#legend says he put her in a mating press and fucked her brains out the next morning <3

[mrsackermannx]

she misses me | ino takuma

tags: mdni, nsfw drabble, fem reader, phone sex, smut, not pet play but he calls her “puppy,” not beta read, boyfriend!ino!

Nanami groaned into his whisky. He had a feeling that this was a bad idea six months ago. Ino was all bright eyed as he gushed about the pretty girl he’d met at the mall.

But Nanami was weary, and wondered if things would work out, even after Ino told you about his real job.

Ino sighed before he took a large gulp of his beer, “She’s just…worried I’m cheating on her,” he said, delicately.

“Don’t worry. We check out in the morning and then we’ll be back in Tokyo by noon. You told her we were here on a mission, right?”

“Yeah,” he wistfully gazed out to the town they were in. He was missing you, a lot. He’d been out in the countryside with Nanami for five days and had barely had the chance to text you. He hadn’t been away from you for this long before, but he was admittedly nervous by how much it was unsettling him. It was scary.

“I like girls who are a little clingy though, you know? She’s not even overbearing either,” his voice trailed away. “it’s just that I’ve not been able to text her much. So she misses me.”

“I suppose that’s normal then.”

He grinned, “Buut…she misses me!”

“Then, she’ll have to get used to it,” Nanami said gently. “That it won’t be like dating a non-sorcerer.”

“Oh she will, she’s a tough girl. Takes everything life throws at her.”

He hmphed at the thought, all triumphant like he could imagine your face right now. It was always so full of determination, and when you looked at him, affection that ran so deep it brought him to his knees. Nanami couldn’t deny that he was happy to see his junior so smitten, so he promptly changed the subject and they continued their evening.

But it’s when you send a photo of yourself, lying on your front with an adorable pout for the camera, that it casts his mind back to the last time you were together. Not only because you had that same look in your eye, but because you sent a message just afterward that said.

“Your little puppy misses you.”

His cock throbbed in his jeans.

The last time you were together he’d used those same exact words…

You had both been both so tired it was laughable, but still you clung to each other in the dark comfort of his bedroom.

His arms supported his head, enough that he could lean up with minimal effort to meet your lips. He whistled and watched with his eyes half-lidded, as you eagerly tugged down your panties and then his waistband. You sank yourself down onto him until your bodies pressed together, kissing all over his throat.

He groaned at the sight of you, “Dirty girl with dirty thoughts, huh? Here I thought you were too tired to fuck.”

You laughed into his neck, lifting your hips up and down. “Changed my mind.”

You were already so breathless, your pants sending shivers down his spine. So his hands shifted to your ass where he suddenly halted your movements by sinking his hands into your soft skin.

By the grip, he fucked you on his cock with minimal effort, using his hands to control your hips as he rutted his own into yours. “Fuck.”

He was making you moan so loudly you had to cover your mouth.

“You’re like a needy little puppy. So, fucking, precious. You need me, huh?”

“Yes, Takuma! You feel so good.”

He moaned between each thrust, drilling up into you until your noises synced together. “I love it when you’re like this,” he groaned. “I’ll give you everything.”

His heart raced as he carefully slipped into his hotel room, Nanami was downstairs luckily, still drinking, so he could be as loud as he wanted.

He yanked down his pants, and took his cock into his hand. He gave it a few careful pumps before he took out his cock and took to FaceTiming you.

Heat rushed through your body when you were met with the sight of his large hand wrapped around the fat shaft of his dick. “Hey cutie,” he hummed, groaning as he squeezed his tip and pre oozed out.

“Is this what you wanted to see from me, huh? That you got me all worked up on the job.”

You hummed a shy hello, pointing the camera between your legs to where you had the dildo he’d bought you slick and lodged inside. “Sort of.”

His voice was strained and raspy as it pulled through the speaker of your phone, “Good girl. I didn’t even need to ask. You’re feeling needy, huh?”

“I know you liked it when I send videos but…” You rubbed on your clit and moaned, your fingers visibly slick as you pulled them away and started to thrust in the toy. “Had to show you.”

He laughed, smug and relaxed before he joined you, thumbing the tip of his dick. He shuddered from the pleasure, imagining your mouth. “So? How was the exam, pretty girl? Did you do your best?“

Ino was never shy with his moans, not ever. Your eyelids fluttered at the sight and the sounds. Wishing you could be with him right now more than ever.

You whimpered to yourself, syncing your movements with his. “Of course I did. You helped me study after all.”

He lowered his voice, flipping the camera to his face where he pointed at his tongue with a wink. “Gonna eat that pussy as soon as I’m home, cutie. Be ready to drown me in it.”

You moaned, removing the toy to show him all the slick that was dripping from you. “Want you to fuck me, wish you were here,” you groaned. “So wet for you, Takumaa—“

“Imagine I am, baby. Put that deeper,” he cooed, jacking himself off tortuously slowly. “Imagine I’m inside.”

You flipped your camera to your face, pouting, “Aren’t you gonna finish with me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather I save my load for that sweet little pussy baby? Just you wait until I’m home.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smirk was full of mischief. “Is that right mister sorcerer?”

He grinned at the nickname, it wasn’t as if it was still as filled with disbelief. If anything it made him hard, your worlds were so separate but he didn’t care at all. He worshipped you.

“Oh yeah, I’m wrecking you as soon as I get home baby. I can’t just accept this slutty behaviour of yours, can I?”

#ino takuma #takuma ino #ino takuma x reader #ino takuma smut #he’s on the brain <3 #I wanna be his non sorcerer gf so bad <3 #he thinks about us so much <3 #legend says he put her in a mating press and fucked her brains out the next morning <3

[unholyplumpprincess]

Golden Hours

Naga Mirage and monster hunter bloodhound: In Which bloodhound is stuffed full of eggs in the middle of the forest. Hurray.

(Older content)

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Mirage/Bloodhound

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound has a vulva, breeding, oviposiiton, paralyzing venom used in ways ya probably shouldn’t, snakes via Mirage bein a naga, biting, monster fucking

Words: 3k

_____________

Monster hunter, a brand that hung heavy on Bloodhound’s brain. It was such a strong statement. What a name. Monster Hunter.  

A hunter they were, but not explicitly towards monsters. They could care for those who would submit and obey, or who would not attack them after they clearly showed that they were not there to harm. They preferred to observer. Perhaps like modern day bird watching, but with the peculiar brand of beings that did not participate in villages such as their own.

Bloodhound was...Not a monster hunter, but perhaps a monster observer, a monster healer. They merely wanted what was best for creatures such as they were, where humans normally turned them away.  

The gods have blessed them with the sight to find such creatures and help them get to a path where they were comfortable and healed. Perhaps they could befriend them along the way.

~Rest under the cut~

Known for their kind hands and soft words from their village, they could seem to settle down even the unruliest of creatures. Bloodhound thought that all should be treated equally and that it was unfair that these beings, with just as much intelligence, if not more than humans, would be shunned from villages and royal divisions.  

The creature they were on the hunt for now was a large one. Had to be about fifteen maybe sixteen feet long, dragging a large, thick tail behind itself for the length.

A naga, Bloodhound is sure of it from the pattern in the mud and soon the foliage. The creature was heavy, possibly from the colubrid family. Thicker around the tail and hip area, would need plenty to eat.

It’s curious how the creature has yet to notice them. Nagas tended to have a sharp sense of smell, their tongues flicking out and catching anything even in a mile’s radius. That, or this creature knew Bloodhound wasn’t a threat.

What was even more curious was the scent following this being. Even Bloodhound could pick it up. Their mask did little to help, the cloth around their nose and covering the lower half of their face. They could pick it up in the winds. They near inhale it deeper, it was...pleasant.

Their leather clothing tight on their skin and dark cloak thrown over them fluttering in the breeze. Leather boots carefully and quietly following along the path save for the soft noise of their knife sheath tied around their left thigh gently patting against them. They keep their blade sheathed for the time being, trying to show that they were no threat. In case the creature turned in its path or was hiding above them in the branches.

Bloodhound’s surrounding area is a wooded land with a flat ground. The sound of a nearby river perks their ears and the smell of blossoming flowers alerts them that this is an area full of smaller prey for creatures such as the one they are following.

Then they hear it, the snap of a branch nearby and their head whips that direction, only to get knocked from behind. A ruse- bamboozled by the sound. The creature knew that the hunter was listening for them.

Around their body comes a strong tail, beautifully patterned in polka dots it appeared. Dark in colorations with pastel yellow splotches to blend in with the dying foliage. The underbelly of the beast was a soft yellow, almost sandy in its coloring with dark browns and blacks to help hide the naga. A modern day term for their breed would be Hognose snake.

Bloodhound merely huffs as they are hoisted upwards in the coils of the tail. They do not reach for their knife, they do not yelp or show fear as they are pulled to a strong chest. Their hood knocked off and exposing their crimson red hair pulled back into beautiful braids.

They can feel a tongue flick near their decorated ear, covered in gold piercings. The forked tongue is curious, arms coming around the petite framed hunter. Where they can make out a rich, brown skin tone with scarring. Gold bands around the wrists and nails sharpened into claws made to tear apart meals.

The scent is so strong behind them, swarming their head. They feel the flick again before they feel a face with scratchy facial hair nuzzle into their neck, sighing into their skin. “Took you long enough to find me, Houndie. Was getting bored over here.” His voice is low, a teasing tone to it.

Elliott. They sigh, relaxing into his arms and his coils that ease up around them. His hands wander over their frame, unclasping their cloak so his hands may roam over their top, sliding chilled hands beneath the fabric tucked into their leather pants. Bloodhound stiffens up as the naga coos instead to the warmth. “Ah. Yes. I was tracking you from...from- Elliott please-”

Their voice hitches as cold hands come up and gently cup their chest. Squeezing firmly at each mound and flicking thumbs over the buds of their nipples, decorated by beautiful gold barbells. All their gold gifted to them by the very same naga decorated in the color. Romantic, even.

“Hm? Nah, babe, you’ve been gone so long. Just let me touch you a bit, let me treat you good.” He noses just beneath their ear, speaking in a low tone as his tail cheekily curls up and around their thigh, squeezing pleasantly at the taut muscle there and sliding between their thighs to begin creating friction.

Elliott smells so good for a reason, putting out pheromones because he has eggs. Eggs for them, that’s why he said to come so early in the day. They’d be having sex- ah. Mating all day. He had been so eager to stuff them full of eggs, and the idea had been arousing enough for them to eagerly agree to hold his clutch.  

Their own cottage was deep in the woods, a bit farther away from their village, so Elliott could easily come stay and monitor as well.

They are reminded when clawed, gold ring covered hands press to their abdomen, his nose buried into the crook of their neck and a low groan leaving him. “Fuck, you smell so good. You’re gonna look so cute stuffed all full with my eggs. Gonna’ make the cutest babies with you’re- fuck!”

He’s stopped from continuing as Bloodhound raises a hand to yank at his curls. Effectively silencing him from saying much more filthy things into their already flushed red ear.

He whines low in his throat, hands squeezing their chest once more and making them sigh in return. “You must be aching, my love,” Bloodhound murmurs. Pressing back into him just to feel the slight pouch in his abdomen. He’d been carrying them, normally he just laid them and ate them, nothing was inside of them unless they were bred into someone.

Someone like Bloodhound. Who had a warm and willing body.

Effectively distracted, Elliott can only nod eagerly. Squeezing around his lover’s body as they squirm a bit to get comfortable, force of habit with prey. He’s humping against their back now, the patch of darker scales slotted below his waist drooling with slick, transparent and gold. Smelling strongly of musk and salt.

It’s smeared over their top as her tries so hard to gather friction and they have to gently coo and press at his heavy tail. “Elliott, let me- help. I want to-” They’re cut off by each harsh thrust against their lower back. Feeling the peek of twin cocks that makes them shudder.

They do not expect for Elliott to hiss in return to their squirming and pushing, at fangs sink into their neck. Their eyes go wide, they had done this before of course, but normally Elliott liked to warn them. They suppose it was in his nature to bite at struggling prey. They can’t help but shudder at that thought.

Prey, they were prey.

His venom is not potent enough to kill, just to paralyze. Elliott doesn’t need to be careful about the dosage, for they were going to be with him all day. He latches on tight, tail holding them firmly until their squirming comes to cease.  

They can feel everything heightened now that they know they can’t struggle. Bloodhound whimpers faintly as Elliott’s fangs slowly pull out, retracting as he turns them over to face him instead. His tail, strong and solid keeps them from falling to the ground as Elliott props himself back against a sturdy, large tree.  

Bloodhound’s boots are slid off gingerly as they lie limp. Eyes watching him with deep hunger as Elliott’s tongue flicks over his lips constantly, scenting them, trying to sense for any sense of dread or worry- even too much fear. But, Bloodhound’s scent reads well. Hungry, lustful, wet- God they’re so wet.

Something about being hindered really did it for them sometimes.

They’re carefully stripped. Limbs manipulated by their lover until they’re left in nothing but their mask. Which is once more gingerly removed, set to the side on top of their neatly folded clothes that Elliott took the time to lie out in proper order.

Bloodhound is a sight. Cheeks flushed, eyes lazily blinking up at Elliott, their limbs sprawled open and thighs cast open as well. Elliott’s tail holds true to their body, around their waist and under their ass to keep them up. Their sweet little cunt is just as beautiful as he remembers. Dark red curls dampened to an almost black color on the lips from their slick, their fat, juicy clit peeking from their soft lower lips.

By now, Elliott’s cocks have slid out from his sheath. Golden in color, long, thick and tapered at the tips. Thick veins, the girth of them each maybe a little over two fingers. Ribbed almost near the base. There’s a larger than a human’s slit at the end of them, which would allow for small eggs to be pumped into Bloodhound and slowly expand until they were of proper size. Only a few, maybe even just one would remain left in Bloodhound after a few weeks, the rest absorbed as nutrition for the growing egg.

But oh, he can’t wait to see them so swollen. Already paralyzed. Only being able to twitch a muscle as Elliott’s clawed hands slide up their inner thighs, soaking up their warm body. He can’t finger them without threat of clawing them open, so he lets his tail bring them up to his mouth instead.

They hang with their head falling back, unable to lift it to watch as Elliott groans. Tongue flicking out over their heat and getting scent directly into his nodes. The small bit of wetness left on the forked end giving him enough information of how fertile they were. “Ssshit- babe. You okay?”

“Perfect. I will let you know if I am...Not comfortable.” Their voice is a soft strain from their position, almost groggy like full of sleep. The venom doing its job of keeping them still, but Elliott still double checks for consent.

Elliott hums, sure of himself now as he buries his face between their thighs. Nuzzling to part their folds and get his tongue sliding into their slick hole. Already so wet, always so wet for him. His clawed hands dig into their thighs, lifting their hips up a bit higher so he can get a better angle.

There’s a soft cry from Bloodhound as he nuzzles their clit. Golden, slit pupiled eyes staying open and half lidded to watch their body desperately try to react. But all it manages are weak muscle spasms in their abdomen or hips, nothing more to move.

He noses at their clit, dragging his mouth up and letting hot breaths fan across them to tease. They would be thrusting their hips up and shoving him down by now and threatening him. But all they can manage is a ‘please’, weak and pleading.

Elliott seals his mouth over their clit. Licking and suckling along its length, feeling the contractions near his chin of them squeezing around nothing. His tail that had been sitting at their air carefully worms its way under Elliott’s head and under their ass in order to press the thin, small tip into them so they had something to squeeze on and slowly keep them open.

He works them for what must feel like hours to them of anticipation. Mouthing and suckling at their clit as he’s assaulted by their scent and taste. Hazy and hard as his cocks drip and drool onto his underbelly scales.  

Elliott can feel them squeeze around his tail as he thrusts it shallowly inside of them. Being mindful of where his tail becomes girthy. He’s only got about six inches in them, spreading them open wider each little bit as he twists it upwards and-

They cry out, body unable to naturally tense up or buck their hips as he feels them squeeze and squeeze his tail. Their slick drools down it, which he eagerly licks up. Licking at their twitching, engorged red clit until they’re pleading for him to just get on with it.

“Elliott- fuck me. Fuck me, please, stop-...Ah, stop teasing.” Their voice is a high whine, fingers twitching as if they could reach for him.

Who is Elliott to deny himself or them any longer?

Bloodhound is pulled down from his mouth, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand before they could see the mess he made of himself. Bloodhound is soon supported back with the tail and soon his arms as he reaches for them. Cradling them to his chest and curling fingers into their braids and waves. Holding them to his shoulder as he feels their heated, steamy breath on his flesh.

One of his cocks teases at their entrance. Slipping from their hole and up over their clit once or twice before catching the rim. He slides in with a small struggle, as it always was for Bloodhound to take even one of his cocks. Sliding them down as they sigh with pleasure until seated. His other dick, resting on the front of them and applying slick, cold friction to their clit.

Elliott kisses at the side of their face. Grabbing their chin and tilting it up towards him. Their eyes meet, and it’s beyond heated. Bloodhound can only see him, his hungry gaze and how he licks over his fangs. Eyes flickering down to Bloodhound’s lips once or twice until their eyes flutter closed.

He sweeps them into a kiss that he can direct. They can hardly kiss back, harder than ever. But they moan as he uses his thumb to pry open their mouth using their chin. Licking into their mouth until they can taste themselves on his tongue.

Below, Elliott has begun using his other hand to grab their hip and grind them into his lap. His tail holds them up carefully, squeezing occasionally to feel their taut abdomen flex. Groaning at the thought of it soon full and round.

Elliott doesn’t have it in him to dirty talk them, no matter how much he wants to run his mouth. He can’t stop from licking over the piercing in their tongue or deeper into their mouth. Muddling saliva together before he lets their mouth close to kiss them again. Hips beginning to thrust upwards to hump into them repeatedly.

He’s already so close. Slick naturally lubricating their insides and numbing them slightly so there wouldn’t be a pain of them stretching. Softening their cervix to allow for easier penetration of their womb.

They’re so tight and hot around him, squeezing weakly as he snarls in their ear. “You’re mine, Hound. I- fuck. Hhh- ssh- My strong- ah- hunter. Mine to carry our-” He can’t form coherent sentences, but it gets the point across as he ends it with a low groan. Rolling his hips in a circle and upwards until he suddenly freezes up.

He’s holding them by their hips now at a bruising strength. They hiss, but comply with the silent order to not move- they had no choice either way, held tight by his tail and venom still in their system.

They can feel the bulge near the entrance of their cunt. How Elliott shudders and shakes as he holds them, claws sinking into their skin as the first egg passes their rim, traveling up and struggling again with how tight they are until they feel it. Deep, deep within their belly. Their own eyes widening at the feeling before near about rolling back as they drool into his shoulder.

Oh, what a filling feeling.

Another comes, then another. Until Bloodhound has lost count at eight. Elliott is shaking, grinding up into them until he groans loudly, cool, sticky feeling cum shooting into them and coating the eggs. Effectively sealing them up and ensuring they won’t be able to push them out early, or have them fall out for that matter.

Elliott pulls out carefully from them, this cock spent and drooling out the sticky liquid. The other one has cum all over their front, the same sticky, translucent gold slick sticking to their slightly rounded belly and thighs.

Bloodhound whimpers once again when Elliott’s hand comes down, rubbing at their clit, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers until another orgasm shakes through them. Contracting and squeezing around nothing.

They’re exhausted and can’t move still, they can only shake against his chest as Elliott soothingly runs his hands along the claw marks on their hips and thighs. Petting over the petite hunter who whines faintly at a kiss placed to their head.

“You took me so well, Hound. Such a good little thing for me, hm?” Elliott coos down at them and all they can do is nod tiredly in reply, cheeks warmed and body even warmer.

They would later wake up in their cottage, stuffed full of his cock again and able to grab onto him and sob.

Then once more, fall asleep with murmured promises of; Again.

#Miragehound #Mirage #Bloodhound #apex lemons #apex legends #nsft #lemon #naga Mirage #princess writing

[slow-smiles]

Killian sneaks out of the castle before he’s caught and waits for Emma to join him on his ship. Captain Duckling. A followup to My Princess, My Pirate. My first contribution to @cscocktoberfest (only like a week late, it’s fine.) ~3.9k words. No major trigger warnings apply.

Read on AO3.

almost six.

When Emma leaves him in her room, Killian briefly entertains the idea of laying out on her bed naked and waiting for her to return. Realistically, however, he knows this would only lead to disaster; despite it being her private chambers, it would hardly stay empty for the duration of the ball. There were always preparations to be made for the princess, preparing her bedclothes, turning down her bed, cleaning, and other such manner of domestic tasks done by hired help that Killian had never been privy to.

His usual entrance and exit routes had not been usable (Emma had given him a key to enter the servant passages, the ones she herself used to sneak in and out of the castle, but with a royal ball in full swing, they would hardly be a discreet way to travel this evening.)

He certainly didn’t fancy himself much of a climber, but the rough stone and thick vines across Emma’s wing of the palace certainly lent themselves well enough for the task.

(He makes a note to mention to her that they should do something about the vines--and really, about the castle protection in general. It would be entirely too easy for someone with nefarious intentions to sneak in.)

He makes his way carefully back to his ship. It’s still relatively early, the sun having not yet fully set, but towards the harbor district the sounds of revelry are already rising. He imagines his crew must already be among those out and about. He’d given them several days of shore leave, and they’d had some excellent hauls in the last few months, so their pockets were heavy and their spirits high.

The only man left aboard the Jolly is Smee, unsurprisingly. Never been a traditional pirate, Smee. Is always one to volunteer to stay with the ship when others want to go out and spend their winnings on wine and bed partners, and no one really knows what he does with his shore leave when Killian forces him off the ship.

“Captain!” his first mate calls out. “I didn’t expect you back so early.”

Killian says, “I already got exactly what I needed. The rest of the evening is entirely yours, Mr. Smee.”

“Are you sure? Do you need anything else?”

“I’m quite certain I’ll be able to handle my own ship by meself.”

“If--if you insist, Captain.”

Killian gives him a look. “I do. At least go get yourself some hot food and a bed at an inn.”

Nodding sharply, Smee doesn’t take long to vacate the ship, leaving Killian on his own in the blessed silence. Being alone has always been his natural state, and the quiet is a welcome part of that trait.

However, he would not complain if there was a certain raucous blonde stirring up trouble with him at the moment, silence be damned.

He tried to not think about all the probably handsome, witty, rich eligible bachelors that would be presented to her on a silver platter over the course of the evening.

It isn’t that Killian doubts Emma’s feelings for him. On the contrary, he knows exactly how selectively Emma gives her love, and he is a damned grateful recipient.  The only thing Killian has doubts about is his worthiness of her, and that’s a subject he’d rather not dwell on when he’s alone with rum in easy reaching distance.

Instead, he retires to his cabin and undresses for the evening, removing his long coat and vest, shucking the pants and finally making his way through the series of buckles that secure his hook to his arm. The contraption runs up his arm and over his shoulder, making an X across his back and looping around his right shoulder. There are calloused lines left behind on his skin as he removes the hook and all its trappings, two-hundred something years in the making.

He intends to read and update his logs, perhaps knock out a few navigational equations he’d hit snags with earlier in the day, but not long after he settles back in his bunk with a logbook in hand, the pull of sleep becomes too much to resist.

Killian is a naturally light sleeper, but the sound of Emma’s loud swearing could’ve awoken even the dead. He sits up immediately and sees her bent over just at the base of the ladder.

“Son of a fucking bastard. Gods bloody damnation--”

“Emma?”

“I stubbed my toe,” she grinds out between clenched teeth. “Fucking hell, that hurt. I should’ve worn shoes, gods damn it.”

His drowsiness begins to wane as he smiles at her. “If only the common people could hear their great and powerful sovereign now.”

Emma finally stands fully, wiggling her foot around a bit. She’s clearly disguised, with an overcoat thrown over her nightgown and her hair hidden under one of those ridiculous bonnets she hates wearing. Even with the sour expression because of her toe and the outfit, she’s still the most beautiful woman in all the realms, and he tells her so.

She smiles softly in response. “It’s nice to hear someone genuinely say that to me.” She begins to undress herself, shrugging out of her overcoat with a slowness that looks more born of exhaustion than seduction.

“I don’t think anyone could say that to you and not be genuine about it, darling, because it’s more of a fact than an opinion.”

She laughs softly. “I know what you think,” she says, basically tearing the bonnet off her head and letting her hair spill free. “Ugh, burn this,” she says under her breath before throwing it on the floor. She then reaches down for the hem of her gown. “I just had to hear a lot of people say it without really meaning it tonight.”

No matter how many times he’s seen her without clothing over the years of their relationship, the sight of Emma’s naked body will always be at least a little arresting. The soft, pale skin so often hidden under gowns finally free to the air, the pink nipples stiffening in the slight chill of his cabin, the way her long hair brushes over her breasts and obscuring them like the mermaids of legend, the thatch of dark blonde curls between her legs where she was wet and wanting him mere hours ago.

“I know I promised you a dance,” she says, “but can it wait until morning? I’m exhausted and my brain is absolutely fried, and I just want to hold you for a while.”

He holds out a hand in invitation, nudging over on the narrow bed so that she has room to fit next to him. “I’d wait forever for you,” he says, purposefully dramatic to put another smile on her lips.

She crawls in next to him, and the feel of her skin against his is as reassuring as it is intoxicating; but Emma’s not the only one who’s knackered. She wordlessly nudges at his shoulder, encouraging him to turn his back to her. He follows her gentle, tired instruction, and her arm wraps around his waist under his arm. He takes her hand in his and brings it up to his lips for a kiss before letting himself relax.

He feels her breath at the base of his neck, and she presses a small kiss there. “I love you,” she says softly.

“And I, you.”

With Emma surrounding him, it’s a simple matter to fall back into sleep.

He awakens with the feeling of a hand on his cock. The light through the windows is soft, grey with the promise of dawn, and it’s just light enough for him to turn his head to look at Emma, still behind him. She’s risen up on one elbow, propping her up so that she has a better angle to stroke him and can look down on him. The blankets have been since kicked down to the end of the bed, but he doesn’t feel the chill with the heat of arousal skittering over his body.

“Morning,” she says casually.

“Morning,” he responds, not as casually.

He turns slightly so that he can more easily look up at her and reaches up to pull her down for a kiss. She obliges, running her tongue boldly along the seam of his lips before he opens for her.

Her strokes on his cock become more impatient, quicker and firmer, and he’s nearly rock hard already.

“How much time do we have?” he gasps out, starting to work his hips with the timing of her hand.

“I’m not needed at all this morning, and I gave instructions to not disturb me. One of my ladies’ maids is sleeping in my bed as a stand in just in case.” She twists her hand over the head of his cock just so, and his breath catches in his throat, and he lets it out a moment later through gritted teeth. “I have time to do whatever I want to you.”

He moans softly again. “To me?” He turned fully so that he lay on his back. “What about what I want to do to you?”

Emma quirks a brow before, quicker than a blink, she swoops down and settles herself between his legs. Both of her hands run up his thighs and she leans down, her mouth just above his cock. “You can wait your turn.”

With that she runs her tongue from base to tip, pulling an ungodly groan from his lips. “Emma,” he breathes, and he runs his hand through her hair before resting at the back of her head. She moans around him in response.

She takes him as deep as she can, the warm wet of her mouth moving up and down his shaft, and her hand comes up to stroke what she can’t fit in.

Pleasure sings across his skin and up his spine, and senseless words of praise tumble from his mouth. To have the Crown Princess of Misthaven with her hand and mouth on him is something truly bewildering and wonderful to behold, but it’s also Emma. It’s the witty, stunning, clever, stubborn woman who trusts him enough to do this with him, trusts him enough to let him into this intimacy, and wants him enough that she’ll do this for him. The idea that she could want and love him enough to devote herself to the task of pleasuring him is mind-boggling and more of a turn on than anything he’d experienced previous.

“Love you so much,” he stutters out, trying in vain to keep his hips still. He has enough control to prevent him from thrusting down her throat, but his hips still twitch upwards on each of her downstrokes.

He can’t take his eyes off her, and every so often she’ll look up and meet his gaze.

She’s perfection personified and he still doesn’t know how he got so lucky. How that night at the tavern when he simply wanted to make sure a woman was safe from drunken louts had turned into this. Had turned into one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

Emma pulls off of him, sitting up and shifting so that her sex is directly over his. Before he has a chance to say anything, she sinks down on him and sighs.

“Let me just--” she says and leans forward, resting her body against his. “Let me just enjoy this for a second.” She nuzzles her face into the side of his neck, arms coming under his shoulders to embrace him as much as she can whilst he’s on his back.

He shifts to return the favor, surprised but not disappointed at the sudden change in pace. With the way she woke him up, he’d imagined something quick and dirty; perhaps she’d have sucked him off to completion, swallowed his release down. He’d have returned the favor, tasting her exquisite cunt until she’d come so hard she couldn’t walk straight.

“Are you all right?” he whispers.

She shifts a little, but doesn’t lift her head. “Yeah.” She sighs. “No.”

He’d had a feeling there was something amiss. After he’d left her the night before, she’d been playful, joking. Light. When she came to bed later that evening, the earlier lightness was gone, replaced by something more somber.

“Did something else happen at the ball?”

Emma straightens so that she can rest her hands on his chest. “Are you really trying to have a serious conversation while you’re inside me?”

Killian runs his hand along her hip and down her flank. “I can tell something is bothering you, and it’s bothering you enough that you don’t want to tell me about it.”

Emma moves her hips a little bit, a gentle rocking motion that’s a tease of what’s to come. Her breath comes a little quicker, her eyes sliding shut a moment before opening again.

She seems to try to find a good start to a sentence, and frankly he’s proud that she can think at all when the little motions of her hips are making it hard for him to concentrate on anything except her.

“Before I tell you,” she says, seeming to come to a decision, “I want you to fuck me really, really hard, okay?”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his arousal somewhat. “Emma--”

She seals off his lips with a deep kiss; he returns it, but it doesn’t erase his concern.

“I promise I’ll tell you,” she says a breath away from his mouth, “but I want to forget for a while.”

He searches her eyes, nothing but honesty burning there. So he obliges and grasps the back of her head and pulls her mouth down to his. Their kiss can’t be described as anything but aggressive, wide mouths and sweeping tongues, teeth clicking inelegantly but neither of them seem to care.

If she wants fast and hard, he can deliver.

He sits up against her, holding her backside in his hand. It’s a bit of a hassle to switch positions in the narrow bunk, but he manages it. He pushes his hips up, and leverages himself on his wrist and twists them. Emma lands on her back with a short huff of a laugh, and he regretfully slips out of her. He settles back between her thighs, reared back on his knees so he can look down at her. His eyes travel from her face down to her core, swollen, pink, and wet.

His fingers run through her folds, and she moans softly and further parts her legs for him. He focuses on her clit without much teasing, rubbing across it in short, quick motions that have her getting louder in moments.

He dips down further, feeling the moisture gathering at her entrance, spreading it up and back to her clit.

“Fuck,” she whispers, “Killian.”

“If you want it fast and hard,” he growls, “then we need to get you ready for me first.”

She groans deeply at that, a drawn out please escaping her, back arching upwards and pushing her breasts towards him. He continues swiping over her clit with his thumb and presses two fingers inside her.

He doesn’t give her much time to adjust, her wetness making it easy to begin thrusting with his hand in earnest. The slick sound of her pussy wrapped around his fingers makes him absolutely ache with the desire to be inside of her. He adds a third finger then, gets as deep as he can get them, and begins to move his hand up and down, pressing towards that one spot deep inside her that makes her scream.

Only a few pumps of his hand and he can tell he’s found it; her eyes snap open, her thighs tense, and her sounds become louder, more drawn out. “Gods, there,” she gasps.

His balls tighten at her words, his cock so hard it fucking hurts to not be inside of her.

She presses closer to him, and he bears down, moving his hand up and down as fast as he can muster. It’s hard to maintain pressure on her clit with his thumb when he fucks her like this, so he reaches underneath her undulating hips with his left arm, pulling her hips off the bed far enough so that he can bend down and take her clit in his mouth.

He doesn’t bother with licking and teasing, but fastens his lips to her like a man starved and sucks as hard as he can.

Emma’s orgasms are always a sight to behold. She doesn’t quite scream, but her cry is loud and hoarse, and her core clenches around his fingers like a vise. “That’s it love,” he praises against her core, “come all over my fingers.”

He lets her hips fall back to the bed, still working his fingers at a steady pace inside her, and realizes in that moment exactly how he wants to fuck her.

He withdraws his hand with a sound of protest from Emma, and steps off to the side of the bunk. (They’d learned early in their courtship that it was the exact right height for him to fuck her on.) He hooks an elbow around her knee, repositioning her so that her ass nearly hangs off the side, putting her in perfect position for him to sink into her.

He can barely hold back his groan at how wet and warm she is, how perfect and beautiful. “Gods, Emma. Nothing in this world compares to being inside you.”

“I love you,” she replies, and Killian is hit once more with how lucky he is.

Before he begins, he lifts one of her knees over his shoulder, spreading her wide open for him.

Then he goes. She’s so wet and relaxed from her orgasm that there’s no resistance as he pounds into her at a pace that would certainly leave bruises on both of them. The sounds of their coupling echo in his cabin, the slapping of skin and the wet suck of her welcoming him into her body again and again and their combined moans creating a lewd symphony.

“Fuck,” Emma cries, “don’t stop.”

“Not on your life, princess.”

He’s on the edge faster than he’d like, but he can tell Emma is too. She clenches sporadically around him, one of her hands grips the sheets in a white-knuckled grip, and the other has settled on his arm, her nails pressing none-too-gently into his skin.

“Are you close, love?” he still asks.

“Yes.”

“Touch yourself.”

Her hand that was fisted in the sheet immediately darts to her core; he can’t help but watch her fingers as they seek out her clit and rub quick, tight circles over it. He can feel her clamp down on him as she pleasures herself, and he was hoping to make sure she’d come again before he did, but he’s a hapless victim to her siren song.

His hips stutter, his hard rhythm faltering. “Fuck, love, I’m--” He comes inside her, pressing deep a handful more times before he comes back down. Emma drops her leg from his shoulder, boneless.

“Did you peak again?” he asks.

She nods. “Your face is gorgeous when you come,” she explains.

He pulls out of her with a slight wince and walks over on unsteady legs to the small pail of water and grabs a washcloth from the cabinet. He cleans himself briskly, and moves to do the same for Emma.

When they’re both as clean as they can be after vigorous lovemaking, they lie back down on the bunk, curled under the previously abandoned covers.

“What happened last night, Emma?”

Her head is resting on his chest, and she tilts her gaze up to look him in the eye. “It was…” She sighs and removes herself from his embrace, sitting up and leaning her back against the pillows, and Killian follows suit.

“I received no less than three marriage proposals and seven courtship proposals,” she says, and even though he knows she loves him, he knows exactly how painstaking it was for her to get to this point in their relationship, it still makes his breath catch, a brief flare of panic rise in his chest. “Hardly uncommon but… I don’t know. It was just different, yesterday.

“My parents are starting to push harder about me finding someone. And it’s not like they’re cruel about it. They want me to marry for love just as they did.”

“I gathered as much from what your father said last night,” Killian says.

Emma nods. “It’s not like I have difficulty rebuffing them. It was just something my mom said to me.

“I’d just turned down the last courtship proposal of the evening, and she pulled me off to the side and said something like love isn’t weakness, it’s strength, and wanting to be loved isn’t bad, opening myself up to the possibility is brave and so on and so forth. And I don’t know what it was about last night, because she’s given me that same talk dozens of times over my adult life, but I suddenly just wanted to scream at her I know! I’ve known for years how it feels to love and be loved because I’ve had you.”

Warmth flares in his heart.

Emma takes a breath. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of you being a secret. I don’t know how we’ll make it work, I don’t know what my parents will say when they find out I’ve been consorting with a pirate for the last five years--”

“Almost six,” he corrects, mostly absent-mindedly because his mind is now spinning.

She grins and rolls her eyes. “Almost six,” she agrees. “But I know I’m asking a lot. I’ve thought about getting you on contract as a privateer for the crown, and then delivering a naval commission so that our match would be less objectionable for the court, but--” she takes his hand in hers, staring into his eyes with as much seriousness as he’s ever seen on her. “I don’t want to push you into anything and honestly, I’d give up my status as heir and take up a life of piracy if it meant having you by my side.”

It isn’t easy to render Killian Jones speechless, but Emma’s managed to do just that.

“You want to tell your parents about us?” he finally manages.

“Yes. I don’t have a single clue what they’ll say or do, but I’m tired of living my life like I don’t love you with everything I have in me.”

He leans in and kisses her, trying to gather his thoughts. When he pulls away, he asks, “So we probably don’t tell them we’ve already consummated our relationship, correct?”

Emma snorts and flicks his ear. “Remember how I said last night there was a chance you get executed if you were caught?”

“You’d protect me,” he answers.

“Of course I would, but I get my stubbornness from somewhere and believe me, my father doesn’t take kindly to people he feels have taken advantage of me.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, taken advantage of the princess, have I?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I’d say not, because as I recall, it’s been you taking advantage of me all these years.”

“I’m about to rescind my offer,” Emma says, tauntingly moving as though she’ll get out of bed.

“No need,” Killian says. “I’ll be on my absolute best behavior. And no matter what happens,” he tugs at her hand, “I’ll be right there with you.”

#cs ff #cscocktoberfest #cs cocktober #captain swan #cs smut #my fic

[kingbuckley]

This is a long long long fic dump for bellarke fics. They are in no particular order, varying lengths, some aus some not--but there are summaries! so enjoy i guess.

There's A Nap For That

Based on that post: "If you both agree to take a nap instead of going out, it’s a date." Or: The one where Bellamy and Clarke keep taking naps together. You know, platonically. See also: Let Them Rest.

Flowers Fade, But The Internet Lasts Forever 

the one where Clarke finds out the hard way that having two separate Twitter accounts and a hopeless crush on Bellamy Blake don't exactly mix.

And They'll Hang Us In The Louvre

“Well I mean, I can always give you a hand. If you want.” By the time her brain has managed to catch up with what she just said, his eyes have already snapped over to her and she pretends to be engrossed in the salt slowly dissolving around the rim of her margarita. “Really,” he says flat. “What are friends for, am I right?” she says breezily, looking anywhere but at him. 

Chemical, Physical, Kryptonite

four times Bellamy and Clarke try to be friends with benefits, and one time they stop kidding themselves.

the fire is coming

Clarke's jaeger goes down on a Thursday.

one night to push and scream (and then relief)

Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin are FBI agents sent undercover as a married couple to infiltrate the Wallace family organized crime ring. Great plan, except for the part where they hate each other.

and dream how wonderful your life will be

Clarke has known Bellamy Blake for two months when she finds out two completely unexpected things about him: he's married, and he has an eight-year-old son. He's also getting a divorce and he needs a roommate, and she's got a spot. It's complicated.

long day

bellamy + clarke as co-dependent, twenty-something roommates (or, the one in which they’re dating already but don’t know it, and bellamy only realizes he has a heart when it breaks)

neither lost nor found

Bellamy Blake arrives on campus and Clarke's magic suddenly starts going haywire.

Spent a Dollar on This Ring

Clarke has never considered that raising a baby together would come into the equation when she started sleeping with Bellamy Blake, but here they are.

regardless of warnings the future doesn't scare me at all

After an argument with her mother about her unplanned pregnancy, Clarke Griffin ends up back in the small town where her father used to live, spilling her sob story to a sympathetic bartender. And then, somehow, she ends up moving in with the bartender and her brother.

Going Courtin’

Five times people thought Clarke and Bellamy were together, and the one time they said "Screw it" (and it blew up in their faces).

live my life without [coming up for air]

The first time he meets Clarke, it's three in the morning and all he's wearing are his boxer shorts and a bad case of bed head.Series

Or, You Could Always Google It

Someone really should have warned Clarke that the first step to becoming internet famous would involve acquiring a nemesis. (Or, Bellarke as rival YouTubers, basically.)

Maybe the World'll Look Like This Forever

Clarke and Bellamy have been friends since he transferred to Hogwarts for his seventh year. Now he's taking down dark wizards and she's patching him up when he comes home.

magic always does happen

In their third year, Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake are found jumping out of the third-floor Charms classroom window with nothing but a Levitation Charm and a whole lot of hope.They are young, and they believe magic can be made without wands.They spend the next six days side-by-side in hospital wing beds, still arguing over whether it’s “levi-O-sa” or “levi-o-SA”.

A Date With Botticelli’s Niece

There's no way Bellamy's going to let his sister go to sit for an artist who posted an ad for a nude model in a coffee shop. Not alone. That's how people get stabbed. It's just not safe.

Once Again

Five times Bellamy and Clarke disagreed with each other (and one time they didn't).

Nightly, Beside the Green, Green Grass

As a kid, Clarke always wanted one of those friends who climbed into her window whenever they wanted to. And when she meets Bellamy, she gets one.

The Nature of My Game

It's some douchey frat boy who gives Clarke the idea for a "Come in for a free flower if your name is..." sign, and she honestly has a lot of fun with it. She's just not expecting anyone to complain that she'll never put his up. That's some weird Rumpelstiltskin shit.

Occam's Razor

As far as Bellamy's concerned, bachelor auctions are creepy, even if they're for a good cause. But it's Octavia's cause, and she's his baby sister, so of course he agrees. He didn't think Clarke was going to be there. And he definitely didn't think she was going to bid on him.

looks on tempests, and is never shaken

four times Bellamy helps Clarke out, and one time Clarke helps him out.

Believe Me, There's a Better Frankenstein For You To Bride

Two weeks before her wedding, Clarke finds out her fiance is cheating on her. Weirdly, it wouldn't be that much of a problem, except that it's her job to give people relationship advice, and screwing up her own relationship this hard could reflect poorly on her. So she figures she can just marry someone else. That works, right?

The Great Outdoors

Bellamy's life doesn't get worse when Octavia realizes the magic phrase to get him to come on social outings is "Clarke's coming," but it definitely gets busier.Still, it's hard to resist. He's maybe a little pathetic.

I'm Way Out of My Depth Again

Bellamy is pretty sure he's going to stop having sex with Clarke at some point. But he's not going to be the first one to bring it up, because maybe if he doesn't, they can just keep going.

Forever and/or Down in Flames

Bellamy needs a place to live, Clarke needs a new roommate. No one thinks it's a good idea for them to move in together, but they're not letting that stop them.

We Came Out on Top

Bellamy, Clarke, and the trivia night rivalries only they care about.

wherever you're going, i'm not far behind

Bellamy and Clarke are both single, and fucking, and it's going to be fine.

It's Something So Surreal

On one level Bellamy doesn't actually have a problem with the fact that he gets a text message from a number he doesn't know with an attached picture of a hot girl in a fancy lingerie set. He just assumes it's some sort of weird sex app trying to lure him in. After all, no one has boobs that fantastic; it's got to be photoshop. On another level, it gets him riled up about the objectification of women and he's probably going to talk Miller's ear off about it later that night. But then he gets another text that just says, yes or no?

Love Doesn't Discriminate (It Takes & It Takes & It Takes)

Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin are soulmates. Too bad neither of them knows it.

I dreamed you a sin (and a lie)

Clarke's in the FBI, Bellamy's the grandson of a mobster, and they've got to work together.

Drops of Gold Like Sparks

Whenever their apartment is too quiet, Clarke and Madi settle into a local coffee shop to catch up on work and homework. Clarke steps outside to answer a call, and Madi asks the most erudite-looking person within shouting distance for help with her history homework.

Forty Yards

Bellamy and Clarke are caught in the crossfire of an Eligius/Wonkru battle, and in the fury of it all, Bellamy refuses to leave Clarke behind.

The Dark Side of the Morning

It isn’t the first time Bellamy has found a sword pressed to his throat, and God knows it probably won’t be the last. At this rate, his neck is going to be one massive scar before the year is up.

See Me In Hindsight

the one where they're project partners and maybe, perhaps, friends. (And maybe, perhaps, more.)

Explain The Infinite

Clarke’s pretty sure you’re supposed to like your soul mate. She really wasn’t expecting Bellamy Blake.

Just as You Are Mine

Clarke seals an alliance with the Broadleaf clan by marrying Bellamy Blake.

But Dear, Don’t Be Afraid Of Love, It’s Only Magic

Apparently all of his classes at Hogwarts are trying to tell Bellamy that he’s in love with Clarke. He needs magic to mind its own business, because he’s known how screwed he is for a while now.

Don't Take No Sorcery

Clarke and Bellamy wouldn't describe themselves and friends, per se, but they have an arrangement. And in a place like Hogwarts, it's only in a clever young witch or wizard's best interest to have an unexpected ally or two.

Maybe the World'll Look Like This Forever

Clarke and Bellamy have been friends since he transferred to Hogwarts for his seventh year. Now he's taking down dark wizards and she's patching him up when he comes home.

he said, she said

If there’s one thing that’s common knowledge amongst the Hogwarts student body, it’s that Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin hate each other.

can't control my feelings, can't control my thoughts

When Jasper accidentally gifts Clarke a love potion, everyone she interacts with starts acting...weird. Everyone, that is, except Bellamy.

where dwell the brave at heart

Usually their fights end in doors slamming. Or furious necking in the common room. But really, there's not much difference between the two.

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

The rivalry between Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin is a thing of legends, but it doesn't exactly stop him from making out with her either.

mapping the curve of your lips and the smell of your skin

She smothers a laugh into her hand just like he knew she would, and he works very hard on schooling his expression into one of annoyance and boredom. But she's there next to him and she's laughing, small sounds slipping out between her fingers, and it's so very hard for him to resist turning to her and laughing with her.

Let's Hope for Some Love

Bellamy's pack is a mess and Clarke is some sort of weird werewolf whisperer.

I wanna raise you to be like her

Bellamy was just trying to take care of his sister - but somewhere along the way he bought a building and started his own orphanage. Now he has a house full of kids, running around, getting into trouble, and wanting good homes. Obviously, Bellamy finds himself loving each one of them like his own life.

our hearts are oceans, our ribs are cages

He lifted himself onto his knees, and suddenly his torso was in between her thighs. Clarke took the opportunity to rest her forehead on his shoulder. The weight of keeping it up was giving her a headache. He tugged at the shoulders of her jacket and peeled it off her limp arms. Then they were at the hem of her shirt, ripped and torn and bloody. He swept it up and she flinched when his knuckles grazed her bare skin."Come on, now," he said softly. "We've gotta get you cleaned up."

Better to Give Than to Receive

Clarke means to give Bellamy a coupon book with chores she'll do for him for his birthday. It's cute, she figures. She actually gives him a coupon book for sexual favors. She goes with it.

One of Our Own

“What do you mean, you found a baby?” Octavia demanded.

Livewire

Clarke Griffin finds 'Atlas' written on her wrist and Bellamy Blake sees flowers bloom on his skin.

Please Don't Get Me Rescued

Bellamy wants to handle his leukemia on his own. Clarke just won't let him. (Happy Ending; No Major Character Death)

now the world is ours to take

in which Clarke and Bellamy realize, that maybe, just maybe, their delinquents are all grown up.

Slow It Down

a one-night stands results in a little surprise.

And I Love This Place, the Enormous Sky

The Skaikru needs an ally, and the Delphi Clan is willing. It might not be their tradition to seal such alliances with a marriage, but Clarke Griffin has always done what her people need. Bellamy can't help admiring that. So he goes with her.

in the silence between worlds (that's where I'll find you)

everyone knows Bellamy and Clarke are in love except for Bellamy and Clarke.

Inconceivable

"Well," Bellamy says dryly, "this whole diplomacy thing sure is going great."

#bellarke #bellarke fic #bellarke fic rec #the 100 fic #the 100 fic rec #mine #fic rec