#minor lemon

[bowiebond]

Sugar Daddy!Eddie who grew up poor so when he gets rich and famous, he gives half his money to charity and a good chunk to sugar babies; because some people feel like they have to at least earn the money he throws at them. So he uses young pretty girls as eye candy to pay for their college, their bills, takes newbie male sugar babies out to bars and music classes because they’re baby artists too and causes scandals with them but he has one rule.

They never have sex. Eddie’s an emotional guy. Sex is precious to him. He doesn’t want to really use these people anyway - he just wants to give them the money to succeed like he did.

One day, he meets Chrissy. She left home for college but cut them off after her ED landed her in hospital. Cutting them off was important for recovery but now she has medical and school bills to pay for. And Eddie is happy to offer his assistance. She’s gorgeous and exactly his type of eye candy, he knows the paparazzi would go googoo gaga over her good girl aesthetic on the arm of him, a ‘promiscuous bad boy rockstar’.

And they do! It’s great, she’s funny and sweet and he lets her use his rarely occupied giant kitchen to cook her meals instead of her tiny dorm, plus she packs him lunch if she knows he’ll be out the next day, bakes him sweets. She’s all pink and frills and can’t handle horror movies, but he finds himself getting attached to her. First as a friend, and then in a…not so friendly way.

He was never supposed to use them for anything other than business, friendship at most. He still has other sugar babies for little events to keep up the act of being promiscuous like most rockstars, but Chrissy comes with him to the damn grocery store with him more often than events. They like to play at the park nearby on the way too and Chrissy squeals when he spins her too fast, always catches her when she stumbles off and she always gets this bashful little smile when she’s in his arms.

Eddies in way too deep. Head over heels kind of deep. Writing songs about her smile and her blond hair and sweet laughter like he’s not supposed to be rocking out about death and Satan and hardcore sex. He’s officially hooked on her and he can’t do anything about it because he’s paying her to be near him. He’s sure she likes him, as a friend at the very least, but he morally can’t do a thing about it. It would be downright selfish and gross to pay her for sex when he’s never done that for any of his other sugar babies, and he never wanted too because then she’d feel like that’s an expectation in their visits.

He doesn’t progress their relationship any further, at least not romantically. He does gets Chrissy her own space in his place for when she didn’t want to make the trip back home to her dorm though. It’s agony knowing she’s just a few doors down.

One night she knocks on his door after they’ve watched a scary movie and parted way. Eddie doesn’t expect it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Um…It’s really dumb, I’m sorry.” She’s skittish like a scared animal and Eddie frowned.

“Hey, no, it’s cool. What’s wrong?”

“…Can I sleep in here? I totally have the creeps after that movie.” Eddie had been pretty mean, putting on something pretty gorey, but he had enjoyed having her pressed against him during the whole movie, the blond hiding her face in his shoulder at every jump scare with a little squeak.

“Yeah, sure, I mean…big bed.” He laughed nervously. It really was a big bed. They could fit four people in there, easily.

When Eddie turned out the light, he felt Chrissy close the distance, resting her head on his shoulder and slipping both her hands to cover his on his stomach.

His mouth felt like a desert. He doesn’t dare speak.

“Eddie?” Chrissy whispered.

“Yeah?” He breathed, so quiet it could have been missed. Chrissy didn’t.

“How come you never touch me?” Eddie’s eyes widened in the dark.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Sugar babies…you sleep with them, right? Or at least some. I’ve seen the pictures.” Yeah, he got cozy, but it was acting. He was the star of his drama class in high school. He cleared his throat.

“No, I…I don’t sleep with them.”

“None of them?”

“I don’t…I only do that stuff with people I really care about, Chrissy. I’m not interested unless I know the person really well.” Most people would assume the excuse was bullshit, but it was truth. He had never crushed on anyone that wasn’t a good friend first. He needed a connection first before he could just…hop into bed, you know?

The air buzzes, and it’s probably because Chrissy was a connection, a friend, someone dear to him. She’s gorgeous, and Eddie wants to touch her more than he’s ever wanted to touch anyone before.

“…Would you sleep with me?” Chrissy whispered it like it was the forbidden question, and in a way it was, but she’s shifting closer, all warm skin and soft silk from her pink pyjama shorts and button down top.

Eddie can barely breathe when she’s sitting in his lap, still holding his hand in hers, playing with his fingers shyly.

“Would you?”

Eddie has strong morals, yes, but little self control. Not when what he wants is right in his lap.

She tastes like sugary tea and raspberry lip balm, and he couldn’t stop himself if he wanted too. She sounds like heaven, an angelic choir, and she feels like summer heat and smells like spring sweetness, and Eddie’s lyrics would never be able to capture it for anyone else to understand. It would frustrate him for eternity.

He had already dedicate one drafted song to her smile alone, and he was going to dedicate a million more to her sweet moans, her manicured nails against his back, her wet pussy wrapped around his cock, the way her legs shake when she tries to stand afterwards to pull her pants back on and Eddie has to drag her back into bed without them so he could eat her out and make them keep quivering.

He still has sugar babies after that, but he’s still on his rule with Chrissy. He won’t be paying her for sex, so she can’t be his sugar baby anymore.

Thankfully, he’s a very generous boyfriend who likes doting on his girlfriend and an anonymous spender paying off the last of her college fees and medical bill can’t be helped. She pretends to be mad for a good hour before he’s convincing her to accept the house key and add it to her fluffy rabbit key chain because his home is hers too (and she’s his home anyway, so who cares where they physically live <3)

[undermine-the-instinct]

Can't Sleep Love

CW: Somnophilia(F! receiving), Oral(M! and F! receiving), Knotting (M), edging/orgasm denial(M! receiving), multiple orgasms( M! and F! receiving), FLUFF, NEUVILLETE IS SWEETHEART, Petnames ( love, dear, dearest,my love, etc), reader is called princess once, Smut (obviously), Husband!Neuvillette, AFAB reader, fem reader (Reader wears a dress and heels, and has a vagina and breasts), dirty talk, praise, Neuvillette is a service top leaning towards a sub, reader is a switch, Neuvillete is prim and proper--so he's clutching his pearls, sorta scandalized when reader talks nasty. Inexperienced(??Neuvillette hasn't had anyone else as a bed partner so he's still kinda new?), Reader calls him 'Villette'.

Wc: 5.3K Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Cropped art. Original art belongs to @sviteer . Support the artist please.

Neuvillette cherishes the quiet moments, like these, more than anything else.

You're both tired, you moreso, from a date night out. A lovely candlelit dinner followed by a play at the opera house. And though he held your hand through your sniffles and nodded his head sympathetically throughout the play, you knew immediately what was up when you both stepped out of the opera house to a light sprinkle.

You smiled at him, knowingly, charmingly, reaching forwards to press your lips to his cheek. And just like that the stars were out again.

And now you're home, in the bedroom, on the master bed. You fell down onto it as soon as you entered the room and haven't moved yet, even after he's exited the bathroom. It's late, after all.

Half asleep and dozing, your hands are half curled by your head, and a smile paints your face, sweet and blasé.

You are so beautiful.

He's going to take care of you.

The heels unclasp with hardly a sound; pretty little blue things you bought to match him, you had said. The dress and everything else however, he bought for you.

It makes something in his chest curl, as he carefully shimmies off your heels, as he drags his hands under the hem of your skirt to unclasp your garter belts, rubbing away the indents left there. Old, possessive feelings he thought he'd outgrown long ago.

But you are in his bed, wearing the clothes he bought for you, looking so soft and sweet there, as he rests his head on the soft plush of your thighs, breathing you in and trying not to shake with the urge to just grab you.

You always evoke these sorts of emotions from him. Something he once thought he could never understand, something to be repressed, for its unsightliness; You hold it all all up to the light and don't even flinch.

You give a little half sigh, and Neuvillette relents.

He slides your thighs apart, slowly, nudging closer to your core, swiping his long tongue over the fabric of your panties. Smooth silk and a lace pattern, the seam of your womanhood he can all  feel, but he wants to taste.

They slip off easily like they are meant to, and soon enough Neuvillette is lapping at you, smooth wet glides along your inner folds. Slick gathers under his tongue while you sigh and gasp above him, and he groans into your skin, pressing himself closer, spreading your thighs further.

"Neuvillette…? What are you, oh, archons ...." Now that won't do, he lifts his head from your skin, mouth smeared in slick, and clicks his tongue at you.

"I want to hear only my name from your lips, dear. I'm the one here with you, after all." And just the thought of them hearing; Focalor would act smug and pester him to no end, so no need. This was none of her concern nor business.

"How long have I been asleep?" 

"Not nearly long enough. I was hoping I could get you to climax whilst you still slept. Alas," he lowers himself back down, "I guess I can try another time."

He takes off his gloves, spreads your folds with his fingers and spits on your cunt, once, twice, spreading it with his tongue, before slipping a finger into your tight hole. He groans into your pussy when he feels how you flutter, the moan that leaves your lips as you fall back into the covers.

You taste sweet. It must be from the desert you had earlier. 

He thrusts his finger, feeling you clench around it, and he opens his mouth wider to have more of you, alternating between slipping his tongue in your hole alongside his fingers and sucking on your clit. Your hands fly to his hair and tug; the scalp by his horns sensitive, and heat curls in his stomach, hips twitching into a half thrust. He moans deeply, like a rumble around your clit, and you come with a cry.

He doesn't let go. He thrusts his fingers in deeper, sucking harshly around your clit, swallowing everything you have to offer. Your hands are buried in his hair, and he's practically wearing your thighs like earmuffs; the soft, thin fabric of your stockings tickle his ears, the points no doubt flushed like the rest of his face.

You came quickly, you must have been pent up. He presses a last kiss to your clit before he rises, smoothing his fingers out of you slowly– his composure threatens to snap with the happy, flushed look on your face, the way his fingers are almost pruned with how wet you are.

He licks his lips and he can still taste you, the tang of your orgasm something he could rip people apart for.

Hm. He should act with more restraint. This is not very becoming for the Chief of Justice.

But rather fitting for your husband.

Your legs snake around his hips as you draw him in, he lets you, your hands reaching to cup his face, pressing him into an open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue laps up the mess you made and he chases it with his own, you smile at the mess of it all.

"You're supposed to close your eyes when you kiss," you murmur sweetly, opening your eyes.

"And miss those precious few seconds of seeing you? I could never."

"Oh love, come now, you're going to make me blush if you keep teasing me." Yes, tease that you are, he gives a sharp nip at the thumb you swipe over his bottom lip, a pleased hum in his chest as he looks at you and you giggle.

"Good. I'd like to do much more than that."

"Oh, but of course, I'm all yours." His large hands smooth over your thighs and hips, inching the lace and ruffles of your skirt higher up.

"It's not too much?"

"I'll let you know if it is. Come now," and you tug him closer.

"I want you to make love to me."

You unbutton his top half, untie his cravat, slip the fabric of his suit over his shoulders till his skin is bare to your touch. Cool blue lines, some bold, some thin, breaking waves over the planes of his body. 

He stops your hands as you start to undress, half exposed you are already.

"It's fine. Leave it on."

"Oh? Does the Chief of Justice have a thing for half dressed debauchery?"

"Perhaps I do. Would you be willing to indulge me?" Your smile stays yet your blush deepens when he tugs down his pants and briefs, his member hard and dripping already.

"Surely you'd allow me to remove this much, it's so hot already," you whine as you strip, just enough that the fabric is over your shoulders and bunched under your breasts, nipples half hard in the low lamp light. 

His mouth waters. He mouths at your shoulder, nipping marks onto your collarbone. He feels the hitch of your breath when he slides his cock through the slick folds of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs.

"Hm? Do you like this?" He makes sure to slide his cock all along your walls, smearing himself with the fluids of your orgasm, catching himself on the rim of your hole.

"Is this good enough for you Princess?" He pulls back, taking himself in hand, slapping the fat head of his cock against your clit, a slight growl in his chest when you cry out.

"No…"

"No? How greedy. What else can I do for you, my love? Hm?" He slaps your clit again, and once more, and you whimper, delicious.

His other hand moves, cupping your breast, squeezing and massaging, pinching the hardened nipple.

"Or do you prefer this, my love?" He breathes before popping the other breast into his mouth, gently suckling, rolling the bud in his mouth.

You groan, hands coming up to his hair and pulling him face to face with you, stroking over the ponts of his ears and making him shiver.

"I prefer it when you're inside." You kiss him, silky smooth, and he shudders into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside of you. 

He slides his cock along your puffy, petal soft folds, and starts pressing himself inside. You can probably feel the stretch because you groan again, telling him to hurry the hell up.

But he's not going to hurt you with his…considerable length. He ruts into you, one slow inch at a time, till you're softer and he's seated fully. He doesn't stay still though, he grinds into you, slow enough you can open up more and get used to the feeling.

He feels the skin at the base of his cock tighten, a telltale sign of his knot beginning to swell. He has to remind himself to breathe, and focus on you.

He thrusts, but stops when you wince, feeling you tighten around him, slick and hot, so tight he's not sure whether you're clamping down on him or trying to push him out. 

"Relax,relax my love, or was it too soon?" You shake your head, sighing as you try to force your walls to soften. You must be worked up, extra sensitive from your last orgasm. 

"I-I'm fine…"

"Are you sure?" He moves again, tentative. Your eyes roll at the stretch, hands scratching at his arms and chest. He can feel how slick you are and sighs, tossing his head back.

"Yes, just go, move, please, please…"

He starts to move, fucking himself into you, hissing when you clench around him. His hands fall to the soft fat of your thighs, dimpling in his grip when he slides them further apart, angling his hips to reach deeper.

You whine, and he can feel how slick you are, feel you gushing as he slides over that spot that has you cringing away.

He lifts a thigh, over his shoulder, so he can fuck into you harder, hitting that one spot so he can feel you gush around him. He thrusts and you breathe in time, your pretty face flushed and your pretty tits bouncing with how he's fucking you, deep and fast. His cock jumps when you whine out his name.

He feels a bit stupid like this. Or rather, undone. His mind stalls, thoughts dripping slow and sweet like molasses. Your tight, warm cunt pulling him in, squeezing like a vice around him. He can't help thinking about anything else, can't help the harsh snap of his hips, the way he grinds into you.

You cry when as he does so, the length of him is no longer a problem with how wet you are, his cockhead just kissing that spot that will no doubt have you seeing stars, the slap of skin on skin loud and wet.

Your hands scramble in the sheets so he holds them down for you, entwining his fingers with yours. It helps ground him. And you smile up at him, tilting your chin up for a kiss. He indulges you, as he always has, sweet thing you are.

He's looming over you, fucking into you, deep and eager. You sigh, the drag of his cock, a hot rush of pleasure every time he fills you up. He gasps your name and you whimper in reply.

"Doing so good…Fucking me so well love." The air stutters in his chest, and he can feel his knot swell, the praise going right to his dick.

"You're so beautiful." You hum in reply, the sound so smooth and pleased it's almost a purr.

"Yeah? I am?"

"Yes, you are," he chuckles, dark and low.

"So beautiful. I'm going make you cum again, just like this, okay? You deserve it."

He's not…very experienced at this, but, for you he tries. The bulb at the base of his dick is thick and inflated, half slipping inside your cunt with every snap of his hips.

"I’m gonna cum, I'm gonna cum soon…"

"That's good, you can cum. You can cum darling, I've got you." His knot doesn't fit inside you just yet exactly, but feeling your cunt try to to take him still has his mouth watering, hips twitching out of rhythm.

His teeth drift along your collarbone, before he bites down, and you clamp on his cock and cum around him. He fucks you through it while you make a mess of the sheets, hands scrambling at his back. A growl rips itself out his throat, his teeth still buried in your flesh, marking you.

Your leg kicks out, and Neuvillette lets you yank yourself away, curling into yourself with the force of your orgasm. His hand holds his cock, his knot throbbing almost painfully, firing a heated rod in his belly. A hiss escapes his gritted teeth, while he reigns himself back in. it would’ve been nice if you could’ve taken all of him, but this was about you, not him.

His hands move to your belly, your legs and sides, soothing you and reminding you to breathe through your cries. You gasp out his name in soft pants, brow furrowed and thighs trembling. 

Slowly you uncurl from your little ball, like a flower, Neuvillette thinks, as you open yourself up to him. Your skin is blushed, from your face to your chest, ruddy and ruined.

Beautiful.

"Are you alright dear? Anything you need at all?" With a hum and a soft 'no', you wrap your arms around his neck so he can pull you up and into his lap. He tries to pay no heed to his still hard cock between the both of your bodies, thick and dripping.

"Are you satisfied, dearest?"

"Mhm…" You press lazy kisses to his jaw and he smiles, smoothing a hand over your hair.

"That's good then."

"Hmm…but what about you?"

"I'm alright dear." You roll your hips down and he groans, hips twitching up. He has to grab your waist to stop you from moving, ignoring when you whine.

"I said… I said it's alright dear." 

"But you didn't get to cum. Please?"

"Making love is not about reaching an orgasm." You pout, teary eyed and pitiful. 

"But I want to make you feel good, you do this far too often as is."

He smiles and noses your jaw, the soft skin beneath your ear and the marks he left lower.

"I'm satisfied just pleasing you dearest. I don't need much else."

You try to wiggle your hips down onto hips but he still has that steel grip on you; You whine and paw at his chest.

"Villette–!"

"You don't have to worry about pleasing me love," he pulls you down as he lays back, pulling you flush against him. Affection is warm in his chest, making his words honey and humored. 

"I'm more than fine with just this. Pleasing you is enough for me."

"Well not for me," you grumble. You pout, but then your eyes light up in a realization. He trails his hand down your spine while you think, undoing a few buttons while he's at it to feel more of your skin.

"You know…"

"Yes, love?"

"I like it when you make love to me like this Villette."

"I do too." He kisses your cheek, feeling you smile.

"You always make sure I'm satisfied."

"Of course."

"But you know what I like better?" 

"What is that, love?"

"When you cum." He sighs in exasperation, but fond when you turn his face back towards you.

"I'm being serious! That's when I'm most satisfied." 

"Well, it seems we're both in the habit of preferring to please the other."

"Hm…no. It's more selfish on my end."

"Oh? How so?" He swipes his thumb over your soft cheek, feeling you melt in his hands, putty. Your smile is more mischievous and sultry than sweet, however.

"Well, I just love it when you cum inside me, when you fill me up and fuck it all back into me when it spills out."

Your voice goes low and he swallows thickly, frowning.

"Don't be so crude dear."

"Who else am I to share my desires with if not my husband? Would you rather me go to someone else?"

"Of course not." Don't be daft, he wants to tell you. Just the idea has his hands tensing, his mouth twitching, ready for a snarl. How possessive he feels over you. How right it feels to be so. But, he knows you're just teasing him. 

And you know it's working. Your smile is coy, as you move to take off your dress. He helps you and soon you are as bared to him as he is for you. 

You make a sight, sitting in his lap with nothing but your stockings and mussed hair, his cock stiff along your thigh.  Your earrings catch the light, twinkling like stars.

You take the hands he has on your hips and draw them up your body, drawing them up to your face where you kiss into his open palms, sighing.

"I love you." His breath catches in his throat, sticky and thick.

"I love you. And I want you. I want all of you."

"...You have me dearest." His voice goes low, soft enough that it's just a rumble in his chest. You slide your hands down his torso, lightly dragging your nails and he trembles.

"Then let me make you feel good? Please?" Your hands go below his hips, rubbing circles into his skin when he shudders.

"Love, love you don't have to–"

"Please? I want to." You lean, to whisper in his ear.

"I want to feel you. I want all of you. I want you to cum inside me and I want your knot and I want you to fuck me, Villette. Please?"

"...You are so vulgar."

"But you love me anyways?"

He groans, covering his eyes, tossing his head back and you grin at the surrender. 

Your hands come around his cock, and he gives a little half-aborted thrust into your hands. He had swelled down some in the aftercare, but he felt the growing heat in his groin and sighed, a mutter under his breath.

You have to use both your hands to wrap around his girth, your thumb just under the head of cock, pressing down on a vein there. He snarls, softly, and moves to cover your hands with his own.

"...Tighter. And faster. Like this." Your hands are so small compared to his, as he shows you. Soon you’re stroking his length, wet clicks every time you pump down, squeezing around his knot and twisting your hand around the red head of his cock, digging the pad of your finger into his dripping slit.

He bites down on his lip, tossing his head back onto the pillows. His thighs shake, and he can see the dark red tip of his shaft, wet and shiny. He wondered how much of the slick is leftover from when he was inside you. How slick it'll be when you're finished with him.

"You are so pretty, you know that?" You catch his attention with a harsh pump, twisting your hand down around his knot. His breath catches.

"When you're like this, with your pretty face and your pretty thighs and your pretty cock making such a mess in my hands. I love it." His dick jumps in your hand and he clicks his tongue at you.

"Sweet talker."

"But you like it! You're blushing, look," and your mouth curves dangerously. 

"Even your cock is blushing." He hisses your name but you laugh, moving off his lap to lay between his thighs. 

You open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. A thick bead of spit falls, right onto his tip, and you quickly gather that and spread it over his cock. He has no time to wonder what you're going to do, because you duck your head, taking one of his balls into your mouth.

You run your tongue over the delicate skin, suckly softly, before slurping the other into your mouth. His hand comes and twists into the hair of your nape and you hum, just to feel him shudder.

You move up, to the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. You drag your tongue slowly along the path of it, taking just the tip of him into your mouth. You make sure he's looking at you as you suckle softly, and when he tugs at your hair you start in earnest.

He's too big for you to take him in one swallow, so you work yourself, inch by inch. He helps you, using your hair as an anchor and rocking into your mouth, slowly, till his knot slips inside and you can feel him twitching at the back of your throat. 

It's a stretch, as usual. He's so big and so good you can't help moaning around him, high and needy, and he breaks.

His hips snap back and he slams into your mouth with a growl. You moan again and he curses under his breath, tilting your head for a better angle when he thrusts again.

He picks up rhythm, and the smooth glide of his cock on your tongue has you moaning and rubbing your thighs together, slick gathering. You want him inside, you want him to fuck you again, but more than that you want him to cum. Hard.

You don't think he's going to last long, anyways. He never has, the few times he's let you do this. Even now, his rhythm is sloppy as he fucks into your mouth, his moans going breathy and high. But that's fine, you want him like this, so you meet every thrust, sucking harder, hollowing out your cheeks and taking him as far as he can go. 

He tugs at your hair again, and you look up, meeting his eyes,the  pupils blown out and mouth open in a pant.You make sure yours are wide in faux innocence; Even fluttering your lashes when he bucks into your hot mouth again, rolling your eyes back a little. He snarls, and you feel his cock jump, the first hot spurts of cum on landing on your tongue. But before you could swallow he pulls you off, a slick pop when he leaves your mouth.

A dark growl snarls out from his clenched teeth, but he holds you in place, not letting you sink back onto him.

"Neuvillette!!" You're mad. What the hell?! Why would he do that? Not only did he pull you off of him, robbing you of his taste, he ruined his own orgasm!

His teeth are still barred, pupils blown dark and wide, diamond shaped. His chest falls and rises in harsh pants, a bit of drool at the corner of his lips, red and bitten, kiss swollen. He looks wild.

"Didnt…I didn't climax yet."

"What?"

"I didn't cum. I'm, I’m holding it..."

"Wait, what? Why?" Why? You want to demand your answers, you want him back in your mouth or your cunt, but he moves before you do.

His hand is still on your nape, and he doesn't talk, just uses it to drag you up and over his body, so he can kiss you. His tongue sweeps the wet cavern of your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue, the roof of your mouth, your canines.

He lays back, pulling you on top of him, while you hook your leg around his waist. His hand comes under your thigh, spreading you farther as he slips inside, splitting you on the first few inches of his cock. You clap onto him, sensitive still from your last two orgasms.

You rock your hips, trying to slip more and more of him inside your quivering cunt, eager and impatient. He throws his head back, exposing the pretty line and bob of his adams apple, when he feels his knot catch the rim of your entrance, the way you try to suck him in.

"Dont….Don't force yourself-"

"I can take it," you cut him off, and fuck if that doesn't make his belly tighten.

"I can take it, just help me." He meets your rocking with shallow thrusts of his own, slipping further inside you, a rush of warmth every time you gasp when he enters. 

You gasp when his knot slips past your entrance, he can feel you stretch to accommodate him and waits for you to adjust, trying to ignore the urge to just buck up into you, ans swallow everything you have to offer. He can wait.

But you’re not that patient. You lean against him and bury a whine into his shoulder when you start to move; bouncing up and down on his cock, not that he lets you go far. Neuvillette's hands clamp onto your waist, pulling you down to meet his thrusts everytime you come back down.

You can feel him, his cockhead hitting that gummy spot with every thrusts, making you shiver, eyes rolling back a little. You can feel his knot too, massaging into your walls, thick and tender. You're going to cum soon, like this.

He doesn't let you do this often. You're going to milk it for all its worth.

You give that breathless smile you know makes his heart flutter, and start whispering the things that come to your mind, the thoughts you had this evening.

How pretty he looks under you, flushed and barely holding onto decorum. How pretty he’ll look when he comes inside of you. How you've been wanting to have him all night; perhaps sneaking away and tasting him during dinner, have him fuck your mouth so you can swallow him down. Or maybe even in the opera house, in the darkness behind the curtains, have him feel how slick you were even then, how tender and eager you are.

"How lewd." He berates you, frowning but you smile wider, moaning when he traces over a sweet spot of yours, his hips drawing magic figure eights that have you gushing around him.

"Hm? And yet…you're the one fucking into me right now." You flutter your walls and he groans, but if anything, he moves faster, jaw tight like a bowstring.

You trace the line of his throat and he swallows, looking up at you where you are with just the slightest vexation, a scolding. He can't hide the desperation gleaming there though.

"Don't pretend," he hisses when you tighten, rolling his hips to get you to soften, "that I'm doing you a favor."

"But you are. I want you just like this my love." With a nudge you press him further down into the sheets, his wide eyes shot with pleasure and awe.

Your voice turns tender, sweet.

"I want you all flushed and pretty, and fucking your knot into me till you fill me up with your cum, okay?"

"Oh fuck," you feel him twitch inside you and shudder, lifting your hips and bouncing down on him, pulling his hair a little. 

You move, sliding off of him with a slick pop, before slamming back down in a single thrust, arching your back in that way you know he likes. His hands scramble at your back, a moan wracking in his chest.

"Love you, love you, ah fuck I love you," you moan against his mouth, the messy sweep of his tongue. You grind down just to feel his knot tighten inside of you, fluttering your walls. His back arches off the bed, and he cums with a sharp gasp. 

He doesn't let you slip off of him; He presses tight against your cervix, hot spurts of cum painting your womb white. You whimper, just teetering that edge, caught on his knot and unable to move.

His belly twitches under you, breath hot and labored. A tortured moan leaves his throat as you move again, chasing your own pleasure, desperate. You smooth the hair back from his forehead, just to see the ruddy fucked out look on his face better.

“So fucking pretty. So, so good to me. Can I keep going? Just a little more, alright?” You run your hands down the planes of his chest, lean like a swimmer but more built, the quivering skin of his belly, happy trail wet with sweat and fluids.

"Please, please, let me just–" You start to slip him inside but he moves for you, laying you both on your sides and snapping his hips snug against yours. The new angle has him hitting that spot with perfect accuracy, and you gush around him, back arching. He stifles down something that sounded half whimper, half moan, and bucks into you like an animal in heat.

It's filthy, loud and wet, the way he fucks you, and so out of character for him that you’d get whiplash, if you could think of anything other than the tight curl of heat in your belly, the way your orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave.

He rolls you onto your back and slides his mouth over yours to swallow your cries, his hands scrambling everywhere-your knee, your tummy, your hips and breasts and shoulders, possessive little touches. You soak the sheets, and he rolls himself into you to tide you over, murmuring reassurances into your mouth, sliding his knee on the soft skin of your thigh. He came again, you can feel how full you are, it probably would’ve been leaking out if his knot wasn’t acting like a sort of plug. He throbs inside, pumping his hips in a sloppy rhythm.

When it wanes you groan, smoothing your hands down the column of his spine. He moves to your neck and chest, nibbling and sucking marks into your skin.

“Hm…That was nice.” You wince when he slips out, and yeah, you can feel his cum rush out of you, the feeling is too open and not welcome.

“You certainly let loose. You must have been pent up, huh?”

“Oh shush you,” He kisses along your jaw and cheek, seeking out affection. Your foot slides along his calf, soothing, calming him down.

”Still, we should do this more often.”

“You’ll be spoiled if I indulge you too much. It’s best we show restraint.”

“Hm, I could see your point. But, if we do this more often we can get to the point where I can take your knot more easily and–” He kisses you to cut you off, and before you can reply he has you scooped up in his arms, sliding off the bed and heading towards the bath.

“Your mouth is so vulgar; I don't understand how your mouth filters out everything but the obscene.”

“It's one of my charms. Do you not find me charming, love?” He gives you a look, up and down, and you realize you probably look a bit more than charming; Flushed and covered in his marks, his spent still leaking from your cunt. You still lift an eyebrow, waiting for your answer.

He sighs, setting you on the lip of the tub, reaching behind you to fill it. You brush his hair back from his neck as he leans in, just to press a kiss there.

“Yes. I find you charming and lovely and alluring, beautiful and damning. Though, I hope to find you clean and resting in my arms, in our bed tonight. Can we have that, my dear? I want nothing more.” 

“Well,” you know you’re blushing, like a schoolgirl with a crush, and not someone who just made love with their husband. How silly. “If you insist.” You flutter your lashes at him and he smiles, fond and adoring, rolling his eyes and pressing his lips to your temple. Your heart warms.

“I love you, Villette.”

“I love you as well. Most ardently and wholeheartedly.” 

[riful-writes]

Werewolf Stalker (pt.1)

He waits till you're dripping wet from your shower and drying off before he startles you.You are pushed onto your bed with a big clawed hand covering your mouth and another pinning your navel to the bed. You stare at deranged,lust fillled, inhuman golden eyes. A muscled fur covered frame, a maw lined with sharp teeth and big canines. "A werewolf !!??" You thought unbelievably. You try to move and scream but he has you trapped and terrified underneath him.He then lowers his head and wedges his open jaws between your legs and gets inches away from your bare folds.His cold nose brushes against your bundle of nerves and you yelp out in shock behind his clawed hand. The contrast of his cold nose against your cl*t sent your heart racing in a completely different way.He looks up from between your legs with curiosity and slowly passes his textured tongue over your bud . He watched your eyes widen and another more throaty sound came from you that was suppressed by his paw.He grins from between your legs and laps at you again.He starts a slow pace of pressured tongue circles on your bud while slowly removing his paw from your mouth. He wanted to hear your moans that were now slowly coming out. You've lost it completely now, you thought . His sharp fanged jaw was completely encasing your womanhood and instead of screaming out in terror or for help your were moaning like a bitch in heat from the pleasure.

You've touched yourself, sure, but this was so much better than fingers that barely reached where you needed them. Or the vibrator that gives out on you right when you needed it the most.His tongue had soft yet firm ridges that drove you mad. It kept going in circles directly on your clit, and you went over the edge just as he pushed harder with his tongue. You cried out , gushing into his already open maw. He laps up your cream , starting from the outside of your lips till he drives his long tongue home. He hits your gspot hard and keeps it there, flicking the tip of his tongue over it. He did this continuously, making your already sensitive pussy drench his tongue a second time that night. He kept his face exactly where he wanted it. Your cream, your cries of ecstasy, they were a drug he didn't know how to kick.He brought you orgasm after orgasm till you finally succumbed to exhaustion. The last thing your deranged mind thought of was how good he would feel inside of you. Unknowing to you , your new friend laid down beside you and watched you sleep. He would wait until you wake up so he could prep you for his girth again. He would just have to make sure you didn't pass out this time ;)

[past-present-future-cable]

Magneto absolutely eats pussy. I don't care what anyone says. That man will absolutely be the kind of guy to worship their partner.

Fat and hate it? He's going to worship you.

Anxious in general about sex? He's doing everything to help you relax. Boundaries are key.

Lights on, lights off, don't matter. That man is going to make the sex the best thing ever.

[somedaylazysomeday]

An Emissary of the (Goblin) King

Your quiet life as a teacher falls apart when a student wishes you away. Eventually, Jareth has to decide what to do with you.

Jareth x fem!reader (no use of 'y/n')

*This was written for a request in which the reader was supposed to be plus-sized. As such, there are a few scattered references to weight and body shape.

**Not related to my other Labyrinth works.

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 6,800

Warnings: themes of being forgotten, slight loss of identity, bar flirting, slight harassment, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.

Masterlist

---

When you had gotten wished away in your thirties, you were… perturbed. 

After all, you had been long past the days of fairy tales and make-believe. Magic was a lovely story element for children, a way to encourage their imaginations and allow them to dream of the impossible. But it wasn’t real. 

At least, that had been your theory between the ages of ten and thirty-something. Then, one of your second-grade students in the after-school tutoring session had gotten upset with you. You had told him that he couldn’t have a second helping of snacks unless he agreed to work on his math problems with you. He had been struggling with subtraction in particular, but was so energetic that it was difficult for him to focus. 

You hadn’t really been able to blame him - it was after school hours and the sun was beginning to set, throwing beams of blazing orange light from beneath a carpet of dark purple clouds. It was the perfect counterpoint to the playfully spooky Halloween decorations you had put up around the room. 

Anyway, when you had insisted that your student sit down and focus on his math sheet before you let him have another handful of gummy worms, he had pouted his tiny face. With an impressive amount of venom for a six-year-old, he said, “Well, I wish the goblins would take you away right now.”

You were still wearing an indulgent smile when you appeared in the straw-strewn throne room with an anticlimactic pop!

The Goblin King was lounging on his uncomfortable-looking throne, watching you with his own indulgent smile. “Wished away by a child, were you? Pity. He likely meant nothing by it, but… well, what’s said is said. I doubt he will opt to run the labyrinth, but let us see if he calls.”

Operating under the idea that you had fallen and given yourself a rather nasty concussion, you simply nodded and took a seat on the cleanest section of the stone floor you could find. It was quiet in the throne room, though you could hear the unmistakable sounds of distant chaos.

It had started small - brushing a piece of straw from the stone slab next to you. It fell into the pit and that made you feel a little better. Then you pushed the straw from the next stone, and the next until the section around you was clear. Then you started using your feet to push the straw down the stairs until it was gathered in a neat pile at the bottom. 

“Would you like a broom?” the man with the wild hair asked. You were cautious when you faced him, but he simply looked amused. 

“And a dustpan, if you don’t mind.”

He shook his head. “Unnecessary.”

You hadn’t bothered asking what that meant. Instead, you applied yourself to neatening the throne room, working from the edges and sweeping all the debris toward the pit in the center of the room. Even the brown dots - ones you hoped were mud but suspected were some kind of dried fecal matter - lifted easily enough under the stiff bristles of the broom. 

At last, the room was clean and you swiped your forearm across your perspiring face. You didn’t know how the pit was going to get clean, but you were going to be miffed if the answer was ‘you’. 

When you caught movement from the corner of your eye, you jumped. You hadn’t forgotten the room’s other occupant - how could you? - but he moved with such impossible silence that you couldn’t track him with hearing alone. 

The man came to stand beside you and you took the chance to study him subtly. He looked… strange.

You shook yourself, reflexively berating yourself for the unkind thought, but you hadn’t been wrong. His face was narrow, flaring out at the cheekbones. His eyes were mismatched, but not in a heterochromatic way. No, one of his eyes was bluish-green while the other was simply black, as if it were entirely pupil. 

His hair was long and straight, though cut at various lengths that left it tapering from his  head down. Like a shag haircut on steroids. You were a little jealous and had vaguely started wondering whether you would be able to pull off the style when he turned. You realized just how tall he was. 

His mismatched stare was heavy and intense, and you redirected your attention as soon as possible. You opted to look at the pit instead, to take in the pile of straw and droppings, but it was gone. 

“What happened to the straw?” you asked, bewildered by the empty pit in front of you.

He smirked, lips twisting with an amusement that didn’t reach his eyes. “I discarded it, of course.”

“No, you didn’t,” you contradicted. “I’ve been standing there the whole time.”

“I used magic,” he clarified.

“Magic isn’t real.” 

The man’s eyes widened, then narrowed at you. “Have you not yet realized that you’re in a different place than you were when you were wished away?” 

“You said that earlier,” you remembered. “‘Wished away’. What do you mean?”

“At last, the typical questions,” he sighed. “Admittedly, far later than they are usually asked. Allow me to explain.”

The explanation that followed had been interesting, if mildly ludicrous: the man was actually a fae named Jareth. He collected lost and wished away items, though the only ones of them people cared enough to chase down were living things. He guarded the Labyrinth, collected the living things that appeared in the Underground - mostly children and pets, as he had explained - and allowed the wishers to run the Labyrinth if they wanted their disappeared item back. 

It could have been a far shorter explanation if you hadn’t been far more convinced by your concussion theory. 

In the end, Jareth had gotten tired of listening to your counterarguments and had sent you to ask Hoggle the rest of your questions. Hoggle had answered your questions… eventually. With a lot of complaining and work between giving those answers. You didn’t mind - work was something to keep you from running in circles in your own thoughts, and you learned a lot about the Labyrinth and the Underground simply by following Hoggle around. 

Jareth didn’t call you back to the throne room for nearly a week. 

“It seems as though your wisher is not going to run for you,” he said, taking on an expression he may have thought looked pitying. “He is at home with his mother, playing and eating and sleeping quite well without another thought of you. Quite the heroic youth."

“He’s six!” you reminded, mildly outraged at Jareth’s censure. “Even if he had offered, I wouldn’t want him running your labyrinth. It’s a death trap.”

Jareth’s expression had flattened at your insult, his mismatched eyes glittering with irritation. “Whether he would have run or not is irrelevant in the end. The real question is: what is to be done with you?”

“I…” You disliked asking questions you already knew the answers to, but there was nothing to be gained by playing things cool. “Could I go back home?”

“No.”

The blunt answer, though exactly what you had expected, still made you wilt. 

Jareth, for all that he made you nervous, didn’t look cruel about it. In a voice that was kinder than you had hoped, he said, “Even if I would agree to send you home, it would be impossible. You have been here too long. You have eaten and drank from the Underground. A single bite, a single sip… those could be reasoned with. Enough to influence a dream, forge a connection. But anything more? You are of this place now, more one of us than one of them.”

You wanted to argue, but something in your chest agreed, some nameless tangle of a thing recognizing that everyone and everything you had known were ‘them’. And you were not. 

Not anymore.

You had expected to be eaten by the Firies or thrown into the Bog or at least turned into a goblin, but Jareth had given you a different job: you were to be his hands and eyes in the human world.

“After all, no one will wish their belongings to me if they are ignorant of my existence,” he had told you. “You will spread information. Books and legends, stories told by firelight and in dark rooms as their occupants drift to sleep.”

And that was your task, had been for an eternity before you thought to check what year it was at all. People didn’t recognize you when you went to the human world, not even if you happened upon someone you had once known. That was fortunately rare, and became more so as the years faded. You didn’t seem to age, not the way you had. Perhaps there was an extra strand of silver in your hair or an aching joint where there never had been before, but it was uncommon. 

Oh, you looked the same as you always had. You could verify that any time you were on the surface. Just then, for instance, you were standing outside of a bar and could see yourself in the shine of the old-fashioned, gilt-edged windows. You were generously curved as you had been before, your face the same shape. 

If you stared too long, though, you could catch something strange in your face, in the way you walked. Nothing overt, of course, but something that made you look… sharp. Wild. It drew some attention when someone watched you for too long. The mask of your humanity - what remained of it, anyway - fell away with exposure. From there, it could go either way. Sometimes, humans fled like prey before a predator. Other times, they hit on you. 

Had humanity always been like this? So willing to run into danger? You didn’t think so, but it was getting difficult to remember. 

Either way, you had barely sat down at the bar and ordered a glass of wine before someone slid onto the barstool beside you. To be fair, you couldn’t be too upset about it. You had been searching for company.

“I’ll pay for that,” the man announced to the bartender. The bartender didn’t look like she could have cared less, but she managed a nod. “So, what’s your name?”

“I’m much more interested in learning yours,” you deflected. 

The stranger beamed at that and you smiled back. If you had your way, he wouldn’t learn your name. Even if he did, he would forget it before the day ended and you would never see him again. You would feel guilty about that, but you needed him for temporary relief from your body’s needs, nothing more. 

He could never be anything more. 

You pushed all of that from your mind and focused on your partner for the evening. He was handsome, the type of person you dated before you were wished away. It was getting harder to remember those days. 

The man’s personality was a little intense, but that tended to ease back a bit after someone realized that you weren’t going to disappear from them… yet.

Two drinks in, you had offered a smile that was almost genuine and were getting ready to suggest a change in location when your chest vibrated.

That wasn’t quite the right way to phrase it, but it was a difficult sensation to describe. It felt as though your ribcage and all of the organs it protected shook in tandem. The closest you had ever come to pinpointing the sensation was to compare it to the ringing of a gong, though thankfully, without the noise of the actual strike. 

The sensation was a warning that the Goblin King wanted you back in the Underground. It would happen more often the longer you ignored the summons, and would eventually grow painful. 

You rarely let it continue that long.

“I have to go,” you told your potential partner, standing abruptly from the stool and handing your credit card to the bartender. “Drinks are on me.”

At least, you assumed it was a credit card. It had no numbers or identification on it and you certainly didn’t have any money, but you had never had trouble paying for anything with it. Jareth had given it to you with minimal explanation. 

“Hang on-” the man protested, catching at your arm. You looked at his hand, then at him. Some of your strangeness must have shown through, since he slowly withdrew. He wasn’t wary enough, since he continued to speak. “What happened? I thought this was going somewhere.”

“It was,” you agreed simply, accepting your card from the bartender and scrawling a series of loops on the receipt she slid toward you. “Now it’s not.”

Fortunately for your almost-partner for the evening, he thought better of trying to physically stop you again and you left the bar unaccosted. 

Transportation to the Underground was rarely as dramatic as it had been that first time. Instead of a sudden, jarring switch in location, it happened as a slow fade. In this instance, you were walking and your surroundings seemed to blur slightly. When you could see clearly once more, you were in the Goblin King's throne room. 

Your forward motion hadn’t stopped, but it was far more risky to keep walking with the goblins thronging around your feet. You looked down at the group currently blocking your way and said, “Excuse me.”

The goblins - who had apparently been occupied in some kind of chicken-based game, shrieked and tumbled to either side. You continued toward the throne. 

For his part, Jareth was pretending he hadn’t noticed you yet. Instead, he was sprawled across his throne and studying the riding crop he had resting across his knees. Most observers would believe he was pensive, utterly lost in thought, but you knew better. Jareth loved to be watched, and if he could convince you that you had chosen to look without any prompting from him, so much the better. 

“You summoned me, sir?” you asked, reaching the base of the throne and offering a small incline of your head. 

Jareth glanced over, managing to look surprised, curious, and haughty. “Yes, I want a report on your progress.”

“Do you mind if I dismiss your subjects?” 

“As if you do not number among them?” Jareth tested, a corner of his mouth quirking upward knowingly. When you simply maintained eye contact, he gave a slight nod. “Very well, if it would please you.”

With effort, you managed not to shake your head at him. You were well able to focus even with the din of goblins around you, but Jareth took any respite he could get from them. 

“Can you all go downstairs for a while?” you asked, directing the question to the room at large. “I need to speak with the king.”

“You’s is speaking to him now,” one squeaky goblin pointed out, sounding sullen. 

Before the others could agree, you quickly cut in and diverted them. “You’re right, I am. But we need to talk about some very boring stuff and we need the room to be quiet. If you want to stay, you can’t make any noise. In fact, you could even help clean the throne room…”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything else, the goblins rushed out of the room in a panicked tide. You smirked at the receding wave of excitable, temperamental creatures. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since you had taught six and seven year-olds, but the goblins weren’t so different from human children. 

When you turned around, Jareth was sitting on the throne like it was a chair rather than a fainting couch. One of his eyebrows was raised and he looked impressed despite himself. “Someday, you must help me gain such mastery over my subjects.”

“Impossible,” you told him flatly. “They’re too focused on impressing you.”

“That has always been my burden to bear,” the Goblin King drawled, preening slightly as you tried not to roll your eyes. 

Jareth was the king. If you were to be technical about it, he was your king. He had left you alive when he didn’t need to. Even more than that, the nature of the job he had given you meant you had certain powers. The Goblin King did not bestow those lightly. You felt like you owed him at least basic respect, if not anything more subservient.

Besides, Jareth had enough people - well, goblins - trying to respond to his every need. You liked to think that he enjoyed the bits of personality you were willing to share with him. 

Rather than voice any of that aloud, you gave a shallow nod. "But you summoned me for a purpose. What do you need?" 

With the amusement still dancing across his fine features, Jareth tilted his head at you. "The work I gave you has never taken so long. I wanted an update on your progress." 

"My…" For the first time since you had found yourself in this strange land, you were thrown off by Jareth. He had never given any deadlines for your work, never ordered you to be done by a specific time. In fact, the opposite had been true. On the rare occasions that you worried about how long something took, Jareth was the first to remind you that he - and, by extension, you - had all the time that would ever exist. 

You managed to scrape together a semblance of competence. "An update. Yes. I can- That is, the work you gave me is complete. I distributed the books, set up special showings of the film, and orchestrated the release of some photographs." 

"All of that has been done?" Jareth checked. When you nodded, he gave you a stern look. "Then why did you not return to me immediately?"

As if on cue, something low in your stomach gave a heaving, disgruntled throb. You had never been overly desire-driven when you were fully human, and you blamed that for your current awkwardness - sex had never been common enough for you to grow blunt about your need for it. But you still had that need, and your body’s complaints were almost enough to drown out the weight of Jareth’s stare. Almost.

“I was in the middle of a different task,” you replied, trying to make it sound as bland as possible. Jareth’s attention span was stronger than that of his subjects, but he still made a concerted effort to avoid boring subjects. “Nothing of importance.”

Jareth studied his hands. “No, I imagine there is not much of importance in a dirty tavern.”

You froze. Not that you had been moving very much before, but every muscle locked down in response to the pointed revelation that Jareth could and did know where you went when you were Aboveground. “I-”

“You?” Jareth repeated mockingly. “Yes, you. You allowed a human to ply you with alcohol, then to paw at you. Though I suspect, given the tone of your conversation, that is far more innocent than what you would have done if I had not summoned you back here.”

“But how-”

Your question cut off abruptly when Jareth made a noise of impatience, tapping his cheekbone twice, just below his human eye.

“You watch me?” you demanded, surprise turning swiftly to anger and embarrassment. “Why?”

Jareth treated the question as literal rather than rhetorical, musing for a moment before he answered. “At first, to see if you intended to flee. It would not have worked, but it is always amusing to see humans try. Then, to be certain that you were performing your tasks to my standards. And finally…” The smile on Jareth’s face was indolent, with more than a hint of mischief. “Simply because I can.”

Glaring at an omnipotent fae king was probably not the wisest thing you could do, but your fury made you bold. “And have you watched me during my personal time before?”

Jareth let his head loll toward you for the best view of his self-satisfaction. “Yes.”

With a barely stifled noise of outrage, you spun with every intention of storming out of the room. Unfortunately for you, the powers Jareth had allotted you were nothing compared to his own. Without a sound or a motion from him, Jareth ordered the heavy doors to swing closed and there was nothing you could do to force them open once more. 

“I do not see why you are so offended,” Jareth told you, conversational tone coming from nearer than his throne. “I am well aware that humans have needs.”

“Then why interrupt me…” Your hissed demand had caught in your throat when you turned to find Jareth much closer than anticipated. The Goblin King twisted his head slightly to one side, matching the smirk that twisted his lips. You cleared your throat. “Why interrupt me when you know I’m occupied? Like you said, I have needs. It doesn’t help anyone if I’m too busy to meet them.”

“You are missing the most obvious solution,” Jareth informed you, spreading his hands to either side. “I can help meet those needs.”

“You?” you repeated skeptically. 

Jareth’s arms dropped and he looked almost offended. “And why not me?”

It may have been a rhetorical question, but you gave it as much thought as he had to your earlier question about his reasoning. “Well, you don’t seem like you would be interested. You don’t usually do things unless you have something to gain.”

“Have I not struck you as altruistic?” he asked. You shook your head, opting for honesty above tact. “Good. You are right, I don’t perform favors out of something as naïve as kindness. I have much to gain from this offer.”

“Like what?” you asked. The suspicion in your voice was so thick as to be almost comical, but Jareth didn’t seem offended.

“Pleasure,” he answered simply. “Do you want to meet your needs now? Or will you wait until the next time you have a spare moment to be disappointed by some human in a bar?”

You thought about waiting, you really did. Jareth was cocky enough without giving him access to something as personal as your pleasure. But you were growing close to desperation. That could make you more likely to be careless in Aboveground, something you weren’t willing to risk.

“You’re right,” you said. “It is the most obvious solution.”

The only thing that saved you from the self-congratulatory smile that slid across Jareth’s face was the fact that you erased it with your lips a moment later.

The Goblin King’s teeth were sharp. It had been one of the first things you noticed when you met him so long ago, but you were still a little shocked to be confronted by that sharpness when you slipped your tongue between his lips. 

Jareth’s surprise rivaled your own, though for different reasons. For half a moment, he seemed taken aback by your ardor, but he recovered and took control of the kiss before you could get used to the taste of him. He was like the sweetest wine, and you were instantly addicted.

A hand latched around your jaw kept your head positioned just where Jareth wanted it, and he swept through you like a hurricane. It was all you could do to keep up with him, but you were the first one to succumb to wandering hands. 

His clothes were always so decadent, and you had been waiting a long time to see if they felt as lovely as they looked. You were delighted to say that they did - textures sliding and dancing beneath your fingertips - but you were more focused on what you felt under those clothes.

The heat of Jareth’s skin was immense even through his clothing, enough to pull an answering sensation of heat from you. Every item of clothing you removed from him ratcheted the temperature further up until you felt like there was fire under your skin. 

Halfway through removing Jareth’s ostentatious cape, you pulled away to deposit it safely on his throne. It wouldn’t do to have it trampled by goblins or, worse, land in chicken excrement. 

Jareth muttered complaints for every moment you were away from him, pulling you impatiently closer the moment you were in arm’s reach. “I don’t know why you did that. I intend for that throne to be our next destination.”

You cast an assessing glance toward the door. It looked heavily barred, and you hadn’t been able to budge it, but there was a distinct possibility… “Fine with me, as long as you’re sure we won’t be interrupted. I don’t want to toss any of your subjects from the window of your throne room.”

“The door is locked,” he assured you, ducking his head to press wet kisses down your neck before blowing gently across his handiwork. 

With a shiver at the abrupt shift in temperature, you nodded. “And no goblin has ever managed to circumvent a locked door before.”

Jareth paused, clearly intent on undoing your shirt, but gave a marvelously exasperated groan. “Fine.”

Your triumph was cut off by an abrupt shriek as Jareth pulled you into his arms so strongly that your feet left the floor. “Jareth! What are you doing?”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this, pet,” he replied, pouting. “I’m not wasting any more time.”

And then he was striding toward a section of the throne room that looked distinctly… soft around the edges, and you recognized it as a portal. All of that was secondary, of course, to the ever-present awareness of being held in Jareth’s arms. 

As someone with a proud set of curves, you could count on one hand the number of times you’d been lifted by a lover. That was a shame, since being carried was something of a weakness for you, especially when you weren’t worried about being dropped. And nothing in Jareth’s expression or posture warned that he was about to run out of strength. 

You were still basking in the sensation as Jareth stepped through the portal and into a room that was nearly as large as the throne room. The major differences were that there was no pit and that the place of the throne was occupied by the largest bed you had ever seen. 

A smile stretched across your face as Jareth set you down on that large bed, and he frowned at you. “What is amusing you?”

“This bed is enormous,” you explained. “Yet I’ve never seen you with anyone.”

“I’ve had a partner here on numerous occasions,” he told you haughtily. “Perhaps you have not seen them because you are so busy finding partners among the humans.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed readily enough. “Or perhaps it has been such a long time that your last partner and I missed each other.”

“That…” Jareth’s lips pursed, “...is possible.”

You didn’t necessarily remember closing your eyes while you laughed at that, but you must have. When you opened them once more, Jareth was looming over you. “Pleased as I am to provide amusement, there are other noises I would rather pull from you.”

Your breath caught at the rough admission. Jareth’s face descended before you could scrape up a response, and then you were too concerned with meeting the intoxicating rhythm of his mouth against yours. 

The next thing you knew, you were resting more securely on the bed with Jareth holding himself above you. Both of you were fully naked and you had no idea how you had gotten that way. Most likely, he had used his magic to remove your clothing, but it was possible that you had been too thoroughly distracted by his kisses to worry about something as minor as what his hands were doing. 

In any case, you were reveling in the way your hands could roam over him without encountering any barriers. Jareth’s body was pale, muscles dancing subtly under his skin. That paleness was marked with occasional scars - silvery marks that spoke of injuries from long ago. You couldn’t see much of him below the mid-torso since he was pressed so tightly to you, but you could feel the delicious length of him, hot and hard against your thigh. 

When Jareth finally pulled away, he only went far enough to make eye contact without either of you crossing your eyes. “I want to taste you. Is that acceptable to you?”

“You’re the king,” you reminded him with a sardonic smile. 

Jareth’s jaw flexed and his mismatched eyes narrowed. “Precisely. Which is why I expect an honest answer when I ask a question. Do you want this?”

“Yes.” The confirmation was a little breathless, but Jareth’s reply had been unexpected for someone who placed such an emphasis on retaining control. “Yes, I do.”

“Good,” he told you with a nod. 

His patronizing tone might have set your teeth on edge, but Jareth accompanied it with a praising stroke down the length of your body. His fingertips trailed fire from your collarbone, over one breast, across the swell of your stomach, and down to the part of you that was aching for him. At the same time, he slid down until his face was even with your hips and you could hardly keep still with the anticipation filling you. 

With your knees already parted around him, Jareth had only to wedge his shoulders between your thighs to gain full access to your core. The sudden exposure to the air of the room sent a chill through the parts of you that were burning the hottest, but the coolness only heightened the sensations. 

Jareth didn’t give you any warning, any time to brace. Instead, he ducked his head suddenly, swiping the flat of his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the very top. He paused for a moment while you made a sound of startled pleasure, his lips quirking. 

“Delicious,” he told you. “I wonder if you’re even sweeter inside?”

Before you could offer any reply, Jareth apparently decided to see for himself. One of your legs was tossed over his shoulder while he pinned the other to the bed. That was the only thing that kept you from trying to strangle him with your thighs when he began to torment you in earnest. 

Those plush lips and wicked tongue explored every part of you, wringing pleasure from you like it was something precious he could save for later. 

An elegant finger pushed into your core, pressing into the heat and slickness of you without a bit of difficulty. Your muscles spasmed so dramatically that it forced you to sit up - or, more accurate, to try. Jareth’s arm across your hips kept you pinned to the bed, leaving you to writhe, squeeze your legs around him, and cry out your pleasure loud enough for the entire castle to hear. The hand pressing you into the softness of the mattress strummed fingers across your hip.

With an expression that felt wild with pleasure, you stared down between your own thighs and clenched even harder around that finger. Your eyes had met Jareth’s mismatched gaze where it peeked over the roundness of your tummy. Mischief glimmered on what you could see of his face, and there was a clear sense of enjoyment in his bearing. 

That eye contact sent an electric thrill through you, and you were gone. Your head kicked back against the pillow and you seemed to leave your body for an eternity, shattering into infinite pieces under the onslaught of pleasure Jareth was using to assault you.You may have made a noise - probably had, if you were judging from your experience so far - but you couldn’t hear it over the way your ears rang with the sound of your mind shattering. 

When you finally settled back into your body again, it felt too small to possibly contain everything you had felt. Jareth was applying long, luxurious licks to your core, sweeping over the entirety of your slit and it was all you could do to push him away. 

Jareth gave you a moment to collect your breath, but soon enough, he was peering down at you with no small amount of pride on his strange face. “Will you recover?”

You were a bit embarrassed by the strength of your reaction to him, but you managed a smile and a nod. “Guess I needed that more than I thought. It’s been a while.”

The fae tilted his head to the side, a hint of a smile showing the white points of his teeth. “My dear, do you honestly believe I have lived so long without learning to draw pleasure from someone? Your state of arousal has little to do with it.”

The post-orgasmic glow kept you from mustering the scoff that deserved. After delivering a sad little huff, you told him, “Humble as ever, Goblin King.”

“I would so hate to leave you with an inaccurate idea of my skill,” Jareth drawled. “I would be happy to provide further proof at your earliest convenience.”

Your breath caught in your throat, leading to an embarrassing cough. On the positive side, that cough gave you a moment to internally puzzle through that. Was Jareth volunteering to do this again sometime? He was technically your boss and your king, and thus a romantic connection you had never experienced before, but you couldn’t honestly say you wouldn’t be with him again. Even ignoring the pleasure - difficult as that was - you… really wouldn’t mind repeating this experience. 

“Uh, okay,” you said elegantly. 

Jareth simply smiled at you, but something about his intent gaze warned that he understood your thoughts as clearly as he did his own. Still, all he said aloud was, “Did that satisfy you, pet? Or would you perhaps like to continue?” 

Before you could fight it, your gaze dropped to the apex of his thighs. He was visibly hard and ready for you, his body betraying an eagerness that was totally hidden in his expression. Despite his state of arousal, Jareth was still giving you the option to be done with him. As he was known for his lack of tact, you recognized and appreciated the effort Jareth was putting into making you comfortable. 

And what better way was there to show your appreciation than to offer some relief?

“I think I might need a little more,” you told him, playing coy. You even added a demure drop of your gaze, though you could see him through your lashes. 

That was how you watched when Jareth’s expression sharpened, though his voice stayed careless. “I don’t believe in offering partial respite. I shall see this task through until it is complete.”

The smile that fought to spread across your face was only stifled by the way Jareth caught at your ankle and pulled you further down the bed. He surged upward at the same time until you were firmly beneath him. The fae dotted your face, jaw, and neck with kisses as he settled heavily on top of you. Your legs parted automatically to wrap around his waist and draw him closer, but you were taken aback when the length of him pressed against your still-sensitive core.

You were still surfing the wave of heightened sensation when you felt the tip of Jareth’s length notch into your opening. 

Jareth’s fingers trailed from your forehead down to your jaw, turning your head until he could peer into your face. “Are you ready for me, pet?”

“Yes,” you agreed eagerly. “Please…”

“Don’t beg, sweet thing,” he instructed. “You never need to beg for me.”

And then he was driving into you - robbing you of any ability to process that.

Jareth had seemed to have an average build below the waist, as you had expected from his elegant physique and slender limbs. Still, he felt earth-shattering as he eased inside of you, enough to take your breath away even considering how wet you were with the remains of your earlier orgasm. 

You were utterly still as he pressed in, locked in place by the amount of concentration you had fixed on the feeling of him. But the first time he withdrew from the depths of you, every part of you writhed beneath him. Your hands grasped, your toes curled, your head tilted in an attempt to ease the groan that fought for release from your throat. 

Jareth swallowed that groan, dipping down easily to sweep through your mouth just as thoroughly as he had the first time. He plundered you greedily, feeding on the sounds you made for him as his hips danced closer and away, closer and away. 

Infuriatingly, he kept you - and himself - poised on the edge of orgasm for an eternity, slowing whenever either of you came too close to the precipice. Jareth chased pleasure eagerly, though, tormenting you with fingers and lips to push you higher without allowing you the relief of release.

“Jareth, please,” you begged as his hips slowed once more.

He arched a brow at you. “Yes, pet? What do you need?”

“I-” You gave a hoarse gasp as a deliberate twist of his hips left the length of him brushing against your g-spot. It was followed by a noise of frustration when his pace slowed to a fraction of what it had been. “Please, I need to come.”

His smile was so sudden that it looked almost fierce. “My dear, why did you not tell me earlier?”

A retort sprang to your lips, but it died there as he shifted infinitesimally inside of you. That minor change had devastating effects on the angle of his thrusts inside of you, which picked up speed until it was all you could do not to drown in him. 

Your body tightened around his as it had done so many times before, but he didn’t slow this time. Instead, his lips caught yours as his thumb strummed your clit.

That kiss was only broken when your orgasm hit you like a train, kicking your head back and dropping your mouth open so you could cry out from the incredible intensity of the pleasure that filled you. Your limbs curled around Jareth, constricting to keep him pressed against you as tightly as possible.

On his side of things, Jareth didn’t seem inclined to fight his imprisonment. His hips pistoned between your trembling thighs, burying himself in you over and over until - finally - his rhythm faltered. 

Those sharp teeth were bared in a snarl as he pushed himself as deeply as he could get. The warmth of his release flooded you. 

When the frantic pulses of his hips slowed, Jareth let himself drop on top of you. His weight was on you for a fraction of a second before he twisted to pull you on top of him instead. Since he was still buried in your core, the motion left you in the grip of an aftershock, but you recovered enough to move off of him. 

Jareth’s eyes were closed, but his hands lashed out to keep you from moving as soon as you started to. “I don’t know where you think you’re going, pet, but you are mistaken.”

“I’m just rolling off of you, Jareth,” you told him, exasperated. “If I crush you, it’ll be regicide and I can’t imagine a goblin trial is pleasant.”

“It isn’t,” he agreed, eyes still closed. “But mostly because they show an inability to focus on a single issue for more than seconds at a time. And as for being crushed by you… Not only is it an impossibility, but it sounds rather pleasant.”

“Jareth…” you sighed. 

That made him open his mismatched eyes and you were startled to see the changes in them. The blue-green of his human eye was expanding both toward the pupil and over the white sclera. The pupil-less darkness of his fae eye was doing the same, slowly working out until the entire orb of his eye was dark. 

When Jareth finally spoke, it was with a smile that showed his sharp teeth. “Did you know there is a difference in the way you say my name now?”

You paused, scanning over his face for a moment before you asked, “And what does that mean?”

Jareth didn’t immediately answer you, but his smile didn’t fade during the stretch of quiet. At long last, he said, “It means that things have changed between us. It means that I encourage you to seek to satisfy your needs in my bed. And it means that I chose the perfect person to serve as my emissary in the human world.”

That was significantly less worrisome than what you thought he would say. In fact, it was even… sweet. “I certainly never thought I would end up here, but I can’t say that I regret it.”

“Faint praise,” Jareth said dryly. “But praise nonetheless. We shall see whether we can further improve your outlook on your place in my kingdom.”

“I look forward to that,” you admitted, relaxing slightly into him. 

Jareth’s arms tightened around you, drawing you even closer. “As do I.”

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I'm not officially accepting requests, but someone sent this one in and it caught my interest enough to help me break through some writer's block.

Happy Halloween!

I don't offer a taglist for spicy fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist.

[akashigadabi]

C Is For Cockwarming

Not me creating an entire kink alphabet then writing out prompts for each letter…

Pairing: Yandere All For One x Consenting Reader

Summary: All For One wants to try cockwarming and you’re more than happy to oblige. The thing is, he miscalculated how well he can handle it, which is not well at all.

Word Count: 1233

Genre: Romance, Smut, Prompt Fic

Rating: E

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Consensual Sex, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Feral Behavior, Sexual Experimentation, Soft Yandere, Various Kinks (other than Cockwarming, including Biting, Scratching, Dacryphilia, Dirty Talk, Creampie, Size Kink, Size Difference, Teasing, Ignoring, Begging, Groping, Loss of Control and Desk Sex)

Other: Reader has a quirk. Reader is written so Reader is gender neutral as far as gender/gender identity and romantic or sexual orientation.

Ao3.

Please note that the gif below was selected cause AFO looks hot there and not cause of any direct relation between what he’s doing and what’s written.

All For One’s labored breathing picks up, his thigh muscles tensing underneath you. You flip a page in your book, reaching the end of the chapter. About ten minutes have passed, and you can tell he’s struggling to maintain composure. Perhaps more amusing is his struggle to refrain from acting on his urges. You get the feeling he would like nothing more than to buck upward and start thrusting into you, but he remains motionless beneath you.

His cock twitches inside of you, and you clench around him in response but otherwise don’t move. He’s doing remarkably well, especially for his first time doing this. You think it takes all his control to restrain himself, to keep his muscles locked into place instead of bending you over his desk. A low whine escapes from his lips, and he tilts his head down and presses his forehead into the crown of your head, burying his face into your hair. Those large hands of his rest innocently against your hips, though his fingers clench and unclench.

You feel his desperation building, but you don’t indulge him. Not yet, anyway. You want to see how long he can last like this. He’s the one who wanted to try cockwarming, but despite his usual patience, he’s the one cracking first. Small tremors run through his body, suppressed motion with nowhere else to go. You wonder how much he can handle, so you shift your weight forward to take a sip from your wine glass. The whimper that comes from him sends arousal coursing through you, but outwardly you don’t react. Where would the fun be in that? Half of the pleasure that comes from this is seeing how desperate he gets for you.

How much longer can he continue without giving in and asking to fuck you? Surely it’ll be any minute now. His fingernails have started to leave little crescent shaped indents in your flesh despite his best efforts. His fingertips themselves have started to apply more pressure, dimpling your skin hard enough to start bruising. If he tenses any more than he has already, he might pull a muscle. So of course you tease him again, because he wanted this, didn’t he? He asked for this, so you oblige.

The moan that slips unbidden from his lips when you stretch tells you how close he is to slipping. You go back to reading, leaning back into his chest. It makes him tremble, then a shuddering breath tickles your neck. Fidgeting hands break away from your hips, skimming over your body. Still, since that’s all he does, it doesn’t count yet. The second he begs or pleads, or the moment his hips roll, however, do count.

Another two minutes pass before you sense a change in demeanor. All For One has kept his side of the bond closed, too, so you two can’t influence each other’s reactions or behavior through it until after one of you relents, but now it opens, flooding with such burning desire that you almost drop your book. Instead, you mark your place and place it onto the desk in front of you with the calm of someone taking afternoon tea. Even then, you wait for him to speak, since he needs to ask.

When he does just that a moment later, he sounds like a complete mess. His voice emerges strained, not possessing its usual silky quality. This has wrecked him, pushed him toward the brink of madness. His words tremble with as much desperation as his chest did a few minutes earlier. Lips brush against your ear, then comes the damning confession.

“Treasure-chan, please, I can’t go on like this.”

Your lips curl into an amused smile. You know. Should you force him to wait another ten minutes, you might bring him to tears, but you’re not that cruel. Teasing should only go so far.

“Is this your way of asking to fuck me?”

“Please, my love,” All For One begs, no longer caring about staying completely still now as he squirms, though he still doesn’t thrust. “It hurts. I need you. I feel like I’ll go crazy if I can’t have you. Please.”

“Then have me.”

All For One needs no further prompting. He explodes into motion, laying you on his desk so he can thrust into you with brutal strokes. One hand gropes unabashedly at your tits while the other holds you in place. There’s no love-making here, only fucking in every sense of the word. The Demon King sets a relentless pace that has you seeing stars, desperate to find relief. To your surprise, a few tears plop onto your back, dripping down his chin as he leans over you to trail fervent kisses along your neck. Savage, unhinged energy suffuses the bond and permeates the air. A growl rumbles in All For One’s chest, the vibrations buzzing against your skin. The coil tightening in your gut snaps abruptly, sending cascading waves of intense pleasure flooding through you.

“Sweet little concubus,” All For One croons. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Made just for me. Mine mine mine.”

Teeth clamp onto your shoulder and nails claw into your hip, then with a feral snarl he shatters, hot seed spurting into you through terrifying full-body spasms. It triggers another orgasm for you, feeling him come undone so beautifully. He has to clutch onto you to remain standing, his muscles useless for an infinitesimal amount of time. Helpless, he clings to your back as he empties into you, more tears dripping onto your skin. Deep, gasping breaths are all he can manage. There’s a pause when he pulls out as he admires his handiwork, shaking fingers spreading your entrance open from either side so he can see the evidence of his climax where it currently resides within you, but he doesn’t have long to drink in the sight. His legs can’t yet hold his weight again, so he loses his balance. Stumbling backward, he collapses into the chair he previously occupied, taking you with him as his arms are still wrapped around you. With no resistance against gravity, his cum pours out of your puffy pink hole, staining both your thighs and his with spilled seed. His muscles still jump from the aftershocks as he leans back, weak and limp from the intensity of his orgasm.

“I think,” you muse as he just continues to splay out like a starfish behind you, hands curled around your waist again to keep your body pressed to his, “that we can count this as a success, don’t you?”

“You little gremlin,” All For One wheezes in a dazed tone, then, regaining some of his wits, he adds breathlessly, “Yes, I suppose we should count this as a success.”

A mischievous, devious grin splits your face, unseen by him but certainly felt in spirit judging by the way he shudders in anticipation. Yes, a success indeed. You’ll definitely be doing this again. All For One could do with being rendered speechless and empty-headed a bit more often. Besides, it’s good for the soul to get so fucked out you can’t speak every once in a while, and he deserves to have that experience more often as a reward for all his hard work.

After all, is it really living if you haven’t come so hard you almost pass out at least once?

[simonrillleyyysss]

* ˚ ✦ TEARS

🌸👛🍡

19.10.23

könig x plush obsessed reader

warnings; afab reader implied sorry,throat fucking, mentions of tears, innocence kink, kissing, gentle sex? hair tugging

notes; luv innocent rdr, sorry that it’s so short, wrote this ina cinema while watching saw x!!

squeezing your hand against his chest, your head rested peacefully on his shoulder, surrounded by mounds of plush bears.

‘comfy?’

with a nod, you snuggled into his chest—plushie stuffed under your arm, hands gently combing though his long hair.

‘mhhhmm..’

he glanced down at you, arm shifting to drape over your waist, playing with the strings of your shorts, free hand curling beneath you and lifting a bunny plushie, squishing its head, perking a brow.

‘which ones this one?’

‘minnie, silly! the one you like.’

‘ah.’

könig nodded in understanding, shifting to roll your back to him, lips gently meeting the back of your neck as you giggled; tucking your knees up instinctively.

‘kribbeln?’

the large figure teased, feeling you shift against him and nod—his lips kissing the back of your head, hands roaming over the sides of your hips.

‘still waiting for something.’

‘hm?’

you paused, looking back at him with a confused expression, running your tongue over your lips, waiting for him to continue.

‘promised me something special a few nights ago,korrekt?’

könig hinted, slowly grinding against your hind—bulge forming, causing your eyebrows to raise and your lashes to flutter, letting out a soft ‘oh’ sound.

‘oh—oopsie!’

you quickly mumbled, shifting to lay infront of his lap, hands at either sides of his hips, fingers nimbly working on sliding his sweatpants off and neatly folding them before working on his boxers, gently kissing his stomach before sliding the fabric off.

‘take your time, hase.’

‘no need to rush it.’

with a soft smile, you looked up at him innocently, gently pressing a soft peck to his leaking tip—precum smearing along your lips; before opening your mouth and slowly taking him in your mouth, hands moving to tuck your hair behind your ears,his much larger hand moving to grip the back of your scalp, gently guiding your head up and down in assistance, watching you gurgle before pulling back up.

‘Gut, Gutes tun.’

he hissed out, biting his lip as you continued to bob your head, glancing up at him with doe-like eyes, dolly lashes fluttering against your cheeks as tears gently formed—gagging as he slowly began to thrust his cock down your throat, letting out a low groan.

‘mmhhmm..that’s it.’

drool poured out of your mouth, mascara rolling down your puffy cheeks as you let out a soft moan around his length, fingers gently fondling his heavy balls.

‘will we try to take it all, hübsch?’

with faux sympathy, he pursed his lips and pet your head tenderly—before pulling your head back up, lifting a plushie to create more space, placing it on the floor-watching you whine in protest, earning a soft yank on your hair to warn.

‘no space, dolly.’

‘but—but könig!’

tutting, he guided your head back to his cock before thrusting into your mouth, watching you gag and grip onto the blankets, holding you there for a moment, counting beneath his breath before letting you bob your head.

‘ja, that’s it..’

‘ffuucckkk—feel so good around me..Wenn es nur deine hübsche Muschi wäre.’

lifting your mouth off of him, your hand moved to gently stroke him off, plump lips sucking at the gooey slit on his tip, fingers pumping around the base of his thick length.

‘oh—Hase..i’m gonna come, yeah-yeaaAh!’

within seconds, he was spurting strings of thick cum along your hand, hips bucking into your hand with a moan.

‘can we play now?’

you asked, wiping the cum off and lifting minnie, handing him another plushie as he got dressed.

‘sure.’

[issa-pheonyx]

Yandere-sub!Konig X Fem!Soldier!Reader🔪🌶️

𝗞𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗴 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲. 𝗛𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆. 𝗛𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗵𝘆!😖😫

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

It was not what he wanted. He wanted you to be his partner in crime, but you ended up with Soap and Ghost. Those two may have you smiling and have chemistry when out and about. It still dreads him the only time you both are able to talk is during cafeteria hours. He decided to skip it and meet up with you. "(Y/N), I need uh-" His eyes avert around the place to think of an excuse. He should've predicted this through. "Konig, what's wrong?" You asked. "Training! I just need someone to spar with me." You shrugged and accepted his offer. His heart is beating so fast he can not believe you said yes. Usually, you tell him you can't, because of Soap or Ghost or both. The thoughts running through his mind of possibly the three of you doing...no! You would never do that. Ever...

Moreover, you both made it in the training area as you took some gear off to have more breathable mobility. You sigh feeling the weight off of your body. "Okay, now is there a rundown or you just want to go ahead and risk it?" Konig stood there like🧍🏻‍♂️making you tilt your head,"Konig?" He shakes his head,"Ah, yes we can do grappling." You nodded and got in position as he did too. Your focused face was on and he was ready too,'I must do it here. No one will hear us. No one will disturb us.' And so both of you were off when the timer ticked. 'Sixty seconds is the time I have.'

You were pretty good at grappling as you use your advantage on his weight, but as he is a giant. His strength can not compare to yours. Eventually, when the time ticks he was counting them down. If he doesn't get this right he is aware you will just get up and leave. Both of you are sweating, panting, and parry each other. That's when the time beeps off, signaling the game was over.

"I win! Lets go!" You cheered as you were sitting on his chest with your hands up. Konig was defeated, but no. He must do it now. "I can't take much more!" Your face demonstrates confusion as he grabs your legs, wrapping them like a snake, and grips on them that you could not slip away quickly enough. "K-Konig!? Wha-" He turns to have you lay on your back,"I don't like it when you pay attention to them!" His voice was hurt and...despair. He pulls down both your pants and underwear down to reveal your cunt. Probably, sweating from the grappling and hot,"N-No! Konig, stop-ooohh~"

His thumb was circling around your clit as his eyes looked up at you. His eyes tells everything. He needed you so badly. "Please, only pay attention to me, shatz. Just me. Just for once!" He lift his mask and starts going down on you. The way he roughly holds up your legs and shoves his face into your pussy, licking your pussy all around not missing its shape and form. You moan uncontrollably as you couldn't do anything to stop him. "Ah, Konig, fuck~" He sucks on your clit letting it pop away and goes back to do it again, proceeds on kissing and sucking all around next as he moans. He is asphyxiating himself from forcing himself to taste you not wanting to miss anything. Like a wild animal not being to have his feed in days

"Oh my god! You're gonna make me cum, oh yes~" You want to stop, but at the same time...seeing him this way wanting to prove himself and that he simply missed you got you riled up now. The orgasm was peeking as Konig pushes his tongue inside and flicks then pulls out to trace up to your clit and flicks it firmly. You scream it out as your juices served his mouth well-relieving his thirst and even some soaked part of his mask. He does not mind it as he will be able to smell it throughout the rest of the day to be reminded of this moment~

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[bowiebond]

Between Dusk and Dawn and Dawn and Dusk, You Are Mine | Harringrove | Demon Steve

He’s not even hiding them. His collar loose and open, the hickies trailing down his chest. He’s showing them off to him like he’s supposed to care, and Billy is waiting. Waiting for him to say something.

The blonds temper fires up when there is no reaction at all. Billy hates being ignored more than anything else.

“Why won’t you bring it up?” Billy snapped and Steve slowly dragged his eyes from the playboy magazine to look at the scowling blond. He dipped his gaze back to the busty blonde and smirked. He’d lick her sweet pussy open any day. Especially if she’s married. It makes the pot all that more sweeter.

Billy snatched the magazine from his hands.

“Hey!” He looked up at him, offended, hands out in a ‘what was that for?’ gesture.

“Stop looking at them and look at me!” Billy glared at him with the heat of the seven rings of hell combined. Steve rolled his eyes, flickering them black as he tasted the jealousy and greed in the air. Billy was such a glutton for pleasure and violence. He really was transparent to the demon.

“I apologise, my love, whatever may I do for you?” Steve drawled, his thin, scaly tail slipping from his waistband to sway and curl as he placed his chin in hand. The perfect picture of a bored demon looking to play.

“You can stop licking your lips to my fucking porno mags, to begin with.” Billy tossed it into his drawer and slammed it shut. Steve gave it a longing look, sighing like a lonely maiden. It only made Billy scowl harder, crossing his arms.

“Apologise, but you haven’t exactly attempted to satiate my desires, baby.” Steve dragged his eyes over Billy’s body, fixated on the little red and purple bruises. He wondered if Billy had done that thing where he grabbed his hair and gotten all whimpery over each suck and bite. He wondered if Billy had taken it good or been bratty for his little side piece. He probably moaned when he came, but he wouldn’t have cried. Only Steve made him cry, and nothing made the demon harder than Billy’s fucked out, tear stained face.

A mix of guilt and anger filled the room the longer Steve stared and Steve’s skin buzzed with it, his snake like tongue peeking out to really taste it before it transformed back into his humanoid tongue.

“Why aren’t you angry? It’s pissing me off.”

“Why should I be angry?” Steve tilted his head.

“Because I’m your boyfriend.” Billy hissed and Steve hummed.

“And?”

“I had sex with someone else! I let them fuck me and mark me, and why aren’t you angry?” Billy glowered, hurt bleeding through and Steve watched him carefully.

“Why did you fuck someone else?”

“Because you keep trying to fuck Nancy Wheeler! For your corruption bullshit!” Billy was seething and Steve laughed.

“I’m not gonna fuck her. I’m just opening her up to her sexuality so she’ll fuck someone else easier.” Nancy was too much of a classic to bother with. A demon got bored with the same old ‘virgin good girl’ after centuries of it.

“You still flirt with her and touch her and—“

“What is this really about, Billy?”

“It’s about monogamy, Steve!” Billy burst out and Steve was up on his knees in a flash, shoving the blond down into the pillows.

“Oh, you don’t care about monogamy!” Steve snapped back with a scowl before his lips twitched into a mirthful smile. “You’re just upset I’m not jealous over your little rendezvous.”

Billy was breathing in deeply, trying to stifle the rage that flushed his skin as Steve leaned in closer, picking at the collar of his shirt idly.

“Do whatever you want. Fuck whoever you please.” Steve shrugged, his expression showing not an ounce of care or discomfort at the idea.

“Because everytime…” His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in close, breathing in the scent of Billy’s aftershave with a flutter of his lashes. “…you come back to me,” He grinned, slow and devilishly. “I will feast on your guilt.”Billy’s breath shuddered in as he shivered, Steve nosing at his pulse. “On your sins.”

He pressed a delicate kiss to his hot skin.

“And I will thrive regardless, whether you indulge in me or other.” Steve nipped at the sensitive skin and Billy gasped softly, tilting his head back ever so slightly as the heat of his anger pooled into his gut to transform into arousal. Just as fiery and impulsive as his rage.

“You will always come back, Billy.” Steve said knowingly, smugly, and Billy clenched his teeth at the urge to refute. He knew it would be a lie though, and the demon could sniff them out like a blood hound. “And you will always be…mine.”

He closed his lips over a hickey and sucked hard, the tender skin darkening further as Billy whimpered, hands finding their way into his hair as he did it again. And again. And again.

He could feel Billy’s hard cock pressing against his hip and he laughed softly. He drank in the scent of arousal, desperate and heavy in the air. So thick he could choke on it. Steve pulled his lips apart to sink his teeth into the thick muscle of his neck, Billy whining loudly, voice cracking around it.

“You’re right. You are my boyfriend.” Steve breathed against his skin, dragging his tongue along the metallic taste of blood that beaded from the teeth marks. “I know how to pleasure you better than any mortal man could. So have your vengeful escapades if it makes you feel better.” He grabbed his chin and curled his tail around the blonds thigh, squeezing it tightly as his black eyes returned to brown.

“From the dusk to the dawn and from the dawn to the dusk, you are mine. Even when another touches you, you will still be mine. We made a deal, Billy, and when you die…I will own you entirely, for eternity. You. Are. Mine.”

Billy’s breath hitched and shuddered out with a moan as Steve sealed his lips over his.

The deal had begun with a kiss, and it would end with one. No matter what Billy did, he could never drive him away. Billy was his, since the first kiss, to the last kiss, and beyond the presence of his living body.

His soul was his, and his alone.

[the-lady-writes-what]

How the Brothers react to you riding them, Mammon

Pretty much All Porn/No Plot, so minors be warned (and stay out)

Content: oral (giving)/blowjob, 69, toys, overstimulation, teasing, cowgirl, spanking (receiving), consensual bruising, slightly mean! Mammon

These are all my own head canons. Don’t be mean about it.

Lucifer Asmo Levi Beel Belphie Satan

🔞NSFW Content Below! 18+ Only! Minors DNI!🔞

Headcanons:

He loves this position because then he can grab and squeeze whatever he wants

Loves to see bruises on you marking you as his

Love body worship

You can leave marks on him too! Let everybody know that you belong to him and he belongs to you

Very vocal in and outside the bedroom. You may have to gag him or do something to get him to shut up for five minutes

Give him praise and lots of it. This is a man who likes to have his--ahem--ego stroked

Speaking of stroking, before getting down and dirty, Mammon loves to have someone worship his cock. I'm not kidding when I say he needs worship before getting down and dirty Come on, sweetheart. You can this cock in your cunt, can't you? Better worship that cock if you want it so badly...

Second prettiest cock (behind Asmo, of course)

Some people think he's a sub, and while that's a perfectly valid headcanon, I personally think he's more dominant. He's greedy and possessive and he likes to go after things he wants. He's a pursuer, a hunter. He wants all your orgasms

Mammon reclined on his bed with you between his legs. His fingers grazed the back of your neck. His nails graze your skin as you suck on his long cock. You hear him hiss and suck in his breath with every pass of your mouth along the shaft. What you couldn't fit into your mouth, you stroked with your hand. Mammon's cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag.

"Awww...baby. Is it too much for you?" Mammon cooed. He patted your head. He shifted his hips to thrust up into your mouth. "How does the Great Mammon's cock taste?"

You answered by rolling your tongue along the thick vein and sucking on the tip of him harder. Mammon's nails dug into your neck, his hand lightly squeezing. You bobbed your head up and down his hot length while trying to take as much of him as you could. In the end, you stroked what you couldn't fit inside your throat. After several minutes of this, you pulled away to gasp for air.

"Need a break already?" Mammon teased. He reached into the bedside table. In his hand, he held a vibrating wand. "Or maybe you just need some motivation.

Mammon switched you around so that your backside faced him. You went back to work on his cock. A shudder ripped through you the second you heard the toy buzz to life. Mammon pushed your hesitant hips down against his mouth. One hand held your hip while the other pressed vibrator against your clit. Your eyes rolled at the sensation of both the toy and Mammon's mouth on your pussy. You moaned around his cock. Beneath you, Mammon rocked his hips upwards, filling your mouth with him. He used every trick up his sleeve to get your pussy soaking wet. His tongue lapped at your folds as he pressed the toy against your poor clit. He moaned with you as he ate you out. Together, you worked in tandem to bring each other up and over the edge. Mammon's cum filled your mouth. You were forced to swallow before you pull away and gasp for air. You shivered as Mammon continued to tease you with his mouth and overstimulate that bundle of nerves between your legs. You gripped the sheets as another orgasm hit you like a tsunami. You screamed as you came all over his mouth.

You were still shivering by the time Mammon switched off the toy and tossed it back into the drawer of the bedside table. His toned arms switched you around once more. Mammon had your quivering body straddle him so that your chests faced each other. He reached between your bodies to stroke himself. You leaned down with your arms on his shoulders and kissed him.

Mammon rubbed the newly hardened tip of his cock against your soaked cunt. He pulled away a bit to nibble on your bottom lip. His face nestled into your neck. Mammon kissed, licked, and left dark love bites along your flesh. Your nails dug into his shoulders as Mammon made you sink down on his cock.

"Come on, princess. Ride that cock for me," said Mammon. He gave you a spank on your right ass cheek.

"Mammon!" You whined.

But your irritation was met with that cocky grin of his. Mammon looked up at you with those blue and yellow eyes. His mouth was hungry for more. He licked his lips as he bucked upwards into you. You braced yourself with your hands on his chest, feeling up the defined muscles of his abdomen.

"Mhmm, yeah. You like touching me don't you? Why don't you ride me like you mean it, princess?"

Mammon groped your ass, squeezing each globe in his hands. He rocked his hips upwards. His hips encouraged you to grind against him, and you caved. You moved against him, grinding down on him and moving your hips. You writhed on top of him; Mammon's cock filling you whole. The tip of him brushing the sensitive spot within you over and over as you moved faster. You bounced on his cock. Though his hands looked slender like a model's, Mammon was rough in handling you. He left hand-shaped bruises on your ass as he spanked you. Each slap on your skin encouraged you to ride him faster, harder.

Your head fell back as you moaned louder. You closed your eyes to the pleasure.

"Scream my name, Y/N. I want to hear it on your lips. If you don't, I'll out and leave you and high and dry. Say the Great Mammon's name!" He squeezed your ass in each of his hands.

Sweat trickled down your brow. You gasped and moaned as you bounced on him.

"M-Mammon, Mammon, Mammon," you chanted his name like he was your god.

And in that moment, Mammon was your god. The one you worshipped with your mouth and hands and pussy. Mammon wrapped his arms around you and drew you against his chest. He pinned your against his body while he thrust upwards. Your mouths met in a needy kiss. Your tongues battled for dominance before you gave in. Mammon claimed your mouth in the same way he claimed the rest of your body.

Pleasure exploded at the base of your spine. You cried out loud enough for all six of his brothers to hear you scream Mammon's name. Hearing you like this, moaning like a proper slut for him (and just only for him), was music to Mammon's ears. He held you close as he pounded your insides and painted them with his cum. He grunted and kissed you hard, swallowing your whimpers. Despite keeping his lips sealed on yours, his groans echoed throughout his bedroom. Mammon's hips bucked once, twice, three more times before stuttering to a halt. You felt his essence fill your lower belly. There was so much of it that it leaked out. You both collapsed onto the bed, both equally and utterly boneless.

You managed to peel yourself off him once Mammon relinquished his hold on you. You rolled over onto your side and cuddled against him. You and Mammon panted from the exercise.

"When...When I catch my breath, it's round two," said Mammon between breaths.

[riful-writes]

Werewolf Stalker (pt.2)

You wake up hours later to something soft covering your body. You slowly blink open your eyes to see golden ones staring back at you. You suddenly remember all the orgasms he brought out of you with his devilish tongue. Bringing you to the highest peak over and over again, all while watching you with feral hunger. He played with your pussy so good you passed out.You clench your thighs together involuntary at the memory. It sent a shock strait to your tender clit making you cry out and seize up in pleasurable pain.You quickly shift your thighs back apart to get some relief, but it's already too late.

He watched your little show and knows just how sensitive you are from him. His arm that was wrapped around you in your sleep, keeping you warm, pulls you even closer against him. He is now inches away from your face, his breath tickling you as he breaths. Then his mouth splits open into a wolf ish grin with all his sharp teeth out on display and growls into your ear " Don't black out on me this time doll, I need to feel your cunt squeezing around me.I want to see you fall apart all over again. I need to see your tears again, all for my cock this time. Think you can do that for me? "

Hearing his vulgar words in that deep growl, you inhale . You hold your breath for a couple beats longer , closing your eyes to think. He hasn't killed you and hasn't even as much as scraped you with those sharp claws of his. You exhale, slowly opening your eyes and building up the courage to pull away slightly and look down.The heavy weight that's been pressed against your stomach stands tall under your gaze.

His shaft was a dark red , with lighter colored veins running along it.The head of his cock was wide and slightly tapered with pre oozing out. Below the head, he got wider and girthier, leading down to his knot that somehow got bigger the longer you stared at it. He was massive compared to the human men you've been with. His whole lower half was throbbing visibly. Just waiting and begging to be touched. Your core throbbed deliciously at the sight, needing to feel him streching you open like he wanted. Even with his wide and larger size you knew you could take him with some prep.

You dragged your eyes back up to see his golden ones reading you like a book. He inhales sharply through his nose and lets out a carnal growl.He smells your want and is barely restraining himself. He could have taken you after you passed out earlier. He could have used you, and you'd have been none the wiser when you woke. But he wanted you to need him too, you realized. Wanted you to want him as badly as he wanted you. He had watched and waited for you like a predator would prey. Waited for the right time to pounce and had taken it. He pleasured you first and made sure you were brought to completion before you even saw his massive cock.You finally throw caution to the wind. You dont care about how fucked up your mind was for thinking that this was one of the most sweet yet , corrupt things anyone has ever done for you.

Making up your mind, you finally respond to him with a sensuous whisper.

" Yes...please...... ruin me. "

[faroreskiss]

Harp Lesson (+18)

MINORS DNI

Summary: You had enough of your instrument, and you wanted to try out his. How could you have said no when he offered?

AKA Link teaches you "techniques".

Pedal Harpist!Link x Fem!Reader (Sky x Reader)

Read the collection in Ao3

A/N: This is tagged as both LU and Skyward Sword Link, as I imagine them to have the same personality.

This story was born after a long inspirational chat with @pinkalmondcake about imagining the Chain in different roles in an orchestra! (From a piano technician to a pedal harpist...), which for now we are calling the LU Music/Musician AU, but who knows :D Stay tuned for more content!

Also big thanks to @beyondtheglowingstars for having a first look at it and the feedback!

Also tagging you guys because after seeing your content I think you'd enjoy this (hopefully) @chainsofgoldandash @chain-link-smut Duet mentioned: Saint-Saëns, Fantaisie for Violin & Harp, Op. 124 — Camerata Pacifica

You were in the practice wing of the conservatory, trying to play the latest piece that was prepared for the upcoming concert that was planned. The sounds were just not coming out as clean anymore as you were trying to keep yourself focused. 

Being the principal first violin, or the “concertmaster” as they called it, was absolutely making you feel the pressure. Not like the orchestra was that big, it was a chamber orchestra, a bit of an odd one perhaps due to its composition. You had both a harpist AND a concert pianist, for starters. And they all had the same name… Link.

Inner base of your left index finger started to hurt, did you start to hold the violin wrong all of a sudden? You sighed as you gave up and held your violin like a guitar, deciding to pizzicato the rest instead. It also counted as practice, right? As you plucked the strings according to the sheet of music in front of you, your mind wandered once again. Plucking… Each time you put your violin in that position and timidly pulled at the strings, you were reminded of him again. The quiet, kind boy with the full lips and calloused hands, sitting in front of the harp, carefully trailing his hands along the strings, like he was lost in a dream. You really wanted to try playing it some day. 

Link… You of course found out later that he was as gremlin-like as one could get, despite his calm and quiet appearance. You would have never thought he was the one that brought the whole chandelier down at the Lumpy Pumpkin years ago, because he “totally had to get that thing up top”. 

Well, neither of you were in Skyloft anymore, and not even on the surface you both were familiar with. And not even THAT long after he defeated Demise, he was ripped apart from all he knew, somehow trailing also you along. But that is a story for another time. 

“(Y/N)?” you heard a soft voice calling for you, jolting you away from your preoccupations. It was him, right outside the door. 

“Oh, hey,” you said absentmindedly. 

"Hey," Link replied, with the warmest smile that always seemed to put you at ease.

You couldn't help but admire how he had a knack for making even the most awkward situations feel comfortable. The atmosphere in the practice room seemed to shift as he walked in, a warm and pleasant energy filling the space.

He glanced at your violin and chuckled softly. "Having a bit of trouble?"

You nodded, still lost in thought. Of course, at this point he knew when and why you would switch to constant pizzicato. "Yeah, it's just not coming out the way I want it to. I can't seem to concentrate,”

Link took a seat nearby, his sky-blue eyes focused on your instrument. "Maybe you need a break,“ he seemed hesitant to continue to his next sentence, but regardless, he spoke up. “How about that duet we talked about a while ago? It might help you relax perhaps."

You perked up at the idea. "Oh, right! Yes, of course… Uhm… “ Your left hand was feeling quite tired at this point, since you pressed on the initial joint way too much. Probably you messed up the technique between the sea of distractions you had. His presence was not helping. 

He felt as if he said something wrong, from your reaction and suddenly his body language shifted to nervousness. 

“Uh, it’s okay if you don’t feel like it right now,” he said, slowly starting to rise from the seat he took. A sudden panic took over you, that’s not what you meant!

“No, no! I want to!” you said, your voice was a bit of a higher pitch than you expected. “I just had enough of my instrument right now,” you raised the violin, holding it with two hands upside down, pretending as if you are about to crush it on the floor, making a chuckle escape from Link. 

“But you know what, I've always wanted to try the harp a little, never had the chance," you said, but then bit your lip. You weren’t sure if he would let you touch it at all, since it was a gift from his precious Zelda. “But it’s okay if-”

A faint smile touched Link's lips as he interrupted you "Well, today's your lucky day. I can show you the basics if you'd like."

You felt a surge of excitement as you nodded eagerly. "I'd love that!"

He got up and led over to the harp in another practice room, its elegant strings shimmering in the soft light of the room. You joined him, your curiosity piqued as he explained the fundamentals, his hands gently guiding yours to pluck the strings, as he made you sit down in front of it. It was a beautiful pedal harp. He also pulled another stool near yours, though he would sometimes lift himself a bit up from it to show you the technique.

“There, I already set up the pedals for you.” 

He showed you how to slightly tilt it towards your right shoulder and there was a moment awkward yet sweet, where you panicked and thought the harp was just going to crush you. Though for some reason, when you heard you don’t need to use your pinky (which was pretty much your enemy while playing the violin), you seemed to have forgotten about the 35 kg instrument that was leaning on you as you screamed “Praise Farore!”

He was used to you being goofy one moment and panicky the next. The hearty laugh he let out made your heart melt. 

“You need to have straight shoulders and a straight back, okay?” he started instructing you.

“Like that?” Apparently you were still slouching a bit, letting the instrument actually almost crush you.

He cranked a little grin, seemingly innocent as he spoke. “Let me show you again…”

As you both leaned over the harp, you couldn't help but feel a growing closeness. The gentle touch of his fingers sometimes brushing on yours accidentally sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. It was as if the basic notes you were playing together was a reflection of the unspoken connection between you.

Link continued to guide you through the basics, his breath warm against your ear as he explained each step. The sensation of his presence, so close and comforting, made your heart race. You were entirely focused on the harp, the music, and Link. Just watching his fingers pluck on those strings, sliding between them as if it had been the most natural thing he had ever done in his life, producing divine tunes... It reminded you of your dream last night instead, the dream of the sounds that he coaxed out of you, as he played idly with the strings of your thong while he was on top of you, his tongue trailing your neck. A soft blush was creeping through your cheeks. You weren’t going to learn anything if this kept on.

“(Y/N)? You there? You gotta have your thumb up, okay?” you were once again jolted back to reality. You were glad he didn’t have a direct view of your face, but he must have still noticed how absentminded you looked. Shit, you didn’t want to be disrespectful, you were enjoying this. Though you couldn’t deny that your fingers were hurting…

“Y-yes, sorry, can you show me the last part again, please?” 

Unintentionally, as he leaned in to show you a particular technique, his chest brushed against your back, and his arms wrapped around you, cradling yours as his hands rested on the strings. There was a little pause. Your breath was stuck on your throat.

“You have to sit a little bit more upright, like this,” he broke the silence which felt like an eternity. He was still so close to your ear. His right hand pressed gently on your lower back and his left hand was pressed in the opposite direction on your bust, as he gently guided you back into the correct posture. It was a motion which should have just fixed your slouch, yet his hand was lingering a little bit too long on the front. 

“And relax your shoulders… It should only be your elbow that’s moving…”

You both froze for a moment, feeling the sudden closeness. His heart thudded against your back, mirroring the rhythm of yours.

"Sorry," he murmured, pulling back slightly. "I didn't mean to..."

Despite his innocent tone, you had a gut feeling that it was almost entirely deliberate.

You turned back to him, still close but within a respectable distance, and your gazes locked. You could see pink creeping up on his cheeks, if only slightly. You just wanted to make sure.

“It’s okay,” you softly spoke, your gaze lingering between his full lips and his cerulean eyes. 

That was most likely the sentence he needed to hear.

He noticed that you bit your lip as your eyes darted between one spot and the other. It almost felt as if he was holding back a smirk, yet he was still careful and polite with his reactions. Noticing the stray hair threatening to dangle in front of your face, he gently tucked it away behind your ear. As his fingers grazed your cheek, you marveled at the sheer willpower it took to stifle a gasp.

Was he sitting a bit closer now? And what was that look?

Now to think of it, did he ever need to sit right behind you like this to teach the instrument anyway?

His hand was still on your cheek, lingering a bit longer than necessary.

Witnessing his gradually fading ability to conceal his response, you suddenly felt bold.

You scooted even closer, he was almost pulling his hand back, but you put your hand on it decisively, feeling the warmth of his hand over your cheek. 

In the next moment, what parted was not the distance between, but your lips instead as the gap between you closed with a soft kiss. 

As your lips met, even though it was a gentle, feather-light touch, you could feel his lust through it, the sensation tender yet hungry. You instinctively moved your hands towards the nape of his neck, as he still held your cheek. 

But he stopped you, moved your hands away and held them on your lap, and grinning into the almost broken kiss the entire time. You were slightly taken aback. 

He was still staring at your lips while you were trying to still process what just happened. You were wondering how he was able to even break the kiss like that, second guessing your decision. Screaming and panicking inside.

He cleared his throat and composed himself, looking all serious suddenly once more. You could also see he was all red, and you could swear his heart was beating almost as fast as yours. Your almost trembling lips made an “O” shape to almost say something.

“Shall we continue?” He interrupted you, with a professional tone. He didn’t even wait for your reply, he stood up and pulled the older stool away. Instead, he got another chair, and moved it adjacent to your stool.

Directly behind. 

“Turn around?” He spoke in a tone that sent a warm feeling towards your center. 

Oh Gods. So that’s what we are doing? Okay…

“Let’s continue from this part here, can you try strumming again as I showed you?”

“Alright…” you were finally able to get a word out. He sat down on the chair, and his body was in direct contact with yours. So warm… You weren’t sure whether or not it was your heartbeat or his that you were feeling. You gulped.

You tried to strum for dear life, but it didn’t even sound like you were able to get a proper sound out. His mouth was so near your ear as he was humming the basic rhythm you were supposed to practice in, his arms were now resting on your lap as he rounded them around your waist. How did you end up here? The nerves were going to be the end of you.

“Nuh-uh, not like that, just relax… okay?” he said as he snaked his fingers away and this time put them on each of your arms and gently caressed them as he kept speaking to your ear, making them come back to your lap.

“Relax your arms a little bit, I mean…” 

He then guided your hands once again to the harp, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand on it. 

“Like that?” you asked, looking for some feedback as your voice trembled a bit.

“Mm-hmm, keep playing” he whispered to the tip of your ear again, as he moved his hands back towards your waist, his fingers trailing down towards your thighs, making little circles on them as he went nearer and nearer towards your center. 

Though your initial reaction was to freeze, his words and actions were also helping you at least to relax your posture, though he wasn’t letting you break the form either, pressing himself onto your back each time you dared to slouch. 

“Like this?” You pressed back as you spoke like a whimper, feeling something growing, making contact with your bottom, feeling his, and perhaps your own heartbeat rising even more. A silent low groan escaped from his lips without him intending to, in which you had the honor of being the “first ear” audience. 

You really wanted to rub your legs together, because an itch that can only be scratched a particular way was also growing. You couldn’t, lest you break form.

His hand slowly lifted the hem of your tunic dress a bit further, since it was already a bit up from the way you were sitting. Your legs were already spread to accommodate a proper position with the big pedal harp, after all. 

You didn’t make a peep.

He put chin on your shoulder, right next to your head, as his hand snaked down under the dress a bit more, and he kept speaking with that low, almost growling tone.

“There is one more thing I want to show you, if that’s okay?” spoken so innocently like a whisper, with only a tinge of mischief in his tone. 

“Y-yeah?” you barely got out.

He spoke so virtuously, indeed. Almost as if his hand wasn’t exactly on your underwear, making light circles over it with his feather-like touch that sent all your nerves screaming. Screaming for more contact, more pressure.

He could absolutely feel how swollen you were under the cotton-fabric as his fingers traced over it. And you could feel his breath also quickening, becoming more uneven yet more and more in sync with yours. 

His lips were trailing your neck and his other hand found and grabbed one of your breasts, caressing it through your dress. Those full lips, oh Goddesses, they felt so good even on your neck as they moved from one sensitive spot to another. 

Especially when he pressed you to himself, as he held you from one breast with his left hand, and grabbed you from your throbbing center with his right. 

You were still holding back that moan, desperately trying to pluck on the strings, thinking this magical moment could end the moment you stopped.

Oh your fingers were going to totally blister later, you did have some calluses on your fingers, but there was no way you could have the ones that a harpist would have. 

But as he trailed his calloused hand slowly up to your stomach and then back down, this time sliding his hand into your underwear and directly on the bundle of nerves that you desperately needed contact on… There was almost no more fight left in you. The harp was pressing on to his hand and his hand was pressing on your clit.

You let out a relieved sigh. The way his fingers callused, it felt even better than you expected.

But his hand wasn’t moving. 

“Mmmm… Very good, keep going, pluck the G string, make sure your wrist is slightly bent in…” he urged you to still try to play the fucking harp with that sultry tone. Each time you tried to pluck the harp, you were feeling even the subtlest vibration from the big instrument. 

Your heart was in your ears, all your blood was rushing south, you were instinctively trying to move from where you are sitting, just to get more pressure, more movement. He was merciful for a moment, his middle and ring finger did a couple of circling motions exactly where and how  you needed it. That was it, you did let out that moan. You could hear him lightly chuckling. 

He continued his instructions however. “Now, spread your legs a little bit more… for me?” There was a tiny bit of hesitation on the last part, as if he wanted to make sure once again that it’s alright to continue. How could you deny his request, when he had you right where you wanted him to? You could of course only oblige. His soft yet almost demanding voice left you hypnotized. 

As you spread your legs a little bit more, he pulled the chair a bit more back, along with you, and created a bit of a distance between you two and the harp. You could feel his dick pressing on you even more with each movement. You were surprised at his self constraint. From your point of view, he should have just taken you. 

“Link…” you spoke his name almost as if you were begging. The way you said his name definitely had an effect on him. But he shushed you. Though you could hear him gulp. Gods… How did he end up with his hand on your wet sex?

“Sssh, we are here for a lesson, aren’t we?” he whispered to your ear again. He took his hand from inside your underwear and brought his middle finger near your mouth. 

“Lick it.” he said firmly this time, with no hesitation. He was focused on his goal. You took his finger between your lips as if it was some other body part of him, and you made sure to make him understand that with the way you licked the tip and sucked the whole finger in, you gave him the full show, as much as you could. 

“Very good,” he almost hissed to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe just a little bit. His now wet finger went back down to where it was, this time back of his hand raising your underwear like a tent.

“Now… Here is another technique…” he said with a dark tone. His middle finger slid down, feeling almost proud after noticing how wet you are, and dipped it inside you just briefly, and brushed it up and down all over your sex, especially focusing on your clit. You gasped. With his index and ring fingers, he pulled the skin over your clit only a tiny bit up, keeping the hood intact. As his fingers were holding your clit in a place he wanted, he plucked on the tip of your slippery clitoral hood with his middle finger, slick with your juices.

“Ah…” was the only sound you could get out. As you pressed and pushed yourself to him after each of his plucks, his other hand on your breast would sometimes pinch your nipple. His kisses on your neck would get momentarily rougher. He would gently bite your ear lobes. He would make sure to dip his finger into you (sometimes two or three), to make sure everything stayed perfectly wet. As moments passed, the plucks became teasing presses, and then finally became proper rubs.  

“You are doing so well for me…” he would whisper sometimes, as your breath hitched, chasing your high, trying to adjust yourself on his fingers.

You just drank the essence of his tone in, because at that point the only thing you knew was that he was determined to make you cream his fingers. He couldn’t know what you exactly liked, but he was sure able to ask for it in the perfect way.

“You like it here…” he would ask, moving his middle and index finger to spot, “...or there?” he would ask again, moving them into a bit more direct contact instead. As your orgasm built up, the way you wanted him to touch you also changed.

Once he made you jump because he touched it too directly. “Oops…” he said as he peppered your neck with kisses, as if each one said “sorry”. He kept massaging that one breast again, and you helped him move his hand into a position you liked before.

Your panties were already gone at that point.

“More…ah… pressure…” you moaned between your pants. 

He could only do as you said. 

Oh his touch was magic.

But the fact that he listened and obliged turned you on as much as the way he was able to pluck his way through your center. 

Your legs were shuddering and shaking as he kept rubbing your clit exactly as you wanted, sometimes his fingers dipping in and out between your slick folds. 

“Yes, Oh Gods, Link…” you were so close, SO close. 

“Mmm-hm…” you could hear he was also getting impatient. His breath was still on your neck, his other hand was under your tunic just kneading your breast roughly as he liked, he started whispering things to your ears that you would have never thought could come from that innocent looking Link. 

“Let go for me (Y/N)... Come for me.” he would keep whispering in repeat as you were on the last leg to your climax.

“Show me how you come… Come on you beautiful thing…” It felt like he would say anything to coax you into your release. Then you’ll be all ready for me.. He also thought but didn’t say out loud yet.

The tight feeling that had been building in your stomach, the one that made your legs and body tremble, was finally about to reach its crescendo. 

You were whimpering his name between the continuous mumbles and mewls of “Please” and “Keep going”. 

With the last flick of his finger on your clit, he pinched a nipple with the other and sucked on your earlobe with his plump and gorgeous lips, while trying to hold you back from falling down. You reached your limit.

“Good girl…” he purred into your ear. 

It all crashed as the sweet sweet embrace of the overstimulation and orgasm washed over you as your insides contracted, you felt like an arrow getting released from a tight strung bow. You saw white.

As he noticed your sensitivity, Link pulled his hand away from there. You turned and straddled him, as you were still panting from your post orgasm bliss, and pulled him into a deep, open mouthed kiss. Not letting him speak. 

Determined the devour the soft plump lips you always adored,

But Link? He wasn’t done yet.

[truffle-draws-turtles]

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[somedaylazysomeday]

A Boon - Part Six

A sleepless night looms ahead, but you don't want to fill it with conversation.

Thranduil x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: Teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, emotional misunderstanding, emotional vulnerability

Previous | Masterlist

---

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed before Thranduil spoke again - minutes and hours meaningless in the darkness of the night. 

“Will you still not tell me what steals your slumber?” Thranduil’s low voice rumbled, perfectly fitting the velvet shadows filling the room. “Unburdening yourself may help you sleep.” 

You shook your head, knowing he could hear the motion as clearly as speech. “I doubt it. But perhaps you can help in a different way… if you are willing.” 

There was a pause in which you prepared to assure him that he was under no obligation to you. But then Thranduil’s hand released yours to grasp your waist instead. In a fluid motion, he had rolled over to loom above you in the darkness. 

“I would be a poor lover indeed if I allowed you to suffer when there is hope of providing respite.”

“So magnanimous,” you teased. 

“Always,” he agreed, a bare instant before his lips brushed yours once and again, deepening into something tinged with urgency. 

You melted eagerly into the kiss and wormed your way closer, welcoming every touch of your body against his. He was big and solid and so wonderfully warm, especially when he cradled your jaw in his hand to deepen the kiss further. 

You hadn’t given much thought to where his other hand might be, not until you felt it high on your thigh and moving steadily inward. You gave a pleased little mutter and parted your legs so he could have space to move between them. 

Thranduil’s hand was against the very heart of you, cupping your mound, but he had gone still. You could feel the way his middle finger was lying along your seam, but that finger was not pressing into your core and his palm was not pressing against your clit. Still, there was something oddly intense about the way he was holding you, his grip possessive as he claimed your mouth in a leisurely siege. 

When his fingers did start moving, they were slow and gentle as they stroked your folds, teasing the most sensitive part of you. You were squirming under that attention, but unwilling to pull your lips from his to make a complaint. Thranduil finally took pity on you, sinking a finger deep into your heat. 

Your body parted eagerly around the intrusion, pulling him deeper. The thickness of that single digit simultaneously felt like the greatest relief you had ever felt and not nearly enough for you. 

When he stopped moving, your hips lifted to impale yourself more firmly. The heel of his hand was barely short of brushing your clit, and you could feel the heat of him so close… The stimulation it promised stayed tantalizingly out of reach, no matter how hard you tried to get there. 

You were pouting into your kiss when Thranduil finally relented. That finger started pushing gently in and out of you, more of a stroking gesture than a true thrust, but it was enough to make your heart race. 

Thranduil was a patient lover. He always had been, and it was one of his greatest strengths. He took his time, carefully drawing every bit of pleasure he could possibly plumb from your depth before he allowed either of you to rest. He had teased you in the past about the desperate speed of humans and how they could only hope to achieve the intensity of elven practices. It was maddening. 

Fortunately, you had quickly figured out a particular quirk of Thranduil’s: when he was so deeply involved in teasing sensations out of you, he was susceptible to his own needs. He could fight off the draw of pleasure alone, but when that pleasure was dashed with just a hint of pain, it was as if his mind was taken over by the startling contrast. 

With the way he was tormenting you, you could hardly be blamed for giving him a long stroke - fingers at the precise level of tightness that made him weak - even as you delivered a sharp nip to his lower lip. 

Thranduil pulled away to release a harsh sound, a rough combination of shock and keen interest, and stared down at you with a sharp look in his eyes. Those eyes had a sudden wildness to them, the tremendous sense of age in them edged with something you could only describe as a blunt and determined sort of intensity. 

He was going to take you apart, and you could think of nothing you wanted more. 

When Thranduil started moving once again, there was nothing soft or gentle about it. His finger pulled free of you only for it to return with another. Those two fingers thrust deep without a moment’s hesitation, stretching you sharply as you gasped and arched helplessly against your pillows. 

“Thranduil,” you gasped, clutching at the sheets, his arms… anything within reach that could possibly help you ground yourself against the feeling of his teasing fingers. 

He glanced from between your legs and up to your face. His expression was light and joyful, utterly mischievous. “Yes, lover?” 

Now that you had his attention, you were uncertain of what you might want with it. The best you could muster was a soft and trembling, “Please.” 

Thranduil smiled, drawing another gasp  as his fingers twisted inside of you. “Do not worry, little one. I know precisely what you need.” 

With that vaguely threatening promise, Thranduil set to work pulling you apart. His fingers pushed and stroked, thumb teasing intermittently against your clit - no rhythm you could decipher with your preoccupied mind. That meant that you could not anticipate his movements, and you were left to Thranduil’s mercy as he worked you steadily toward an orgasm. 

And it was no accident that Thranduil was not known for his mercy. 

When you fell apart, you arched up off the bed, held in place only by Thranduil’s arm bracing your hips. Your hands were clutching desperately at his forearms, and it was a miracle that he didn’t seemed bothered by the way your nails were biting into his skin. Your legs slammed shut around his hand, holding him in place as your core worked to drag him deeper inside of you. 

Thranduil worked you through it, movements steady and inexorable until you were quivering and breathless beneath him. Weakly, you pushed his hand away - though you had to remember to release it from the vice of your thighs first.

“Well, my queen?” Thranduil inquired, leaning over to study you from a closer angle. “Do you find yourself ready for sleep?” 

You made a face at his teasing tone, but you did not truly mind it. He was subtly asking whether or not you wished to continue your activities. There were days on which you preferred to orgasm once (or not at all) and be done with things so that you did not become overstimulated. Fortunately, that tended not to happen with Thranduil. 

“I am afraid not,” you told him with a sigh. “Though I understand if you are too tired to continue.” 

It was a game between the two of you, just as much a part of your relationship as his proposals. Thranduil grinned at you, as delighted to play his part as he ever was. “Not so, little mortal. I am ever ready to ensure your satisfaction.” 

You smiled back, but it was halfhearted. The endearment he had chosen struck a little too close to your preoccupied thoughts for comfort, and your urgency was genuine as you pulled him back down for another kiss. 

There was a hesitation to Thranduil’s lips and you worried for a moment that he would pull away to ask what was wrong. That was a conversation you had no interest in having with him at that particular moment, so you slipped your tongue between Thranduil’s lips, dueling briefly with his until he seemed utterly distracted.

And then, just to be certain, you slung one of your legs over his narrow hips, repositioning yourself until you were straddling him. His length was pressed against you, insistent and impossible to ignore, but not breaching you. 

You intended to fix that. 

“Are- Are you ready?” you asked, trying not to openly pant. As was often the case with Thranduil, your orgasm had not quenched your thirst so much as piqued your hunger. The sight of him beneath you, his pretty hair spread across your pillows, made your body tighten with unmistakable need. 

“For you?” Thranduil asked, and even in the handful of seconds since you had asked your question, you had already forgotten it. “Always.” 

You pulsed your hips forward and back, the movements a mindless mimicry of the way Thranduil’s hips moved when he took you. Thranduil planted his heels on the bed and pushed upward, shoving himself more firmly against you until you remembered precisely what your question had been… and what his answer gave you permission to start doing.

When your hand wrapped around Thranduil’s length, he twitched and thrust into the air at the feeling. It took your full strength to push his hips back to the bed. Even then, you knew it was only because he allowed you to reposition him. 

Your fingers around the base of Thranduil’s shaft held him in place as you pressed the broad head to your entrance. As always, he felt impossibly large as you lowered yourself onto him. Perhaps it was the position that always made you feel the burning stretch. More likely, it was that you were unable to slow your pace when you took him this way. You needed him now, not when your body said you could have him. 

But he was barely inside of you before he was catching your hips, holding you in place and preventing you from sinking down in one desperate stroke. You made a wordless noise of frustration, opening your eyes to stare at him in confused irritation. 

“Slowly, love, slowly,” he urged. “I want to feel you. I want you to feel me.”

You tried to ignore that direction, but Thranduil’s fingers were firm on your hips, guiding you achingly slowly downward. Even as your irritation grew toward the elvenking, you could not argue that this was more intense. Thranduil’s shaft seemed even more impossibly long this way, fed slowly into you bit by bit until it felt like he was stretching up inside your torso, fighting his way toward your heart. 

The muscles of your core worked and gripped and twitched around him. Thranduil seemed as entranced as you were, his lips moving as if he was speaking softly, so softly that his words were completely inaudible to you. 

When you were finally fully seated on him, feeling utterly impaled on the thick intrusion of his length inside of you, both of you made matching noises of inarticulate pleasure. You were unaware that your hands were braced against his chest until he gently cupped his over the back of one. 

“Is there something you need to tell me?” you asked. 

Thranduil looked at you with confusion, then with dawning delight. “Why, my queen. Are you asking for me to tell you how lovely I find you? Because I am happy to do so, though I will expect you to refrain from implying that I am the egotistical one in our relationship in the future…” 

“No, you have full claim over any ego between us,” you countered immediately. It was difficult to think with his hardness buried so deeply inside of you, but this seemed important enough to gather whatever wits remained available to you. “I meant that you were saying something. I could not hear you, but I felt that I needed to.” 

A wry expression twisted its way across Thranduil’s face. Worry grew in your stomach, and your voice was quiet when you asked, “Is it something so terrible?” 

Thranduil shook his head, fingertips rising to keep your face aimed at his. “Not at all. I simply worry that you will realize that our shared pleasure is weighted in my favor. It is impossible that I can bring you pleasure equal to the pleasure you bring me.”

“Did we not just discuss ego?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I believe you have no concept of the way you make me feel,” Thranduil said solemnly, light eyes locked with yours. You stilled, trying to decipher what he meant with this serious turn. You felt a stab of fear as you wondered whether Storr would be proved correct. This was just abrupt enough to be the start of the end of your relationship with Thranduil. 

But then, the elvenking smiled. “Perhaps I am lucky in that. If you knew how utterly entrancing you are, I fear the power you would gain from the revelation.” 

You chuckled with him, but you still felt odd. Unbalanced, somehow, by the unexpected gravity of the moment. Then Thranduil’s hand moved to your breast, thumb stroking over your nipple as he smiled gently up at you. “You are so beautiful. And clever enough to rule a kingdom while working on behalf of citizens who adore you. I knew you would be a wonderful queen, but I could never had expected so much.” 

Normally, praise made you uncomfortable, particularly when it was as effusive as this. For some reason, you soaked in Thranduil’s words and felt the weight of them impact your soul. You were a wonderful queen. And you were clever and beautiful enough to bring Thranduil to his knees. Proverbially speaking, of course - you liked him exactly where he was at the moment. 

The height difference between you could present a challenge in many positions, but you could lean forward at just the right angle to press your lips to his. Thranduil met you on the way, hungrily accepting your kiss and deepening it until you were drinking each other in.

Since you were already leaning toward him, it was simple to lift up on your knees before sinking back down onto Thranduil. In fact, it was almost easier to keep the motion forward-and-back rather than up-and-down. 

The feeling of his thickness sliding out of you spurred you on, and the pressure of his pelvis against your clit at the bottom of every stroke urged you to keep that momentum. Your thrusts sped fast and faster until you had to pull away from Thranduil’s mouth so you could catch your breath. 

It was satisfying to see that Thranduil was breathing heavily as well. His chest rose and fell under your fingers, and you could almost imagine that you felt his quickened heartbeat beneath the smooth skin. Every few strokes, the head of his shaft would catch at the perfect place inside of you, shocking your system with the sharpness of the sensations. Each time it happened, your body clamped down around Thranduil’s as he gave a low, urgent growl. 

When Thranduil caught at your hips, you half-prepared yourself to swat at his hands. He was clearly as close as you were, and you would be forced into violence if he intended to slow your pace once more.

But he only squeezed your hips, stroking over the sensitive skin he found there. “Lovely, lovely human. I shall not last much longer. What can I do to bring you with me?” 

Your mouth was dry from all of the panting, and it took you several attempts to force out, “Touch me, Thranduil.” 

“With pleasure,” he agreed, a wolfish smile spreading over his face. 

This was once of your most treasured traits of Thranduil’s: when you asked him to touch you, he did not simply lunge for your most sensitive places. He knew that you could find pleasure in every sensation. His hands traveled up your arms to your shoulders, then down the sides of your body, your body singing at the simple contact. He caressed your breasts like he had the rest of you, then continued over the flexing muscles of your stomach and down between your legs. 

The thrusting pace you had taken up left little space for him to reach your clit, but Thranduil managed, slipping fingers between you. He teased you mercilessly, following the movements of your body to keep the torment ongoing regardless of whether you were rising or falling. 

You had been steadily getting closer to the edge of your orgasm, but it had been a distant thing, growing like a cloudbank over the water before a storm. But Thranduil’s touch brought those nebulous sensations to the immediate forefront. 

You slammed yourself down on him, hands braced on his shoulders as you closed your eyes and took deep breaths. The chasm of pleasure yawned eagerly before you, and it was only by holding completely still that you could draw back without falling in. Your body relaxed incrementally, half a step back from the cliff.

Thranduil was unwilling to let you, however. He pressed his knuckle firmly against your clit, thrusting up into you at the same time. 

And you were gone. 

It was something of a miracle that your arms and legs stayed braced enough to support you. You had no feeling left in them, your entire being so consumed by the sensations wracking you that the world narrowed exclusively to the explosions in your body, the twitching pulses of Thranduil’s length inside of you, and the satisfied gleam of Thranduil’s eyes. 

As your body’s frantic spasms eventually slowed to soft squeezes around him, Thranduil’s eyes stayed on yours. You could not fault him; yours were just as blatantly locked on his. His hands on your arms kept you upright even when your muscles no longer wished to support you, and he guided you slowly onto the bed beside him. 

The room was quiet, the sound of the waves far below only now audible without the grunts and moans and sounds of sex filling the room. You could almost fall asleep, the worries of your relationship pushed from your mind by your recent activities. But the rustle of the Thranduil’s body against the sheets felt purposeful, a way of breaking the silence, and you knew a conversation was incoming.

“Tell me, my queen,” Thranduil said, gently pulling out of you. “When do you intend to accept my proposal?”

“When do you intend to stop asking?” you returned, lazily rolling your head so you could look at him. 

He smiled. “I believe I never shall. Some day, you will agree to have me as your husband.”

“Thranduil…” You knew you were meant to find that funny, but you could not quite summon a smile. Yes, there were serious problems that he refused to acknowledge, but you had never stated them as clearly as you should. Perhaps it was time to bring them up directly. 

You rolled onto your side, directing your gaze at him rather than the ceiling. “You will outlive me by a number of years. Why would you want to tie yourself to a wife you will have for the equivalent of a few weeks?”

Thranduil looked over at you and found that you were watching him steadily. He returned his gaze to the ceiling rather than hold yours. “Yes, I will outlive you. That much is a certainty, barring anything unforeseen. But I love you. I want to seize our time together, to spend as much of it bound as tightly as we can be. When you are gone, I will mourn you. I would do so if you left me tomorrow.” 

You might have teased him for that, asked if he had designs on your safety… but there was a frown on Thranduil’s face that said the thought alone was causing him distress. 

“But would you deny me the knowledge that you had belonged to me and I had belonged to you as much as any two can? That we swore before all kingdoms, all rulers, and every one of our subjects that we chose to be together? Not due to politics or trade or any such thing. But because we loved each other too deeply to live any other way but together.” 

Thranduil slowly shook his head. “I mourned my first wife for almost a decade and that was with the comfort of knowing we had been together without reservation. I already care too deeply about you to hope for any less grief, but I worry for that lack of solace…”

“So why do I wish to wed you?” he asked, turning to look at you directly. Thranduil’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, though he fought to keep them from falling. “Simply put: because I love you and I want the entirety of the world to know that I would have none other than you for my wife, my partner, and my queen.”

Whatever expression was on your face, Thranduil seemed to find it unbearable. He turned away, his back toward you. “Please save your objections for the morning. I find I am far too weary to defend my desires to you this evening.” 

“Thranduil…” you started. 

“Yes?” he asked, still facing away. 

Your mouth opened, but you found that you could not answer him. 

Thranduil turned toward you once more, his hands rising to cup your face. One of his thumbs rubbed the crease between your brows while the other smoothed the corner of your  frowning mouth.

“Yes?” he repeated, voice hushed. 

You took a breath, and it was shaky when you released it. “Ask me again.” 

Thranduil’s hands stilled on your face. “Will you marry me?” 

“Yes.”

His eyes widened an instant before he captured your lips with his own. With the activities of the last hour, you were not quite stirred to need, but your body perked with interest at the way he moved close and closer. You were pressed together, utterly entwined, until Thranduil let you go, pulling away only far enough to press his forehead to yours. The brightness of his beaming smile was near-blinding from such a close vantage point, but there was a mischief in it that made you wary.

“You realize, of course, that our people will not be satisfied with a recounted tale of an accepted proposal?”

You groaned. “Please try not to make your staged proposal too inane tomorrow. I don’t want to lose the respect of my subjects.”

“Never,” Thranduil promised. “I shall devote the entire afternoon to composing a proper proposal for their approval.”

“Afternoon?” you asked. “What about the morning?” 

His eyes were bright. “I had a rather different idea of how we would spend the morning.”

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Author's Note - This pair has been a delight to write from the beginning, but these two chapters represent my final ideas for them. If I ever decide to add to their story, I'll make sure to link it here.

Meanwhile, I would love to hear what you thought! Thanks for reading!

[lengthofropes]

Dean and his uneasy living / Cards Against Humanity edition

[issa-pheonyx]

Yandere-sub!Kitty!Miguel X Owner!Reader🔪🌶️

𝗬𝗲𝘀, 𝘆𝗲𝘀, 𝘆𝗲𝗲𝗲𝗲𝘀𝘀𝘀!! 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝘁𝘁𝘆-𝗽𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. 𝗙𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝗻-𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝗵𝗼𝗲𝘀~😈👹

-"Why is it in a cage?" "Because, it growled at me" That's pretty much the energy with this lil kitty. Well, he ain't little either. Nobody wanted to take him home due to how big he is and he's an angy kitty. But, when you wanted to meet the kitty and wanted to play with him he just glares at you and lowly yowls trying to scare you. You just rolled your eyes and just put a treat on your hand, sticking out to him,"It's okay, my love. Here. I'm not here to make you trust me. I want to take you home safely with me."

-Poor kitty was only aggressive to the staff there, because of his tragic life and how they would be mean to him to intimidate cause of how big and strong he is. He looks at the treat and at your face as you stayed there patiently. He slowly crawls to you and he opens his mouth a little making you feed it to him. When you wanted to pet him he gave you the scary glare again,"No pets? It's alright. I won't touch you then." You move away, however he soon realizes that...he wants you too, so he crawls and nestles into your lap with his head, purring

-Eventually, throughout the process you learned his name is Miguel O'Hara. He had his own kitten, but has unfortunately passed that not even the shelter doesn't know how or why. So, you kept that in mind when you take him home. He was exploring around your house and all, sniffing things, rubs against the couch from how fluffy it was, and just chilling out...for now

-He may seem like a chill kitty, but there are some flaws with him which is being territorial of yourself your bed, scratching the walls and couches, throwing things off the table or whatever item he finds cause things doesn't go his way, and you find out about his fangs being able to paralyze his victims....he ended up biting you one time, because he didn't want you to go to work and wants to to cuddle suffocate you more

-Sure, it sounds exhausting, but that doesn't mean it is always like that he is a sweet kitty and he lets you know about it too. Like whenever you try to give him love and pets he would move away or walk. At first you thought it may be that he is not opening up too quickly. So, giving him time would change, yet it didn't, so you just let him come to you. He does. Miguel crawls to your lap signaling he wants head scratches, ear scratches, head rubs, etc. He would only nibble your hand, playfully, or you would mess with him by playing with his canines hooking around it, slightly, pulling and he would smile, happily

WARNING!! Spicy after this thread [MDNI🔞]

-Look the majority of all the work I've done...pegging. Everyone fucking pegs, okay? This man will tell you what he wants and how he wants it. His fave position is when he sticks his ass out or has a pillow under his lower belly, gripping and biting the pillow that it ends up ripping to shreds, and he is roughly bucking his ass onto your strap-on (or cock) saying,"Asi, asi, mas fuerte, oh fuck! Fuckmefuckmefuckme-"

-He wants to use your strap-on (or dick) like a toy and if you don't like it well he doesn't care. He will ride you dry or fuck himself until he is dry. Miguel will spread his ass open as he is backing it up to you and your pushing it in at the same time. He tells you to spank him as he is bouncing you like a lap dancer, pull his hair so he can see you concentrating hard on fucking him, and grab the sides of his mouth open to bare his tongue out and canines, drooling so much saliva

-His dirty talking will be mix of English and Spanish (leans towards spanish though...just saying👀) and he moans so loud, he growls a lot too. "Ay, que rico!! Por favor, mi vida. Pegame otra vez. Do it! Hurt me again I need you to do it harder. Mmm, I said, ah, HARDER." This man will be very vocal, so you don't have to worry on what he wants~

-Eat his ass...yeah, that's going on. If you expect him to eat you out or suck you off he will have his ass up and spread open. If you're not eating him right he will smother his ass against your face until it is making him moan. If that doesn't work then he is going to sit on your face and ride your tongue until he cums. Then you will get your head after that

-His tail is extremely sensitive. So...if his attitude or bossy mannerism is starting to pull a nerve against you grab that tail and pull it hard. He will let out a slutty mewl and now he is acting all tamed begging you to let go of his tail, promising you he will behave. But, don't listen to him grab that tail like it is a leash and that will get him weak to the knees,"A-Amor, oh god! Lo siento, lo siento, ugh. I didn't mean to-ooohh que ricoooo~"

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣