fandom-gt

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: Stranger Things

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”Part 3 of the Stranger Things gender-bent story (https://www.tumblr.com/fandom-gt/784727143142785024)

Billy continues his ministrations on Eddie's clit, now only 'half' focused on messing with Steve as he is increasingly motivated by the thrill of exercising his power over Eddie as he feels every clench and quiver as her body responds to his delicate touches.

Eddie is a bit shaken up by this at first, but with the players at the table engaged with the gameplay and narrative, she hunkers down and powers through her arousal.

Savoring his position and Steve's predicament, Billy decides to alternate between teasing Eddie's clitoris and backing off for a bit, intent on edging Eddie the entire session while absolutely flooding her panties.

Eddie is managing to keep her players engaged, thankfully the DM Screen acted as a barrier to hide her nipples pebbling through her top and her squirming, while any verbal hiccups were attributed to nerves. She was torn between fear of being found out, and frustration at the start-stop cycle getting her so close to cumming without actually satisfying her.

As for Steve, he was struggling to wade through the thick swamp of Eddie's liquid pleasure. He tries and fails to grip at a slippery labial lip before another errant roll of Eddie's hips once again forces him against the sodden panty fabric.”

CHARACTERS: Genderswapped!Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington

WARNINGS: Unaware, Underwear Entrapment, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Insertion

COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page + 2 Add-on

——

Billy’s been intoxicated before – on several things. He’s had beer, and he’s had liquor. He’s smoked joints and bowls and taken bong rips. He’s done blow once or twice, and he’s had sweet, sweet glasses of wine with some very sweet older women. He’s been drunk on a lot, but he’s never been quite so drunk on power as he is right now.

Don’t get him wrong, putting four on the floor, pedal to the metal, cruising down back roads at ninety miles an hour, that’s close. Driving his fists into somebody who doesn’t stand a chance at fighting back against him, that’s close. He might’ve thought he was drunk on it then, but now? Bracing both hands on a bundle of nerves larger than he is and causing this titan of a goddess, this mountain, to writhe and cream her panties?

That’s real power. Everything before today was just a little buzz at best. It doesn’t matter to him that he’s the size of a speck, not right now. It doesn’t matter that Eddie could slip a finger down and smother him without a single thought. She isn’t right now, he’s fully in control of this, of her body, and she’s not stopping him because he’s making her feel fucking delicious, he just knows it.

The gasping, choking yowls of protest coming from Harrington a dozen yards below him? Well, that’s really just a bonus, isn’t it? He doesn’t only have power over the tremendous, powerful pussy he’s playing like a fucking fiddle, but the little guy that keeps getting flooded with rippling waves of her hot, sweet slickness. He’s making her plaster Harrington to her panties with the force of how hard he’s turning her on.

And here’s the kicker: it’s not just turning her on. Any jackass with a set of fingers or a tongue and two fucking brain cells can get a girl a little wet if they take ten minutes and put in the tiniest bit of effort. No, no, no, he’s doing so much more than that. He’s reading her body language. He’s reading the heartbeat throb in Eddie’s clit, judging it by the way it’s gone swollen and eager. He’s speaking a second fucking language with absolute fluency.

He can tell that he’s not just turning her on, he’s getting her off and, moreover, he’s stopping getting her off riiiiiight on the very cusp of what she wants to take from him. Oh, she wants it bad. She’s been close over and over and over again, but he’s not gonna give it to her. Not until he decides. Not until he’s good and goddamn ready, and when he is? He’ll pull the trigger, and send her careening over the edge exactly the moment he decides she’s allowed to.

There’s no question anymore, is there, ladies? Billy Hargrove is officially a sex god. A teeny, tiny little sex god. He’s having a great time. And it feels so, so good. –

– Eddie’s having a mortifying time. And it feels so, so frustrating. She’s not sure what happened today, whether she slipped on a pair of panties that aren’t meant to be worn out of the house, the kind she’s never actually owned before, the kind that usually come with a remote? Or if it’s just been way too long since she’s snuggled down with her James Hetfield poster staring down at her from the ceiling and taken a ride on her own hand.

Whatever the case, the tingling sensation that keeps sweetly, persistently circling her clit is just strong enough to make her choke back a moan, but not quite strong enough to let her finally slip over the edge and cum it out so she can focus on what’s really important here: the six-month-long campaign she’s been meticulously crafting for her players.

Her players, who have only once cast a funny look her direction as a little whimper escaped her – this being the fourth, maybe fifth time she felt herself languidly climbing right up to the edge of an orgasm, only for that little tingle to back off at precisely the right (or wrong) time to disappoint her clenching pussy and leave her to backslide a few millimeters back down the heated ladder again.

Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to snap, “Make a wisdom saving throw!” It sent them scrambling in a panic, rolling dice, calling out numbers she could only half absorb. Of fucking course the Cleric passed, but delightfully, the Paladin didn’t. Making up some bullshit on the spot, she thusly narrated the compulsion Ser Oathbreaker felt to smite Healer Caduceus into the dirt in the name of his god.

It’s the perfect distraction: PVP. As predicted, her players erupt in a visceral shouting match of arguments over one another, their bellowing voices rising as they get caught up in their role-play. So deeply engaged with one another, Eddie gets the chance to slink a couple of inches lower behind her DM screen, only the curls of her hair dark peeking out over the top of it, her breasts pressing into the table as her sensitive, aching nipples desperately vie for her attention. Under the guise of rolling something, she moves her arm carefully, discreetly, to snake a hand up her t-shirt to pinch at one over the lace of her bra.

“Oh my fucking fuck- god, oh my god, holy fucking shitfuck, are you fucking kidding me,” she whispers harshly to herself, unaware that her deep, booming voice is carrying down, down, down to the microcosm of action, adventure, and survival happening not at her table but rather between her legs.

It washes over Billy as he gauges the throbbing pulse of her clit, knowing precisely when to still his hands so as to not allow her to finish – not until he wants her to. It washes over Steve as he breaks the surface of her thick, wanton pleasure, his arms flailing, hair soaked and plastered to his head. Absolutely drenched in it.

She’s losing her entire mind, she thinks, as she desperately shifts her hips in her stiff metal chair. The solid, unforgiving resistance of it pressing back against her feels like a revelation all of a sudden, and she angles her hips, spreading her thighs just enough to give her too-tight jeans a little more stretch. She can’t quite grind herself down on the chair like she wants to, can’t tilt her pelvis forward quite enough to hit her clit, but even just the stimulation she’s getting against her hungry, lonely entrance from flesh and cloth and denim pressing against it is something, something, something. Something that ratchets her higher up again, superheated and teetering on the brink,

if she could just align it with the ebb and flow of the malicious tingling happening against her clit — but it’s like every time she rolls her hips, the tingling defiantly, deliberately backs off.

– Steve’s having a terrible time. And it feels so, so terrifying. His hands keep scrambling for purchase against anything, anything, anything he can use to tether himself and keep himself above the surface. They graze across her labia, sliding slickly and uselessly along the sweet pink folds. They paint their way across her outer lips, across the fabric of her panties, the cotton now soaked and just as slippery as her pussy.

Hargrove, that asshole, that fucking prick, is using Steve’s own crush to kill him. It’s not like he needs to hear the soft whimpers and low curses rumbling through Eddie, falling from her lips and burning both of their ears, to know just exactly how much she’s getting off on it. She’s literally drowning him in her arousal. He might not be purported sexual icon Billy Hargrove, banger of MILFs and dreamboat of the town, but he’s been with his fair share of women.

He knows what things… look like, and feel like, right before a girl’s about to lose it and come shattering apart to his touch. If his keen scientific mind is as sharp about these things as it ever was, he estimates Eddie’s been edged approximately sixteen billion fucking times in the last half an hour.

He was on the swim team. He can remind himself of that over and over and over again, and it might have been reassuring if it weren’t for the other apocalyptic element to this positively fucked up situation: the way Eddie keeps rocking her hips into the chair beneath her. It changes the angle of everything, sending the current sloshing around, but more importantly, it causes things to bear down on Steve in a way that would be lethal if he were any larger than he is. It’s funny – and also kind of deeply embarrassing – that he has to be grateful for being as small as he is. It means she doesn’t snap his little body when she rearranges herself like this,

Instead, he goes sliding into the crevices of safety made by the texture of her labia, or into little wrinkles in her panties, or, precariously, terrifyingly, he surges up with a wave and finds himself grazing the open entrance of her pussy, legs slipping into the dark abyss hidden beyond, the kneading muscles only dimly visible in the red-hued light that sneaks in between the crosshatched weave of her denim jeans.

She threatens his life and then promptly saves it again by tilting her pelvis back the other direction, slamming him hard into the cushioned but steely, unyielding barrier of her drenched underwear. Eddie is absolutely dominating him with her pussy, thousands of tons of one of his best friends rhythmically humping him into a chair as the guy he hates probably most in the entire universe gets her off right above Steve’s own fucking face. If he survives this, if he escapes it, if he makes it out and he ever sees Billy Hargrove up close and personal again? He’s going to beat the shit out of that asshole, he swears.

This, unfortunately, is a plan that’s almost immediately foiled as Eddie cants her hips again, thighs spreading open a little wider, her entrance open and wanting and waiting, and the forward grind a power beyond any he could hope to fight. Steve slips inside her, and is swallowed by churning darkness.

“Oh, shit..."

[fandom-gt]

Big fan of your works! Sorry if this question has been asked before, but how does one go about getting a commission from you?

hey I'm glad you like them! C:

I mainly take commissions through my Ko-Fi page which has all the details about my pricing here: https://ko-fi.com/fandom_gt I also have a channel in the blog's discord server with a list of everything in the commission queue so folks know when theirs is coming up next and can roughly estimate the timeline!

https://discord.gg/ANZdQbegAE

You can also speak to me on Discord about alternatives to Ko-Fi if you have other preferred payment platforms.

[fandom-gt]

Just discovered you and I’m obsessed alr, do you have an ao3?

Hello! I’m glad you like the content C:

I do have an ao3 over here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slotting/pseuds/Fandom-GT But I honestly haven’t been keeping up with adding works to it in a very long time. You may like checking out the repository for earlier works that might be hard to find on Tumblr since they were written so long ago!

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: How To Train Your Dragon

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”Set a few days after he met Toothless, Crag is relaxing at the house alone after Hiccup left to "go talk to someone". A few minutes later, he hears someone enter the house and turns around to see Astrid, who he recognized based off how Hiccup had described her. Having not been told by Hiccup about how she views Borrowers, he cheerfully greets her and is only slightly concerned when she picks him up. He begins to panic when she comments on how Hiccup probably won't mind if she takes his snack. Before he can react, she strips off his clothes and ends up tearing off the cloak that Hiccup made for him. She then licks his squirming body before sticking his upper half in her mouth. His face and torso are battered by her tongue as he begs her to stop. Eventually, she begins sucking his legs in, but stops when Hiccup rushes in and shouts for her to stop. After a few moments, Crag is spat out into the palm of Hiccup's hand. Hugged against Hiccup's chest, Crag sobs as he's being comforted by his massive friend while Astrid looks on in confusion and waits for her boyfriend to explain what's going on.”

CHARACTERS: Hiccup, Astrid, Crag (Borrower OC)

WARNINGS: Soft Vore, Dehumanization, Fearplay

COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page + 2 Add-On

——

When Hiccup looks back on what happened, he does so with a nearly overwhelming, utterly profound sense of guilt. It was his fault, he knows it. If he’d done even one thing differently, it never would have gone down the way it did. If he’d been brave enough to tell Crag the truth about his girlfriend, Crag would’ve known to take cover and hide until Hiccup came back. If he’d been brave enough to tell Astrid about Crag and preemptively set some boundaries, or- heck, if he’d started standing up to the village about their mentality surrounding Borrowers the same way he’d done for the dragons, maybe the entire thing could’ve been avoided.

But he didn’t, and there’s nobody to blame but himself for what happened to his friend.

It happened over the span of a few quick, terrible minutes. He’d left Crag on the kitchen counter, and that’s something he can add to the long list of mistakes he made to lead to all this. He’d planned to start cooking lunch, and Crag liked to help, liked to watch, liked to spend time with him while Hiccup went through the process – not the least because Hiccup tended to slip him little taste tests of whatever he was cooking at the time.

Only, just before getting ready to start, he realized abruptly that he’d forgotten something. It wouldn’t take long, hardly a few minutes, nothing worth taking Crag off the counter and squirreling him away somewhere – or so he’d thought. He promised he’d be right back, and hurried out the door… narrowly missing Astrid’s arrival just behind him. If he’d been even a few seconds slower, he could’ve intercepted her.

Crag was alone in the enormous house when the first tremors of footsteps announced an arrival, and his immediate thought had been boy, Hiccup sure wasn’t kidding about being right back. When the door swung open, the force of it carried a gusting breeze over Crag’s entire body, ruffling his hair and causing him to pull his gifted, beloved cloak tighter around him to fight off the chill. It was not Hiccup that stood in the doorway.

He stared up at the enormous figure towering over the landscape, and it’s only because Hiccup described her so thoroughly that Crag doesn’t panic. Pretty, with long blonde hair, high rosy cheekbones, bright blue eyes. His friend’s mentioned her dozens of times – it can only be Astrid, and rather than trepidation, Crag’s filled immediately with a sense of excitement.

He doesn’t get to meet very many people. Borrowers tend to hide, to keep to themselves out of fear, and the more there are at any given location, the more likely it is for all of them to get caught. It’s risky to exist in groups of two or more. As far as humans go, well… there’s a reason why Hiccup is his only friend.

At least until now, he thinks, happily crossing the countertop and waving enthusiastically in greeting. The movement catches the attention of those enormous blue eyes, and they target-lock on him instantly. Crag smiles widely – and when she smiles back slowly, he mistakenly thinks it’s because she’s returning the sentiment. It isn’t long at all before he realizes she’d been smiling for a very different reason.

In hindsight, he’ll be able to see it for what it was: the smile of someone very hungry being presented with something unexpected and delicious.

Her rhythmic footsteps are unhurried, each of them a thunderous boom that he can feel reverberating up the kitchen cabinets and through the joints in his knees. She walks more heavily than Hiccup, he thinks. Her boots are loud and certain in exactly the opposite way of Hiccup’s quiet, unobtrusive movements that only barely rattle the ground when he moves.

Every foot she clears on her approach makes her seem taller, a rising and rapidly approaching mountain that very quickly looms over him, staring down from on high as one enormous hand reaches down to pluck him up from the counter. It’s a little strange that she hasn’t bothered saying a word to him, a little rude that she didn’t ask first before seizing him around the middle and hauling him up through the air, but he can forgive her, because she’s Hiccup’s girlfriend.

He decides to break the silence with a meek but friendly, “Hello! Wow, you must be Astrid, I’ve heard so much about y-”

Either she didn’t hear him, or she outright ignored everything falling out of his mouth because it wasn’t significant enough to warrant her attention. Whatever the case, her loud voice cut him off, swallowing his meek words with a deeper, more commanding tenor. “Looks like he was about to start cooking lunch anyway, so I’m sure he won’t mind if I take his snack…”

By the time Crag processes the words, by the time he realizes she’d been talking to herself rather than him, she’s already started reaching out with one hand to pinch the legs of his trousers. Oh, god, wait. Oh, no-

His stomach drops in time with his pants, falling clean through the floor to the soundtrack of ripping fabric as her steely, implacable fingers lock him in place. It takes no effort whatsoever, just one swift tug and they’re off along with his soft cloth boots, the fabric fluttering to the floor and disappearing from his field of vision in a heartbeat.

“Wait, no, no, no, please- I’m not a snack, I’m not a snack, I’m not-” He pleads desperately, trying to flounder, but Astrid’s got a finger wedged under either of his arms, holding them out wide in a deft, familiar grip. She’s done this before, he realizes. That’s why she’s not even blinking at his pleading, why she isn’t bothering to listen, why she knows exactly how to strip his clothes off like she’s peeling a banana. She’s done this before, she’s done this a lot. She’s just like the rest of them.

And she’s going to eat him.

He’s not sure which thing it is that breaks his heart first: that realization, or the next ripping sound that follows her tearing his cherished cloak off of his shoulders, the clasps separated from the fabric and only little torn scraps clinging to his shirt where it was fastened. He whimpers out a desperate, “No-” But that’s as much as he manages to get out before he’s stripped naked and he’s rising again, clearing the distance to her mouth in an unstoppable trajectory. No amount of squirming or begging or pleading slows down the way she brings him up to her face, past her gently parting lips. It feels like slow motion, the seconds dragging out as adrenaline spikes, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he watches his death sentence in high-resolution. Every aching moment is a snapshot memory: the strings of saliva he sees stretching from the roof of her mouth, the shape of her teeth, the chapped cracks in her lips, the sight of that dark cavern yawning at the back of her throat.

He’s going into shock. A disassociative brand of panic that feels at once surreal and hyper-realistic, and he’s only shaken from his fugue state when he finds himself pressed face-first against the hot, wet surface of her tongue. It slams into him, dragging across his face and his torso, forcing him up against the solid and unyielding roof of her mouth. It swirls around him, dragging rough taste buds over his flesh, battering him and bruising him as she relentlessly tastes every crevice of him, sucking him in deeper like a candy cane. He feels his waist pas through her lips, then his hips, then his thighs, inch by endless inch, deeper and deeper as she sucks and licks and steers him toward her back molars.

“STOP!” He can barely make out the muffled shout from somewhere beyond the impenetrable walls that are Astrid’s cheeks. He’s far too panicked to register it, his fingers desperately scrambling to grab onto her tongue, pleading and wailing as he clings to it in a bid to keep himself from sliding down the back of her throat. Everything goes still for several long, eternally stretching seconds. Astrid neither spits him out nor swallows him deeper in this terrifying stretch of time; it’s as though she’s torn, debating, making the decision whether to listen or to finish swallowing before she speaks.

The next thing Crag knows, he’s tumbling out into freezing open air. The frigid bite of it is a thousand times worse than normal, cutting through the saliva that coats his body. Is he shivering from terror or from the cold? He doesn’t know, and he’s too busy still pleading, desperately begging, to realize where he is or what’s happening. “Please don’t eat me, please don’t eat me, please don’t eat me-!”

Hiccup’s chest aches as he stares down at the little guy curled up in his palms, fetal-position and sobbing hysterically, too consumed by fear to even open his eyes. He hugs Crag close to his chest gently but firmly, protectively guarding him from both the warmth, and the absolutely bewildered expression his Borrower-eating girlfriend is leveling his direction.

“It’s okay, it’s okay buddy, you’re safe. I promise you’re safe, i’m not gonna let anything happen to you, it’s okay, I’m here,” he whispers, and it’s only when he strokes Crag’s back with the massive pad of his thumb that the begging falters. One of his eyes cracks open uncertainly, and then the next, and when he registers who he’s looking at, he breaks down into sobs all over again – relieved this time, as he throws his arms around Hiccup’s thumb and clings to it fiercely.

“Sooooo,” Astrid ventures eventually, crossing her arms and levelling them both with a rather flat, unimpressed look. “Anybody wanna tell me what exactly’s going on right now?”

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: Stranger Things

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”Part 2 of the Stranger Things request

Genderswap Eddie has sat down for D&D, blissfully unaware of the two rivals occupying her panties. Steve has just slipped as she sat down and is facing her lower lips, while Billy had smugly watched him.

Billy decides to have a little fun at Steve's expense, and put truth to his "Some of us know how to get other people wet" claim by navigating his way through her pubes until he makes it to the clitoral hood.

Tying a strand of hair around his waist as a makeshift harness, he begins spicing up Eddie's D&D campaign, as Steve begins getting covered in her slick.

Billy being a teasing little mischief maker at Steve's expense while Eddie is feeling embarrassingly aroused during the game, wholly unaware of the cause.”

CHARACTERS: Genderswapped!Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington

WARNINGS: Unaware, Underwear Entrapment

COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page + 1 Add-on

——

Steve wasn’t really the best in school. He got by, of course – he had to, he had to maintain his GPA so he could stay on the basketball and swim team. It’s just that he didn’t really retain anything he didn’t strictly have to retain to pass tests and stuff, because none of it really seemed important at the time. The point is, he’s not sure whether what he’s going through now is a metaphor, or a parallel, or if it’s just situational irony.

Here he is standing before the open mouth of a daunting, deadly cavern – meanwhile, Eddie’s voice resonates all around them, a distant and constant drone muffled by clothes and the table overhead, describing the open mouth of a daunting, deadly cavern her players currently stand before. On the bright side, he’s reasonably sure there isn’t a fucking dragon inside the one before him. If anything, the cave itself is the dragon, a hungry and open maw waiting to consume him — or to open up and expel something just as deadly as fire, but far more likely to drown him than burn him.

But, like… it’s Dungeons and Dragons, right? It’s not exactly soft-core cable porn; as far as he knows everybody at the table is some brand of pimply, unappealing nerd. There should be absolutely nothing remotely resembling a turn-on happening out there, so in theory, he has the next three or four hours to figure out a strategy, and to begin climbing up to somewhere safer.

He doesn’t notice Billy moving around above him. He can’t just yet, the perspective is too skewed. Craning his neck back, in the dim lighting of only gentle, warm beams penetrating the gigantic crosshatch of fabric walls, all he can see is towering labia. Pretty pink parted lips, the light coral textured bits they normally conceal behind them when closed now on display as they open up before him just a fraction of an inch thanks to the spread of her legs. The shining, round bead of her clitoris nestled like a pearl just beneath its hood. All framed by patches of tangled, dark hair on either side.

It’s fucking enormous. It’s a sheer cliff made entirely of pussy, emitting the warmth and the smell and the pheromones of one at a scale Steve is entirely unprepared to handle, and he finds himself shifting uncomfortably as his body responds regardless of what his mind thinks about the situation. Regardless of the fear, and the embarrassment, and the desire to respect his friend-not-girlfriend’s privacy. Regardless of the fact that one forward scoot and he’d be crushed into a barely-noticable spot on her panties. None of that matters to the blood flowing southward.

Billy has no such noble intentions. He’s been waiting, patient and sly like a fucking cat, for things to go still. For Eddie to sit, because nobody stands forever, and he’s not a fucking moron. He knows it’s easier to untangle himself when gravity isn’t working against him, and now that her pubic mound is more a gentle downhill slope than a steep drop, it’s relatively easy for him to find his footing, shift up to take his weight off the tethers, and uncoil himself from them.

But he has no interest in trying to crawl his way out of her panties. It’s a death sentence out there, there’s hardly a safer place on her body to be, and… besides, weren’t her panties exactly what he was looking for in the first place? But he does have an idea. Something to do to pass the time. Something… funny, and dangerous, and hot – which are the only three things Billy tends to care about in life.

He makes his way downward, and peers over the ledge at the top of Eddie’s lips. Her clit isn’t very far down, and he’s got a plan he thinks will work just fine. It involves finding a nice, long length of hair and securing it around his thighs and his waist like a harness, so he can gently repel a few feet down until he can brace his feet on either side of it and give both hands unrestricted access to the bundle of nerves there. Plus, from here, he can reel his shoulders around and peer down to see Harrington. A bird’s eye view. Time to get to work.

Careful, dedicated palms splay out wide as he places them both on her clit and begins to rub, pushing against the whole surface and circling them round and round, clockwise, in a slow, steady, deliberate rhythm. It takes maybe four or five passes before the first response comes – a sort of thrum, a gentle pulse, a twitch in the nerves under his hands. Blood begins flowing, things begin to lightly swell. And… most wonderfully, down below, he hears Harrington give out a startled cry of, “Oh, shit- what- what the hell?!”

Steve hadn’t gotten very far in his strategizing before he saw it happen; the muscles in that deep dark cavern are so far in he can barely make them out, but there’s a vaguely-perceptible clench in them before the first rush of fluid escapes. It’s not a tidal wave yet, more a slow and sluggish gush that flows from beyond and surges around his feet, around his ankles, around his calves. He staggers a little as it begins to somewhat soak into the fabric beneath him. To Eddie, it was barely anything – just a twinge in her pussy, the first barely-noticable spark that doesn’t even throw her off her game yet, but to Steve it’s enough to leave him wet from just below the knee.

Steve’s eyes shoot upward immediately on instinct, and lock with Billy Fucking Hargrove’s. That asshole has the audacity to outright smirk at him, and he doesn’t break eye contact as he starts another deliberate, pointed round of massaging the clit he’s settled before.

“Dude… what the hell are you doing, you’re like- taking advantage of her! You’re fully copping a feel right now, and- shit, you’re gonna get me killed!” The alarm rises in Steve’s voice as it occurs to him that this is just the beginning. He’s had enough experience with girls to know the way they flood their panties, and he’s directly in the landing zone where it all tends to settle and soak. “Seriously- dude, stop, please-”

Outside, around them, Eddie’s hips shift lightly; left, then right, just a fraction of an inch as she settles more firmly in her seat. Squirming from the slow but building sensation of arousal starting to pool between her hipbones, unfurling behind her pubic mound, sending her channel tightening around nothing and coming away disappointingly wanting. A heated blush spreads across her cheeks, and her word fumble for the first time as a pulse of real lust runs through her.

With that heated pang of pleasure and desire, a new surge rushes out of her – slamming into Steve and knocking him back into the hammock of her panties. Absolutely soaking him, running over him head to toe, sticky and thick and heavy, covering his face and making him flail in a desperate attempt to clear his mouth and his nose. The weight of it threatens to adhere him to her underwear, but he manages to fight it, dragging himself away and resurfacing in time to suck down a much-needed breath.

That was only the first wave. Dungeons and Dragons is a long activity, and Billy has no intentions of stopping. Hell, if he can make her actually cum from this? If he can get her to absolutely drown Harrington when she gets off? That’ll be a real win. If not, he’s just happy with the thought of her soaking him over and over again for hours.

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: How To Train Your Dragon

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”This would be another continuation of the Hiccup/Borrower story.

A week after meeting Crag, Hiccup finally decides to introduce him to Toothless. At first, he's incredibly hesitant as he's worried that Toothless will get too excited and accidentally hurt Crag. However, he's surprised to find that the Night Fury is extremely gentle and relaxed during the encounter as he cheerfully greets the Borrower. As Crag scratches hard to reach spots that Toothless loves, which Hiccup learns is a common interaction between Borrowers and Dragons as a whole, Hiccup reflects on how Crag fits almost perfectly into his life. However, he realizes that he'll eventually have to tell Astrid and begins to plan on how to do so.”

CHARACTERS: Hiccup, Toothless, Crag (Borrower OC)

WARNINGS: Safe for work!

COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page (+ some extra as a bonus for a good customer)

——

Hiccup is, for a moment, completely speechless. He’s got to physically shake himself to snap out of it, and as soon as the mental cogs and gears in his mind start whirring again, he cuts in with a, “How-how… what?”

A few yards away, a teeny tiny two inch tall Crag – the borrow that’s swiftly become a friend, somebody he’s starting to care about more deeply than he expected – is perched on an upside-down Toothless’s belly. The dragon has all four legs sticking straight up in the air, the back left one kicking rhythmically as Crag sticks teeny tiny little hands into the crevices between scales and vigorously, enthusiastically scratches.

When he’d had the bright idea to introduce his friend to his dragon, he’d been concerned. After all, Crag is easily a snack to most of the viking villagers. He’d be practically a crumb to Toothless, who is certainly fast enough to snatch the little man out of his hand before he’d even get the chance to explain friend, not food. Crag hadn’t seemed the slightest bit worried no matter how much nervous pre-empting Hiccup tried to warn him with, and now he’s beginning to understand why.

There had been a precarious moment – precarious to solely Hiccup, it seems – when he’d unfurled his fingers and carefully let the dragon sniff, big whiffs rufffling Crag’s hair and clothes, sending both fluttering on the gust of an exhale strong enough to nearly blow him over. Crag, however, had only laughed lightly and reached out to pat the dragon’s nose.

And then, to his absolute shock, Toothless promptly flopped over onto his back and stared at them both expectantly.

“Go ahead, trust me,” Crag said, lightly punching Hiccup’s thumb. “Just plop me down, it’s fine, I promise.”

Tentatively, he’d lowered the little guy onto Toothless’s belly, and now… this. The scratching, the leg kicking, the absolute docile and accepting nature of his dragon, and the sheer fearlessness of the borrower on top of him. Hiccup scratches the back of his neck in abashed, embarrassed awe as Crag launches into an explanation – and it feels good to be the one doing the teaching, for a change!

“We’re too small for them to eat,” He lectures like a particularly patient teacher, a small smile curling fondly at his lips. “But we’re exactly the right size to reach the itchy places even your fingers can’t get to. It’s kind of a symbiotic relationship, actually. We help keep their scales clean and free of buildup, or mites, or whatever, and in turn they’ll often let us live in their nests. There’s a rumor, actually, that-”

He starts, then stops, faltering, to glance up at Hiccup. It’s clear there’s some debate going on behind those eyes, and Hiccup feels like he’s being assessed. Measured.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, “You can tell me if you want. Or- you don’t have to, if- if you don’t want. I don’t mind either way.”

“No… it’s okay. I trust you. You’ve helped me a lot, and I don’t think you’d hurt me, or my people. Not anymore,” Crag decides, pausing on his scritching. Beneath him, Toothless shoots them a displeased look – but neither of them pay attention to it. “There’s rumors of a massive nest of dragons that live in harmony with a huge civilization of my people. They coexist. The dragons protect us there, so we can’t get stepped on or eaten. They say it’s thousands of years old, and one of the biggest bastions of borrowers in the world. That’s why I came here, actually… I was hoping to find it.”

“Oh,” Hiccup says, his mind whirring immediately, dots connecting in excitement. “That’s incredible. I think I might- Crag, I think I might know exactly where you’re talking about!”

Plans begin to take shape, to form, and his first instinct is to run to Astrid and inform her with all the excitement and enthusiasm he’s capable of, the same way he shares almost everything with her. And then it strikes him…

He hasn’t even told her about Crag yet. Even more dangerous than Toothless is Astrid, who routinely enjoys eating borrowers. He’s a little afraid she’d swallow Crag whole. What might she do with an entire buffet of little guys?

He’s going to have to find a way to talk to her…

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: MCU

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”This would be set shortly after the story where a willing Peter is eaten by Pepper, who's unaware of his actual identity.

A few minutes after arriving in Pepper's stomach, Peter regrets his decision as the stomach acid begins to burn his skin faster than his healing factor can keep up with. As he panics and begins banging on the walls of her stomach while begging for her realize it's actually him, Pepper enjoys the squirming in her belly as she begins to doze off. Soon enough, she falls asleep and unknowingly dooms Peter to his fate as her late-night snack.”

CHARACTERS: MCU

WARNINGS: Peter Parker, Pepper Potts

COMMISSION TYPE: Quick FIll (+tip, thank you!)

——

When he made this decision, he did it with an escape plan in mind. He’d thought there was no way stomach acid could outpace his healing factor. He thought he’d have plenty of time to enjoy himself inside Pepper’s stomach and then, while she slept, maybe crawl his way back up her throat and out of her mouth to sneak away without ever being caught. It seemed foolproof.

Except his healing seems only capable of withstanding damage directly proportional to his size. A vial of acid at his scale he could manage, but to be surrounded by it, submerged in it, tiny and insignificant compared to the greater body all around him? It isn’t enough. It’s alarming, the moment he realizes his skin is beginning to burn. He jolts, then splashes through it looking for– something, an island in the lake, a ledge, something he can climb onto, something, anything, anything to get out-

“Mrs. Pepper- oh god, no, no, no, Mrs. Stark, you have to throw me up, you’re gonna digest me, I don’t wanna die in here, please!” His yell escapes his throat so roughly it’s like glass, straining his vocal chords, desperate as he pounds on slick, unsympathetic walls. “Mrs. Stark, don’t let me die in here, don’t eat me!”

But she already has. Outside, at the scale of the rest of hte world, Pepper feels a pleasant sort of squirming in her belly. Without bothering to open her eyes, she places her palm over the flat of her stomach, pushing down gently, humming to herself in contentment… just before she drifts off to sleep undisturbed by the chaos in her stomach, sealing Peter’s fate.

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: MCU

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”This would be a short epilogue to the willing/unaware Peter and Tony vore chapter.

Upon reaching his mentor’s stomach, Peter soon finds that the reality of being eaten doesn't match with his daydreams. As his skin begins to burn faster than his enhanced healing can make up for, he panics and tries to bang on the stomach walls to get Tony's attention. However, he's quickly tossed around the fleshy chamber as his cries are drowned out by the muffled moans of Tony and Pepper as they have sex. While it may not be what he actually wanted now, Peter realizes that he's become what he had dreamed of: nothing but food for Tony.”

CHARACTERS: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

WARNINGS: Vore, Unaware, Digestion

COMMISSION TYPE: Quick Fill (+ tip, thank you!)

——

It’s darker in here than Peter imagined it would be. It isn’t comforting, he doesn’t feel like he’s being held somewhere safe by the warmth of his mentor’s body all around him. He feels… like an afterthought. He feels forgotten, alone in here, while Tony’s body automatically breaks him down with no more special attention or discerning treatment than it would any other food. Muscle moves around him, an organic pulse jostled by the sharp movements of Tony’s pistoning hips as he fucks, sliding his cock into Pepper and getting off out there completely irreverent to his protégé being digested in his stomach.

Suddenly, the appeal is beginning to wear off rapidly. Peter blanches, staggering through the hot, wet, fluid-coated space, nearly losing his balance thanks to the enthusiasm of Tony’s movements out there the closer he gets to climax. He stumbles until he can plant his hands on the walls of Tony’s stomach, until he can bang his fist against the side of one.

“Mr. Stark- wait, please, wait, I think this was a mistake,” he calls out, desperately digging his hands into flesh, hoping to somehow alert the giant who ate him of his presence. As though he’d pay the slightest mind to a random tiny in his belly, with no way of knowing that it’s Peter. He’s nothing; he is being digested. Peter’s nothing to him but food.

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: MCU

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”This would be a continuation of the quickfill where Peter shrinks himself in order to be a snack to Tony or Pepper.

In this version, he chooses to climb the nightstand on the right (which ends up being Pepper's). Peter reaches the top after Tony and Pepper have finished having sex and are now falling asleep. Noticing him, Pepper sits up and gives him a generous view of her bare chest as she reaches over to pick him up. Not wanting to wake Tony and unable to recognize the tiny she's holding as Peter (he makes no attempt to get her to recognize him), she brings him up to her mouth. After a brief lick to sample his taste, Peter is brought into Pepper's mouth. Her tongue is surprisingly gentle with him, slowly stroking his body and soaking him in her saliva. Peter enjoys it very much, even getting off to it as one point as he desperately kisses and licks her tongue. After almost a half an hour, Peter is excited as he's gently brought to the back of her mouth and swallowed whole. Pepper, meanwhile, settles in for bed as she feels the tiny travel down her throat, completely unaware that her snack was actually Peter.”

CHARACTERS: Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, Tony Stark

WARNINGS: Unaware, Vore

COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page +2 Add-On

——

They say that for every decision you make, the universe splits in two to create two parallel branching paths. Peter’s universe forks tonight at a place where both paths lay untravelled; one left, one right. But we already know this, don’t we? This isn’t our first foray into the multiverse, so let us rewind time and follow another version of our hero. In this reality, no less valid or real or true, happening neither before nor after but simultaneously, in tandem, Peter Parker chooses to go right instead of left.

It’s a longer trek this time; the bedroom door favors the left side of the room, and Peter has to battle his way through dense carpet all the way around the foot of the bed, then up the length of it before he finally reaches Pepper’s nightstand. He ascends, hand over hand, just as he would have done on Tony’s side, a venture that would be exhausting if it weren’t for the enhancements running through his veins, powering him onward, constantly replenishing his stamina before it depletes.

He makes excellent time, but despite that, Tony and Pepper have finished their lovemaking when Peter finally heaves himself up onto the flat expanse. Here, he gets his first level-ground look at the stretching bed, the expensive silk sheets, the distant image of Tony’s defined back and muscular shoulders and, more closely, more clearly, the feminine shape of Pepper sprawled on her side.

She is, in a word, breathtaking. She’s always been beautiful, of course she has, inside and out – one of the most stunning, gorgeous women Peter’s ever seen. At this scale, though… at his size, seeing her titanic and staggeringly imposing before him, she is otherworldly.

The sheet falls loose and lax along her hips, along her belly, perfectly conforming to the curve of her thighs and the dip above her waist. Above that, she is unselfconsciously bare, with her soft breasts settled pert and pink, nipples still pebbled from the attentions of Tony’s fingers, of his mouth. Her slender arm drapes comfortably over her ribs, while the other slips beneath her pillowcase. Copper hair splays out atop the pillowcase, with a lock of it falling to frame her face at the perfect angle of her chin.

For a long time, all Peter can manage to do is drink in the sight of it the way an adventurer would stop to appreciate an undiscovered vista. The way a camper stops to appreciate the morning sunrise. The way people stop in museums to stare at art, drinking in the individual details that make up the whole, and then the whole itself.

When his roaming eyes travel up the curve of her feet slipped from the sheets, along her calves, thighs, waist, chest, shoulders, throat- finally, finally landing on her face, he realizes she’s watching him. Her own eyes are half-lidded, slit in a quiet, sleepy sort of satisfaction, catlike. A soft, sweet smile curves at her lips, so benevolent Peter almost mistakes it for familiarity. He thinks, for one blinding second, that she must recognize him, and that expression on her face is fondness.

It isn’t. It’s lingering satisfaction over the peak Tony brought her to, it's a dreamy sort of comfort she’s finding in her bed, and it’s the pleasant surprise of a post-sex snack waiting for her.

She thinks Tony must have left it. He’s considerate, in little ways like this. Anticipating her needs and attending to them wordlessly, without expecting thanks or praise, without even rolling over to check and make sure she’s noticed it. He does love her, she knows, but she especially enjoys when he takes the time to show her in little ways like this.

Delicately, quietly, doing her very best not to disturb the steady rhythmic breathing beginning to drift up from her husband as he begins to sink into sleep, Pepper extracts herself from the sheets and begins to rise. Peter looks on in awe, watching yard after yard of her climb through the air, taller than any skyscraper he’s scaled, the very presence of her practically a cosmic event. This is what people were picturing when they imagined goddesses, he knows that for sure.

She is staggeringly immense, and from his position on the nightstand looking up, the angle he views her from only emphasizes that. He sees the underside of the swell of her breasts, the peaks of her nipples like the summits of mountains. The cut of her chin, the prominent points of her cheekbones. The length of her eyelashes, until she tips that chin down to spot him again, and then he’s under the full-force scrutiny of meters upon meters of pretty blue.

When she reaches a perfectly manicured hand out to pluck him up, he’s pretty sure he couldn’t have run even if he didn’t want this. The pads of her fingertips lock firmly but gently around his middle, her thumb pad bracing against his belly, and then he begins to soar as she tugs him up with her while she stands, carrying him across the expanse that took him minutes, clearing the whole length of the bedroom in seconds alone. Carting him out of the room, so she doesn’t disturb Tony.

In the cold fluorescent light of their modern white kitchen, Pepper holds the figure too small to recognize as Peter up to her face and, smiling, begins to steer him toward her lips. Somehow, through the atmosphere that surrounds her and the grace that illuminates her, Pepper makes this act seem like a mercy. Watching her lips part is like being granted a gift, being given a blessing. Peter feels like he’s been found worthy of something, and he’s overwhelmed with the magnitude of it as his body passes between her teeth toward a lithe tongue the same pretty, blushing shade of pink as her nipples.

The way Pepper wraps her tongue around him is painstakingly gentle. There’s care and curiosity in the movement of it, graceful, like ballet. It curls around him, moves him, manipulates him. It slicks between his limbs, between his legs, delicately stimulating his weeping cock – whether Pepper means to do that or not, Peter will never know.

The saliva that pools in her mouth begins to coat him, sticking to his skin, matting his hair, wetting every inch of his body as it gathers in her mouth, as she salivates over the taste of him. There’s a pressure coming from the back of her throat, a type of gentle suction that she combats with her own tongue.

She is sucking on him, and she is saving him from the sucking force. She is his safety and his danger simultaneously, and Peter is absolutely lost in the throes of it. He feels grateful, absurdly grateful, appreciative of this care and gentleness she’s lathing on him, the time she’s taking to consume him, to savor him, like he’s worth savoring.

Small arms grip her tongue as best they can, fingers digging desperately in, thighs straddling tender flesh, clinging so that he can lick and kiss her tongue. So that he can drag his body over it to give her more, to do better for her, to taste better, to stimulate her mouth so she enjoys sucking on him even more.

From the back of her throat, from that deep, dark cavern comes a soft, melodic, resonating hum of delight and approval. The mm one makes when they’re enjoying the flavors coating their tongue. It vibrates through Peter’s body and he groans, separating his thighs a little farther so that he can grind his cock up along the ridged, textured, slick-wet path her taste buds offer him.

The harder she sucks, the more frantically Peter’s hips piston, simultaneously chasing his own release, and desperate to give more to Pepper before– before what’s coming. His heart hammers in his chest, and it’s the thought of it, the mental image of it, that ultimately sends him over the edge, crying out and spilling his release in tiny little droplets along the surface of her tongue.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when finally that visionin his mind begins to play out. Minutes, many of them, he knows that much at least. Twenty, thirty? Could it really be that long? Did Pepper spend an entire half an hour sucking on his body? Has he ever liked the taste of something enough to suck on it for a full half an hour?

Pride and satisfaction mingle with excitement as Pepper’s gentle but implacable tongue begins to move him, manipulating his body further and further back, away from the distant light that peeks in through the slit of her nearly-parted lips. The further her teeth are from him, the higher and hotter that excitement flairs, until he finds himself where he knew this would always end.

Hovering, locked in place and carefully balanced, over the closed expanse that leads down Pepper’s throat. Her control over herself is remarkable, the back of her tongue pressed back and deep, the muscles like a closed door that Peter can’t help but reach out to gently coax open; it’s okay, he wants this, please-

As though she can hear his thoughts, abruptly and without fanfare, Pepper’s throat opens. He’s startled by the suddenness of it, shocked by how real it is, when Pepper actually swallows him. Just like that, without even a parting goodbye, Peter begins to plummet downward toward Pepper’s stomach, as she casually strolls her way back into the bedroom to rejoin her husband beneath the sheets.

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: MCU

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”This would be a continuation of the quickfill where Peter shrinks himself in order to be a snack to Tony or Pepper.

In this version, he chooses to climb the nightstand on the left (which ends up being Tony's). He reaches the top right as Tony and Pepper are taking a breather before they continue their lovemaking. After a few moments, Tony notices him and tells Pepper that he found a tiny enjoying the show. Peter finds himself getting excited when Tony comments that he could go for a snack and picks him up. He makes no effort to reveal who he is to Tony, who believes he's holding a regular tiny due to the low light in the room. Brought up to Tony's lips, Peter is quickly brought into his mentor’s mouth and tasted. Tony's tongue is rough with his tiny form as he's sucked on, with Peter enjoying every moment of it and even getting off to it at one point. All the while, Peter drags his hands and feels the surface of the massive tongue. Moved to the back of Tony's mouth, he catches sight of Pepper's tongue entering Tony's mouth as the two resume their lovemaking. Suddenly, Peter finds himself sucked downwards and squeezed down Tony's throat as he descends towards his next destination: his stomach.”

CHARACTERS: Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Peter Parker

WARNINGS: Unaware, Vore

COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page + 2 Add-on

——

They say that for every decision you make, the universe splits in two to create two parallel branching paths. Peter’s universe forks tonight at a place where both paths lay untravelled; one left, one right. As these realities diverge, our story begins with the path branching toward the cosmic left. Tony’s nightstand.

It’s strange and surreal to be making this journey with the spectacle of a backdrop happening beyond him. His world is a cacophony of titanic moans and low, approving guttural sounds. It’s a near-deafening slap of skin on skin, wet noises of flesh rubbing together in filthy, gratuitous ways. Peter can’t help the furious blush spread across his cheeks, nor the way he’s gone hard between the thighs – it would be an impossible task to try and drown all that out. It’s larger than life, the best earplugs in the world wouldn’t do it justice even if his hearing weren’t enhanced.

The closer he gets to the bed, the more the sight is blocked from his view by the change in perspective. It becomes the steep slope of the foam mattress, the spill of silk sheets that look temptingly climbable, and only Tony and Pepper’s upper halves soaring high above, moving together in beautiful unison, oblivious to his presence.

The nightstand itself is an easy climb for somebody like him. It towers over him just like any skyscraper would, but his fingertips cling to the most minute imperfections in the surface effortlessly. He scales chrome and glass every day, the fact that Tony’s nightstands are made of the same material is an almost laughable parallel.

He’s about half-way up when the sounds reach a new crescendo, a decibel that rings achingly too loud through his sensitive ears, and he winces, bringing a palm up to slap against the side of his head as if that’ll do him any good. It doesn’t, but fortunately the climax lasts only a few lengthy seconds before it all begins to die down again. Tony and Pepper collapse into the sheets together in a comfortable tangle around the time Peter hauls himself up onto the wide, flat surface of the nightstand.

It’s only now that he’s atop it that he can know which one he’s chosen; Tony’s naked body lay the closest to him, sprawled out lazily, body a sheen of sweat and effort, hundreds upon hundreds of yards in length, a near-unfathomable scale for a human being to be. Peter can’t help the long moment he spends ogling it, fascinated.

Beside him, half-covered by her husband’s form, Pepper lay on her side, her curves like mountains in the distant range, one hand settled comfortably and intimately on Tony’s chest, idly running her fingers through the sparse hair there, trailing the tips over his pecs in a loving, absent sort of graze.

Peter’s so preoccupied by this, it takes him a moment to sense it: dark, intelligent eyes, each larger than him, peering directly at him with keen interest. He startles when he glances over and makes eye contact with them – or, rather, Peter makes contact; Peter’s eyes are far too small for Tony’s vision to pick up on properly, aside from general location. They’re looking at all of Peter at once – face and torso and legs, head to toe, one single little person-shape spotted in the dim light from a few feet away.

Peter feels his heart racing as that titanic form begins to shift in the bed, a smirk curling up on one side of enormous lips, framed by a familiar goatee.

“Well, well,” Tony’s voice fills the open air, sounding deeper and bassier than Peter’s ever heard it, pitched to scale and almost a half-step slow to his ears. “Look what we have here… do I spy a midnight snack?”

Peter feels himself flush, his cheeks, his chest, low in his belly, everywhere all at once at both the thought, the very physical feeling of Tony’s voice rumbling over him, and the teasing tone it takes. Light, playful, interested – definitely not the concern or disapproval it might adopt if he knew it was Peter he was looking at.

All Tony sees is a little dark-haired tiny, more masculine in shape, hardly a half-inch tall and tentatively waving one little arm at him in response to the question. Oh. So it’s one of those. A super-fan desperate for a hot mouth, looking to get swallowed. Well, Tony’s more than happy to oblige.

When he reaches two massive fingers across the expanse, the tiny doesn’t even run. It’s adorable, actually, the way he steps forward with his arms up, a very clear pick me that has Tony delicately plucking him from the nightstand and carrying him hundreds upon hundreds of yards across the bedspread toward his face.

“Well if you insist,” he rumbles low, his hot breath blasting over Peter’s entire body as his titanic lips part. Peter gets one sterling, shining momet to appreciate the image – his mentor’s face up close, his perspective skewed down low so that he sees the cut of cheekbones, the edge of eyelashes, the underside of a nose, but mainly… mainly he just sees lips, every dry line of them, every wrinkle, every inch that parts to welcome Peter into his hot, hungry mouth.

Peter goes, and he goes the hardest he’s ever been in his life. The light begins to disappear as he’s pushed in deeper, past pearly white teeth and onto the plush, wet expanse of Tony’s tongue. It’s a little rough under his bare torso, but slick with spit, textured, and absolutely fucking perfect to roll his hips into. He can’t help himself.

Tony must know, he thinks, because there’s a low, deep chuckle from the dark expanse at the back of his throat. It vibrates outward, vibrates through Tony’s tongue, and Peter moans openly at the sensation, gripping that tongue tightly even as it rises up to smash Peter into the smooth roof of Tony’s mouth. Writhing underneath him, tasting every inch of him, rubbing off his painfully hard cock without even realizing it.

It seems to fixate there – maybe because Peter’s leaking, maybe the slightest little taste of salt is more interesting to Tony’s tongue, but whatever the case, the tip of it rubs and rubs and rubs and Peter groans desperately, throbbing, grinding his hips into the sensation.

“Mr. Stark, please-” he manages, the words leaving his lips without intention. For a moment, things go still, and Peter’s terrified that Tony heard him, that he recognized the voice, that he’s going to reach in to pull Peter out…

But then the movement doubles down, deliberate and rough and filthy, and Peter throws his head back into the roof of that mouth, letting himself be ravished and tasted and soaked with saliva. When he comes, it’s a full-body affair that rolls out of him in one hot pulse after another, over and over, his cock spasming in tight, desperate rhythm. Tony’s tongue lathes it all up easily, and the man himself hums absently with delight at the taste of his little snack.

When he’s finally done, Peter lay panting and spent on the flat surface of Tony’s tongue, chest rising and falling, arms hugging tastebuds desperately, still.

The stillness doesn’t last long; soon enough that tongue is in motion again, nudging him back, nudging him deeper, making him shudder as the slick bumps drag over his over-sensitive cock. His mentor, the closest thing he’s had to a father figure, is nudging him further and further toward the back of his throat, insistent, utterly unaware that it’s his protege he’s about to swallow – unconcerned, uncaring.

Peter feels a second wave of heat ripple through him at the thought. He braces himself, his cock twitching weakly in a too-soon aborted attempt at a second round, but the swallow doesn’t come. Not yet. Instead… instead, he watches as light floods into his cavern again only for a moment, distant lips parting, a porthole window to the outside world – and on the other side, pretty pink links that can only belong to Pepper.

He watches them part, watches the light disappear again as they seal together, and a second pink tongue invades Peter’s home as Pepper’tongue comes curling in, looking, seeking, tasting. He is, for a moment, tangled and pressed between the two – until he slips back a little too far, toward the very, very back of Tony’s mouth, hovering over the closed muscular ring of his throat.

And then the world begins to move, jolted, jerking, rhythmic. Beneath him, a low, pleasure-soaked resonant rumble rises up from Tony’s chest, consuming him figuratively like he’s soon to be consumed literally. It’s then that Peter realizes – they’re fucking. They’re having sex again while he’s in here, hovering at the back of Tony’s throat as Pepper rides his cock, as he moves within her, as her tongue searches his mouth for the last traces of Peter’s taste.

That’s the last thing he sees before the throat beneath him unlocks. Tony wants to moan, and he can’t do that while holding that little tiny in place there any longer. A new fresh suction tugs Peter downward, down, down, down the slick wet contracting muscle of his throat as Tony swallows him, opening up the passage to let out that sound he’d been holding back. Peter falls, Tony moans, Pepper grinds, and his mentor feels nothing but pleasure as Peter descends finally into his stomach.

[fandom-gt]

What kind of material do you like writing the most when it comes to shrinking?

I'm a big fan of objectification, dehumanization, unaware, and paternal/maternal/mentor/guardian taboo! Add in some humiliation, insertion, and underwear entrapment and that shit's my jam!

[fandom-gt]

Which DC characters do you like writing about the most? Game of Thrones?

For DC, I’m particularly fond of the Nolan Batman movies, but I can also rock some Harley Quinn. 

For Game of Thrones, I know this isn’t the most popular answer but god I love The Hound, Sandor Clegane all day. But I’m also totally good with Jon, Sansa, Arya, basically any Stark is a thumbs up in my book.

Of the two I definitely have more experience writing for Game of Thrones; I’ve always been more Marvel than DC -- but for commissions, I’m super flexible either way.

[fandom-gt]

Do you have a list of fandoms you will write from? Or ones that you won't?

I don't have an up to date list, but I can tell you in general I'll write for most popular live action shows or movies, anything from Critical Role or Dimension Twenty, a few popular video games like The Last Of Us, and most Disney adjacent animation. I'll also do original character requests if you provide brief descriptions of your OCs!

Most anime and manga fandoms I'm unfamiliar with, so things of that nature are mostly out of my area.

You're always welcome to ask about anything specific you have in mind, and I'll let you know!

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: MCU

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”This is an epilogue of sorts for the foot intern story largely set from Pepper's POV.

Set a few months after the last part, Peter is now a part-time student at MIT taking online courses (on an accelerated major) and continuing to be Pepper’s insole. Despite his initial hopes, he ended up deciding against trying to reconnect with Ned and MJ after meeting with Dr Strange, who warned that more people remembering him could fully break the spell and threaten reality. Since then, he's found himself leaning on Pepper to the point where he's become anxious about the idea of moving out. He ends up telling her about this one night after Morgan is in bed and admits that he doesn't know what to do after he graduates and is afraid of disappointing her, Tony, and May. Her heart breaking for him, Pepper assures him that he could never disappoint her and asked what he really wants. Hesitantly, he responds that he wants to continue being her insole while also working on tech development for Stark Industries. Pepper isn't very surprised by this, knowing how eager he is on his work days with her. She then asks if he's sure and if he would be happy with that life, to which he says yes. Nodding, Pepper says that they'll figure out a schedule for him once he graduates. With that settled, the two of them relax on the couch as Pepper thinks about the future, with a selfish part of her happy that Peter will be staying by her side.”

CHARACTERS: Pepper Potts, Peter Parker

WARNINGS: Femdom, Feet, Maternal-adjacent

COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page +2 Add-on

——

It’s a Thursday night in December, a couple of weeks before Christmas. It’s been snowing off and on for days, but Pepper’s home is well-insulated from the frigid air outside. The steady hum of hot air passing through the vents is, for a long time, the only sound that interrupts their quiet, cozy evening atop her king-sized mattress. The single bedside lamp she’s got on illuminates the pages of her book well enough, but it casts the remainder of the room into a dim, sleepy vignette.

She’s reclined on her pillows, settled comfortably on top of her quilt, enjoying the sensation of Peter diligently working away on her left foot while she reads. A few feet off to the side, her discarded soft satin slippers lay, waiting to be slipped on before she tucks her feet under the blankets.

Peter has his own bed, of course, but he’s taken to fighting off the cold winter chill by snuggling into one of them against her feet at night, draped in blankets and drinking in the radiating body heat from her sole. Pepper doesn’t mind – quite the opposite, waking up to his squirming little body kneading the tendons of her feet is a pleasant way to start off the day.

But he’s been anxious. She’s noticed it in the way he carries himself, in the way he sometimes seems distracted, in the moments of hesitation that come up occasionally in conversation, like he means to say something, but the words never actually manifest themselves. It’s alright. He’s been through a lot, and she’s patient.

God knows there’s an entire list of things he might be upset about – stress from his accelerated academic course load, maybe. More likely, the disappointing news delivered from Doctor Strange. The concept that remembering him would put too much of a strain on the threads of this universe had been a difficult pill for him to swallow, and he’d spent the day afterward utterly quiet, a little despondent, mourning the loss of his best friends all over again. That was weeks ago, though, and with gentle encouragement he seemed to come to terms with it in a way Pepper can’t help but admire. His perseverance is incredible, and she’s made a point to tell him how proud of him she is.

She doesn’t have to speculate anymore after tonight. An hour or so into her novel, Peter slips away from her heel to gently pad between her calves, tentatively approaching so that she can hear him better when he calls up, “Miss- Pepper? Can I, um… Can I talk to you about something?”

Pepper’s smile is warm and genuine as she bookmarks her page and closes the cover. Internally, she’s relieved – giving him space and time to approach him on her own had been a difficult decision, but the right one. Like it or not, Peter’s not a kid anymore, and he hasn’t been for a long time. He’s a responsible young man capable of deciding when he’s ready to talk about things, capable of making up his own mind about his future and what he wants. That last part becomes relevant rather quickly, and it’s something she has to remind herself while she considers it all.

“Of course, Peter. What’s on your mind?” The fondness in her smile only grows as he quickly and gracefully ascends the steep slope of her thigh to settle cross-legged atop it, staring up at her from her lap.

“Well… it’s just- I met with the advisor last week, to talk about how things are going, and it seems like… if everything stays on track, I might be able to graduate next spring,” he explains, and Pepper’s brow furrows gently.

“That sounds like good news,” she prompts, and he nods his little head in agreement.

“It is! I mean, yeah, totally, of course it is, it’s just… You know… I keep thinking about- what I’m supposed to do after. You- you and Mister Stark, you put a lot of- time, and money, and effort into helping me get through all this, and May did everything for me, I’m just…” He trails off for a second; Pepper waits patiently for him to find the words. Eventually, they come – soft, and cracking a little at the seams. “I’m just afraid of wasting it, that’s all. I don’t wanna let any of you down.”

Something in Pepper’s chest lurches, a twisting, heartbreaking kind of yawning. Equal parts despair that he feels the way he does, and desperation for him to know it could never be the case.

“Oh, Peter… Sweetheart, the only thing either of us have ever wanted from you is for you to be happy. As long as you do whatever’s in your heart, you could never disappoint us. Either of us. I bet your aunt would feel the same,” she says, reaching down to trail one elegant, slender finger carefully down his little back. “There’s no invisible goal you have to achieve to be worth the time we’ve spent with you. You’re already worth every scrap. So tell me, what do you want to do, really?”

Peter scrubs a hand across his cheek, wiping away the scarce hint of embarrassing watering his eyes were threatening to do before it can actually manifest into tears. His little shoulders slump, like a load’s been taken off of them.

“I think… Well, I think I want to stay here. With you. I don’t want to move out, get an apartment, be on my own. You’re- you’re the last person I really have, and I like our life. I want to keep doing it, but maybe- could I do it and also work for the company? In R&D, developing tech like Mister Stark did? I have a lot of ideas that I think could be really cool, and I- I mean, I’d apply, of course. If I have to work during the days and just be your insole at nights, that’s okay too! I just- I really… I really want to stay down there.”

His eyes cut a glance over at her feet, at those discarded slippers, a rush of pink heat tinging his cheeks. He’s not a boy anymore, but he’s still young in so many ways, Pepper can’t help but find him adorable.

None of this, ultimately, is surprising to her in the slightest. The fact that he’s so concerned about it almost seems silly, when it all feels so clear and clean-cut to her. Then again, she has the benefit of age and wisdom on her side.

Still, there’s always the risk that maybe she’s being a little selfish here. The concept of keeping him forever, of letting him continue to live most of his time beneath one foot or the other, massaging her weary soles and making her feel good, is inherently a self-serving idea. This is what prompts her to push, very gently, just to be sure – “This is really what you want? You’re absolutely sure this is what would make you the happiest out oof anything??”

Peter doesn’t even hesitate when he nods up at her, so earnest, doe-eyed and utterly certain, “I am. Yeah. That’s what I want.”

“Okay,” she says firmly, nodding back down at him.

“Okay?” He repeats, equal parts uncertain and hopeful, his spine straightening a little bit with a renewed energy and enthusiasm.

“Okay,” she affirms again, her smile turning wry. “Keep studying, keep your grades up between now and spring, and once you graduate, we can find a position for you on the Research and Development team. You’d have to start out with a junior apprenticeship the same as everyone else does, but I know you. I know you’re capable, and intelligent, and deeply motivated. I have every confidence in the world you’ll be a full team member sooner than you realize.”

“Thanks, Miss Pepper,” he says, soft and touched. Then hesitates, and ventures, “And… the other part?”

Her lips curve up knowingly, and she nods. “And the other part. You can stay working as my insole if that’s what you want. We’ll figure out a schedule once everything’s a little more set in stone, we can adapt around your workload and your personal time. Of course I love you being down there, Peter. I’ll keep you for as long as you’ll let me. You’re irreplaceable.”

Peter beams up at her so wide and so relieved, Pepper can’t help but ruffle his hair gently with the whorls of her fingerprint. All traces of anxiety bleed from him as he hoops down off of her thigh, thanking her one last time before throwing himself back into work at the bottom of her feet with fresh enthusiasm and vigor.

Up at the opposite end of the bed, Pepper smiles to herself and shakes her head a little, lifting her book back up again. She stares at the pages for a while, but she isn’t actually seeing them. She’s relaxing to the feeling of tiny hands rubbing away at her soft soles, replaying the conversation in her mind, and thinking about what the future looks like for the two of them.

It isn’t conventional, but then again, when has anything ever been for either of them? And maybe it really is selfish of her to keep him, maybe she ought to be encouraging him to go out and find new connections rather than spending most of his time under her foot, but… he’s happy. And, just like she thought to herself only moments ago, he’s old enough and intelligent enough to make his own decisions. Respecting that, respecting him, means letting herself be a little bit selfish.

Eventually, Peter settles down into her satin slipper as she slides it onto her foot, and the two of them fall into a restful sleep together.

Fin.

[fandom-gt]

FANDOM: How to Train Your Dragon

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”A day after the last part, Crag is relaxing on Hiccup's massive bed when Hiccup returns from the forge. It's then revealed that Hiccup made Crag a small cloak so that he wouldn't get cold anymore. Having never received a gift before and touched by the kind gesture, Crag ends up hugging one of Hiccup's fingers as his way of saying thanks. After Hiccup urges Crag to try it on, the borrower does so and immediately feels warm. Not only from the cloak itself, but from the thought of how lucky he was to be found by Hiccup.”

CHARACTERS: Hiccup, Crag (original character)

WARNINGS: None, this is soft and very SFW!

COMMISSION TYPE: Quick Fill

——

When Hiccup comes home from the forge, he always smells like smoldering fire and charcoal. Sometimes, Crag can smell him before he even sees him – it’s a good association now. Warm, familiar, friendly and comforting. That association only grows on the day Hiccup brings home the carefully tailored, conscientiously sewn little cloak that he presents to Crag somewhat bashfully, an awkward hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“It’s- insulated with, um, it’s a specially treated fur lining, so it should retain body heat. It’s just that you were shivering the other day, and I noticed you get cold a lot, so this should… help?” He volunteers uncertainly, as though there’s any way in the world Crag wouldn’t love it. He’s already hugging the thing to his chest halfway through the explanation, and tugging it on enthusiastically by the end.

It fits perfectly, because of course it does, and Crag is so consumed with gratitude for it, he throws himself around Hiccup’s finger before he even realizes what he’s doing. Hiccup softens, relaxing at the seams, and his voice pitches just a little quieter when he says, “You’re welcome, buddy.”

In the quiet, secret parts of Crag’s mind, he really hopes he can keep this – and he doesn’t just mean the cloak.

[fandom-gt]

Commissions Are Open!

Just a quick status update letting you guys know, since I had them closed for vacation.

Also, a tiny disclaimer that I've messed up a disc in my back and it's effecting my dominant typing shoulder, so please expect turn-around times to be on the slow end. As always, the queue is posted in the blog discord server for full transparency, so you can track where your request falls in the list + monitor it for updates to estimate when yours is coming up!

[fandom-gt]

Do you take requests/comms for The Boys?

I would absolutely accept commissions for The Boys.

(Commissions are closed right now, but they will open again April 9!)