pathetic. You try not to be presumptuous, but it’s pretty clear he’s got a crush of sorts on you. But delighting in the sick torture of making him nervous, you’re flirting back boldly and waiting for him to make the first move.

Or at least that’s what you said two months ago. Because now you’re honestly annoyed at him. You sit at your office desk, watching him mop up spilled possum fluid as he tries not to look back at you. Usually you would play it cool, but yesterday had been Valentine’s Day and you’d been certain he was going to make his move that day. So, you take a deep breath and walk over. God you hope it’s not all been in your head. But when he looks at you like you’re some Ancient Greek statue crafted from gold and marble, you know you’re right.

You reach out and put your hand on his arm and he swears he just went into cardiac arrest. He stares at you, eyes wide and somewhat terrified.

“What are you up to tonight?” You ask upfront.

“I was gonna play video games in my room…” he replies.

“Maybe you can teach me if I come over?” But his face goes to stone and he looks mortified at the idea.

“N-no you can’t because… because my parents are over-“ he is not about to tell you he lives with his parents.

“Oh okay, maybe you can come to my place tonight then.” You hand him a piece of paper you’ve scribbled his address on and saunter back to your desk without waiting for an answer, desperately hoping he’s staring at you.

That evening you wait at home uncomfortably. You’ve cleaned, cooked (ordered and received pizza), and dressed up in a low cut shirt. You didn’t give him a set time, and you’re not sure he has your number, and that interaction was genuinely so awkward you’re having second thoughts. But it’s fine. Because once the doorbell rings, you relax. His heart is hammering and he feels like he’s on death’s door for the second time that day because when you open that door, in that shirt, he just gulps. You smile and lead him in. “Thought we could watch a movie and eat pizza on the couch?” And he just nods at you, still unable to speak, eyes glued to the cleavage on display. You grin and bring the pizza boxes to the sofa.

Learning from the mistakes of the last few months of thinking he has any initiative whatsoever, once you finish the pizza you move closer to him and place your hand on his thigh. You hear his breath hitch and smile to yourself, then look up at him innocently. “Is this okay?” He nods at you, unable to speak from the breath caught in his throat. You trail your hand higher, then lower, looking up at him. “Thought I was never gonna get you here, all to myself. Got really annoyed at you for not making a move…” He looks terrified at that. “Don’t be angry… I was scared, you’re so pretty, and I-“ he stops when your hands travel back to your shirt to undo a button, eyes transfixed on you, and you watch his neck as he swallows, wanting to sink your teeth into it, waiting for a sign that you can. But for once, he makes the first move, leaning in to kiss you.

You kiss him back, immediately leaning into him and placing your hand on his thigh, and soaking up the groan he exhales into the kiss as you do. You slide your tongue along his bottom lip, revelling in the whimper that he lets out when he opens his mouth to grant you access. You reach for his hands and place them either side of your waist, kissing him deeper and letting yourself taste in his mouth. “Taste so good baby…” you mutter, and he whimpers again. You climb onto his lap and cage his head in against the sofa, and he looks up at you, pupils blown wide, heavily breathing. And you can feel him. “All this just over kissing, baby?” You ask, earning a delicious whine. You lean in to bite his neck softly, but enough to hurt a little, still irritated at how long you had waited. “Seen you staring at me at work”, you whisper between applying soothing licks to the bite, making his eyes roll back, and tiny begs to leave his lips, barely audible. “You think about me, baby?” He nods at you, still pleading for more. “What do you think about?” You ask, teasingly. He whimpers, and it’s just as hot as the first time. “Think about you, think about touching you, think about kissing you, running my hands through your hair, think about-“ he cuts himself off, embarrassed.

“Tell me.. nothing to be ashamed of…” You whisper. “I think about you too, Josh. I think about… undoing your belt, taking down your boxers and how I’d lick and bite your thighs until you begged, then finally let you feel my mouth…” you open his belt, then look at him for permission, and he begs you, the words falling from his mouth like he’s not even in control of them himself, pupils blown wide and mouth agape. His lips chase yours and he kisses you as you take him out of his boxers. “You gonna tell me what you thought about now?” You ask, as he moves to touch himself. He groans pathetically, sending heat right between your legs, as you lean in to suck deep marks into his neck as he talks. “Thought about how it would feel to touch you, to see… what’s under your shirt… to taste you… made me lose my mind...”

You look up and his eyes are rolled back as he’s touching himself. You take off your shirt and he whines, one hand reaching out to touch you as the other speeds up on his red, swollen cock. You sit back and watch, and he looks embarrassed, but so fucking hot. “Is this what you would do when you thought about me?” You ask, unable to look away as his hand travels up and down his length, pre-cum prickling at the top. He nods, pathetically. “Keep showing me baby, keep going for me. Grip it harder.” He whines and does as he’s told, desperate to be good for you. You watch, unable to decide whether to watch his face or his cock. His face contorts with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure, and his cock is starting to leak a steady stream of pre-cum. “Doing such a good job…” you say, slipping your panties down from under your skirt and letting your finger tentatively find your clit in front of him. He groans loudly at the sight, his hand speeding up. You collapse next to him on the couch, legs spread wide, touching yourself. You lean over to kiss him as you both get yourselves off, the air thick with desire, sweat and the wet, debauched sounds filling the room. You watch as his hips start to buck into his hand as he gets closer, and you slap his face. “Not until I say.” He groans raggedly, but nods, slowing his hands down, and you’re amazed at the control just your words are having over him. He’s so hard it hurts, but he looks over at you, waiting for command, looking at where you’re touching yourself and groaning. “Go on, slowly.” You watch with sick glee as he jerks himself slowly, torturously slowly, as his dick throbs and he throws his head back against the couch. It’s perfect. It’s a sight you could watch for hours, as he covers his hand in his sticky pre-cum and works his way from tip to base. “Want you to touch your balls with your other hand…” you breathe out and he whines loudly, his other hand finding his balls and cupping them, as he turns to stare into your eyes.

You work your fingers around your clit faster, staring at him, watching his orgasm build. You grab his hand to stop him for a second time. “Not yet. You know why? Because if you had just asked me out months ago, you wouldn’t have to be waiting. But since you kept me waiting, I’m gonna keep you waiting.” He whines pathetically, but he’s not pleading, and you know that somewhere in his weak little mind he’s enjoying this. You let him watch as you curve your fingers and push them into yourself, making a show of moaning. You sink them in slowly and move them in and out, letting him watch as he slowly jerks himself pathetically, knowing it’s all he’s getting, dick twitching violently. You bring yourself to the precipice, eyes on him, then cum, whispering his name. He moans and whines as he fists his dick desperately, waiting for your command, waiting to be allowed to cum, eyes begging you, drinking in the sight of you stretched out. You open your eyes when you come down from your high and withdraw your fingers, bringing them up to his mouth. He opens his mouth and takes them in without instruction, eyes rolling back at your taste, tongue wrapping around your fingers as his hand speeds up on his cock. You withdraw your fingers and he whimpers at the loss, then groans as you lean in to kiss him, then before your lips meet, you whisper against them, “now”, then pull away, watching as his eyes roll back into his skull, whimpering loudly, as his dick twitches, his balls draw up, and his sticky white semen pulses out onto his stomach in thick pulses, coating his hand and his stomach.