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ectologia · 4 months

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♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝐼𝒩 𝒜 𝑅𝒰𝒯 ؛ 𝓀𝑒𝒾𝑔𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝒶𝓂𝒾

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ dubcon ﾉ noncon ﾉ forced breeding ﾉ forced pregnancy ﾉ clit spanking ﾉ creampie ﾉ misogyny ﾉ rut ﾉ baby trapping ﾉ feral keigo ﾉ piss ﾉ marking ﾉ profanity

Keigo’s bigger, softer around the edges but still with that slight cut of pristine muscle lining his torso and limbs. His wings thicken, puffy with a fat down blanketing them with gentle red bristles.

Sweaty too. He doesn’t want to wear any clothes. Granted, he says that all the time. But now it’s not just a want, it’s a need. A priority. He doesn’t feel fit to carry out his primitive desires when he’s being held back and restrained by all that stupid cotton and leather. He needs to be free, needs to let his manhood breathe. Otherwise how could he possibly carry out his responsibility as a daddy? That’s right, he couldn’t.

You leave him to his ludicrous antics of digging out nests in your bed. Making a fine art of curling every blanket, quilt and pillow in the house into a cushty barricaded circle atop your mattress, slapping at the cuddly pile of fabric with an almost crazed look, claiming that your “eggs” are going to be so warm and safe there. Or otherwise scenting you, rubbing his damp neck and hair all over your body, starting off with a gentle kiss to your temple, before sliding down your torso to rub his palms against that little pouch of flesh he knows he’s going to put his babies in, eventually.

Keigo doesn’t like the fact that you still insist on walking around the house fully clothed. He doesn’t, so why do you need to? You’re his mate, his wife, his other half. He knows it’s time to procreate, so why don’t you?

He follows you around the house on another one of your cleaning sprees. His nose wrinkles at the acrid scent of chemicals and lemon in the air, scratching at his throat and burning his sensitive nostrils as you continue to wipe the surfaces and spray away the scent of masculine sweat he worked so hard on drowning the house in. Do you really want another male entering his territory?

There’s only the slightest ring of yellow encircling his otherwise blown pupils. He tunes out after the first 10 seconds of your ranting and scolding. Something about how nobody’s going to “steal you away” if he doesn’t piss on the front door. Yeah, we’ll see about that, he scoffs to nobody but himself, plucking a bent feather from his rugged cape of crimson to flick and mould it back to shape, flicking at the fibrous hairs.

“Keigo, are you even listening to me?” You clap your hands in his face, attempting to garner his attention. “Hello?”

He doesn’t like that one bit, the flailed movements seeming all to similar to an opposing threat, a predator. He blinks away the carnal instinct to rip your arms out of their sockets and puncture your skull with his teeth. “Yes.”

“Well, it doesn’t fucking look like it. Can you repeat any of what I just said?”

“Stop pissing outside.”

“And what else?”

“And on the door.”

Glowing ember’s narrow as you huff, massaging your temples as you begin to pace, stomping about the kitchen with a cloth and spray bottle in hand.

He shudders at the sharp hiss of the pump, spitting at the granite counter and washing away his mark.

“Baby..” He draws closer, wings twitching at the irritating squeak of polished marble. Two large hands, both streaked with thick prominent veins clasp your waist in an attempt to bring your rear closer towards his erect, naked member.

“No, Keigo. Not right now, I’m busy.”

An elbow jabs at his ribs as you continue to scrub away at the surface, leaning over the edge with the pudgy mound of your pussy swaying against his cock and balls with a tantalising momentum.

Before you know it, the bottle is yanked out of your hand and chucked against the wall. The towel clutched between your fingers meets the same fate, ripped in two by a set of talons and left in shreds on the floor.

“Keigo!” You shriek, already pushing against him as he grips you by the neck. “Get off! What’s wrong with you!”

It’s a rhetorical question, and one he has no interest in answering anyway. Too busy with pulling the silk of your pyjama pants down to your toes, along with those stupidly skinny pieces of sheer string you seem to think pass as underwear. He can already see globs of slick bubbling along the apex of your pussy hole. He grins at the sight, running a bent knuckle through the valley of your puffy folds. At least your body knows what it was made for.

“Keigo, stop!” There’s a hint of panic in your voice, squirming as he squeezes the delicate tendons holding your spine in place. Holding you by the scruff as though you were a bad puppy.

He sighs, flecks of spit flying from his mouth in his crazed revolution. His wings extend behind him as he clutches his throbbing shaft in his palm, swirling and bathing the velvety tip in your cunny juice. “I’m sorry, chickadee. But this is just how it is in the real word.” There’s a solemn silence, a heavy seriousness to the air as though he wasn’t rubbing his pulsating slit against your clit, collecting its oozing wetness for an easier turn of events. “You gotta’ take what you want. Gotta’ just fuck it out. Otherwise, we’d go extinct.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “Wouldn’t we, honey bun?”

“Ngh — !” The edge of the counter jabs at your hip bones, rolling on delicate skin that’s sure to be bruised after the ordeal. Your waist bucks as he smacks his swollen tip against your nervous bud.

“Mmh, this is what you wanted.” He repeats the motion, flicking his wrist faster and faster until his spanking becomes rhythmic, slapping the sluggish weight of his member up and down on your pussy. It’s a strategic move on his part, torturing your poor sensitive clitty so you’ll be all that more grateful when he moves on to the main course. “Oh yeah? You like that?” He coos as your back hunches, unsure as to whether you’re trying to curl into the pleasure or away from the pain.

After collecting a sufficient amount of lubrication, he does the same, practically clambering onto the counter with your spine arched in his hands as though he were some type of feral beast or savage hound, hung and ready to fuck and breed his bitch. He squats over your quaking form, shoving you along the smooth surface until his drooling dick nestles itself neatly between the cleft of your asscheeks, bobbing against your scared twat with his tensed ball-sack swinging closely behind.

It’s a wildly contorted position, but one Keigo insists on nonetheless.

“Agh, I’ve been waiting for this.” He grunts. “I’ve been waiting so fuckin’ long, and you just wouldn’t let me fuckin’ have it.” Pulling and tugging on your swollen labia, he separate your sticky little slit until all that’s left to shield you is the tense ring of muscle defending your hole. “Well, that’s fine by me chickadee.” He slips inside with a breathy chuckle, giggling and chortling to himself even as you yelp in pain. “I’ll just do it myself.”

It’s fast paced with an ill rhythm. There’s no love or care to be felt in his thrusts, just cruel harsh punishment, a means to an end until Keigo gets to pump his babies into your precious womb, fill you with his chicks so you can finally be a family. A proper family.

“Agh, and we can do Christmas, and Halloween, and go to the beach.” The thought is almost arousing to him, motivating him into humping your rear faster. “Won’t that be fun, little bird?”

He can be sure you’re crying, or at least close to it. He pays your silent tears no mind, blaming it on the excitement of your new life taking will.

“Kei, please! I told you, I’m not ready!” You arch your neck to plead with him.

His smile falters, twisting into something much more sinister and lecherous. He clamps a palm over the back of your skull and turns you back to the wall, facing your pitiful expression away from him. “You don’t need to be ready. I’ll do everything for you.” A calm hiss meets yours ear. “All you need to do, is lay back and take it.”

He digs into your stomach, smashing your insides to pieces as you lay paralysed beneath him. Cold marble presses against your forehead, cooling your fever as Keigo claps into you from above, a heavy set of hung balls knocking against you.

“Keigo!” You chant his name, broken as you wail out a string of pained moans.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanna hear.” Keigo practically howls. “Let’s be animals baby!”

The domes of his knees crash down either side of you, evidence of his newly contorted position as he ruts into your cunt, foaming at the mouth where his teeth grind. “Yes, yes, yes. Fuck yes. Oh, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum. Gonna’ breed this pretty muff full ‘a seed.”

“Keigo, no!”

Funny you seem to think you’re still in charge. After this, you’re never gonna be empty again. He’s gonna stuff you one kid after another and as many as it takes until you become his cute little housewife. The kind that only cooks and cleans and looks after his babies while he’s out working and providing. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together sweet pea.

Keigo belts with laughter as you scream, thrashing and jerking beneath him as he spurts, spraying his seed deep inside your belly and then some. He slips out halfway, looking down to admire the ring of white sewing your gummy crevice together. “Mmh, now that’s what I’m talking about..”

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tightjeansjavi · 8 months

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Mornin’ Sunshine

A/N: this is a result of my post horny thots so you’re welcome! ♡ ♡ definitely in the realm of self indulgent hehe.

~word count: 1.5k~

Summary: early morning slow sensual fucking with Joel Miller

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! Reader

Warnings: smut with no plot, consent, unprotected piv (please wrap it b4 u stick it) slow sex, mutual pleasure, handjob, pussy play, creampie, Joel is such a passionate lover, nipple play, edging, praise kink, pet names, hella chemistry between Joel and the reader, he’s in love love, domestic Joel, soft! Joel, caring! Joel!, he just wants to make sure you cum first! Joel, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, mood board is just used to set the vibe, NSFW (+18) minors dni!

Main Masterlist

If there’s one thing that Joel Miller loves to indulge in as he adjusts to living a domestic life again, it’s you. More specifically; early mornings with you tangled in his sheets, thighs still sticky with yours and his cum from the night before simply because you were too worn out to clean up properly. That’s how he likes it, filthy. Raw. Sensual. He likes being able to dip his hand down between your thighs and gather up your pooling arousal between his calloused fingers. The scent of sex still lingers in the hazy early morning air as his arm drapes around your waist, and tugs you firmly against his chest.

You can feel his wiry patchy beard lightly scraping against the thin skin against your neck as he presses soft open mouth kisses, humming as he breathes out through his nose. Your legs are tangled together under the thick quilt, and he knows you’re beginning to awake from your deep slumber when he feels you reach for his hand, threading your fingers over the top of his.

He’s grinning against your skin, nibbling playfully on the shell of your ear with his teeth. You can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your lower back. You love it when he wakes up immediately desiring you. Although, how could he not? Your beauty shone both on the inside and within.

He slowly rolls his hips forward, letting out a soft pathetic grunt when you gently push your ass back against him. “Mmm. Good morning to you too..” your voice is sticky with sleep, raspy, yet softer than his.

“G’mornin’ sunshine.” He croons. His voice dips down an octave sending a flush of arousal between your thighs. You’ll never get tired of his thick Texas twang. It’s buttery smooth with a hint of smoke and spice. It drips like sticky sweet caramel, and sets a fire deep within your belly like a splash of whiskey does.

The covers begin to rustle and bend as his hand curves around your hip, he gently squeezes as his hips roll forward once more. “D’ya want me sweetheart?” His question sends your thighs clenching together tightly as you suppress a moan from slipping out.

“Always.”

Pleased with your response, and mutual eagerness, his hand slowly slips from your hip, and down to the cleft of your ass. You're wearing nothing but a pair of thin cotton panties as the rough pads of his fingertips gently stroke you through the thin fabric. His eyes are blissfully closed as he feels the dampness pooling. It brings him a sense of pride knowing that he’s gotten you this wet, and he’s barely touched you.

“S’wet.” He hums sweetly into the spot just below your ear, leaving more open mouth feather light kisses. “S’all f’me?” He knows it is, he just likes it when you boost his ego.

“All for you Joel.” You let out a soft-sweet sigh as a smile graces your features. Your arm slowly reaches behind you, fingers finding their way into his soft bed head. He loves it when you play with his hair, especially when your nails scratch against his scalp. He doesn’t even have to ask; your nails are already gently scratching his scalp. He loves it. He lets you know with a soft grunt. It rumbled from deep within his chest before passing through his parted lips.

He scoots his hips back slightly as his hand that was presently toying with you, was now slowly pushing his boxers down over his hips. He sighs as his heavy cock springs free. The bulbous head is weeping with a bead of precum leaking from the tip. He’s heavy in your hand as your fingers slowly wrap around the veiny shaft.

Another grunt, followed by a pathetic whimper as you swipe your thumb across the tip, collecting his arousal as you slowly pump your hand around him. He only seems to grow harder from your gentle touch as his hand brushes across yours, finding your covered slit with ease as he slowly drags his fingers against it, applying just a tad bit of pressure. Your thighs instinctively fall open so that he has easier access to where you drip for him most.

You toy with each other awhile longer, wanting to get yourselves worked up as much as you can. You know exactly what he needs, and he knows exactly what you need. It’s a partnership based on balance after all. Mutual pleasure is something you both deeply relish indulging in.

You’re both a whimpering chorus of sensual sounds. Maestros to your own tunes as you play one another like strings on a violin. He grunts praisingly, you whimper his name.

He’s gently tugging your panties down in a slow movement. He can’t help but chuckle when they stick to your puddle of arousal that has built up between your thighs. He gently peels the fabric down past your calves and ankles.

The sheets rustle as the mourning dove coos just outside the open window. A warm summer breeze kisses your skin as you let out a breathy sigh. He drags the tip of his cock through your sticky wet folds. When he finally begins to sink into your warmth, you both release a shuddered breath as his arms reach up to encase you. His broad size is overwhelming, yet comforting at the same time. He fills you up to the brim, stretching you out as you accommodate his thick size.

You're perfect for him. The perfect partner. The perfect cunt. He knows how much you love when he talks to you in an unbridled, filthy manner. He loves it too. “Perfect fuckin’ cunt.” He murmurs against your skin as he slowly thrusts his hips forward into your ass.

“Always perfect f’me.” He grunts low into your neck. His teeth are scraping your delicate skin while one hand is firmly grasping around one of your breasts with his pointer finger and thumb gently toying with your pebbled nipple.

You mewl out his name, eyes shut in pure ecstasy as he slowly fucks into you. You can feel every inch of his cock move inside of you. God, you love it when he fucks you like this. You love the feeling of him buried so deep inside you, it’s hard to grasp just where he begins, and where he ends.

“Good girl.” He lets out a hot puff of air as he holds you as close as he physically can to his chest. His hips grind against your ass in a circular motion.

Soft giggles are exchanged as he accidentally slips out after pulling his hips back too far.

“Too wet?” You teasingly muse.

He chuckles deeply while gently releasing your breast from his grasp. His hand dips down to where your bodies were previously connected as he grabs ahold of his length and eases it back inside of you. He playfully nips at your shoulder blade, “ain’t ever such a thing of bein’ too wet f’me darlin.”

True.

Instead of grasping your breast once more, his hand gently curves around the crook of your thigh as he coaxes it to rest around his hip with your toes planted firmly on the mattress. He has full access to your pussy, more importantly, your clit as he wastes no time to gently play with you once more.

Your moans increase as his fingers rub your sensitive nub of nerves in quick motions, faster than the rhythm of his hips are fucking into you. It’s a tantalizing combination that has been concocted just for you.

Your moans intensify from the growing sensation in the pit of your stomach. His name falls from your lips like a prayer that is shared just for the two of you. Your sweet little sounds urge him forward. He knows you're close when you try to get away from the intense pleasure surging through your veins. He doesn’t let you. He pulls you right back against his chest, tsking softly under his breath.

“Shh.” He coos. “You’re alright baby. I gotcha. She’s sensitive this mornin’ hmm?” You can feel him smirking against your skin that is beginning to bead up with perspiration. He licks the salty dew like a man starved as he buries his face further into the crook of your neck.

“Jus’ wanna make sure you cum.” He reassures you with one heavy jut of his hips that has you seeing stars between closed eyelids.

“Jus’ wanna love on ya.”

“My baby.”

“My honey.”

“My everythin.’”

Praises fall against your sweat stained skin as he buries himself inside of your warm pussy as deeply as he can reach. Deep enough that his tip is brushing against your cervix. You cry out his name as your nails sink into his forearm. A choked sob, an I love you, a post orgasm laugh as he stays buried inside of you, not wanting to part from your warmth just yet.

He’s kissing you all over as you softly giggle. Your noises that he loves so dearly are cut off when his lips finally find yours. It’s a searing slow kiss. You can taste the passion on his tongue as he breathes out deeply through his nose.

“How d’ya want your eggs? Scrambled, or over easy?” He asks, a boyish grin plastered on his face as he kisses you sweetly.

“Scrambled.” You softly responded, fingers tangling through his hair as you pulled him in close.

Tagging people I think will enjoy: @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @dinsdjrn @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @amanitacowboy @saradika @tessa-quayle @darkroastjoel @kirsteng42 @yazsos @casa-boiardi @lovers-liability @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Banners made by the lovely @saradika

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pinkmirth · 5 months

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⸻ 𝑃ℛℰ𝒮ℰℛ𝒱ℰ!

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ the belmont family has endured for centuries, and it’s now up to richter to keep it going strong. there’s only one way to ensure the expansion of his bloodline, and it’s simple; knocking you up.

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 6k+ words of . . . ) richter belmont x fem!reader, canon-divergent, set in the 18th century (1700s), nsfw/smut, porn with very little plot, established relationship, size difference, nipple play, handjob, panty-ripping, p-in-v, heavy breeding kink, many mentions of pregnancy, missionary, tummy bulge, lotus position, creampies, richie’s a bit cocky (when is he not!), use of pet names (e.g. darling, love, good girl, rich, richie . . .), richter calls reader a ‘ cockslut ’ once, explicit language, lowercase intended, black coded, minors shoo!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱ℰ-𝒩𝒪𝒯ℰ! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ after binging castlevania (nocturne), i instantly fell for that gorgeous man richter & his baby blue eyes >< he’s got a sharp mouth, a pretty face, and nice biceps– of course i’m in love with him! i just had to whip up somethin’ for my favorite belmont (dunno why, but i heavily believe their clan is crazy about breeding hmm) this was supposed to be an itty bitty drabble, but it ended up much longer than i thought it’d be . . . and might i warn you that this is mostly just sappy, nasty filth. now, please enjoy this smutty piece of work for richie! ❤︎

richter has made the renard household your favorite place on earth. more specifically, you’re fond of his homey bedroom. it’s got this olde charm to it, and a wide glass window with french-pinewood framing; one that offers a pleasant view of the grassy fields and neighboring stream that surround the cottage.

over anything else, his bed is surely the best part of it all. there’s a fluffy duvet in that dusty-blue color he likes, one so large that it covers his long legs even when they tangle between yours. the quilted mattress has just the right amount of space for two lovers, and is comfy enough to keep you warm throughout the night, considering the chance you might stay over.

though, there is a downside, as nothing can be perfect— it creaks far too much when he fucks you.

it’s not often that the both of you can make good use of that bed of his, especially when the noise makes things terribly obvious. you wouldn’t dare attempt anything improper in richter’s room with his adoptive family just a brief set of steps away.

there's a time for everything, but not that he cares. you try paying no mind to richter’s lingering touches along your waist, and how he mischievously dives underneath your bottoms to grab at the fat of your ass with a wicked grin; all as his aunt tera boils porridge and beans by the stovetop downstairs. you’re sure he finds joy in the risk, or more in provoking you.

it’s only when the house is empty, apart from you and richter and nothing else, that you can have your fun. like now, for instance. it’s out of pure luck that tera decided to pay a visit to the farmer’s market, and for maria to tag along with her mother as well. they mentioned something about wanting to buy the best of what the early-autumn harvest had to offer, with the meats being juiciest and the produce fresher than it’s been all year.

you believe that’s why richter’s got so much stamina— the plenty of food he’s been scarfing down lately. or, possibly, it could just be him . . . nothing but him, and his unexplainable belmont genes that make him fucking superhuman. he swears he’s normal, but the way he picks you up with such ease as soon as his family steps out the door can only be deemed as unnatural.

he's quick to sweep you off your feet, in the most abrupt way he can, of course. richter grins over the way you squeal as he whisks you past the kitchen, ‘round the table, and down the corridor. his hands work at keeping you upright, palms firmly planted under your thighs. he carries your weight like that of a feather and doesn't break a sweat. but considering where he’s headed, straight to his bedroom, that’ll soon change.

“don’t go getting all surprised on me,” richter voices a lighthearted whisper. he kisses the part of your neck that he can manage to reach from above the collar of your blouse, “you know what we do once we have the place to ourselves.”

“you snatched me off the ground without notice, i’ve all the right to be surprised— ohmygod, richter!” you sputter out a laugh, with his mouth on your flesh being so ticklish. you can feel his lips curving upwards, taking the shape of a smile. your arms fling around the back of his neck like second nature, fingers carding through his fluffy brunette hair. with zero patience, as always, richter kicks the door in with the shallow heel of his leather thigh-boot, slips into the room with you still in his arms, and shuts it closed by pressing you up against it.

he was right about one thing— once tera and maria leave, this is exactly how it goes. clothes are torn off with haste (mostly on richter’s end, as you could imagine), heated kisses are exchanged, and he spits the nastiest words with that sharp mouth of his in order to get you all worked up. the night sky and moonshine from the window gives his room this subtle tone of blue, but he makes you feel red-hot.

richter keeps you right where he wants you; held up by his unfiltered strength, with your back to the door. one moment, he’s drawing closer to you, raking over every detail of your face with nothing but admiration swirling in his eyes. by the next, his lips are moving languidly against yours, slightly unruly yet undeniably passionate. you wouldn’t dare admit how much of a damn good kisser he is. the man’s ego would fucking skyrocket.

though, you really don’t have to tell him anything. the way you reciprocate his affection says it all. he breaks away for a sparing moment, but not before bringing his tongue across your bottom lip in one playful swipe. it’s light, teasing, and completely of his nature.

“i can see it in your eyes, y’know.” richter chuckles at how you lean forward to chase after the warmth of his lips again. he brings you to your feet so he can slip off his fingerless gloves and undo any harnesses. he then crouches a bit to unzip his boots.

“see what?” you airily huff, haphazardly undoing button by button on your blouse until it’s completely open. similarly, he begins to make quick work of his top. you enjoy the flexure of his biceps as he pulls them out from the sleeves of his cerulean blue blazer-vest that he drops once free of, allowing it to scatter to the ground. you catch onto its emblem; the belmont crest, neatly embroidered upon the breast-pocket.

“how much you want this,” richter peers down at you, eyes gleaming the prettiest tint of blue. “it’s cute, how obvious you are.” his upper half is bare, and the smooth canvas of his chest is all can focus on while he closes in on you. you’re trapped between the sturdy door and his heated body, and you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“you’re practically salivating over the thought of getting fucked, yeah? bet you wouldn’t mind if i took you right here.” he grins as he says it, staring unashamedly at how cleavage pools from your brassiere. richter creeps a finger underneath the strap, tugs it down and does the same with the other, dipping his head low to pepper your bare shoulder with feather-light pecks. before long, the bra’s at your feet.

“hm, but you’re no different,” you manage out, reveling in the warm lashing of his tongue against your nipple. it buds up the more he suckles at it.

“really, now?” he eventually parts from your breasts and rises back up to his full imposing height, carrying that faint smirk he forever wears. he looks so adorable this way— cheeks pink, lips spit-streaked. richter takes hold of your bottoms from either side of you, and swiftly brings them down with what you could only call pure impatience.

“yes, really. you’re just as desperate,” you counter him, reaching low to prove it. your palm grazes his bulge, and you give a few thorough squeezes; the kind that makes his mouth drop open.

“look at you, almost bursting out of your pants,” you quietly giggle, gazing up at him through the wisps of your lashes. richter wonders how you make such light fun while using your touch to undo him all at once. his breathing quickens, and it gets just a little heavier with your every attempt to caress his throbbing cock through his trousers. “seems like you need it more than i do, doesn’t it?”

“oh, fuck me . . .” richter whines, settling his head into the slope of your shoulder. your touch leaves him, just for a moment, to rid him of those restrictive pants. his cock springs free from its confines and bobs under its own weight. he’s got more length than girth; a good six or seven in size, with two thick veins running along the underside of him. the faint-pink tip prods at your thigh, staining your skin with precum.

he bucks against you hungrily, fingertips digging into the seams of your panties. you think you can hear them splintering apart. in the heat of things, he always winds up tearing your good underwear.

richter could ease into this moment and let your hand work him senseless, but there comes a time where he decides to end the charade. there’s also no knowing when his aunt and sister will return. he wants to make the most out of the unpromised time you have.

and so, he cuts your fun short with a mere rasp, “i’m through messing around with you. get on the fucking bed.”

no malice is found in his words; it’s just the height of his lust. you’d do as told, but richter’s already taking action into his own hands. with two, three— no, four steps, he’s standing at the bedside and splaying you across it. he snags off the remaining of your torn panties, left to suggestively decorate his floor. now, in all your naked glory, you’re bare and ready for him.

richter crawls over to you and kneels from above where you lay, situated closely between your legs. your thighs cushion either side of his lean hips. he leans down occasionally whenever you plead for a kiss, or wish to thread your fingers through his brown tousled hair. it now looks just a bit wilder than usual.

“c’mon— open, darling.” he hints at your legs, smoothing his warm palms down from your calves to your thighs. ever the compliant girlfriend, you part them nice and wide for his viewing pleasure. your cunt’s glossy and wet, clenching around nothing but the intangible air around.

‘oh, how pretty,’ he breathlessly murmurs, dragging two fingers across the expanse of your body. down, down, down, until they’re tracing along your slit. your dripping hole puckers against the pads of his index and middle, and you whimper when he threatens to push two inside.

“this wet, yet i’ve hardly done a thing,” his voice is ever boastful, “are you sure i’m the desperate one?” both fingers are suddenly replaced with his stiff erection, and he uses the precum-stained tip to catch onto your clit, resting warm and heavy against it. to that, you release a little ‘mm,’ and he taps against your puffy bud with the head of his cock— stopping once your hips start bucking for more.

“god, you just love to torment me . . . ” you huff out, vexation getting the best of you. “torment you? oh, never.” richter taunts, slotting himself between your puffy folds. he steers the way he glides against you by keeping a thumb at the base. “i just like to watch you squirm, is all.”

you know how to pry what you want out of him; a little bit of begging here, a small ounce of praise there. you lift your hips to grind against the underside of him, emitting soft moans whenever he rubs against your swollen clit just right, “richter, please. i really need your cock . . .”

“oh, baby,” he bites at his lower lip, giving in just as you expected of him. “i love it when you ask nicely.” in one fluid motion, he fits himself past the fleshy ring of your entrance and slips right inside. noise falls from you both; you’re gasping at the steady push, doing your best to accommodate every given inch, and richter’s letting small groans escape him, fingers digging into the tender flesh of your hips.

“always so fucking . . . tight,” he emits a shuddered breath, dropping his head to watch himself bottom out deep enough for his balls to nestle snugly against your ass-cheeks. you’re well connected now, to the point where his own pelvis has become sticky with your arousal. chestnut fringes drop into his view, and he sweeps his hair back with one hand threading through it.

“you’re taking it all so well this time,” he lifts his gaze to meet yours, a subtle grin playing on his lips. “such a good girl for me.” the connection between you two pulsates. he starts to build a delicious rhythm— drawing out for just a second, and pushing back in by the next. he watches you melt beneath him, your eyes sealed shut and mouth agape. a tangly string of moans tumble from your plush lips. richter’s no composer by any means, but the sounds he pulled from you is nothing short of beautiful music.

he’s without resignation tonight, and you notice his intensity when handling you. those naughty hands of his cup and squeeze and rub, his thrusts are fast, and you're sure that the resounding ‘smack!’ of skin-upon-skin can be heard from outside the window with how loud it’s become.

richter’s got your wrists bound above your head using the grip of only one firm hand, while he uses the other to keep your leg perched over his broad shoulder. his cock pushes deeper inside whenever he rolls his hips into your own, and your toes curl against the sheets with every stroke. when ramming in, his breath goes shaky at the sight of your body lurching, and pulling out makes his eyes roll back with how hard you’re clamping down on him, practically begging him to stay.

you’re soon to unravel, and you can tell he is too. his thighs begin to tremble, and his pace is less timely. nearing ecstasy, you already know what richter’s bound to ask you:

“where do you want me?”

without fail, he poses the same question by the near end of every session. and each time, you opt for the safe route, even though you secretly wish for more. your answer mostly varies on whatever position he’s got you manhandled in. bashfully, you’ll instruct him to cum over your ass if he has you bent over, or your tits if he’s been ogling them the whole night. sometimes, you’ll even let him decorate your pretty face with his seed— now that drives him mad, so much so that you always go another round or two afterwards.

but your true desire is, by far, much filthier than the rest. you’re nowhere near daring enough to plainly admit that you want his cum inside of you. as in, womb-filling placement. pregnancy-inducing, even.

though, something’s come over you tonight. you think richter’s finally ‘fucked you stupid’ the way he always cockily threatens to. or, maybe having him settled within you just feels too good to give up so soon. you don’t want him pulling out this time, you determine. what you need is for him to stay right where he is, to keep you stuffed whole with his warm love. all you want is for him to do it—

“inside,” is your breathless cry; a risky plea of the very thing he spends lone nights getting himself off to the thought of. richter isn't sure he heard you right— no, it must be a cruel figment of his perverse imagination. a bead of sweat's caught along his raised brow, those blue eyes of his carry a hooded glow, and his face, bearing a cutely furrowed look, grows pinker than before.

“what?”

“oh, god,” you whine, face gone hot. “richter, i . . .” the words melt off your tongue and fizzle into nothing.

“you . . ?” he plays around your hesitance, drawing out the word with some light goading. you sigh rather than responding, and it’s a dramatic one, because does he really have to make you repeat yourself? richter gazes down at you expectantly as he slows his movements, finding purchase on your waist to come to an unsteady pause. his fingers drum along your sides, awaiting more clarity.

your voice is small when you manage to confess, “ . . . i want you to cum inside of me.”

you think you can see the very moment that he fucking breaks. it’s like his resolve’s a porcelain vase, oh so delicate, and you’ve just pushed it to the floor and cracked it into a million tiny pieces. he releases this low groan, one that makes your pussy flutter at the sound of it. you can feel how rapidly his cock throbs from within you. you’re sure he’s about to paint them white.

“shit . . . you don’t mean that.”

“i do, rich. i want this.”

you blink up at him, pleading with glassy eyes and the very pout that makes his heart throb. god, he wants to kiss you so messily right now. and that he does— closing in to slot his lips against yours, working his tongue down your mouth, and separating with a distinct pop! you moan against richter’s lips as his clutch on your waist intensifies.

“you’ve gone ahead and finally drove me fucking crazy,” he thickly swallows, “you don’t know what you’ve just done to me, do you?” richter takes hold on both sides of your face, painless but firm. you mumble aloud what sounds like his name. he can’t be sure, as you’re muffled from the way his grasp is making your cheeks puff out.

“oh, darling, you don’t.” richter seethes, knowing how you like it when he gets a little mean, “because if you did, you’d know that spewing that kind of shit will make me fuck you like a senseless animal,” his toned body is hunched over yours, eliminating any space there once was between you, “that i’d fill up this greedy little cunt until you’re overflowing with my cum,” his octave drops, tone dangerous, “that i wouldn’t be able to stop until we’ve both passed out on this goddamn bed.”

“mmph, rich . . .” you weakly attempt, whining through your lips that he keeps pursed between his thumb and index that press into the fat of your cheeks.

“what was that, love? you wanna be stuffed with my cum?” his tone is a mocking one, but you dumbly nod anyway. he mirrors the rocking motion of your head, amused with your desperation, “fuck yeah, you do. can feel you getting wetter at the thought of it.”

you haven’t got it in you to feed into that typical banter with your boyfriend. you only want him to do just as he said and ‘fill you up.’ you're pawing at his bicep with one hand, and the other one clasps over the wrist of the hand he’s using to squish at your face. ‘want it,’ you start, fingers skimming across his arm, ‘so badly, rich!’

“fine, then. you’re such a needy thing,” he gives in, figuring you’ve endured just about enough of his teasing. richter holds himself by the base, and pulls back to trace your gaping hole with his cockhead.

“you asked for this,” he pants out, “to be fucking bred.”

just as before, his entrance is a smooth one; even if your grip on him is so taut that he can barely manage to move. you’re moaning again, aimlessly circling your hips in an attempt to match his movement.

patterns repeat themselves— like richter’s desperation that always manifests itself through harsh rutting. his mind goes blank every time he’s encompassed by your sweet, warm pussy. he aches for it, for you, as though he wasn’t just indulging. he was this close to release just minutes ago. the sensitivity is still there, you notice from how his tip pulses from within you. he’s been holding out on himself, trying to make this count.

richter dedicates the next several minutes to flipping and folding you into at least two different positions, bodies merging with a zealous haste. as always, the bed creaks and whines with every pivoted motion made upon it. nobody else is here to complain about it, so the noise is ignored rather than worried over. after all, there’s something gratifying about the sex being hard and thorough.

there’s more fervor behind his loving this time, and it’s because he’s got the end in mind. yes, the finishing is what he anticipates; once he can finally, finally pump you full of all the cum he has to offer. and maybe— no, definitely, he’ll have you knocked up after it’s done.

the prospect excites him more than it should; giving you a little bright-eyed belmont. richter’s always seen replenishing the sacred bloodline as a responsibility that only he alone holds. the very last one, he is. who else apart from him could return their clan to its original glory?

a good amount of years ago, as richter can’t bring himself to remember a particular number, his mother would present him with countless tales of their infamous family. how they’d slay monsters of the night with the utmost ease, gifted with holy tools and magic of old passed down throughout the centuries. he wouldn’t like to admit how much it’s gotten to his head; or moreso, how important he sees it to expand the family tree.

god willing, the pair of you will have babies, lots of babies, and mark the start of a new generation of vampyre slayers. it already helps that he loves to fuck you at any given chance. breeding you had always been lingering at the back of his mind, even back when the pair of you first coupled over ten months back . . . but he never really thought so deeply about it until you confessed your deep desire, and forced him to come to terms with his own.

“thinkin’ of you pregnant,” he reveals, voice honest and vulnerable, “god, what a beautiful sight. my woman, all round and full with my love . . . ”

“mm, that sounds— possessive,” you breathe out, body steadily rocking at the pace that richter’s set. you’re cracking your eyes open and sparing him a glance, just to see that he’s already staring back down at you. like you’re his everything, it seems. that twinkle in his eye is reserved for you only, and it makes you throb with want.

“oh, i’m sure it does.” he doesn’t bring himself to deny it. he wants you marked by him in every possible way. for anyone to take a glance at your rounding belly months from now and just know that he touched you thoroughly and fucked you right.

“but you should understand just how fortunate you are, baby,” he coos, “do you know how many bitches would kill for this seed you’re getting tonight? hm?” richter drones on, “you even sure you deserve it?”

he knows full well that you do. if there’s any woman on god’s green earth that he wants to give all his love to, it’s indisputably you. he’s simply rousing you up, making you ‘earn’ it. the man likes to tease, and you can’t help but enjoy being on the receiving end.

“well . . . you’re planning to give it to me, aren’t you?” even with him wrecking you, body sore and hair disarray, you're still able to check him. “i am,” he sighs, “and you’re gonna feel it all the way in here,” a large palm of his splays across your abdomen. from over your tummy, he feels the outline of his own cock, pressing in and sliding out before ramming it’s way back in again, courtesy of his rolling hips.

it spurs him on to see that he doubles you in size, so much so that his dick leaves a bulge. richter bets that he’s stretching out your cunt in the nicest way— just look at how you’re taking it with hazy eyes and quivering legs. no wonder you want his cum so badly; because who else throughout all of goddamn machecoul could give you such good orgasms? which other man could possibly fill you up with such valuable seed?

“i swear, m’gonna give you a baby,” is richter’s shaky promise, moaning throughout, and his cock throbs twice in a row. he’ll make you a carrier of the next generation of belmonts, he swears it. and oh, is he sure you’ll be an amazing mother. the thought makes his head buzz. he vividly pictures you, tender and swollen in the tummy and breasts, waddling around cutely due to carrying his very own child. he could cum just by thinking about it too hard . . .

and he does.

“oh, god, i’m gonna— oh, fuck!” his balls constrict, his pelvis becomes tightly-strung, and before he knows it, he’s emptying his thick load inside of you.

“yes, rich . . . give it to me,” you softly purr, allowing him to ease his weight onto you as he shudders from the high and his limbs go weak. from where he has his face smushed against your cushiony chest, he bites at your left breast while cumming some more. it spurts out in hot streams, accompanied by the twitching of his sensitive dick. he lazily humps against you, and a bit of semen seeps past your cunt, trickles down the length of him, and pours out onto the sheets beneath. you knew it’d be satiating to be filled to the brim.

he feels like he could fall asleep right here atop of you. even with his head’s swimming in a thick cloud of lust, and though the aftermath of his climax lingers, he’s still able to deliver slow rubs to your little bud.

“hope you’re ready for another,” he reaches down between you and swiping his graceful fingers across it, “because we aren’t fucking done yet.”

you hardly get a chance to bask in how nicely he’s loaded your womb, or the delightful tingle he brings when playing with your clit. richter, always a step ahead, uses his small bit of remaining energy to sit upwards with his back to the bedpost, and hauls you onto him so that you’re straddled over him just the way he likes. he gets the best view of your jiggling boobs this way.

“of course you still have it in you,” you lightly laugh. given his endurance, richter’s usually able to maximize his stamina through plenty of rounds. “i also wouldn’t mind being filled a second time . . .” you set your forehead to rest against his, bringing up a hand to swipe hair away from his gorgeous face eyes, “i liked it.”

“and i loved it,” he’s quick to admit, “should’ve been finishing inside you long before now.”

you smile over his comment and wiggle your ass over his semi hard-on, growing stiffer with every sway of your breasts in his face. his hands are busy holding you from either side, so you go out of your way to stroke along his cum-dirtied cock, white dripping alongside it. he groans at your touch as you help him in finding your entrance. your mouth falls open when sinking down on him, and he rushes to lick and suck at your lips. for the third time tonight, he makes himself at home in your inviting cunt.

and so, it begins again; his ceaseless tempo. your partner's grasp is hot and strong, pulling you off and slamming you back down onto him however he pleases. you cry out for more, and he’s capable of giving it to you, so he does. richter pistons up into you— out, in, out, in, molding you to shape the very curve of his veined cock. blush colored a fiery pink scatters his face from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“again, richter,” you gasp out, “cum inside me again . . !” oh, just look at that. now he’s built you a rotten little addiction. from here on out, you’ll probably always be left craving the fulfillment gained from him dumping his load into your pussy. personally, he doesn’t mind sating you. if it eases your mind and satisfies your heart, of course. after all, he’s surely developed a new kink of his own after tonight.

“oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you, cockslut?” his fingers dip between your bodies to slide against your clit once more, “to let me impregnate you again, and again, and again . . .” he punctuates his sharp words with the lurch of his sturdy hips, knocking up into you until you’re jolting in his lap, breasts bouncing against his solid chest.

he doesn’t mean to come across in an offish way, or sound so mean. it’s just that when he gets like this, with your warm body so pliant at his fingertips, his mouth just tends to . . . run. more than usual, he supposes. the belmont just says whatever comes to mind, no matter how vulgar.

richter’s bright blue eyes follow the motion of your tits with every thrust. he slams in, hips pressed to you as close as it can get. he’s burrowed into you so deeply that his curly patch of dark pubes friction against your bundle of nerves. he’s twitching at the underside for every time your velvety walls suck him in further. you’re trying to milk him fucking dry, he believes.

there’s only so much stimulation that the pair of you can take in one night alone.

‘goddammit’ he grits out. before long, richter’s fucking you full of another stream of cum. his orgasm, hot and blinding, triggers your own; you’re creaming all over him, wetting his cock with the juices you squirt out. you’re sobbing out his name and shaking in his lap, so he holds you. a secure hand of his comes up and cradles your head to his chest, stroking your hair and calming your spent body, even as the orgasmic waves rush through you.

a silence comes over his quaint little room, where the ambience was once intense with the steamy air of sex. a chill autumn breeze blows its way through the cracked-open window, cooling your sweat-sheen skin. his dusty-blue sheets are stained with all kinds of suggestive white fluids, and the bed has stopped making all that noise.

you’re still placed over his thighs in the same straddling stance, one you both feel much too tired to get out of. he tries at maneuvering so he can lie on his back, with you motionlessly laid over him. your breathing is soft and winded, but your heart’s beating fast. he can feel it, with the way your chest is pressed to his own in this position.

richter eventually slips out, and you whine once he leaves you. he peers down and groans at the spillage of his potent cum, pearly and warm, dripping from your messy little cunt in thick globs. ‘christ,’ he thinks, ‘it’s so fucking much.’

he presses a kiss to your forehead, and it stirs you from the sleep you were just about to fall into. “what do you say to me, darling?”

“hmm . . what?” after all those rounds, you’re not here mentally, and he knows it— he’s why. but with the light smirk his lips hold, you’re finally able to get it. he’s waiting for a:

“t—thank you,” you murmur out, and he tsks.

“oh, c’mon, be specific. thank you for what?”

he's simply insufferable. oh, but you love the man, so you'll let him have his way, just for tonight.

“thank you for . . giving me your cum, richter . . .”

he hums in what appears to be satisfaction. it sounds like the prettiest set of words when falling from your lips. he’d fuck you again if the both of you weren’t completely spent.

richter brings a hand to support the back of his head, propping it up a little higher than the pillows can. you snuggle into him, face nuzzling against the firm comfort of his chest, and he throws his arm over your waist, feeling at the plush skin there with a wandering touch.

his palm slides a bit further down, now planted gently against your stomach. it’ll start to grow in a little while, and get real big and plump with your baby fostering inside. maybe they’ll have your nose and complexion, with his eyes and attitude . . . he lets a grin overtake his lips, feeling more than accomplished.

“you’re a lucky fucking woman,” richter coos, hand lovingly rubbing over your tummy, “you’re gonna be carryin’ belmont blood now.”

tags go out to . . . ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ @blushfwul @springmarcheson @missmagicalprincess @kaennih-skitlles @divin3bloodlines! hope y’all enjoyed, mwuah! ❤︎

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bonny-kookoo · 7 months

Text

Jungkook

TERRITORIAL. | Softcore

"Don't worry- I'll take it real slow with you so you know I mean it."

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, Wolf!Jungkook, Good girl!Reader, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, Corruption kink, strangers to crushes to lovers, Fluff, Adult themes

+ Additional Tags/Warnings: none, some flirting?

Length: who's counting anyways

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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"Damn, who's pissed in your breakfast this morning?" Jimin laughs, trying to joke- but it's clear that Jungkook is genuinely angry with his packmate, heated glare sent his way.

"I told you, you were being too mean yesterday!" Hoseok scolds, smacking the younger wolf on the back of his head. "Now you ruined jungkookie's fun last night." He mumbles, looking at the youngest apologetically-

Though the wolf sits up almost proudly, a sly smile growing on his lips as he chews his food.

"Looks like he still got his dick wet." Jimin laughs, making Jungkook growl.

"I wasn't out to get my dick wet you dog!" He argues, before crossing his arms. "Was just.. driving around." He shrugs.

"You." Taehyung raises a brown before he sits down at the table as well. "Just driving around." He continues, making the youngest roll his eyes.

"You act like I'm always up to something." He accuses, before his phone buzzes on the table, quickly snatched away by Jimin who grins brightly while fighting against Jungkook's reaching hands.

"Movie sounds great, do you have one in mind?" He reads the message out loud. "Oooh, Jungkookie has an actual date?!" He exclaims, before the youngest wolf can snatch his phone back.

"Shut up." He growls, before he gets up to put on his jacket and boots, turning around once more. "Don't fuck this up for me. Next time you see us, just shut your mouth." He requests awfully.. nervously almost, before he leaves, door closing behind him.

"You think he's found someone he likes?" Taehyung wonders, pulling Jungkook's leftovers toward him.

"Looks like it." Hoseok shrugs.

"Huh." Jimin huffs, leaning bag with an almost proud smile. "Would you look at that."

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Your apartment is cozy, small but very inviting, and most of all- it smells like you and you only, something that Jungkook enjoys a lot.

"Do you want me to dry your jacket?" You wonder, looking at him carefully taking off his wet jacket, since it's been pouring outside. Only now do you notice that, once he pulls off his beanie, it's the first time you see him like that.

Damn. Those tattoos really paint a full sleeve and some.

Not to mention the fact that his black sleeveless top hugs his body so tightly that it leaves almost nothing to the imagination- and in a way, that makes you a bit self-conscious. He seems like someone who works out a lot and often- would he think of you as less attractive once he notices you hide no defined physique underneath your clothes, but small rolls and chubby thighs?

Maybe. Maybe this is a bad idea.

Interestingly enough, it seems like Jungkook notices your change in mood- posture changing to appear less threatening to you, tail waving a little behind him to add to the appearance. It helps- if just a little.

"I mean- sure? If it's not a bother.." He answers your question, making you nod before you take the heavy jacket from him, glad to have something to distract yourself with.

"You can.. sit down? Or, I don't know- raid my fridge." You joke a bit stiff, before you flee the scene, hanging his jacket up in your little laundry room where your dryer has already warmed up the air, everything smelling of your favorite fabric softener. You actually sometimes take a nap in here, especially during winter- you're not sure why, but the smells and warmth offers you the bestest naps, especially when you sleep on your thick feather filled quilt.

It's an odd habit. Will he think you're weird if he finds out about that?

Once you return to your living room and kitchen space, you find Jungkook already looking inside the fridge, scanning the different snacks and drinks in there, visibly curious as his tail stands high. You can't help it, in that moment-

sneakily tugging just a little on the very tip, causing him to snap around, startled.

"Sorry!" You apologize immediately, shrinking back a little. "I- that was rude-" You start, when he wags his tail so much it smacks against the open fridge door, his laughter ringing through the small space of the apartment.

"No worries, was just caught off guard-" He reassures with a grin. "-you're really quiet. And those ears work really well!" He jokes, pointing to his pierced ear.

"Should I be louder then?" You wonder, reaching past him for a bottle of water. "So you can hear me?" You ask, and he looks at you for a second, before he chuckles, throwing his head back.

"You're so cute!" He barks out, before he closes your fridge, following you back towards your couch. And there, you sit as if you're being scolded almost- hugging your legs in the very corner, too shy to really be comfortable around him, and of course- he notices.

"What's making you uncomfortable right now?" He wonders, zapping through the recommended shows on your TV.

"Huh?" You ask, looking at him. "Nothing. I'm fine!" You laugh, though even that sounds more like you're just trying to pacify him, and it reminds him of one of his packmates' mates, back when she first met the whole group.

You're acting very similar. Intimidated, unsure where your place is. Trying not to step out of line.

"Hm, you're not." He chuckles, sitting back a little more relaxed. "Is it the tattoos? They're off-putting to some, my mom doesn't like them either." He chuckles, trying to ease the tension- something he craves out of pure instinct, because, considering his interest in you, he can't have his possible future mate be this uneasy around him.

He's supposed to be your person of safety and protection, someone you can and want to rely on- not someone you're scared of, in any way.

"No- not really." You shake your head, looking at them from the distance, noticing the colors and intricate details in some parts. "Just.. I don't know." You mumble.

"Is it the muscle?" He wonders, head tilting to the side a bit, and when you look away and adjust your position a little, he clicks his tongue. "Ah, please don't worry. I know how to control my strength!" He jokes playfully, but you shake your head. "No?"

"It's not.. that, at least not really?" You wonder, deciding that you better rip off the bandaid right now so it'll hurt less later. "You're just.. you look really fit, and I'm not. I'm lazy." You explain, without any demeaning tone thrown at yourself. "I don't really do any.. working out." You say, and he shrugs.

"Fine by me. It's your body, not mine." He offers, and you're unsure what to think about that statement.

Growing up, you learned from both your family and past friendships and relationships even, that every sentence uttered by mankind has some sort of second meaning. It created some sort of imposter syndrome for you in a way, as if every praise and compliment had some sort of background to it. Like you didn't deserve it- and people were simply too nice to tell you that blunt and openly.

So maybe it's not him saying that it's your choice and he doesn't mind it- but him saying that he's simply aware of the fact that he can't force you to do anything, but that he's glad he's not in your place. It's a far reach, and you know this- but the petty demon inside your head just won't shut up, ever.

Luckily however, the wolf next to you on the couch seems to have telepathic powers or something- or maybe he can smell your feelings? Because he immediately adds something to his words to soften up his statement. "The most important thing for me is that you're healthy and happy. I don't need anything else, really." He smiles encouragingly, and you shrug, before nodding.

"I guess." You just mumble, letting the awkward silence wash over you both while Jungkook chooses a movie, logging into his own account on your streaming service- something you notice. "You can just buy it-" You say, but he chuckles.

"Nop. Let me do that- I'd feel bad otherwise." He explains, buying the movie with his own money. So his last name is Jeon? You really didn't mean to look at it, but it's hard not to. It's when the movie starts that he leans a bit more onto your little sofa, opening his arms. "Can we cuddle?" He wonders, and you look at him a bit like a deer in the headlights. "I promise my friend down there will behave. I just wanna have you close- is that okay?" He wonders, and you shrug, unsure how to approach it.

Considering how long you've been living by yourself, you feel like you forgot how to properly.. cuddle at all. And it's like you just realize that right now- when was the last time you hugged someone? Held someone's hand? Or just sat close to someone else?

"You don't have to. I just.. wanna make you feel more at ease." He softly says, pausing the movie on the TV. "If you're not ready to be this close to me yet that's fine, and understandable. We can try another time-" He starts, but you shake your head.

"I just.. I've been living alone for a while now." You say, opening up at least a little bit. "I'm.. I don't know, it feels awkward now." You admit, and he nods, soaking up the info you give him.

"Alright, I can work with that." He smiles. "We can take it slow and easy, no issues." He shrugs, setting down his hands again.

And that's where they stay, as you both simply watch the movie-

Jungkook quietly leaving after you fall asleep, but not before putting a blanket from the couch over your body.

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"I can't promise you they won't be weird-" Jungkook chuckles through the speaker in your helmet- a new one now, that you suspect he might've bought just for you, because it's a lot smaller and fits way better than the other one you've been given before. "-but I'll keep them in check." he reassures you.

"Are you like, the leader?" You wonder, unsure, and he chuckles again, stopping at a red light.

"No, I'll tell you who's who when we're there- I'm just a regular member, nothing more nothing less." He shrugs, one of his hands leaving the handle of his bike to rest on your thigh next to his leg, running up and down absentmindedly. "Is that okay? Or too much?" He asks, looking back for a second, though you can't see his face with the helmet covering his head entirely.

"That's fine." You say, genuinely meaning it- and you can't see it, but he's grinning brightly at this small step forwards, tail wagging. He's noticed you leaning against his back a lot more this time, slowly seeming to grow more comfortable on his bike, even so much so that you've begun to instinctively sit in the proper way to make driving easy for him.

And he also really enjoys you clinging onto him not in fear but comfort- but that's besides the main point.

The moment you arrive, everyone already standing around with their own bikes or by themselves, it's very clear that Jungkook's whole.. adventures with you has made the round. People are whistling and laughing, but it's also clear that it's just to tease him, and not in bad nature. You can even hear someone cooing when Jungkook reaches out to help you take your helmet off, bike standing secure on the kickstand, his own helmet already having been taken off. "Don't mind them. I'm the youngest of the pack." He admits, and you nod, smiling.

"You'll handle it, I'm sure." You agree, and he grins proudly, before he helps you get off the bike.

"Oh look at them, this is so cute!" Someone laughs, commenting probably on the fact that Jungkook had taken your hand in his to maybe offer you some extra security- something you appreciate.

"Please stop, you're scaring her off." He whines, as someone walks up beside you.

"Jungkook's right. Leave him be." A tall guy says, before he looks at you kindly. "I'm namjoon- not sure if he's told you already, but I'm the pack leader here " he offers, and you nod in greeting, smiling back. "I hope he treats you well- if not I'm gonna have to have a word with him." He jokingly threatens, making Jungkook roll his eyes.

"I'm treating her very well, thanks for asking." He snaps back, and you can't help but giggle a little at the banter they're both participating in.

Up close and personal like this, the whole pack of wolves doesn't actually feel all that threatening.

They're clearly playing around with him, teasing whenever he does anything considered affectionate towards you, and it's almost cute to see him glare at his friends for it. What makes you even happier is the fact that he doesn't mind being seen- he still makes sure you're always comfortable, checks in if you want to leave or if you're cold or if you're tired.

Right now, he's got you sat on his thigh, as he's sitting on the sidewalk- when there seems to be some tension rising, multiple wolves now moving to stand almost protectively in front of the rest. "Hey- stay here for a second yeah? I'll just check what's up." He says, helping you stand near his bike, before he leaves to do just what he said.

The way his tail suddenly rises, standing straight back, shows you that he's in an aggressive-defensive stance.

Somethings going on.

But it's resolved with simple glares from the pack, as Jungkook returns later to offer you your helmet. "Let's get you home, okay?" He says, and you nod, letting him help you with the helmet itself. "Don't worry, by the way. There's just some tension- and I'd like to.. not have you in the crossfire." He chuckles.

That's a nice thing to do, actually. He seems very much interested in your well-being, and that's new to you. But it's nice. Feeling like you're special.

Back at your home, he's helping you off his bike, taking the helmet from you- and you can't help yourself, as you unhook his own helmet with a click, before you slip it off his head, and lean in to kiss him.

It's a quick one, his helmet pushed into his hands as you run off into your home-

One look back making you laugh, as you see him frozen it appears like, tail wildly wagging behind him.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💗── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He's awfully cocky next time he visits you, instantly leaning down as you open the door to let him in. "What? Do I only get goodbye-kisses?" He complains, and you giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

And he growls at that, though his wagging tail reassures you there's no anger behind it.

"You have to earn it." You say, and he glares at you.

"Isn't my giant crush on you enough?" He wonders, and you laugh.

"Maybe?" You shrug, putting on your jacket. "Well.. I'll think about it after the date." You tease and he grins.

"Well in that case, I'll be getting a ton of kisses after tonight." He beams at you, proudly so.

And you're sure of it.

He already earned himself quite a few.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines

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sleepyjoey76 · 6 months

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kingofthe-egirls · 9 months

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SKETCH: LUFFY x Y/N

fox tales

(cw: luffy sees your sketches of him, including a sexy one, that he wants to try! kissing, est relationship, first time cunnilingus, fingering, gum gum tongue)

(a/n: reader is a devil fruit user, kitsune oc)

Way to his heart is food, you find out. Leaving little treats for him like you leave seeds for birds.

he’s eating an apple

Cross legged on your bed

He leans over to look at what you’re doing

“Hey!” You say, trying to shield your sketchbook from him

he snatches it out of your hands with ease

holds it upside down, papers falling out

they’re all sketches of him

Luffy plucks a fluttering page out of the air. He tilts his head as he looks at it, before his cheeks glow bright red.

“Um—,”

“Give it back!” You yelp, flustered. You know exactly what he’s looking at. “It’s not—what it looks like!” You gasp as you reach for it, but Luffy holds you back with one hand.

“What is it, then?” He asks. His ears are tinged pink.

The page is wrinkled a bit, now. But you can still see the fine graphite lines you’d detailed over it. Lavender watercolor splashes over two figures, tangled together in a bed. One has a straw hat. The other has pointed ears and fox tails. You yelp.

“It’s…it’s—,”

“Us.”

Silence.

“Y-yeah…,” you say, embarrassed. You scratch your head, nose scrunched. “I’m sorry, Luffy, I hadn’t ever planned on showing these to you—,”

“Why not?” His tone darkens, and you look up. His eyes are in shadow, black hair falling over his face in spikes. Crow feathers, you think.

“I-I didn’t want you to be embarrassed, or…ashamed. Of me.” Your hands curl tight in your lap. Your tails are tucked firmly between your legs. You brush over them roughly, trying to get the frizz to go down. You don’t want to look at him anymore.

“You want to do this with me?” He asks plainly. You nod, face hot. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you try not to cry. This is humiliating.

“I-I’ve never done this before,” his voice falters and you look up in surprise. He’s blushing, but his hands are steady as he points to the two figures on the page. Faint pink eraser marks glow like a halo around them. They’re holding each other. His head is between her legs.

“Oh,” you squeak. “M-me neither.”

“Well,” he grins up at you, “Wanna try?”

Your heart nearly collapses in on itself. Like a black hole. You haven't done much more with him than kiss.

Yes.

You sit up on your knees, crawling toward the edge of the bed where he stands. He's wearing red shorts, and an open soft vest. He holds the sketch paper in his strong, warm hands. You skim your fingertips over the top edge of the page. It crinkles beneath your hand.

"Yes, Luffy," you look up at him, warm. He meets your eyes with a sweet grin.

"Okay!"

He giggles, leaning forward to kiss you. His hands press into the patchy quilt beneath you, sliding his weight in between your legs.

"Lie down," he says, raspy.

You comply.

What else could you possibly do?

Luffy smiles, sketch still held in both hands as he climbs up onto the bed. He settles between your thighs.

He searches up, around the room, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth. "So we can see it," he says, stretching out a rubber arm to place the watercolor sketch onto your windowsill.

The suncatchers sparkle in the afternoon light, sending sparks of rainbow facets spinning throughout the room. Your skin is dappled in amber-blue, scarlet ribbons dazzling across Luffy's squishy cheeks.

You portal up to poke one.

"Hey!" he complains, swatting your hand away. He rubs at the spot between his chin and his scar, where you poked, and you snicker.

"Sorry," you tease, kicking out a leg. He catches it, strong hand wrapping around your shin. He squeezes, and you still.

"Play nice, kitty," he says, arching an eyebrow. A tail flicks out from under you, but you don't say anything. He grins, looking back at the sketch. "Here," he says, lying down on his stomach, "S'okay?"

"Mhmm," you nod, vigorously. You scoot back down the pillows to get more comfortable. He fingers at the button of your shorts, smiling at you with crinkly eyes.

"Say please."

Your ears switch back against your head, sharp and fast. You squirm, red-hot blush forming on your cheeks. "Lu-uffy," you say, eyes sliding away from him in embarrassment. He giggles.

"Shishishi," he sucks a hickey onto the inside of your thigh. He looks up at you with dark eyes, circling his tongue around the scarlet bitemark He grins, tongue still out as he says, "Say it, kitty."

"Mm--," you moan, shutting your eyes, "Please?"

"Good kitty," he murmurs, before sliding your shorts down your legs. He brings your panties down with them, hooking his fingers into the fabric. You shiver, beneath his gaze.

Luffy is staring at you with his teeth sunk into his lower lip.

He traces his fingertips up the bare skin of your thighs, coming to rest with his head between them. You press them into either side of his face. He nuzzles into the soft hairs above your cunt.

"Smells good," he whispers, before swiping his tongue along your slit. You feel something sharp and electric bolt through you. You gasp, twitching under his grasp.

"Shit," you say, spine arching, "Do that again."

So he does.

Luffy licks at your clit, swirling his tongue over it in circles.

His eyes are closed in pleasure, a soft blush forming on his cheeks. Like peonies. He hums, vibrating against your heat and sending sparks through you.

“More, Luffy—,” you gasp, arching your hips up to meet his face. His hands wrap around your legs, spreading them open so he can lick at you fully. His eyes roll back in his head.

“Tastes—so—good,” he sings, laving his tongue against your clit over and over again. His tongue pokes into your entrance, and he inhales sharply through his nose. “Fuck.”

Slow, pulsing movements of his tongue as he starts to lick his way inside you. He pulls back for a moment, swallowing his own spit and your slick. His eyes are glinting with hunger and lust, and his chest is rising and falling in short, raspy breaths. He softly, gently pushes his tongue back in. He wriggles it around, and you scream.

“Oh!” You gasp, eyes squeezed shut as you careen forward. Your hands scrabble at his shoulders, clawing for something to hold onto as pleasure rocks through you. “There!!!”

Luffy sloppily fucks you with his tongue, with greedy laps at your clit in between long pulses inside your pussy. He presses the flat of his strong, warm tongue up against your g-spot. He swirls it around, groaning shamelessly as he ruts into the mattress.

“Luffy!” You cry again, shaking violently as something swells within you. Sketching this isn’t nearly as fun as actually doing it. “So good!!!”

“Sweetheart,” he moans, slathering your whole cunt with his soaking, stretched out tongue. He wraps the slithering tip around your clit, and pulls.

“Ahh—!” You scream again, writhing under him as he pumps two fingers inside your clenching pussy. It aches around him, fluttering and quivering as he strokes the fire burning hot in your gut. “Yes, Luffy!!! Yes, yes, yes—!” Your spine curls forward, and a racing feeling of striking iron rockets through you. “So—ngh—good!”

He crooks his fingers up inside you, still wrapping his tongue over your clit in sensitive loops. “Atta girl,” he says with his mouth open sideways, head tilted so he can fuck you diligently and urgently. He’s so sweet like this, so fucking sexy—

He says your name, slurred around his stretchy tongue, and with a gasp, you cum.

Sweet, like sugar cubes dissolving in tea.

“Ah ah, ah!” You seethe, uncontrollably twitching as you slowly come down. Luffy follows the sounds you make, slowing his pace accordingly.

He kisses the inside of your thigh, stroking your lower belly with a strong, sure hand.

“How’s that?”

“So good,” you reach down to pull him up into you, smooching wet kisses all over his face. He smells like your scent, which is weird but sexy and you like it on him. He slowly reaches up to take your hand in his, before lowering it to wrap around his still-clothed cock. It’s hard as a fucking rock.

“My turn?”

****

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy smut #luffy x oc #luffy x you #one piece smut #fox tales

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flowersandbigteeth · 5 months

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Meeting your Changeling Boyfriend

A/N: This is a mostly complete, somewhat somber yandere story with some complicated emotions, flawed characters, and NSFW parts. I'll post the parts over a couple of days to not spam

Changeling (Clark) x Flower nymph f Reader

General Plot: You wake up in a strange place and meet a friendly changeling who is happy to help you adjust to your new home

TW: future nsfw, domestic violence, isekai, yandere, jealousy, fairy prejudices

Word Count: 6k

Next part will be posted soon.

You woke with a start, your eyes flying around the room you were in. This wasn’t your bedroom. Bolting upright, you took in the space you were in frantically. The walls were roughly hewn boards sealed with grout. You were lying on a lumpy feather mattress under a thread-worn quilt. A small woodstove in the corner warmed the room with a few dying coals.

“Where? What?” you murmured, confused.

Looking down, you realized you wore a long blue dress with a bow collar. It was simple but fit you well and was a pretty contrast to your skin.

This was not your home. These were not your clothes. The last thing you remembered you’d gone to bed in your pajamas. You pinched your wrist, wondering if this was a dream, but no matter how hard you pinched, you didn’t wake up.

Something smelled of jasmine, and you patted your hair, finding it wasn’t braided as you usually did before bed. It was also much longer than it had been, and vines of jasmine were worked through it. The length fell to just above your bottom in luxurious, thick piles. Trying to pluck one of the pieces of jasmine out, you winced as it stung, a drop of blood forming on the cut tip. The jasmine was growing out of your head!

You hurried to your feet, hoping to find a mirror. There was a small bathroom with a metal tub, washbowl, and chipped mirror. Blinking at yourself, you found that you were still you. You had the same features as you’d gone to bed with, the same skin, only now you had jasmine winding through your hair. Pretty silver hair cuffs decorated with little pearls and shells shined in the candlelight. Glancing at the tub, you found a few colorful bottles of oils, pots of cream, and a cake of soap that smelled like shea butter.

You jumped at a large banging from nearby and hurried out of the bathroom. Making your way through the small one-story cottage, you opened the heavy wood door. A man was standing in front of you. He was quite tall, with dark, blue-black hair that was braided down his back and smokey gray eyes. Two pointed ears peeked out from the loose strands of his hair.

“Good morning (Y/N)!” he said with a smile.

“Do I know you?” you asked, utterly confused.

You peeked past him at the forest surrounding the house. A field of beautiful flowers and juicy vegetables was enjoying the sunshine, butting up to a thick woodland. The man’s brow drew, and he looked at you more closely.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“I don’t know you…or…this,” you stammered, waving your hand at the field of flowers. “Where am I?”

The man’s eyebrows jumped, and he looked around nervously before pushing past you into the house.

“Are you playing a joke, (Y/N)?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“I went to bed somewhere else and woke up here,” you explained. “I have no idea who you are.”

He frowned.

“Oh my,” he hummed. “Have you met anyone other than me?”

You shook your head.

“I only woke up a few moments ago,” you said.

“And all of this is new to you,” he finished your sentence, and you nodded.

He moved around the small house as if looking for someone, finally coming back to you.

“I think someone has bewitched you,” he finally concluded.

You shook your head, confused. Bewitched? What the hell did that mean?

“Bewitched? Magic isn’t real,” you scoffed. “Who are you anyway?”

His head jerked back.

“You…don’t know magic?” he asked.

You shook your head, and his nicely curved lips formed a thin line.

“You came from somewhere else than Merida?” he asked, and you nodded.

“I’m from (Y/C),” you said.

“(Y/C)?” he grunted, rubbing his chin again.

“Who…are you?” you asked again.

“Sorry, I’m Clark. You and I have been…friends for many years,” he said.

“How did I get here?” you asked. “Where is here?”

He sat down heavily at the small table in the kitchen area. You could see the gears turning in his head as he worked through some inner puzzle.

"You are in the province of Merida," he explained. "This little village is Alliet."

Your mind was spinning, and you felt dizzy.

Clark suddenly stood and helped you to a chair before pumping a cup of water out of a hand pump tap.

"Here," he said. "Have a drink before you pass out. This must be quite a shock."

Trembling, you lifted the cup to your lips and took a small sip. The water tasted fresh and sweet.

"Wh-who am I?" you gasped. "My hair is…different…"

He gave you a half smile.

"I suppose the answer to that question is not so much who but what," he said, rubbing his chin. "Does your world have flower nymphs?"

Your eyes widened.

"In fairy tales, not in real life," you said.

"Well, here, flower nymphs are an essential part of the economy," he said, pointing out the window to the lush garden. "You cultivate all of those flowers and sell essences and stems in the village."

"I don't know anything about flowers," you said.

"Yes…" he hummed. "Though your magic is still intact, I'm sure. You haven't lost your blooms."

He nodded to the vines of jasmine falling over your shoulders.

"How…how do I get back?" You asked, clutching the clay cup in your hand. "I can't stay here."

A flash of recognition flared in his eyes, but he looked away.

"I'm afraid you can't," he said. "A soul-swapping spell can only be done once. If people could come and go at will…it could be chaos. Whoever did the spell did it at great expense to themselves. Usually, they require a sacrifice."

You gasped.

"Who would have done something like that?" you asked.

He blinked at you and then shrugged.

"The other (Y/N) is the most likely culprit," he said. "Perhaps she had something she wished to escape."

"But what?" you asked. "You said you were friends. You must know-"

He held up his hand.

"I cannot guess why she would have done that. Perhaps she simply wanted to experience something new. But that's not the issue at hand…the key issue here is that you need to be introduced to this world," he said, sliding a chair next to you and sitting down. "I'm happy to help."

You chewed your bottom lip, completely at a loss. If Clark was willing to help you, you were sure you should let him. He said he was the old (Y/N)'s friend.

"Aren't you sad?" you asked. "You lost your friend. She ran away!"

He sighed and gave you a sad smile.

"The old (Y/N) was always troubled. I'm sorry it is at your expense, but I'm glad she found where she wanted to be," he said. "I hope your world is all she dreamed it would be."

You blinked at him, wondering if you should tell him that Texas was not exactly a paradise. She would probably end up in a hospital if she ran around trying to do magic.

Deciding not to, you got straight to business. "I guess if I'm trapped here, I should learn how things work," you sighed. "I don't expect you to help me for free. You don't know me. I'm sure I can find something to trade."

His hand raised, and his thumb brushed your cheek.

"I don't mind helping you," he said. "The village is rather boring, and I'd like to honor my friend."

"I'll find something for you," you assured him, but he only gave you a bemused smile.

"First things first, we ought to reintroduce you to the village," he said. "This is a small town. People will notice you are not the same. It's best to be direct. We’ll start at the doctor and make sure the soul transfer didn't harm you in any way."

He stood, but you winced a bit.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "In pain?"

"No," you sighed. "Just nervous."

He gave you a wide smile, revealing pointed teeth.

"Do not be worried," he said. "I'll help you along."

He held out a hand to you, and you took it. His fingers were long and strong with black nails.

"Um…can I ask you something?" you asked as the two of you walked down a dirt path leading away from the house you woke up in.

"You can ask me anything," he said.

"I don't mean to be rude, but what are you?" you asked.

He chuckled.

"Of course, you would wonder," he said. "I’m a changeling.”

You blinked at him.

“Oh…I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means,” you said.

He smirked.

“I’m a type of fae,” he said, and before your eyes, his body morphed into something that looked like an orc, then a wolfman, then back to himself. “I change shape.”

You gasped, blinking in disbelief.

“Was that real?” you asked, forgetting yourself entirely and pinching his cheek.

It felt like normal warm flesh. He gave you a playful smile, pinching your cheek back.

“Yes, that’s all me,” he said. “I’m also a mage.”

He held his palm up to the sky, and black fire burst from it. You jumped, squealing, and he quickly put it out.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. This must all be very strange and new, hm?”

You nodded and gave him a wan smile.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said.

You looked down at your hands.

“Can I make black fire?” you asked, and he chuckled.

“No, no, you are a simple nature spirit,” he explained. “Not to diminish your value. You are extremely valuable; every town wants flower, tree, and water nymphs, but your magic is limited to growing plants and blooming flowers. Most villages take your protection to heart as nature spirits aren’t common and are very delicate.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure how to process that information. “I don’t feel particularly magical.”

“It will come to you,” he assured you, taking your hand.

The sound of people laughing and the creaking of carriages drifted through the trees, and soon you were walking through what looked like a quaint medieval village. Your heart pounded as Clark led you through the hustle and bustle, and you squeezed his fingers. He glanced down at your joined hands, his lips parting before he returned his gaze to the road.

“Morning (Y/N)!” a man with horns curving over his ears and hooves for feet shouted.

You gave him a wary wave, not wanting to be rude. Clark winked at you.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Once we visit the doctor, word will spread quickly.”

As you walked through the village, magical beings you’d only seen in storybooks went about their day. Fairies with gossamer wings fluttered about, and you even saw a centaur unloading crates off a cart. Clark stopped in front of a little shop with a heart on the sign.

“Here we are,” he said, nudging you inside with a hand on your waist.

You noted that the office was very messy, with books and scrolls filling the tables and shelves.

“Doctor Meriel!” Clark called deeper into the building.

“Be right there!” a female voice shouted, and a few moments later, a tall, lithe woman with pointy ears and pink skin appeared.

Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. If you had to guess, based on your knowledge of fantasy books, you’d guess she was an elf.

“Oh, hello (Y/N),” she said, then glanced at Clark.

Her eyes drifted down to your hands entwined, and she frowned slightly.

“Clark... Is everything okay?”

“I think we should speak in an examination room,” he said, and she nodded, waving him back.

This room was spotless compared to the front office. Clark nodded for you to sit on the examination table, and he turned his attention to the doctor.

“(Y/N) has gone through a soul swap,” he explained. “This (Y/N) comes from…”

He looked at you.

“(Y/Country),” you filled in.

Dr. Meriel’s mouth fell open, and she hurried over to you, her lips forming a deep grimace.

“Oh dear,” she hummed, looking you over. “That can be jarring on the body. Who would have done such a thing?”

She pulled a wand out of her coat, and the tip glowed.

“Follow the light,” she said, holding it in front of your eyes.

You followed her directions as she examined your vision, ears, and throat.

“My guess is our (Y/N),” he said, and she turned to look at him, an eyebrow raising.

“You don’t suppose it was because of Harri?” she asked.

Clark shrugged.

“Who is Harri?” you asked.

Dr. Meriel gave you a worried look.

“Um…he used to be a member of our village. He left for the capital to join the King’s guard,” she explained. “Goddess bless us. I certainly hope he stays there.”

“Why?” you asked, and her mouth opened and closed.

She and Clark exchanged a glance.

“Harri…isn’t a nice fellow,” Clark explained. “But you don’t need to be worried about him. He’s gone.”

“Oh,” you said, wondering why they all seemed so concerned. “I’m sorry.”

They both looked at you, miffed.

“Why are you sorry?” Clark asked.

You wrinkled your dress under your fingers, your eyes getting a little misty.

“I feel like the other (Y/N) was well-loved,” you said. “I feel like I stole her from you.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Dr. Meriel said, giving you a comforting squeeze. “Don’t think that, dear. Of course, I’m sad that she is gone, but it’s not your fault. In fact, I’m a little angry with her. She forced you into a soul swap against your will. It…doesn’t seem like something she would do…but perhaps she felt desperate. It was not fair to drop you into this world so abruptly. Many people don’t handle that shift well. People go mad, convinced their world isn’t real. It can…get messy. What she did was quite cruel.”

“Am I going to go crazy?” you asked, and she gave you a sympathetic smile.

“I think if you’ve gotten this far and not melted down, you should be okay,” she said. “Most people lose it the moment they are presented with an entirely new world. However, if you begin feeling…off…please return. There are therapies we can try to help.”

“Is she okay…physically?” Clark asked.

Dr. Meriel sighed.

“Yes, she appears to be perfectly fine,” she said. “I’ll inform the mayor that we will be welcoming a new (Y/N) into our town. It’s best you take things slow. Don’t try to do too much all at once. The last thing she needs is more stress. Perhaps save the introductions until the village has been informed of her…condition.”

Clark nodded and helped you off of the examination table.

“You can come back to my house, and we can have lunch,” he said.

“Thank you, doctor,” you said to the elf before Clark shuffled you outside.

“(Y/N)!” a cheerful orcess squealed the minute your feet touched the cobblestone of the main avenue.

She picked you up and spun you around in her arms.

“I was just at your house!” she said, glancing behind you at the clinic. “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?”

You looked up at the tall female, her thick dark hair falling over her shoulder and her head shaved close on one side.

“I-I’m sorry…I don’t-” you mumbled, not sure what to say.

You had no idea who this person was, but they obviously knew the old (Y/N) very well.

“Neia!” Clark said. “This…this isn’t (Y/N). Well, the (Y/N) you knew.”

Neia’s brow furrowed, and her face took on a thunderous look.

“What the hell does that mean?” she barked, her large fists on her hips. “(Y/N) and I have been friends since we were kids. You know that. I think I know what my best friend looks like.”

Clark put a hand on her arm.

“Dr. Meriel was going to announce it to the town all at once, but the old (Y/N) performed a soul swap,” he said. “I’m sorry Neia, the (Y/N) you knew is gone.”

Neia’s mouth fell open, and her eyes grew shiny.

“That’s not true! You’re joking,” she turned to you, and you trembled under her gaze. “You know me! Tell me you know me!”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, looking at your feet. “I’ve never met you before. I don’t really understand where I am.”

Neia’s face fell.

“But…I’m your best friend,” she said, her voice scratchy with tears. “You wouldn’t…she wouldn’t do that without telling me!”

“I’m sorry Neia,” Clark said gently. “That’s the way it is.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, frowning.

“(Y/N) would never do that,” she said, crossing her arms. “It couldn’t be. Someone else did this to her!”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’d go back if I knew how, I promise.”

She blinked at you, her face softening slightly.

“I-I’m sorry…I- this is probably terrifying for you…” she hummed, brushing a large hand over your head. “I just…I can’t believe-”

Again, her gold eyes focused on Clark, full of mistrust.

“I don’t believe (Y/N) would do that herself, Clark. I don’t buy it for a second,” she snapped. “Goddess, bless whoever the culprit is when I find them!”

“We all just have to get used to it,” he said, shortly. “I miss (Y/N) too, but think of her feelings. This is all new to her. Please treat her kindly.”

Neia huffed.

“Of course I’m going to treat her kindly,” she hissed, then looked down at you, lifting your drooping chin with a finger. “You ought to come home with me.”

She glared at Clark, then glanced at you, holding out a hand.

“You shouldn’t be left alone with him,” she said. “My family knew the old (Y/N) well and can care for you. This one can’t be trusted!”

You blinked at her, not sure what to say. You knew nothing about the social life of the old (Y/N). Would she have mistrusted Clark as well? You had no way of knowing except that the doctor hadn’t seemed concerned that you were together.

“I don’t want to be rude,” you muttered, “but I don’t know you.”

Her head snapped back as if you’d slapped her.

“How long have you known him?” she asked. “A few hours at most?”

“I-um…” you mumbled, unsure what to say.

“You’ll get plenty of time with her,” Clark hissed. “She’s only just arrived, and you’re confusing her! The doctor said to keep introductions minimal until she’s informed the town. You’re not questioning Dr. Meriel, are you? She left her in my charge.”

Neia frowned but pointed a finger at Clark.

“You’re lucky Dr. Meriel is a kind soul, or I would carry her back with me on my shoulder,” she snapped. “If I catch you mistreating her, I won’t hesitate to end you. Doctor’s orders or not.”

“Um…thank you for your concern,” you murmured, trying to diffuse the situation. “And…I’m sorry for your loss.”

Neia gave you a sad smile.

“Still a kind nymph, even from another universe,” she murmured.

She shouldered past Clark, sure to knock him over with her bulk. He looked after her, annoyed, as he brushed himself off, getting to his feet.

“Damn orcess,” he muttered under his breath.

“She doesn’t seem to like you much,” you pointed out.

He sighed and drew up a smile for you.

“Changelings aren’t well-liked,” he said. “It’s a stereotype that we’re all spies and thieves. Neia always hated me. We’ve all grown up together…but her parents told her I was bad when her dad found me in the woods the same day she lost her younger sister during birth and…well, the legend is changelings steal babies. It’s all nonsense.”

“I guess racism exists everywhere,” you sighed, feeling sad. “It must have been so hard to grow up as an orphan.”

He gave you a long, gentle look.

“Yes…it was difficult,” he agreed. “But that’s enough sad stories. I owe you lunch.”

He pulled you by your hand through back allies, avoiding any more villagers, until you reached a small castle, much grander than any of the other buildings. It was built with bright blue stone, and people wandered around the courtyard doing chores dressed in navy uniforms.

“This is where you live?” you asked, and he smiled as he pulled you through the front door.

“Built it myself,” he said. “Being a mage is a rather prolific occupation.”

“It’s beautiful,” you commented.

He led you into the foyer, which was decorated with lovely, carved wood furniture and large tapestries depicting mythical beasts. You stopped at one, brushing your fingers over the gold threads.

“This is all like it’s out of a dream,” you murmured.

You felt the heat of Clark’s chest behind you and his arms wrapped around you.

“I wish I could make it easier for you,” he said quietly, kissing the top of your head.

You sucked in a breath, and the scent of incense filled your lungs.

“You smell nice,” you murmured, and he gave you a squeeze before pulling you by your hand to what must have been the dining room.

“What sort of things do you eat at home?” he asked, and you thought for a moment.

“Most everything,” you said. “Meat and vegetables, rice, bread…the normal stuff, I guess.”

He nodded and grinned.

“Got it,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

A few moments later, the scent of roasted meat drifted to you, and a short man emerged with two plates full of what looked like a roasted bird and some toasted roots.

“That was so fast,” you commented. “But it looks delicious.”

“Magic,” he said as he took his seat nearby.

The man bowed to him silently and disappeared. You looked down at the food, unsure where to start.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, frowning.

You shook your head and blushed.

“Is…is it okay to eat food with magic in it?” you asked, and he blinked at you before bursting into laughter.

“There’s no magic in it,” he chuckled. “I just used magic to make it cook faster. It’s very safe. I’d never feed you something that would harm you, (Y/N).”

You nodded, feeling rude.

“Of course, you wouldn’t,” you said, taking a bite of the chicken.

It was delicious, seasoned with rosemary.

“Thank you so much for all your kindness,” you hummed, feeling happier the fuller your belly got.

He gazed at you with a smile on his face.

“I’ve waited so long to spoil you,” he murmured, and you blinked at him.

“You have?” you asked, and he straightened, appearing as if he hadn’t meant to say that.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, then changed the subject. “I’ve been wanting to visit the capital to do some business. Perhaps you’d like to join me and see more of the countryside?”

You had nowhere else to be and were curious to learn more about this land, especially what a city looked like. This little town was very different than what you were used to. You also felt very anxious about meeting more of the town, based on how Neia had reacted to you. The people already knew and loved the old (Y/N); you were simply an imposter.

When lunch was finished, he showed you the many rooms of his mansion, seeming especially proud of his laboratory.

“This is amazing,” you gasped, looking at the glowing liquids in glass vials.

He had a real-life cauldron, bubbling away with something smelly inside. The notes he had posted to the wall were written in some strange language. You paused on a small painting sitting on the desk. It was of you.

“What’s this?” you asked, pointing to the picture, and he blushed.

“Oh…just a painting I had made long ago,” he hummed. “When I was an orphan, you were my only friend. Nymphs survive rather independently in the old wood. It’s a different place than the forests near our homes. We met when I was hiding from Neia and Harri, and I brought you into town. Convincing the younger you to stay was my path to acceptance in this village. Otherwise, I would have forever been an outsider.”

“Why did you have to convince me?” you asked, and he sighed.

“Um…it’s a little complicated. As I said, nymphs can survive easily in the old wood. The animals see you as a flower or a tree and are quite fond of you. That’s where most nymphs stay,” he explained. “They don’t like fussing around with our affairs. Convincing one to move into town and using their magic to support the economy is…challenging.

You do more for us than we could ever do for you, and you have much more to lose by our hands. The earth, the water, and the forest are filled with wild magic and difficult to tame. Those who venture into the old wood, rarely return. Though I can heat food and conjur fire, I can’t make a meadow bloom or trees bear fruit. No spell I can perform will bring a fruitful harvest or cleanse a poisoned well. Only you can do that sort of magic. Nymphs bring food, plentiful game, and clean, fresh water. Some would capture you and try to force you to do their bidding.”

“Oh,” you said, chewing your lip nervously.

“Why did I stay?” you asked, and he smiled wistfully.

“I’d like to think it was for me,” he said softly, “but I probably will never know the reason. Many things happened since you moved in. It would be hard to explain in a sitting, but that’s enough talk of a past you will never truly understand. We must think of the future now.”

He hustled you out of his laboratory and out of a rear door, heading down a small path.

“Where are we headed now?” you asked.

“To your home,” he said. “You ought to pack. I was thinking we could leave tomorrow.”

“What about the villagers?” you asked.

He shrugged, looking away.

“They don’t deserve you,” he muttered, looking bashful again as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “It will be fine,” he finally decided. “This is about you. Not them. They’ve had years with the old (Y/N). You must choose on your own if you would like to stay. Don’t feel pressured because they want you to be her. You are your own person with your own needs. You may like the capital or wish to return to the wood.”

He stopped at your front door.

“I need to go home and make some preparations,” he said. “Pack whatever you like; there is plenty of room for your belongings. We’ll be gone a month at least.”

You nodded and smiled at Clark.

“Thank you for your guidance,” you said. “I know Neia had bad things to say about you, but I appreciate your patience with me.”

He gave you a somewhat sad smile and then folded his body down to peck you on the cheek.

“Pack and then have a good rest,” he said before turning to head back towards his mansion. “I’ll come get you in the morning.”

You spent the evening sorting through the old (Y/N)’s belongings. They were simple enough, clothes, potions for your skin and hair, combs, and other utilitarian items. You hoped you’d find a journal or some other diary to learn more about her, but there was nothing like that.

By the time the sun set, you’d filled a bag with the clothes you’d found in a chest and whatever pots and bottles seemed useful.

You were just about to lay down for bed when you heard the front door open. Heavy footsteps moved through the front room, and scared, you hid in the small closet.

“(Y/N)?” you heard a heavy voice ask. It was not Clark’s, but deeper and more raspy.

Whoever it was moved through the house slowly before a dark figure blocked the light from your bedroom. A large hand jerked you out of the closet, pulling you into the light.

“Why are you hiding from your own fiance?” the stranger demanded in a sharp bark that made you tremble.

He was much larger than Clark, with gold skin. Shaggy blonde hair fell to his whiskered jaw. Blue eyes bore down on you. Though he was unnaturally large and wide, he looked rather human.

“Who…who are you?” you gasped.

He smelled awful, like sweat and burnt tires.

Your question seemed to infuriate him.

“What game are you playing (Y/N)?” he shouted, tossing you to the floor. “Hurry up and start some dinner, you stupid wench. I’m starving!”

“Don’t throw me around, asshole!” you huffed at the man, pulling yourself to your feet. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but no one calls me out my name! Get the fuck out of my house!”

The man loomed over you, looking furious. His gold skin turned red with rage. He jerked you up in his grasp, tossing you easily into the kitchen. Your shoulder hit the stove, making you shout as pain shot up your arm.

“Don’t talk back to me, woman!” he snarled, stomping towards you. “I see you haven’t been properly disciplined since I left!”

A heavy hand came down on your cheek, making you see stars.

“Keep arguing, and you’ll get worse!” he snarled, marching out of the room.

You had no idea who this man was and didn’t appreciate getting tossed around and beaten. The moment he turned his back, you fled, wiggling out of the kitchen window. It was hard to find in the dark, but you managed to locate the path that Clark had walked you down from his house, sprinting down it.

When you reached the blue stone building, you banged on the front door, frantically looking over your shoulder to ensure you hadn’t been followed.

“Miss?” the short man from before asked, dressed in his pajamas when he opened the door.

“Please, I need help!” you gasped, your cheek and shoulder still aching. “Some man showed up at my house and started tossing me around!”

His eyes narrowed, and he glanced over your shoulder, hustling you inside. When you were past the threshold, he was certain to drop the large piece of wood that barred the door.

“Come with me, Miss,” he said. “I’ll wake the master.”

He set you on a plush couch in the living room and brought you a glass of something that smelled alcoholic.

“Some brandy to help with the pain,” he said, his eyes dropping on your swollen cheek, then scurried away into the dark house.

A few minutes later, Clark came rushing in, picking you up and examining you from head to foot.

“Harri came home, didn’t he?” he snarled, looking just as furious as the strange man. “Bastard must have failed his entrance exam.”

“I don’t know who he was!” you gasped, tears leaking down your cheeks. “He said he was my fiance then slapped me. I climbed out of the kitchen window.”

“Shhh, shh,” he said, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you toward his laboratory. “I’ve got something to help. I won't let him get to you.”

He set you down on a chair while he gingerly examined your cheek with his fingers.

“Who was he?” you asked as he looked through his potions for the right one.

Clark took a few minutes before he answered.

“Harri is the mayor’s son,” he said through gritted teeth. “He got it in his head you were meant for him and moved in. The old (Y/N) was incredibly kind. Instead of abandoning the town and escaping to the forest, she accepted him into her home, thinking if she gave him what he wanted, he’d be…kinder…I suppose. They had some sort of…silly moment when they were children that made her heart soft to him. She thought he was a misunderstood malcontent, not the abusive man he is.”

“Then why wasn’t he here when I woke up?” you asked.

His cool fingers spread a spicy-smelling gel on your cheek.

“He decided he was good enough for the King’s guard, and he went to take the examination,” he said. “My guess is he failed and came home in a bad mood.”

“No one stopped him from abusing the old (Y/N)?” you asked, and he looked solemn.

“He’s not the way he is with you with the rest of the town,” he grumbled. “They see a charismatic, charming man. He hides his temper well, and (Y/N) covered for him. He and Neia are very close. (Y/N) refused to let me…do anything about it. Only Doctor Meriel and I knew because she often treated the old (Y/N)’s bruises. She thought she loved him. She thought she could fix him. The whole town supported the match. They were going to be married when he was accepted into the guard.”

“Is that why she soul-swapped me?” you asked, and he gave you a long look as if he were thinking deeply about something. “To get away from him without upsetting the town?”

“Yes, that is likely,” he said but didn’t elaborate.

“Well, I don’t want to be married to him,” you said, tears filling your eyes again.

“Where else does it hurt?” he asked, looking down.

You rolled up your sleeve, and he also applied the soothing gel to your shoulder.

“I won’t let him have you,” he muttered, gazing into your eyes with his stormy irises.

You heard a banging and winced.

“Stay here,” he said sharply, and before your eyes dissolved into a puff of smoke.

You couldn’t just sit there waiting for something to happen, so you hurried back down to the first floor, peering out of one of the windows. Clark was standing in front of him, preventing him from entering

“Hand over my wife, changeling!” Harri barked at Clark.”I know you have her!”

You would have been frightened to stare down such a massive man, but he seemed unmoved.

“She’s not your wife,” he snapped back. “(Y/N) knows nothing of you. She doesn’t love you, and I’m sure she hates you after tonight.”

“Of course she loves me,” Harri hissed. “She’s always loved me! You’re just bitter she didn’t pick you! Bring her out before I break the door down!”

“She came here to hide from you,” he said. “She doesn’t want to go back. You ought to drop this before you get hurt.”

“Like you could hurt me!” Harri boomed, pulling a heavy sword from the sheath strapped to his back. “I’ve already called the town guard. It’s only a matter of time before we chase you out!”

Clark chuckled.

“You know she soul-swapped herself to get away from you,” he said, smug. “The (Y/N) you’ve abused tonight has no memory of the accident that tied you together. The old one left you for another world so she’d never have to see you again.”

At that, Harri looked hurt before his face returned to a stony grimace.

“You have a lot of nerve calling it an “accident.” Just another one of your lies! All you’ve ever done is lie! I’ve told my father we ought to chase you out, and now I have a reason. This town should have never accepted a filthy changeling to start with!”

Suddenly Clark morphed into a version of Harri, right down to his big sword.

"You have a lot of nerve calling it an 'accident'," He jeered, parroting the real Harri's words. "You're just sour your own pitiful attempt to chase me out blew up in your face! The accident was letting you live! You've lost, just accept it."

Harri charged him, sword raised, and before your eyes, Clark transformed into some creature you’ve never seen before. It looked like a ghost floating above the ground but was solid. Long gnarled fingers were tipped with massive claws, and his mouth was impossibly wide, filled with razor-sharp teeth. His red eyes glowed, seeming eager for the fight.

He easily knocked the sword Harri was clutching out of his hand, long claws slicing his skin like butter.

You gasped as blood sprayed into the dirt, and the hulk fell to the ground, still hanging on to enough of his pride to glare at his enemy.

“The town guard is coming!” he gasped, pressing his hand to his chest to slow the bleeding.

Clark disappeared into a cloud of smoke again and appeared beside you.

“I told you to stay put,” he growled, back to his more humanoid form.

“How could I?” you asked, and his face shifted from annoyance to soft concern.

“Ready the carriage!” he boomed, his voice echoing through the mansion. “Quickly!”

Servants appeared from seemingly nowhere, hurriedly packing bags and rallying the horses.

“We need to leave now,” he informed you, pulling you by your elbow out the door.

As you passed, you stared at Harri, who was panting in the dirt.

“(Y/N) please! Whatever he’s told you is a lie!” he shouted at you, his voice losing its volume at the end. “You belong to me! You love me! That changeling has bewitched you!”

His golden skin was going gray, and his chest heaved. You turned away from him, finding it hard to have sympathy for a man who’d thrown you into a stove the moment he returned home. Clark cradled your head as if to shield you in his arm as he led you to the carriage his staff was preparing.

“Is he going to die?” you whispered when he’d settled you on the lacquered black carriage bench.

He plopped down next to you, slapping the side, and you heard the driver click at the horses to drive them forward.

“Not likely, unfortunately,” he snarled. “The bastard is half ogre. They heal quickly. He’ll tell his father I tried to murder him, however. Which is why we need to leave.”

“How could the other (Y/N) decide to marry that guy?” you murmured, utterly confused. “He’s horrible.”

“I don’t understand it either,” Clark said quietly, stroking your head with his arm wrapped around you. “As I said, the old (Y/N) was troubled.”

He brightened a bit, smiling at you.

“But you have a whole new life ahead of you, darling,” he said. “There’s no reason for you to live in her past. I should have never let you stay in this village in the first place. You don’t belong here.”

You gave him a wan nod, leaning into his warm chest. There was so much happening around you that you didn’t understand, but Clark felt like an anchor in the storm.

“Will they come after us?” you asked, and he shrugged.

“I bespelled the carriage,” he said. “They cannot see us. You are safe.”

“But what about all your things?” you asked. “Your laboratory?”

He smiled at you.

“All of those things can be replaced,” he said. “Your life is far more important. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Where are we going?” you ventured, and he looked thoughtful.

“To the coast, then we’ll take a ship out of Merida,” he explained. “Across the sea, there’s a province named Ilirion where you will be safe. Enough questions; you need to rest.”

The last four words were said in an odd lilt, and you felt your eyes getting heavy. You notched your head in the crook of his neck, and his arm wrapped around you. You fell asleep, the spicy smell of incense filling your breath.

331 notes · View notes

genderbinaryisforlosers · 2 years

Photo

everyone give it up for knickolas pterodactyl hob. rue certainly has

[id: Two digital drawings depicting a scene from A Court of Fey and Flowers; Hob, Andhera, Binx, and Rue meet in the abandoned tailor’s shop. In the first image, Andhera and Hob stand side by side, with Andhera touching the back of his neck and smiling at Hob as his stormcloud brews, and Hob standing with his hat tucked under his arm, nervously saying, “The K in K.P. stands for Knickolas.” In the second image, Rue rests their face on their claw and above their head in cursive script, surrounded by hearts and peonies, are the words, “I Love Him.” At their side, Binx looks confused, with question marks gathering around her head. /end id]

more detailed description under the cut

Andhera is a young Unseelie faerie with dark plum-coloured skin, extremely long pointed ears, and ember-red irises on black sclerae. His hair is in messy curls flopping down to the side, and streaked with dark grey. He is wearing his usual gold and black robe, exposing his chest, which is shiny from the drizzle raining down from their cloud. He is wearing a gold circlet on his head and several matching earrings in their extremely long ears. He is smiling gently with his eyebrows raised, looking in Hob’s direction. Their cloud is dark, subtly cracking with pink-purple lightning, and some of the peaks look like the tops of hearts.

Hob is a fluffy brown bugbear with large fangs and tall pointed ears. He is dressed down, wearing a plain navy-blue greatcoat with his cavalry hat tucked under one arm and his other behind his back. His brow is furrowed, and he is looking towards the ceiling, with comical droplets of sweat jumping off his forehead. His eyes are luminous yellow in the dark.

Rue is a gigantic owlbear (bipedal, top half owl and bottom half bear) with a barn owl’s face and dark talons. They have yellow-green-tinted feathers that become dark khaki as they get longer. They have big, shiny black eyes, and pink speckles around them. They are wearing a multicoloured quilted jacket over an ornate red doublet, and a single-shoulder forest green cape with a leather pauldron. The pauldron is engraved with golden peonies, and pink peonies also bloom around their thought of “I Love Him.” They are also wearing a dark pink floppy cap with a peacock’s feather stuck in it.

Binx is a very short moth faerie, with brown moth wings folded at their back. She has dark purple, short-ish messy hair and purple eyes. She is dressed in dark purple and bronze, with detailing like damselfly wings. Her ears are medium-sized and pointed, and she also has fluffy moth feelers. She is covered in pinkish blotches on her cheeks and shoulders, and her skin is otherwise light brown. Their eyebrows are styled in dots, and they are wearing purple lipstick and a paperclip as a hair clip. The question marks around them are purple, and resemble streaks of paint.

The tailor shop is darkened, cast in a blue hue with only vague shapes behind the foursome. Shafts of light come through on Hob’s and Rue’s sides, leaving Andhera and Binx in shadow.

/end id

#kp hob #delloso de la rue #binx choppley #andhera of the unseelie #ruehob #battlemaster of ceremonies #a court of fey and flowers #acofaf spoilers #d20 art #dimension 20 #image described #my art #things i made #fortpolio

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eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 5 months

Text

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 13. blowjob

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “holiday blow”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ as iii is writing letters to his loved ones, you decided to give him a little treat underneath his desk

pairing: iii x gn!reader

a/n: i’m actually so ass at coming up with titles for my christmas event 😟 made this while i was sick, so it’s lazily written.

cw: nsfw content. blowjob. semi-public sex. kinda subby vibes from iii.

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“mmmh… you look so good on your knees, too.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

“whatcha doinnnn’?”

“writing letters for the boys.”

“oh fun! make sure to write to santa to get me that teacup puppy for christmas.”

iii just chuckled and rolled his eyes at your lame attempt of a joke, which was to definitely get him to buy you that adorable little puppy. though, iii saw right through your devious little scam.

“not happening, y/n.” he joked back, and he grunted when you punched his shoulder playfully.

“awww come on!!! it’s so cute! you can’t say no to this adorable face!” you said while waving your arms around, pulling up a very poorly printed picture of a teacup puppy. the ink was printed so badly it made the face of the pooch look disfigured, and iii stifled a laugh.

“i can say no, actually. that thing looks like it’s on life support.” iii said sassily, shoving the picture away from his face. to this, you gasped dramatically while falling over his desk.

“oh great heavens! my best friend won’t get me the gift i oh so desperately need! this is anarchy i tell you!!” you monologued rather interestingly, throwing in some poor shakespeare gestures that was paired with bad acting.

iii just raised an eyebrow at your shenanigans, clearly not convinced.

“not happening.”

“oh come on, iii! i’ll do anything! even the most humiliating thing ever!”

the quilt iii held between his fingers only continued to write fancy, honeyed words across the paper. he just sighed heavily, not thinking you’d actually go drastic measures for some tiny puppy as a gift.

“annnything?”

“anything i tell you!”

“you sure about that?”

“yes i am! i’ll even… uhhh..”

iii kept his eyes glued to the paper, clearly not convinced by your obnoxious explaining and weird, theater gestures. he swore you were high at some point. clearly, this was getting nowhere.

the bassist just dropped his pen in the ink bottle and put an arm on his desk, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow. “well?”

you didn’t even know what came over you, because you blurted out:

“i’ll even suck your dick!”

… well.

that’s an idea that certainly piqued iii’s interest.

and you seemed sooo confident about your answer too, crossing your arms and holding your ground. though, iii could see through those playful eyes that you were actually nervous about what you just said to him.

oh we’ll, he’ll humor you for a bit.

“oh? you serious about that?” iii spoke teasingly, his fingers subconsciously playing with the buckle of his belt, getting turned on from the idea of you going down on him.

you nodded, still keeping your confident face up. “absolutely.”

this was a nice turn of events. iii smirked and rolled his chair out to make space for you, allowing for you to crawl under the little nook within his desk. the bassist rolled back into place, and grabbed the feather pen again, feeling your eager fingers quickly make work of his belt and tug his pants down. damn, you really were excited.

“ahh… i’m starting to think this is less about the puppy, and more about you just wanting to suck me off.” iii commented absentmindedly, his pen dragging across the paper as he wrote his letters to his loved ones, occasionally acknowledging your presence by moving his free hand under the desk to stroke your hair.

“mmmh… you look so good on your knees, too.”

you just whined in response, not even bothering to reply to iii’s words. soon, you pulled down his boxers to his ankles, his hard cock springing free. he heard you audibly gasp at his size, and he just snickered.

“impressive, huh?” he mumbled, gripping your hair and pulling you closer to the head of his cock, the tip leaking with precum.

“maybe.” you mumbled back, putting one hand on his thigh and the other on iii’s shaft, holding the base with a firm grip that had him groaning.

“nnngh…” he sighed out, hand shaking a bit, hindering his ability to write letters. iii shook his head and gripped your hair tightly.

“don’t just sit there. suck.”

you could hear the desperation in iii’s voice, just wanting to feel your tongue swirl around his dick like a lollipop. it was such a lewd thought, but you loved it. you didn’t waste any time, and opened your mouth, taking him in whole and savoring the satisfying, salty taste of his precum. you could tell how horny he was, from the way he was gripping your hair and forcing you down more onto his hard shaft as you sucked him off.

“f-fuck.” he grumbled, trying to shift his attention on the letters he was writing, but you were too good at sucking him off. iii was getting desperate, completely dropping his pen and gripping onto the side of his desk while he bucked his hips into your mouth.

“s-shit. take it all, oh you’re s-so good at this…” iii whimpered, all of his attention on you now as you gave him the blowjob of a lifetime. you could feel the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, and constrict around it.

the feeling made iii throw his head back with pleasure, letting out a guttural moan while you whimpered around his dick.

“fuck. i-i’m gonna cum, y/n.” he warned, and you took this opportunity to take him as deep as you possibly could.

“s-shit! ahh!”

his eyes widened underneath his face mask, and he moaned loudly as he shot his seed down your throat, watching you swallow all of his cum in a single gulp. he let out a loud pant and pulled your head off of his cock, your mouth coming off the head with a popping sound.

he groaned heavily, and looked at your face. he chuckled as he brushed his thumb over your swollen lips, making you whine.

you giggled and nuzzled his hand.

“so…. can i get that puppy now?”

he chuckled at your words, and ruffled your hair.

“maybe, dollface.” he said with a grin, caressing your cheek. he lifted his mask, and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“maybe.”

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#holiday hoes event #sleep token smut #iii sleep token #sleep token x reader #iii x reader #iii sleep token smut #sleep token fanfic #st fanfic #smutty drabble #smutty fanfiction #christmas prompts #christmas

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acourtofidiots · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 1: Breeding & Creampie [Rhysand]

DAY ONE LETS GO!!!! Honestly, I've been super super behind on writing for Kinktober and this is probably going to be the longest piece I'm going to write. Between work, and my ADHD meds on backorder, my attention has been GONE every time I try and sit down to write, so hopefully I can at least get a few things going on my days off so I don't have to scramble together and fall behind on prompts.

warnings: breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, inappropriate use of daemati powers (idk the word for this lol)

Kinktober masterlist | askbox | main masterlist

18+ ONLY

“Cauldron, you looked absolutely ravishing tonight, my love,” Rhysand purrs, teasing the tip of his cock along your drenched folds. You whined, wiggling your hips back to get some friction, but your mate tuts, holding you still with a hand on your hip.

“Patience, my dear Y/N.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, the damn male knowing how weak his teasing made you.

“Rhys,” you whined, voice catching in your throat when he started to tap his cock against your clit. “Please!”

“Please, what?” Your mind was spinning, and it took your energy to respond to him.

“P-please, I need your cock so badly. ‘M so empty it hurts!” And with that, he slides into you, one glorious inch at a time, moaning at your slick walls clenching.

The world is holding its breath, anxiously awaiting for the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to make their move, show Pyrthian the power they have over their court. Your hands clench at the quilt, nails digging in to restrain yourself from wiggling your hips.

“Oh, my darling,” Rhysand breathes as he places feather-light kisses up your spine before gently biting the crook where your neck and shoulder meet. “I cannot wait to fuck a child into you, have you practically dripping at the end of the night with my seed.”

You clenched at his filthy words and could feel his claws tap at your mental shield. You let it down briefly, only to be shown what he was thinking: You, your arms holding a small bundle of joy as Rhysand chases another child around the House of Wind. Your heart swelled at the sight of your mate scooping the child up with a laugh and placing a kiss on their head. The two turn towards you, and Rhysand takes your child’s small hand in your direction.

You groan at the sight as your mate retreats from your mind, hips slowly thrusting in and out of you. “Rhysie, please. I need your cum. I need to cum on your cock.” You could practically feel yourself start to shake the longer he kept his leisurely pace. It would be a matter of moments before you grew frustrated and would take matters into your own hands.

Teeth grazed your neck, the dragging of his cock against your sensitive walls was driving you more and more out of your mind, and you didn’t know how much longer you could take. “Hold on tight, darling.”

You practically exploded when his pace increased tenfold, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and groans filled the air, and you were thankful to have a place of your own. You wouldn’t hear the last of Cassian’s teasing if he walked in.

You could feel the telltale signs of your orgasm, your hands digging into the blankets beneath you, walls clenching around your mate’s cock that was hitting the right spot over and over again. But it all came crashing down the moment you felt Rhysand bring his fingers down to swipe over your clit once before rubbing it in harsh circles.

“Come, Y/N. I want you to come for me. Let me fill you up,” Rhys groans, and you let out a particularly loud moan at his words. “Let me put a baby in you.” The world comes crashing down around you, waves of pleasure flying through your veins as you come undone. Your mind was racing, unable to comprehend your mate reaching his own peak and shooting his load deep inside you.

The room was silent for a moment. Only your collective pants filled the air as you both took time to come down from your highs. Placing a kiss on your bare shoulder, your mate pulls back, and you whimper as his cock slips from your sore pussy.

“Shh, it’s ok, my darling.” You hear him coo behind you before you feel calloused hands grip your cheeks and pull them apart, watching a mixture of your releases slowly drip down your thighs. He sucks in a breath before slowly inserting two fingers back into you, making sure to press as deep as he could.

“Can’t let anything escape,” Rhys purrs, and you shiver.

#actoar #acotar x reader #acotar x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #julia.writes #julia.kinktober

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superprincesspea · 4 months

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Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 2 - A Court of Sharks and Dances

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Several weeks after your meeting with Aemond, a raven arrived at Storm's End, inviting your family to spend the summer in Kings Landing at the bequest of Queen Alicent.

The letter marked an unexpected turn of events for the Baratheon family who had never been favoured by the Queen and, though you were quietly suspicious of Aemond’s involvement, you couldn’t be certain.

Either way, your father certainly was pleased by the request. Spending the next month boring you all with the rules on how he expected you to behave at court and how it was high time his three eldest daughters found a suitable husband.

You, on the other hand, were more concerned by how this invitation would lead you straight into the dragon's den and path of the very man you’d been trying to avoid.

Vhagar had been spotted more than a handful of times gliding over the bay these past few weeks, and you had certainly not ventured down to the beach in all that time. No, you had hardly left the castle walls, and mortification had stuck to your skin like a blemish only you could see.

So, when the time arrived for you to leave for Kings Landing, you were not in high spirits. Not that your family noticed. Too busy with their own thoughts on the power and position which could be gained from a friendship with the crown, they barely listened when you feigned illness or tried to make excuses to grant you leave from the journey.

Afterall, refusing such an invite would be akin to madness. No, in your mother's opinion, nothing could make a girl feel better than a summer of opulence and splendour in the Red Keep.

Jousting, dancing, feasts and handsome young knights. The upcoming festivities should have been the stuff of dreams for an unmarried high-born lady such as yourself. But you were descending into what felt like the beginnings of your own personal hell.

Unlike your sister Cassandra, you were not accomplished in music or the arts. Nor were you fun and vibrant like Maris, who was always the epitome of charm and wit.

Defiant and sour was how Septa Orella had often described you and that was on the days when you’d tried your best to behave like a lady instead of muddying your dresses. Though you were older now, you supposed not much had changed since then. If it had, Aemond would not have caught you splashing in the waves like a naughty child.

But it was too late to do anything about that now. Aemond had seen you that day and, if Septa Orella was still alive, you were certain she would have enjoyed knowing you were finally getting your comeuppance. Not that you would have dared to tell her your reasons for wanting to avoid Kings Landing. That was a secret you hoped to take to the grave, yet you had the terrible suspicion it would soon be revealed for all to hear.

It took over a week for your family's carriage to finally make its way through the bronze gates of the Red Keep. You supposed this moment was inevitable, yet it still came as quite a shock, your nerves frayed, your stomach churning. The only comfort was the cover of darkness and the late hour which provided you one last night before you had to face the other courtiers and, of course, Aemond .

You were met by a servant who had been standing by for your arrival, and he escorted you all to a suite of well-appointed chambers which had been readied for your stay. You even had your own room. A large four poster bed commanding its centre, curtained with heavy green brocades which matched the sumptuous quilt and feather pillows. On the nightstand, there was a stack of leather-bound books, and the window was furnished with a velvet chaise on which to read them.

Everything was perfect, and you would be quite comfortable here if it wasn’t for the gnawing dread which squeezed your insides every time you thought of a certain dragon prince. And there was no remedy for that . Only resignation, though you did not want to accept the idea of actually having to see Aemond until he was standing right in front of you.

In the morning, breakfast was brought to your family's chambers on gilded trays along with a roll of parchment which summoned you all for an audience with the Queen.

Again, you tried to make an excuse which would allow you to stay behind, but Borros Baratheon had no interest in the complaints of a daughter. So, when breakfast was cleared away, your stomach only filled with nerves, you had no choice but to follow your family into the Red Keeps imposing hall.

You were announced, one by one. Your father, mother, Cassandra, Maris and then you. All presented to Queen Alicent who seemed as uninterested in your arrival as her son, Prince Aegon, who was standing by her side.

Princess Helaena, however, was very excited by the appearance of three young ladies and was quick to greet you all. Without having to ask, she explained that Aemond was not in Kings Landing at present.

He was hunting with Vhagar in Dorne and, though the thought of him racing through the sky on dragon back made you shiver, you were suddenly free, and a whole world of opportunity seemed to open up before you.

Perhaps you would not see Aemond at all, what an enticing thought that was, even if you knew it wasn’t true. Still, you would not see him for a while and that felt like long enough.

When you were allowed to leave the great hall, you joined Helaena and your sisters for a stroll in the rose garden and you were surprised by its beauty.

Roses clambered and sprawled for as far and wide as the eye could see. Every shade of pink imaginable punctuated by froths of lavender and bright purple spears of salvia. It smelled divine and hummed with the buzz of a thousand bumble bees.

Accompanying you through the turns of the garden were a gaggle of wealthy suitors, who were like sharks in the water at the smell of fresh young blood. Yet even they did not deter from the roses.

You’d brought a book from your room to allow you an excuse to avoid eye contact with Aemond. Now you had every intention of reading it under the shade of a good tree, but Tyland Lannister had other ideas.

“May I join you, Lady Baratheon?” he asked gallantly, sweeping his long golden cape over his shoulder as he knelt on the grass before you.

Though much older than yourself and of no interest to you personally, he was master of ships and favoured by the royal family, so you had no choice but to smile and say, “of course, My Lord.”

He sat a little too close, his expectant eyes waiting for you to entertain him with small talk and flattery as young ladies are trained to do. But you were not as well-bred as your sisters, nor did you have any interest in the men at court.

You held his stare, your fingers quietly itching to open your book, but he was not deterred.

“I trust your journey here was pleasant?” he said.

“As pleasant as can be expected, my Lord.”

“And you find your quarters here to be suitable?”

“Indeed.”

“That is good. Will your family be attending the dance this evening?”

“I believe so.”

He smiled, satisfied and not at all deterred by your clipped, formal answers. In fact, the conversation continued like that for quite some time. Even when you made haste to escape from the shade of the tree in favour of the sun. Lord Lannister took it upon himself to escort you around the grounds with a keen interest in everything you had to say, and he was not the only one.

After a while, you were joined by Lord Karstark and Ser Harrold, all three of them vying for your attention in a manner you were wholly unaccustomed to. Your fathers banner men would never be so bold in their pursuit of his daughters, and you had never been outside the boundary of the Stormlands before now.

You were relieved when your mother finally called you to tea and disheartened some hours later when it was time for the feast and the first of the summer dances.

Still, you had no choice in the matter, though you would rather stay in your room and make good use of the chaise and your stack of books. It wasn’t just Aemond you wanted to avoid; it was court. It didn’t seem to call to you like it did to Maris and you envied her excitement and her gown.

Hers was new, the prettiest shade of sage green velvet while yours was honey yellow silk. You loathed yellow. But that was the price of being a third daughter. It had been a beautiful dress on Cassandra, now it was too old and unstylish for the eldest of the Baratheon girls.

You had complained of such maltreatments when you were younger. But your mother had always said ‘your face was your bauble’, and it had meant as little to you now as it did then.

The saving grace was your shoes, and they were beautiful indeed. Black velvet pumps which Cassandra had painstakingly embroidered with dainty flowers and vines while hers were plain.

So, deciding to at least try to enjoy the evening, you entered the hall, which was bursting with life and vibrance and, when it came time to dance, you were certainly not without partners.

In fact, you were spoiled for choice though Tyland Lannister seemed determined to commandeer your hand at every opportunity. If you were to be honest with yourself, you enjoyed the attention, and the twists and turns of each dance with greater pleasure than you’d hoped to achieve. The music was merry, and the elderflower wine drank like sugar syrup before swirling happily in your veins.

And that’s how it was for almost two weeks at court. Fun and Frivolity.

After the first few days, you’d almost forgotten the reason you didn't want to come here in the first place. You enjoyed all the lazy afternoons in the garden and looked forward to the evening entertainment with as much excitement as your sisters.

Ser Harrold, a knight of the realm and the second son to his father’s modest estate, had quickly become your favourite dance partner. Though your hand was still very much pursued by the master of ships. So much so, that your father had begun to imagine Tyland Lannister might even propose. An idea which gave you a new dread in the pit of your stomach.

So that night, some thirteen days after your arrival in King’s Landing, it was Tyland's attention which you were trying to avoid. So preoccupied with evading his advances, you couldn’t be certain just how long Aemond Targaryen had been witness to the whole scene. Only that when you noticed him, lurking in the shadows at the edges of the room, you could hardly look away.

The wine had begun to make you feel as light as a feather, but Aemond’s presence seemed to ground you to the floor like a boulder. The dance no longer feeling as merry and Ser Harrold’s arms becoming little more than a prison for Aemond’s scrutiny.

When had he returned?

Why did he look at you like that?

When the dance with Ser Harrold was finally over, you said ‘goodnight’ and retreated to your room without sharing a single word with another soul and certainly not the dragon prince.

Then in an act of self-indulgent madness, you tried to fool yourself into thinking he might have forgotten all about that day at the beach. Or at least forgotten the finer details, yet you could remember them all.

The way he had looked at you, the curve of his smile and the soft commanding sound of his voice.

You had never hated someone until then and you hated Aemond Targaryen more than anything.

Why couldn’t he have stayed away?

The next day, the routine was practically the same as every other. Breakfast in your chambers followed by an afternoon in the gardens. Only this time, the men who had been begging for your dances, could barely look you in the eye. Even Lord Lannister had no interest in the usual small talk and left the gardens almost as soon as you arrived.

You couldn’t stop the knot which formed in the pit of your stomach. Or the gnawing realisation, that while all the other young ladies were flirting and laughing with suitors, you were cast aside. A solitary figure in a crowd of couples with only your book to keep you company until it was time for tea, and you were certainly ready for it.

You’d never spent such lonely hours in the company of so many people before, and you were certain it was no coincidence.

Had Aemond told the men at court of your indiscretion?

Would he shame your family for your actions that day on the beach?

What was worse, you had nobody you could ask without risking exposure. No, better to hold your head high and remain as calm and unshaken as possible in the face of utter social annihilation.

~~~

Thank you for reading! So many people found this story so quickly which is exciting. I wrote most of this story at the start of last year and I wasn't sure if I was going to publish it but I'm glad I have. Hopefully I'll be able to post another chapter or even two before I return to work and real life in a few days. But what do we think so far? Has Aemond revealed all? Or something else?

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader

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afewproblems · 9 months

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Something Spicy (a first ever attempt at it!) based on a prompt from this list!

Also! If you were tagged in this but are not in the mood for Spice, please feel free to ignore!!

***

Eddie bites his lip as Steve lifts his hips enough to shimmy his boxers down his legs, the last piece of clothing separating them finally gone.

He takes a second just to stare, taking in the bright red flush that paints Steve's cheeks and the top of his chest, only just visible through the hair.

Steve's eyes are glazed as he blinks once slowly, and smiles up at Eddie; awareness fights against the space that Steve has begun to sink into with just a few words.

"Colour, sweetheart?" Eddie says lowly as he finally reaches out to trace his fingers gently from Steve's cheekbone down to his jaw.

"Green," Steve mumbles after a minute, he blinks again and smiles. His hazel eyes crinkle at the edges just slightly before he brings up a hand to hide them.

Well Eddie can't have that now.

He reaches out again to firmly grasp at Steve's wrists and lifts them up above his head, he presses them down into the pillow, crossing one arm over the other.

"No touching, wanna see your beautiful face sweetheart," Eddie whispers as he leans down and captures Steve's lips in a soft kiss.

He pulls away as Steve opens his mouth to deepen it, "Ah, ah, not yet".

Steve huffs but doesn't move from his position, his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm as Eddie sits up.

God, I could eat you up. I love you so, Eddie thinks before his brain catches up to the words and his expression twists.

Weird, and way too soon.

They've only been friends for the last six months since everything with Vecna and the Hawkins rebuild, and this thing between them is even more recent, fragile.

They've never really talked about it, only sharing soft kisses and endearments under the cover of night and the quilt on Steve's bed.

How would Eddie even go about doing so?

'Hey man, I think you're a great guy and I love fucking you, and you fucking me, and I think we should continue to do that forever if you'll have me?'

Definitely not.

Instead he says, “I'm gonna count every single one of those moles with my lips".

Close enough.

Eddie watches Steve shift slightly, his cock twitches in interest and the rose blush deepens in colour.

Eddie has ignored it entirely, since the boxers came off, and he has no plans to give it any attention just yet.

"You can stay still for me can't you baby?" Eddie asks slyly, as Steve nods, his chest rises faster now in anticipation as Eddie swings a leg across to straddle his thighs.

Eddie ignores the way his own dick brushes Steve's and the gasp they both let out at the brief contact.

He crawls up on his hands and knees and begins to hunt for freckles and moles with his mouth, leaning down to kiss along Steve's neck.

The kisses are soft at first, the barest press of lips to warm skin.

But before long Eddie is tracing his tongue along Steve's collarbone, connecting each mark in spit as he sucks bruises into tanned skin.

He feels punch drunk at the noises Steve makes below him and his own dick throbs as it continues to barely brush against soft skin and sheets.

Eddie sits up again as he finally finds himself between Steve's legs, which fall open slightly to accommodate him.

"Colour, baby," Eddie breathes out, his voice rough as he leans down and grasps at Steve's hips. He rubs little circles with his thumbs into the sharp points of Steve's hip bones and knows he'll never get tired of this.

"Green, so green," Steve blurts out impatiently as Eddie pushes his hips down into the mattress with a smirk.

"Good," Eddis says softly as he leans down to rub his nose along Steve's shaft, biting back a grin at the small moan Steve lets out.

Eddie places a few feather light kisses around his thighs as he gently taps underneath Steve's legs until he lifts them enough for his knees to be angled, his feet flat against the bed.

"Can you be good for me Stevie," Eddie murmurs, his voice pitches up into a laugh as Steve nods rapidly this time, "I need words lo--"

Eddie closes his mouth with a snap, he watches Steve's face for the smallest change of expression, the barest hint of recognition of the words.

He has to keep a better handle on this, it's too soon to be using words like that.

Steve smiles at him, he looks utterly debauched and thankfully far away as he tries to keep his breathing steady, "wanna be good," he manages to say before his eyes flutter shut.

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, and grips his thighs with soft fingers, squeezing them once, "don't come until I say so".

"Yes," Steve whispers as Eddie leans down and takes him into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around the weeping head.

He swallows around Steve as he takes him deeper, Eddie lets go of Steves hips, letting them stutter once, twice, as he fucks into Eddie's mouth.

"Oh, Eddie baby, can I?" Steve asks breathlessly, his hands are still above his head, clenching into fists as though to stop himself from threading his fingers in Eddie's hair.

Eddie hums around Steve, pretending to consider it. He wants nothing more than to let Steve fuck his mouth, to pull his hair and pin him down but today is about Steve. Helping him float away this time.

He shakes his head and pulls himself away, letting the flat of his tongue drag over the underside of Steve's cock.

"Patience sweetheart," he keeps his voice steadier than he feels as he lifts his hands to press on the back of Steve's thighs again, guiding their movement until his knees are pressed into his chest.

"Keep those there," Eddie says firmly, "use that core strength you're always bragging about," he smirks as Steve scoffs at him.

"If you get tired, use your hands baby," Eddie relents after a beat.

Steve nods silently, though his hands remain diligently above his head.

Eddie grins, his heart aching at how much he loves this man, and blows gently over Steve's hole, watching as it clenches at the sensation.

He leans forward pressing soft kisses against Steve that get progressively wetter as he begins to lick around the ring of muscle. Eddie closes his eyes and focuses on the repeated, 'oh, oh, oh,' sounds Steve is making as he pushes the flat of his tongue against him, mimicking the rhythm.

Eddie stops just long enough to suck on two fingers before lowering his hand to press the slick digits slowly inside.

Eddie groans as his fingers disappear into the warm, wet, heat of Steve's hole; he scissors his fingers and shifts to take Steve into his mouth once more. He feels his fingers brush against Steve's prostate and hums at the long punched out groan Steve makes.

"Oh, God," Steve moans loudly, he turns his head to the side and breathes out, "Eddie, I can't--"

Eddie removes his mouth again, "it's okay baby, you're allowed," he says softly before swallowing down Steve's length once more. Eddie groans as he begins to hump the sheets beneath him, desperate for some kind of friction against his neglected length.

Eddie begins to pump his fingers in and out, making sure to stroke his prostate in time to the bobbing of his head. Steve's legs fall open as he finally lowers his arms to thread his fingers through Eddie's hair.

Yes, Eddie thinks to himself as Steve's hips begin to buck up, the heavy cock on his tongue a welcome weight. Eddie's eyes close, uncaring of the fact that Steve is no longer holding himself in position.

Eddie loses himself in the feeling of Steve fucking his mouth, the hard head of his cock repeatedly hitting the back of Eddie's throat, the firm hands holding his head in place, the way Steve begins to babble a mixture of praise and moans is just too much for him.

"Yes baby, oh fuck," Steve pants, "let me fuck you, yes, God--"

Eddie feels his last vestiges of control snap as he tumbles over the edge, cuming into the sheets as Steve keens loudly, tugging Eddie's hair once more as follows after him.

Eddie swallows, continuing to suck and lick at Steve's length until the hands in his hair gently push his face away. Eddie snorts a tired laugh at the whine Steve makes as he removes his fingers.

"How was that," Eddie hums, his head buzzing pleasantly as he flops onto the bed and rolls over onto his back.

"Perfect," Steve sighs, sitting up and flopping beside Eddie, he has the widest smile on his face and Eddie can't look away.

"Did you float baby," Eddie mumbles as a sudden wave of exhaustion hits him, he turns his head to the side to face Steve and blinks slowly, smiling as he feels a soft hand brush his hair away from his forehead.

"Almost," Steve says softly as he leans down to press a kiss to Eddie's nose, "thank you for doing that for me love".

Eddie hums, he's sure that Steve said something important just now, but he can't help but let himself drift, weightless and sated.

"Anything for you Stevie," Eddie yawns as his eyelids flutter once, twice, before they close.

Eddie feels Steve settle beside him; he knows they should get up, clean themselves and change the sheets if they want to avoid a mess in the morning.

But as Steve hums softly, running his hands over Eddie's sides, the gentle rhythm lulling him further into a doze, Eddie lets himself sleep.

Knowing when he wakes, he'll be met with warm hazel eyes and a warmth he hasn't felt with anyone else in a long time.

Permanent tag list (and maybe a few people who I think might like this? Though if you aren't in the mood for spice, please feel free to skip!)

@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @steves-strapcollection @flowercrowngods @steddierthings @strangersteddierthings @outpastthebrakers @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @henderdads

#sweet and spicy #it is smutty sunday #the spice is there but its not like off the chart #this is fluffy too #steddie #of course #steve and eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #afewproblems writes #steve x eddie #based on a prompt #first ever attempt at actual smut so i hope its decent

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