#another wonderfully well rounded submission

[songforeddiemunson]

Happy Hawkins Holiday

For the @stcreators event 02: family

Submission for @bettyfrommars and @allthingsjoeq 's Holiday Prompt party #9: "You’re decorating Christmas cookies and something catches on fire"

Submission for @palomahasenteredthechat and @indulgence-be-thy-name 's 12 Days of Joemas Event prompt: "Is that mistletoe?"

Happy Hawkins Holiday

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (description vague apart from use of she/her pronouns)

Summary: Reader is spending her first Christmas in Hawkins with the Munson family. This could be a sequel of sorts to Next Summer and Things that Go Bump,

Warnings/Tropes: a comedy of errors, lots of fluff, oodles of love. CW for swearing, drinking, and minor injuries. No smut. No use of Y/N. No upside-down.

Word Count: 2200

Christmas 1991

“Shit,” you cursed loudly, waving a dishcloth below your wailing smoke detector like a flag of surrender. “Eddie!”

Acrid black smoke billowed from the open oven door, polluting the entire kitchen and making your eyes burn.

Your boyfriend, who had you by some inches, trotted into the room and reached up to silence the alarm with a bemused expression.

“Thanks,” you said, slumping your shoulders in defeat as you turned to open the window behind the sink.

“Soooo…what happened? If you hated this apartment so much, you could have just said, you didn’t need to burn the place down,” Eddie joked. 

You were not in a joking mood, unfortunately.

“Very funny,” you said dryly. “I was pulling out another batch of cookies, and one of them slid off the baking sheet onto the heating element in the oven. It caught fire.”

Eddie grinned and pulled you in for a hug. “No harm done,” he said sweetly into your hair. “You made so many cookies, we won’t miss one.”

“But now the house smells like burned gingerbread man,” you countered sourly.

“We’ll light some candles. It’ll be okay.”

“But–”

“Babe,” Eddie pulled back to look at your face. “Dinner’s done, the place looks beautiful. You look beautiful. It’s going to be an amazing night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now go relax and get ready. You’ve been working on all this since 6am and you must be exhausted.”

“Well you helped,” you replied. Eddie really had been a great helper all day.

“Please, barely. Now go on, I’ll clean up in here.” You wanted to protest, but he had already started rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

“Eddie–” you began.

Eddie planted a big wet kiss right on your pout. “Stop. Go relax, that’s an order.”

You sighed. “Aye aye captain,” you saluted limply, and shuffled off to the bathroom. Perhaps a hot shower really would be what the doctor ordered.  

This would be your first Hawkins Christmas since moving to Indiana to be with Eddie from Chicago. It was also Eddie’s first year in his own place, since moving in with his Uncle Wayne when he was 18, over seven years ago. You had obviously met Wayne and gotten along with him wonderfully, but you had never hosted a holiday celebration before. You wanted everything to be perfect.

The Wheelers, your cousins, had invited you to their family gathering, but you didn’t want Wayne to be alone on the holiday.  He was too introverted to come to the Wheelers’ house, even though they had extended the invitation. The town had not been kind to the Munson family, and it would take a little more time to bring Wayne out of his shell.

So, you decided to host a small Christmas gathering at your new apartment for just the three of you, and naturally you prepared enough food to feed a small army. Eddie was right, you were exhausted, and the steaming hot shower water did wonders for your muscles and your mood.

By the time you were clean, dried and dressed, you were refreshed and ready to take on the night. You emerged from the bedroom to find Eddie wiping down the kitchen counter, with all previous signs of disaster gone. You breathed a deep sigh of relief.

The doorbell buzzed, and Eddie, ever the helpful partner, proclaimed, “I’ll get it!”  As he rounded the corner from the kitchen to the front door, he accidentally bumped a beautiful vase of flowers you had placed on the entry hall table. It tottered back and forth as Eddie muttered, “Shiiiit…” before it fell to the floor with a crash, sending red and white flowers, water, and broken glass in every direction.

“Oh no,” you moaned as you put your face in your hands. 

“Fuck babe, I’m so sorry,” Eddie said, his expression panicked.

You took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s alright.”

“Fuck fuck shit…” Eddie knelt and started picking up the larger pieces of broken glass. You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Honey,” you said, and he looked up at you. You managed a warm smile, despite your frazzled nerves. “It’s really okay. Accidents happen. Why don’t you let Wayne in, and I’ll grab the broom.”

Eddie nodded and moved to follow your instructions.  When you returned with the broom, Eddie was just taking Wayne’s coat. “We had a little mishap,” you declared brightly as Eddie stood by, looking embarrassed. You began sweeping up the glass and strewn flora. “Probably wasn’t the best place for me to put that vase…” you continued as you swept. 

“She’s being diplomatic,” Eddie said. “I knocked it over because I’m a klutz.”

“Well I see not much has changed since you moved out,” Wayne said dryly, but the twinkle in his eye belied his serious tone. He clapped a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas kid,” he declared before pulling him in for a hug. 

You were just finishing sweeping up the mess when Wayne turned to you, handing you a bottle of Korbel sparkling wine. “I thought I would bring some bubbly. Merry Christmas honey,” he said, before giving you a hug as well. 

“Oh that’s so nice Wayne, thank you,” you smiled, the trials of the day beginning to fade away. “This will go really well with the charcuterie plate I made for an appetizer.”

You carried the bottle of wine into the kitchen where the snacks were laid out, and put the broom back in its closet. 

“This looks really nice,” Wayne said when he saw the spread of fruit, cheese, and cured meats.

“She’s been working on this all day,” Eddie declared proudly.

“And Eddie helped a lot,” you said, and you exchanged a smile with your boyfriend as you worked at the foil of the wine bottle.  Before you could properly secure the cork for removal, it flew off the neck of the bottle with a loud POP, surprising you. The cork sailed across the room like a bullet before smacking Eddie in the middle of the forehead with a solid, PLAT sound.

The three of you stood in stunned silence. Wayne’s face was frozen in an expression of shock and delight with a sliver of concern. “Nice shot,” he said with awe, breaking the silence.

“Jesus christ!” Eddie yelled as he rubbed his forehead.

“Oh my god,” you yelled. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Eddie said, laughing.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah totally. Was that payback for the vase?” 

“No! Not funny!” But you had to admit, it was, and you started to giggle.

“Good thing you weren’t an inch or two off; you’d put his eye out,” Wayne added.

“Ha, like A Christmas Story,” Eddie laughed, but the idea of how close you’d come to disaster made your blood run cold for a moment.

Without further incident, you poured the wine and snacked on charcuterie in the living room, as It’s A Wonderful Life played on TV.  When it was time for dinner, you all gathered in the kitchen as you began pulling out dishes that had been keeping warm in the oven.

“I was thinking we could do this buffet style on the counter since we don’t have a big dining room table,” you began. “But where the heck is the can opener for the cranberry sauce?” You started pulling open drawers and rummaging around in the pantry, but the blasted gadget was nowhere to be found.  “How the heck did I manage to lose the can opener?” you asked nobody in particular with a frustrated sigh.

“Give it here, I can do it,” Wayne said while pulling out his pocket knife.

“Uh,” you said trepidatiously, with your can-holding hand paused in midair. “The way today is going, I don’t want to have to spend Christmas in the ER waiting for you to get stitches.”

Wayne laughed. “I used to open cans this way all the time when I would go camping. It’s no sweat.”

“Very well,” you said and handed it over. You exchanged a worried glance with Eddie, who answered with a shrug as if to say I have no idea how this is going to go.

Very reassuring.

The good news was that Wayne did not cut himself. As he jammed the blade of his knife into the thin aluminum lid, it seemed like everything would be fine.

Until he made the second cut, which by way of science that you didn’t fully understand, caused the liquid inside of the can to spray out of the first hole Wayne had made. It shot out of the can with nearly the same velocity of the sparkling wine cork, and landed directly on your chest, on the white Christmas blouse that you bought especially for this occasion. Bright red cranberry syrup. Kapow.

“Oh dear,” Wayne said, and Eddie lost it.

As you stood dumbly looking down at your ruined blouse, you realized it looked as if you walked into the line of fire of arterial spray. 

“At least it’s just cranberry sauce and not you bleeding out from cutting yourself,” you said, needing to raise your voice slightly over Eddie’s cackles of delight. Wayne looked horrified, but the absurdity of everything had you fighting not to join Eddie in his hysterics.

“If you change, and we put something on it right away, maybe it won’t stain…” Wayne began.

You shook your head as giggles fought to escape; even though your shirt was surely a lost cause, you weren’t mad about it. 

“Red on white. It’s festive!” Eddie squealed, and then you started laughing too.

You doubled over, all the stress and tension of the day flowing out of you as you laughed. Wayne looked unsure of what to do.

“If you squint just right, it could be a poinsettia,” Eddie said, pointing at your shirt. It only made you laugh harder. Wayne finally joined in, after really realizing that you weren’t upset.

“I’m really sorry,” Wayne said, though he was smiling. “I’ll replace the shirt.”

“Honestly, don’t worry about it, I was probably never going to wear this again anyway…”

“You should frame it, it looks like a Jackson Pollock,” Eddie managed while wiping his eyes.

The rest of the dinner mercifully went off without a hitch, though it took a while for Eddie to stop giggling every time he looked at you. In fairness, a purple bullseye bruise started to emerge in the middle of Eddie’s forehead, so the feeling was mutual.

“Well,” you said as you polished off the last of your meal. “Tonight we’ve had a small kitchen fire, a broken vase, and assault by wine cork and cranberry sauce. All in all, things turned out pretty well.”

“Well the food was delicious, honestly babe.” Eddie said, giving your thigh a squeeze under the table.

“It really was, my compliments to the chef,” Wayne agreed.  

“I think the more memorable gatherings are the ones where things go wrong,” Eddie said. “We’ll be laughing about this dinner for years.”

Eddie’s innocuous mention of the future made something warm and comforting unfurl in your chest.

“To making memories, and family,” Wayne said, holding up his wine glass.

“Here here,” Eddie said, hoisting his glass by way of response. 

“To making memories, and family,” you repeated, feeling very happy, and you all clinked your glasses together. You took a moment to observe the scene, smiling to yourself as Wayne and Eddie chatted, Eddie’s animated gesticulating juxtaposed with Wayne’s calm manner, and you realized you were a very lucky person indeed.

Wayne helped clean up before excusing himself; it was Christmas tradition to have pints with the guys from the factory at the Attic. After you hugged goodbye and the door closed behind him, you breathed a deep sigh of relief and contentment. Despite the mishaps, it was a lovely evening, but you were happy to be alone with Eddie again.

Eddie had his arm draped over your shoulders as Wayne departed, and then pulled you in for a hug. “Merry Christmas babe; I love you so much. I’m a really lucky guy,” he said. You thought you might swoon, he was so sweet.

“Merry Christmas Eddie; I love you too,” you replied, your heart full.

“Wait, what’s that?” Eddie said, feigning ignorance as he pointed toward the ceiling.

“Wha–” you began as you followed his point. “Is that mistletoe?”

“I suppose so! How did that get there?” Eddie said, making you giggle.

“Well I guess we'd better appease the mistletoe gods or Jesus or whoever,” you said, with a grin.

“Actually mistletoe dates back to the ancient Greeks,” Eddie said, unleashing another random factoid that his brain stored as a result of his voracious reading. “They thought the berries helped with fertility, but even before that the Druids used it in rituals and sacrifices…”

“Dude,” you said. “Would you shut up and kiss me?”

“Sorry,” Eddie smirked, and he did. 

And he did, and he did, and he did.

Thank you for reading! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of all fic writers. Please show us some love! :)

MASTERLIST

[polizwrites]

WIP Update - 5 April 2023

A wonderfully productive week!   I touched 5 fics (4 WIPs  & 1 new  work)  for a total of   3170 words!  

On Ao3, I posted:

A Refuge for Rogues - Okoye and Ayo’s POV on the arrival of Rogers & Barnes in Wakanda. 

WinterIron Bingo Round Robin - April 2023  - a group-effort fic featuring University AU  Tony x Bucky

I  have  15 active WIPs  with my  current  deadlines being  the Stucky and Avengers bingos.  

See  below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc.  As always, feel free to send me   prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding  any of these projects  or any other WIPs I’ve got out there.   Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Seek & Destroy Collab

After reading @psychiccatpanda‘s amazing   Morguna and the Green Queen, I  got the itch to explore the Soldier’s POV and talked  Faustie into   collab’ing with me!  We’re working on a new part of the series, and I’ve  contributed about 700 words towards the  2100 we have so far.  

Stucky Bingo Round Four [SB_R4] (Ends 31 May 2023)

Seventeen fills with one bingo (FINALLY!)  and 2 WIPs with a couple of other vague ideas.

* B1 - Mutual Pining -  no  specific idea, but it’s so On Brand for me I’m sure I’ll come up with something!  (maybe  the Centerfold fic idea I’ve been toying with)

* N2 - Okoye –  Posted  A Refuge for Rogues  on Friday. It also fills my ACB March Adoptable square Ayo as a multi- POV of  Steve & Bucky’s arrival in Wakanda. It came in at 700 words.

*O1 - Identity Porn -  Surrender (But Don’t Give Yourself Away)  is in progress - a WinterIron –>Stuckony  Steve POV fic based on the following 3 Prompts –> Summary game prompt :  Praise Kink, One Night Stand, Identity Porn    It’s crossing over with my    WIB  Praise Kink,  BB_C4 Rich and ACB April adoptable Submission squares and is currently sitting at 1627 words and may come in around 2-2.5k depending on what the Smut Fairy has to say.  

* O4 - AU: Supernatural -  got inspired by a dream to start a Stucky fantasy AU (magician!Steve/ensorcelled!Bucky) that @bill-longbow   is collaborating on with me. We’re currently sitting at 1640 words (984-ish of which are mine).    Will probably continue on this sometime in April.  

*Adoptable1 - Remix one of your own fics -- Finally cracked this thanks to another 3 Prompts --> Summary game: Wings, Transformation, Confession.  I’m planning a Bucky POV of part of Take What Was Wrong (And Make it Right) the obvious title - Half of the Flesh and Blood That Makes Me Whole.  😁

Avengers Bingo Round Four [AvB_R4] (Ends 2 June)

This  time around the card is a 3x3,  so am looking at writing different   pairings for my two favorite Avengers - Tony and Steve.    I have 3 fills  completed and two WIPs, with a couple more ideas in play.

* B3 - Mistaken Identity -  I’m planning a third chapter of my Tony/Rhodey  Western AU   Decision at Sundown   based on the ficlet I wrote to fill the “Wet Your Whistle”  FFC23 prompt.   The expansion will make both this square (and probably the fic itself) more explicit.  😁

* C1 - Babysitter AU -   Started working on a collab with MagicaDraconia16 - tentatively titled Peremesnik (aka Three Avengers and a Baby). This will crossover with my  ACB Babysitter square and will involve  Steve, Bucky & Tony kidfic shenanigans.  We’re up to 2205 words (my part - roughly 1400 words)  and I think it’s going multi-chapter.

* C2 - Accidentally in Love - using this  and BB_C4 squares for chapter 2 of Making All Things New  Omega!Sex Worker!Bucky falling for  Alpha!Cap!Steve  (and vice versa) during an assignment.  It’s up to 1214 words and probably can wrap it up in another 500 or so...? 

* C3 - Dog Tags - seems like a good  Steve/Sam square, especially if I combine it with my  SWB Steve Rogers  square.

Bucky Barnes Connect Four Alt-Juniverse Event (BB_C4)[ends 30 Jun 2023]

Signed up for this event over at @buckybarnesevents - you get a four-square card featuring ideas for AUs.  The prompts can be used as stand-alones or combined with each other or other events.  

* C1 - Omegaverse -  see  AvB - Accidentally In Love above.

* C2 - Rich – see Stucky Bingo Identity Porn above.

All Caps Bingo [ACB_R1]  (Ends 30 Sep 2023)

I’ve got seven completed fics, four WIPs and  will be pursuing the One Fill, One Bingo  Challenge for Row 5.  

* B2 - AU: Fugitive -   I’m expanding on my Pirate AU Tumblr fic  Flying the Flag of Freedom - Part 1 and Part 2.   I added about 600 words to bring it up to 1128 words total and I may be calling it finished. 

* I1 - Mutual Pining - see Stucky Bingo Mutual Pining.

* N4 - Deserted Island -  combined this with a previous Flash Fiction Friday’s prompt   [#FFF192 Sea and Sun]   for Not Having Fun Down on the Bayou - Sam & Bucky missionfic  shenanigans.  It will get posted to Ao3 before the event ends.

* G1 - Isaiah Bradley -  Planning to add more to The Fist, Defeated.   (possibly present day)

* G3 - Established Relationship -  see Stucky Bingo - Remix Own Fic

* G4 - Babysitting - see  AvB Babysitting AU above.

* O3 - Pararescue Sam Wilson - may try to squish this into an expansion of   A Rising Star -  a previous Flash Fiction Friday fill.  

Sam Wilson Bingo [SWB_R3]  (Ends 15 Oct 2023)

I have two fills and one WIP -  I need to work on cross fills between this and the All Caps bingo.

* B2 - Miscommunication - combined this with last week’s Flash Fiction Friday prompt [FFF195 Filled with Clarity]  for  Truth and Consequences - a TFatWS compliant  Sam & Bucky Sam POV ficlet.   It will get posted to Ao3 sometime in the next month or so.  

* G3 - Joaquin Torres - see ACB Pararescue Sam Wilson above.

* O2 - Steve Rogers  -- see AvB  Dog Tags  above.

WinterIron Bingo  - [WIB_R1]   (Ends 16 Dec 2023)

A  brand new bingo event that I’m helping mod!   Signups for custom cards  began on the 10th and will run through the 10th of April.   For more info visit  @bingowinteriron or PM me.  

I have 1 fill completed and two WIPs.   Still   getting my thoughts together on what to match up with other cards, but   think I’m going to try to combine my B column squares for the Iron Soldier badge (complete a bingo with a single work). – Alpha Tony Stark,  “That was not my intention.”, James Rhodes, Alpine loves Tony and  Blind date

* I4 - Identity Porn - this will go along well with the in-progress Chapter 7 of   Takin’ What They’re Givin’ (‘Cause I’m Workin’ for a Livin’) where Bucky meets Tony and they find a way to keep his identity a secret after all.  It’s currently sitting at 2239 words and will probably nearly double that once all is said and done.  Hoping to finally wrap this fic up in another chapter or so.

* I5 - Park - filled with the WinterIron Bingo Round Robin - April 2023  that we wrote this past weekend as part of the Discord party.  it’s a cute College AU featuring a bit of pining, a first date and a shenanigan or two.   I contributed 349 words.

* N2 - Praise Kink - see Stucky Bingo Identity Porn

* O4 - Steve Rogers - see Stucky Bingo - Remix Own Fic

* O5 - Gentle -- use this poem  as inspiration?

————

On  other creative fronts:  I have Sonic the Hedgehog & Tails Stuffed With Character figures in progress. I have multiple commissions from the Hall of Heroes  Comic Con to work on and am prepping for a con in June  so am  pretty well booked up through early summer.

That said, if  you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations later in the year, check  out Stuffed With Character    over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 100!).   These soft stuffed figures are  mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC   and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design   requests  for any fandom!

[mewo-events]

Starstruck Act 7: Cyberpunk

Hello everyone!

We have now reached the halfway point of Starstruck!

The judges have seen so many breathtaking outfits. As we progress, we know we will continue to see more! And as a celebration for making it this far, this will be a special post. Stay tuned until the end of the results to see what is in store.

In the latest installment, we introduced our seventh theme of the competition, “Cyberpunk.”

Our judges have carefully assessed the submissions and have reached their results for each contestant.

Regarding the theme, the judges were looking for outfits and a setting that clearly depicted cyberpunk. If the clothes were all black, we wanted to see splashes of colors placed among them.

We generally wanted to see a bit of innovation with your idea.

Now, onto the contestants!

‎

Sohee Jang

Results

Execution - 3/15

Originality - 3/15

Cohesiveness - 5/15

Murphy

Results

Execution - 15/15

Originality - 12/15

Cohesiveness - 15/15

Kyomi Ofori

Results

Execution - 14/15

Originality - 12/15

Cohesiveness - 14/15

Growth - 2/5

Lynn Woods

Results

Execution - 9/15

Originality - 7/15

Cohesiveness - 10/15

Growth - 1/5

Kai Yung

Results

Execution - 13/15

Originality - 12/15

Cohesiveness - 13/15

Ambrose Esmeray Howl

Results

Execution - 12/15

Originality - 12/15

Cohesiveness - 11/15

Growth - 1/5

Honey

'Cybernetic. '

Results

Execution - 13/15

Originality - 13/15

Cohesiveness - 11/15

Growth - 2/5

Those were all of our submissions!

For our eighth round, the theme will be…

Glitz n’ Glam!

Extravagant, stylish, and glamorous— we are expecting an expensive outfit. Whether your model screams “money” or whispers it elegantly.

But just a moment…

We would like to recognize our contestants.

There have been wonderful pictures so far, and it was not easy, but the judges all came together to appreciate what we felt was each model’s best overall picture in this half of the competition.

The effort has not been lost on us and we know that every one of you are capable of blowing us away like how you did with these images once more.

Now, onto the models.

Sohee Jang

Forest Creatures

Our thoughts:

The judges adore the background and how the combined elements bring a mystical feeling to the image.

Murphy

Two-Faced

Our thoughts:

The poses for each side of Murphy were so dynamic and well-integrated into the scenery. They seemed like they belonged there, yet the models were precise and contrasted against both it and one another with the bright colors of the outfits. The editing is gorgeous; we really appreciated that we could see most of the body.

It was ambitious, and we applaud you for taking risks. It definitely paid off.

Kyomi Ofori

Under The Sea

Our thoughts:

The judges thought the execution was delightful. The idea was so fun as well. The Jellyfish encasing Kyomi and the framing of her body to where it is all visible elevated the image to new heights. The colors are vibrant; yet indicative of other organisms you encounter underwater.

The spirit of the sea was captured beautifully.

Lynn Woods

Turn Back The Clock

Our thoughts:

We felt this picture delivered what it aimed to do and executed it wonderfully. The gloomy color palette, the lighting, the dynamic angle, the posing of Lynn, her outfit, and the atmosphere led to the enhancement of the overall picture.

The gothic environment felt authentic, and the image was very confident in what it wanted to portray.

Kai Yung

Cyberpunk

Our thoughts:

The judges absolutely loved how dynamic the pose was. Yet it was able to show us each element of Kai’s outfit. The pops of red in the clothes, and hair, and the warm tones within the background undeniably stood out to us in such a cool palette and moody theme. Overall, the picture was also delightful to lay eyes on.

It was very much appreciated and unique in that manner.

‎

Ambrose Esmeray Howl

Cosplay

Our thoughts:

The color palette of the picture was stunning. A dreamy atmosphere is a result, and the judges loved it. The ambiance is present in most of your images from the lighting, but we especially loved the depiction of this one. It was a wonderful rendition of Nezuko, the round inspiration for the model.

‎

Honey

Turn Back The Clock

Our thoughts:

The judges could see so much effort had gone into this piece. We loved the theme and how you had pushed it to its extreme— going thousands of years back into the past. Which is very ambitious, yet it was pulled off meticulously.

Honey fits well with the setting and background, with colors and accurate historical portrayals coming together to make a gorgeous sight.

We can’t wait to see what’s in store for the next half of the competition! The judges had a lot of fun looking at this round’s submissions.

[species-ratings]

Species Ratings: GremCorps

(A little tired today, but this is the only time I'm going to have enough time to write this for the next month or two, so here we go.)

Group: deviantart(.)com/gremcorps, gremcorpsarpg(.)com owned by Densy AKA MrGremble, Densetsugin, Stegopen

Any warnings?: Some Cypherus Grems and the occasional mutation bomb Grem can incorporate body horror elements, but you'll see so few of them that it shouldn't be an issue.

Rating scale: score out of 10, based on the community, pricing, quality of adopts, accessibility, lore, events, and staff

GREMCORPS

Community

The GremCorps community server is quite dead a lot of the time. Some of the non-species related channels still have activity, but for the most part, people either lurk for Discord-exclusive sales or keep to their cliques.

When you can get people to talk to you, they're friendly, even funny. There's an uneasy feeling sometimes in the server because moderation isn't always consistent and waves of drama have rocked the species in the past year or so.

When things are going well in the community, the Discord can be very fun, but with an uneasy undertone. People walk on eggshells around the staff. The Grem art train is the best part of the entire server.

RATING: 5/10. It's hard to give a deeper analysis on the GremCorps community because everyone is afraid to do or say something wrong and invoke the wrath of the staff.

Pricing

The base price for a standard Grem (one with no mutations, magic powers, etc) is $300. There are sometimes cheaper or more expensive sales of standard Grems. Mutant Grems are only a bit more expensive unless they're mutation bombs, which go closer to $600. Snows and Mantas cost $400 - $600. Cypherus are usually $800.

Customs are not available in GremCorps after an incident where Densy allowed a bidder to bid $20,000 for a Cypherus custom and things went downhill from there. The incident is too much to talk about here, but this is a decent overview: reddit com(/)r(/)HobbyDrama(/)comments(/)i4oqe7(/)adoptablesclosed_species_the_furry_that_sold_for.

The group usually doesn't offer anything for free, but it does happen sometimes.

RATING: 6/10. The pricing isn't too bad for what you get. In fact, it's pretty standard compared to other popular species and popular adoptable artists.

Quality of Adopts

The quality is all over the place, but in the past two or three years has seen an overall decline. Even some of the very expensive Mantas, Snows, and Cypherus feel dialed-in. Out of them all, however, it's Mantas and Cypherus that get the most love.

Mamamii's designs are infamous for how bad they are. She desperately needs a character design class.

Sarspax, if you look deeper in his DA gallery, is a talented artist, so the slap-dash, lazy Grems he makes are even more insulting.

Densy herself is not the greatest designer, but her work trends on the higher end of quality.

ToothlessEgo's adopts often look unfinished because of the painterly style. A painterly style requires a heavier touch for rendering just by the nature of it.

TornTethers and Charingo are the best designers, in my opinion, though TT's designs are beginning to feel very chunky and same-y while Charingo's come off as flat.

Guest designers are rare and are usually better than the staff.

Rating: 3/10 for dialed-in, lazy, expensive adopts. Even worse, the redesign guidelines are incredibly strict. You could spend months trying to hammer your Grem into a decent state.

Accessibility

If you're happy with only standard Grems and are easy to please design-wise, you can get at least one Grem very quickly. People are often vouchering them for cheaper than the purchase price. The same is mostly true for Snow Grems.

A small number of MYOs are raffled off on a regular basis. They are not free. Manta, Snow, and Mutation MYOs are more rare.

If you want a Mantagrem, certain mutation Grems, mutation bombs, or Cypherus, plan on waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Cypherus and mutation bombs are the worst of all. Only a handful come out every year around Halloween.

One user named Digimitsu is allowed to hoard a huge percentage of the Cypherus and mutation bombs. He's all but a confirmed botter and the staff doesn't care because Digitmitsu is a long-time member in Densy's pocket. See here: csscreenshots tumblr com(/)search(/)digimitsu.

He's also been suspected of sock-puppeting but this was never 100% confirmed. If you've been in the Grem group for awhile, though? You know.

What this means is your chances are very low for a Cypherus or mutation bomb. You're competing with a (to be fair, dwindling) number of people who want the same thing, and at least one of them bots.

Customs are unlikely to return, or if they do, they will be hard to get.

The upcoming ARPG doesn't look promising for accessibility. Out of fear of "devaluing" her species, Densy doesn't like to give much for free.

RATING: 7/10 if you only consider standard Grems, 2/10 if you consider all the rest. Certain aspects of GremCorps ensure that the most tantalizing fruit is out of reach.

Lore

There's a minimum of lore. The core of Grems is they are genetically-engineered companions who are an offshoot of a more ancient character. This brings up uncomfortable questions about slavery and eugenics that get glossed over.

Cypherus have even less lore than standard Grem2. There's a requirement to have them "exist for a reason"--so staff create their own lore around their Cypherus designs. The lore is not integrated into canon for the most part with last Halloween's Cyphers being an exception.

There are also fighter Grems, which are Grems who have cropped ears and docked tails (these are restricted traits in Grems, by the way). They're kidnapped and forced to fight in pits. No fighter Grem adopts have come out in ages.

There are also a smattering of witch Grems and a total of two Stave Grems. Neither have much in the way of lore.

Finally, the Grem world, Palleth, does have pet creatures and other type of fauna. These almost never feature in anything. I'd wager most people don't even remember them off the top of their head.

Events have little effect on the lore or how it develops outside of Cypherus season. As with Skire, most of the up-to-date information is in the FAQ. Answers to questions don't sound like they come from someone with a vision.

RATING: 2/10. There's so little of it! Grems have been around for so long that if Densy had spent 30 minutes a week coming up with ideas, she'd have enough for a novel.

Events

Events are the standard once-a-month'er seen in every other species. The prompts are lackluster and see middling participation. It's rare to have an engaging event. The only reason to participate is for the raffle.

The only exciting event comes in the month of Halloween, when the next batch of Cypherus Grems are released.

Rating: 2/10. Low effort and quality even by popular species standards.

Staff

The staff are horrendous. They're thin-skinned and what community they haven't driven away, they've put on eggshells. Here's a recent example of them shutting down a reasonable request for regular updates on a game their users have been paying into for years: csscreenshots(.)tumblr(.)com(/)post(/)690156967584481280(/)689704744394096640tfw-the-grem-admins-take-a-sugg. Note how hostile the staff is and how the members obviously become more and more uneasy as the conversation continues.

Questions in FAQ (including requests for time-sensitive vouchers) can sit for hours, or not be answered at all. Users popular with the staff (ex: Twinsharks) get a quick response, however. Answers are often blunt to the point of coming off as rude or cold.

Moderation is inconsistent. The word "milf" is banned but it took forever to get a rule in place so people would stop talking about "big man tiddies" in a borderline-graphic manner.

Talking about accessibility is risky because it falls under the "don't complain if you can't get a Grem" rule. Bringing up the 20K situation is, of course, an insta-ban. Criticism at all is a risk. At best, suggestions are politely ignored with a thumbs down in the suggestions channel. At worst, you get something like the screenshots linked above.

Every time I've talked to almost anyone on staff, I've left feeling uneasy. Mamamii is an exception to this. While she may not be a skilled artist, she can at least be somewhat friendly. 

You get the impression everybody is worn out, but the money is still good enough, apparently.

Rating: 2/10. Aside from thin-skinned, the staff can be described as toxic, disinterested, cold, and, at times, rude. Their response to requests for updates is downright abusive.

Densy herself has a bad reputation for being money-hungry, rude, cold, and mean. You can see it yourself when she responds to someone or something she's not fond of, though I think "mean" is a little far.

You can see how the staff favor the "populars" in FAQ and how they let Digimitsu continue to hoard despite the community being desperate for access themselves. The only server I've been more uncomfortable in is the Scarfox server. 

FINAL RATING: 4/10. A below-average species whose time in the sun is over due to staff behavior, low accessibility, and boring events. You can do better, and, frankly, deserve better. Grems used to be very fun and were my first species, so it's sad to see them like this.

[wri0thesley]

I'd love to request more Naoya smut with him and a now pregnant!reader from that breeding fic because him busting a nut thinking about how good they'll look knocked up really made me feel some type of way!!! maybe reader-chan will even finally get a smooch from this HORRIBLE man. If you are not into doing continuations on requests no worries tho and thank you for your incredible writing as always, Nat!

reader can have a little smooch. as a treat. don’t let naoya hear you say he’s not a good husband <3

Expecting - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.3k)

Both of you got what you wanted. Naoya got more than he bargained for. sequel to covet.

warnings: not sfw, minors dni! afab reader, fem pronouns. pregnancy sex, light lactation, misogyny, power imbalance, breeding kink, mentions of alcohol, naoya perhaps having some Feelings???.

[comments/reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Naoya catches you every so often for the next month and you easily roll onto your back for him, helpless under the brush of his fingers and the snap of his hips. He smirks at you when he passes you in the corridor, but you have nothing to show for all of the times you’ve warmed his bed – yet.

When you do, though – when a month and a half passes, and you are beginning to feel sick in a morning, and your monthly bleed has still not made itself known – you go to Naoya with deference in your eye. Once a servant, always a servant – and you are not stupid. You know that what you carry inside you is a bargaining chip.

Naoya wants someone who will submit, and you want an end to the life of drudgery and roughened hands and back-breaking work, of being ignored or reviled or mocked for having the misfortune to not be born with Zenin as a surname. Naoya takes you to a private, discreet physician with an iron grip on your arm and his light eyes sharp.

It’s amazing, how quickly a man like Naoya Zenin can set things in motion – when it’s not simply confirmed that you’re carrying his child, but that you’re carrying his son. His heir.

It’s so easy for him.

Suddenly you are no longer a maid, but Naoya’s betrothed – and though the other members of the household look at you in disgust, knowing that you spread your legs for the title, none of them dare risk Naoya’s ire by being outright rude to you. He and his family spin it like silk; not that Naoya took advantage of a servant, but that you have been part of some grand, beautiful Cinderella story – that Naoya is in love with you.

(It’s probably for the better that the Zenins prefer servants who can see cursed spirits, at the very least – if you had not had any kind of talent for jujutsu, who knows what would have happened to you? Naoya would not have risked his son being born utterly ordinary).

And then you are Naoya’s wife. It wouldn’t do, of course, for the future head of the family to have his heir and son born out of wedlock, even if society have progressed enough that you falling pregnant with said son was before the betrothal. The latter is a disgrace; the former is a laugh over a cup of sake in the dark, a toast to Naoya’s virility, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge at how lucky Naoya is to have found someone who gives themselves up so utterly and completely and easily, including their virtue--

You know that Naoya is not in love with you. You are fairly certain that the only thing Naoya loves is his name, and the power imbued therein. Still. You share a bed with him, and you’re given silken kimonos and pretty hair ornaments and anything that you ask for, and you are . . .

Respected is not quite the right word. Not for a woman who is Naoya’s. Certainly, he does not respect you.

But you are not reviled, not ignored, not beholden to the demands of your betters. Now, you are one of the betters, and if your fellow servants are frustrated that they have to bow to you in deference, they do not dare show it knowing that if you asked Naoya, he would have them punished for the transgression.

You had perhaps thought that once you were bearing his child, Naoya would lose interest in you. You know as well as anyone that nobody would bat an eyelid at Naoya seeking his pleasure somewhere else; it’s almost expected of him to have a mistress, a concubine, to go and sow his wild oats just in case the one he has placed inside of you does not yield the crop expected--

But he doesn’t.

Naoya hates you out of his sight. He is always touching you; hands sliding over your hips, cupping where your bump has become soft and round and pronounced, snapping servants to attention if he thinks you look tired or wan or pale. You accompany him almost everywhere. He looks up from speaking to his father to seek you out, as if to reassure himself that you are still there – and some tension in his shoulders seems to drain away.

He is still Naoya, of course.

You are still swiftly reprimanded by him if you speak out of turn, he still gets servants to do anything for you so he doesn’t have to do it himself, you still walk three steps behind him with your head bowed unless he bids you to do something else – but as time goes on, and your hips widen and your stomach grows and you feel the baby kick, something in him softens.

And something else hardens.

His desire on your flesh, on your form, does not wane. You grow used to the feeling of tangled silken bedsheets below you, of Naoya’s handsome face above you, of the groan and the whine as he spills himself inside of you for the third time that night. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

That initial thrill, of being wanted by someone like Naoya, doesn’t fade at all, even though you too are now bowed to in the corridors and the people below you have to jump at your command. And Naoya is not cruel for no reason. Despite the arrogance in his tone, the condescension that drips off of his slow, drawling words, the particular way he has of raising one eyebrow and letting his gaze crawl over you – you have come to enjoy being his.

You did not want equality, after all. You knew your place.

You just wanted better – and Naoya has provided you that in spades.

He’s got his arms spread out over the pillows, his shoulders strong, his eyes hungry as he watches you strip off the kimono you have been wearing today. Your wardrobe now is the height of luxury; all beautiful embroidery, delicate colours, fabrics that cost more than your former monthly salary. Kimono are not made to cling to your body; though people can tell that you are pregnant, it does not over-emphasise your hips or the newly swollen, heavy breast, or the curve of your stomach. Those are things that Naoya never tires of seeing, as the fabric pools around your ankles and the hadajuban is discarded and so are your underwear, and you stand before him utterly bare and unmistakably carrying his child.

“Stay there,” he says, “let me look at you.”

You are a good, well-trained, obedient thing. You stand there as Naoya’s gaze roves over you, straying over and over again to where your hips have filled out even more, where your stomach is curved – where your breasts have begun to droop a little from how heavy and swollen with milk they are. He sighs as he looks you over, and it is the sigh of a man who is indeed very pleased with his work.

“You can move,” he says. He moves the covers off of him, and you are not surprised to see that he is bare; that his cock is already stirring, heavy and thick between his thighs. “Come.” He crooks a finger at you, and you are grateful to be able to move, to take the weight off your ankles as you’re permitted to sit on the bed beside him. His arms wrap around you – they are strong, and certain, and he holds you like you are his property.

Which you suppose you are. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder and he makes a soft huff of amusement, but doesn’t say anything about how brazen you are. You are permitted some special favours, now that you are Naoya’s, and now that you are fulfilling your purpose so beautifully.

Naoya’s lips brush your ear, his tongue lapping at the curve of your neck, the joint between throat and shoulder. You sigh prettily, the warmth of his mouth on you making you shiver. One of his hands curls around your breast, enjoying the heavy weight of you in his hand. Thumb and forefinger gently pinch your nipple.

He was rough with you the first time, but now he treats you like porcelain – and the idea that you are precious to Naoya Zenin sets your stomach aflame, makes your breath stick in your throat. He tugs at it softly, coaxing you to sigh, a drop of liquid leaking from the sensitive nub as you squirm backwards into his lap. His tone is lightly warning as he says;

“Come on, be good. It’s a good sign, sweetheart.”

He calls you sweetheart in front of other people and the ones who have bought this rags-to-riches Cinderella story exchange looks that say ‘isn’t she lucky?’. You hear the light edge in it, the smirk, the loftiness – but it always seems to break into something that’s almost fond, when he’s inside you and touching you and his teeth bite into your neck.

“Just that your body is doing what it’s supposed to do,” your other nipple is subjected to the same treatment, and you feel Naoya’s breath hitch, his cock stir behind you and dig into the small of your back. “I think the moment he’s in his nursery I’m going to fuck another son into you, dearest.”

“Mm?” You say, a little breathless as his hand goes lower. He sweeps his palm over the curve of your stomach, pausing where the skin is tight and swollen. His cock twitches once more at the reminder of how utterly his you are, and how wonderfully you are doing your purpose. How lucky he is, to have found someone submissive and well-trained and obedient and sweet, who looks so luscious full of him.

You drive him to distraction even when you don’t realise he’s looking at you.

“Thighs apart,” he grunts, into your ear, and you comply with the docile nature of someone raised to serve. He loves that about you. Loves, too, when he dips his fingers between your legs and your slick coats his digits, a soft whine catching in the back of your throat as he circles your clit and little shocks spark all through you, making you almost clamp your thighs back around his hand.

You do not, though. You are well-behaved. And you and Naoya have played this game enough times that you know that this is leading to relief for both of you.

One of his long fingers slides inside of you and you widen your thighs more, your soft whimper breaking and pitching – it’s such a servile, sweet little noise that Naoya cannot help but crook his finger, let it rub against the textured spot on your inner walls that has you clenching and gasping.

Since your pregnancy, you have become so sensitive. Naoya is the kind of man who hates working to pleasure a woman – who considers your orgasm a choice, and his a foregone conclusion. But with you swollen and full with his seed, he is slow and indulgent – and it is so easy, now that a brush of his palm makes you shiver and a tug of his teeth on your earlobe makes you gasp.

The finger is pulled out of you, and Naoya raises it to your lips, hooking his finger inside so you open your mouth and let him press your own slick onto your tongue.

Your tongue gently suckling at his finger reminds him of the insistent pounding of need inside of him; the stiff cock, leaking pre-come. He’d gotten so distracted touching you and enjoying you he’d almost forgotten about his own pleasure, and he sighs as he props himself up on pillows and reaches for you.

“Get comfortable,” he tells you.

His preference is to have you beneath him; that, he thinks, is his wife’s proper place. But it has begun to be difficult, with your stomach so distended – and he is nothing, he thinks to himself with more than a touch of smugness, if not an indulgent provider. A good husband.

(That’s what he thinks, anyway. You are not hurt. You get pretty things, and him in your bed, and the estate’s servants at your beck and call, an expensive wedding ring on your finger and the honour of his name affixed to yours, and his seed taking root inside of you. What else could you ask of him?)

So you are permitted to spread your knees, to climb on top of him – to gently sink your tight, wet, heat about his cock and seat yourself comfortably on the muscle of his thighs and the flat planes of his stomach.

“If you had my view,” he says, teasingly. “Mm, you were really made as breeding stock, weren’t you?” The words make heat rush to your face as he cups your hips in his hand again, squeezing the new covering of plush flesh that you’ve acquired since your pregnancy. “My wife.”

The words send a quiet thrill through you. You sigh as he bottoms out, as your body meets his entirely; your hands splaying on his shoulders. He is not flat against the bed – that position is too weak, not fitting for a man of his stature. But he is propped up with pillows behind him, so that he can admire how you look as your teeth bite into your plump bottom lip and you lift yourself just a little off his straining cock, before letting yourself fall back down.

He lets you set the pace. If you are to be permitted to ride him, he thinks, you may as well be the one doing all of the work. Part of him, too, is afraid of touching you too much – of hurting you, when you have something so precious inside of you. He would not admit that to himself – that’s not a thought process befitting of someone of his stature. But . . . it nibbles at the corners of his consciousness.

He cares about you. He does not want to hurt you. He does not want you to be uncomfortable – not when you are doing such a good job, when you are so lovely for him, when he is so grateful to have found you--

It’s no more than I deserve, he reminds himself.

And to brush back thoughts that are not proper for his elevation station in life, he lets himself watch the bounce of your breasts. Lets his fingers dig into the even softer, rounder thighs. Enjoys the sight of your mound bouncing on his cock, the feel of your slick walls clinging to his cock.

You are so beautiful, swollen with his child.

It is the first time he has ever looked at a woman and saw power in them. There is, he thinks, a power in what you have – in the glow about your skin, the brightness of your eyes, the curves and roundness and soft, supple flesh. The thought almost frightens him – but then, you push up again and your eyes meet his own for just a moment and he remembers that you are swollen with his child and have the power of him inside of you, and it becomes comforting.

Without him, you’d be nothing.

So he watches you with hungry eyes as you move your hips on his cock; as his length sinks inside of you, as you angle yourself just so – so that every stroke of your hips makes his cock rub against the place inside you that earlier had you seeing stars. Your breath is getting faster and faster, your fingers on his shoulders flexing as the tight string of your release is wound inexorably closer and closer.

Naoya allows himself a groan; a light thrust of his hips, in time with your own. The chase of your warm, tight walls as you try and pull away. He lets his gaze wander to how his cock is coated in your slick, all wet and shining in the light of the bedroom – and he is once more reassured. This is his. You are his. This wetness, this need – this is all for him. The way your body has changed is because of him.

His own release is creeping up on him.

Today, though, he decides he will be merciful – he reaches forward , curving his fingers just so, so that he can toy with your clit as you continue to fuck him. He rolls the bud with the pad of his fingers (soft; he wields just one weapon, and most people do not get to see it. Most of his harder work is done with his technique, and you have seen him apply expensive hand cream to keep himself handsome), knowing your body as well as he knows his own.

He prides himself on that, and you have spent enough nights in his bed that it is second nature to him. Women are predictable, he thinks, smirk on his face as your channel clenches around his hard cock and you come, whimpering out his name--

(In bed, he prefers Naoya-sama, and you are a good wife. Your tone is servile, soft, obedient – and in return, Naoya is almost sweet to you.)

He thrusts his hips roughly up into you, chasing his own release as your body spasms and trembles about him. You are still so tight; so hot and taut where the aftershocks are making you tremble. It’s the sight of your body, quivering under your release, that does it in the end.

Your hips and stomach and breasts and thighs, all rounded with the miracle of bearing life. All softened and plump; meek and pliant, a perfect little wife. His perfect little wife.

As he feels the tension inside of him snap, one of his hands winds about the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Naoya’s grunt of pleasure is lost in the kiss, his mouth against yours hard and hungry. He is not willing to give up his dominance even here – but . . .

He has not kissed you so intimately before.

He has always avoided your mouth, preferring his lips on your chest or neck – turning your face away if it had seemed you might go for his mouth (later on, he had not bothered – he knows you well enough now to know that you would not dare.)

He tastes like wine. Like fancy, expensive sweets; the kind that you could have never afforded before you were his, but he has had at his disposal for his whole life. Like a cross between freedom and a prison--

He groans as he fills you up; his cock twitching, shooting out thick ropes of his come to land thick and heavy in your insides. Your whimper at the sensation is lost in his mouth, but Naoya fails to miss it – the fingers around the nape of your neck stroke through your hair, almost comforting, as he pulls back from you.

His lips are shiny, full and pretty. The grin that he gives you is crooked – and though you know it should not, though you know you should hate him for being arrogant and cruel and considering you lesser than him, the grin sends a rush of affection all through you.

If you were sentimental, you would say that the affection is mirrored in his own pale eyes.

(Naoya is glad you are not; you cannot see, beneath the triumph that you are claimed and carrying his heir and the hunger for your body and the pleasure that you are exactly the kind of wife that he wanted, that perhaps he does care about you.)

“My little wife,” he says, and he brushes his thumb over your cheek, hot with the rush of blood. “You’re so good for me.”

And you’ll carry on being so.

You’re so lovely when you’re expecting.

[thatoneweebsworld]

Bulky (Part 2)

Yeah yeah I know I wrote something that came after this first. My blog my rules. Anyways here we go

Warnings: bloating, simulated mpreg, big burly husky slime, I should probably put slime inflation on here just to be safe

Disclaimer: same as last time, Dash Cantor belongs to @abdomented, Aaron Fastolf belongs to @tentacletea-blog, inspiration from @lamarcodon.

Aaron Fastolf was huge. There was no other way for Dash to put it. Every single aspect of him was massive from his stomach to his height to his musculature to his… well, Dash was certainly somewhat more excited about every single aspect of his friend. Every ounce of that nutrient-loaded slop was now making Aaron bigger than Dash had ever seen him before... right there on his couch. And Dash certainly gets feelings around things that are bigger than him. "You have an incubation starting tomorrow right?" Dash silently nodded, still awestruck by the jelly-like titan before him. "And you had to fast, right?" Another silent nod. Aaron chuckled and sneakily teased Dash's hips with a long tendril of slime. The small Chionian shuddered at the cool sensation and, if it weren't for the fact that Aaron's arm was around him, he would have leapt about a foot off the ground. His stomach groaned in emptiness. "Aaron..." Before Dash could say another word a large rush of slime flooded his intestines and bolted up, up, up into the depths of his tract.

Aaron could not physically hide his sneer. Dash was such a switch, that much was rather obvious, but it took just the right combination of stimuli to get Dash's cocky exterior to shatter and show his more submissive side. This being said, Dash was trying his absolute hardest to cling to the somewhat slippery figure holding him in place. Aaron had already won him over. "Dammit Aaron it feels good to have something inside me again..." Dash whined. A steady yet somewhat pulsating stream of slime inundated his insides, the cool substance slowly yet surely making its way up into his stomach. It wasn’t long before the goo shoved its way past the sphincter and into Dash’s complaining tum. The moment his stomach was no longer empty was certainly the most pleasant part of the whole experience. And it just kept getting better from there.

“Fuck…~~~” Dash whined lustfully. He wiggled himself further onto Aaron and rested his hands on the slime’s chest, ogling his pectorals with this somewhat entranced smile. “I wanna motorboat ‘em.” The mass in front of him rounded out more at his previous comment. “Well, go right ahead. But it’ll come at a price,” Aaron taunted. Dash was all too excited to care what that 'price' may be and shoved his nose right into Aaron's chest. The gooey squelching and vibrating certainly caught Aaron off guard because it was so sudden, but that did not stop him from pumping a huge lump of slime straight into Dash's stomach. The small human squeaked in something between shock and delight, now held firmly to the slick pecs by Aaron's heavy... heavy hand. Dash breathed nice and deep in response to the filling. "Mmmphhh~~~~~" was all that came out of Dash's mouth as another round globule entered his gut. This gradually turned from massive surges to a wonderfully strong, steady stream to the point of Aaron even shrinking a little. It sure showed on Dash's waistline. To keep Dash flush with his chest, Aaron had to allow his own stomach to give and even form a divot. No doubt about it Dash was extremely full... and his pleasured moaning showed it.

"Aaron..." Dash whined. "Dammit you're gonna pop me..." The slime allowed Dash to look up at him, in fact he encouraged it. "Not if I just... do... one..." Dash was treated to watching his friend's arm bloat rounder and rounder knowing that whenever Aaron decided that lump was going straight to his tummy. "...more... push!" Aaron smirked as he sent that glob up through Dash's tract so forcefully that his stomach surged upwards along with outwards. Dash moaned loudly at the sensation. "Aaron!!!" The slime pulled himself out of Dash minus the tiniest indiscernible strand and kept him close. Aaron lifted Dash up off of him into a sitting position. Dash was panting as he looked at his very round and rather pink tummy. "Oh Dash, it looks like all those baby slimes I pumped into you... are waking up~" The sensation started slow, Dash could just barely feel the tiniest bit of motion beneath his skin, but it rather quickly sped up. Soon every single ounce of slime in Dash's gut was squiggling around. His entire body was pleasured. Aaron continued churning Dash's innards about so long as Dash would last... and the climax was nothing short of green and explosive.

[johobi]

A Lycan Dignity

Word count: 4k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: rough, penetrative werewolf sex, pregnancy sex, blood consumption, biting, knotting, squirting, very strong dom/sub dynamic, extremely graphic sexual description lol, impreg kink, baby bump worship, masturbation, giant COCK, i mean huge, tiny amount of angst

A/N: This was commissioned by the wonderful @divine-bangtan​ in exchange for a Black Lives Matter donation! I really hope you enjoy it!

Next: Mark of the Beast || Tooth and Claw Masterlist

Sympathetic to the plight of the werewolves your kind have culled to near-extinction, life as a human informant has never been one of safety. However, when you catch the eye of an alpha, your situation only grows more perilous.

After many months of unremitting use, your once solid bed frame had become a rickety, wretched old thing. Its joints ground like those of a horse bound for the knackery. Weeks ago, you thought it near total collapse. Since then, however - though it protested any and all movement - it had remained intact. Because, no longer did you and Jungkook breed with the impassioned fervour you once did. No, these days your bed hosted only the most lacklustre of sex; the sort you never imagined needing endure when you tied yourself to him. After all, Jungkook was an oversexed, testosterone-burdened manbeast with a twelve inch cock and a negligible refractory period. So why was it now so scant? So underwhelming? 

According to him, it was necessary. 

Ugh.

Oh, how you longed for the days and nights Jungkook would run you all the way through, bending you this way and that to offload himself for the third, consecutive time. How he would grow and grow and grow, locking into place in the depths of your cunt and soothe you all the while.

Being that you were now five months pregnant, however, you were the only one ballooning. God, you missed his knot. Missed the intensity with which he once bedded you. Missed the—

“Does that feel okay?”

“It’s fine.”

Presently, Jungkook mounted you with the shallowest of thrusts, barely wetting half his length. The bed swayed beneath you, tapping the wall to the rhythm of his gently rolling hips. Before you’d grown big, it had clapped the cabin’s pine like thunder, and splintered where it struck. Today you clutched a pillow for comfort as Jungkook rocked you into a drowsy stupor.

It was so quiet that his breathing carried across you. It, too, was shallow - hardly laboured - and sometimes there came an occasional grunt of effort. Or perhaps of pleasure? It was difficult to distinguish to what extent the act satisfied Jungkook when he restrained himself so. By the furrow in his brow, it appeared more akin to torture. It certainly was for you. Your libido had grown unruly during gestation, and nothing much gratified you. 

Nothing but your aforementioned, well-endowed mate. Only he could alleviate the nagging ache.

So it was to your utter dismay when Jungkook deemed you too large for such boisterous intercourse, and insisted you be handled like some delicate bijou. It was preposterous! You were tough enough to withstand a decade’s duty in the militia’s vanguard! A few extra inches of cock weren’t like to break you.

In the end, despite two full days of moody back-and-forth on the matter, he tempered your lovemaking significantly. And though your post-coital canoodling was as much to your joy and satisfaction as it ever was, you found the preceding act painfully lacking. Actually, literally painful. Pregnancy was quite intolerable. 

You challenged Jungkook on several, fruitless occasions thereafter. But his constant dismissals would not deter you. Especially not today, when the entirety of you quivered for satiation, and he had been drip-feeding you cock for the past twenty-odd minutes. It was maddening. The path to climax was a sleet-sodden slope that you could never hope to climb.

"Jungkook, please, enter me fully. There’s no need for such caution. I know it hurts you to hold back." And me. “How many times must I assure you that I’m not as fragile as you think me?" You grimaced at the headboard as Jungkook probed your entrance with middling impetus. His girth was such that your cunt begged and fluttered to receive it deeper, distressed by the gaping space that went unfilled.

“Hmph.”

Jungkook’s considerable weight descended,  blanketing your back to secure your compliance. With his breath at your ear, he interwove your fingers and exerted pressure enough to bow you to the blanket. Your ass, however, remained high and accessible; as submissive a posture there was. By the devilish chuckle that blew across your cheek, Jungkook already thought himself the victor of this quarrel. "And how many times must I ask you not to challenge me? I know my own strength." It was difficult to rebuke him when his lips skirted your ear so. So soft and wet and careful in their pressure.

"And I know your strength just as well. I have been on the receiving end of it for months before th-this—ah!" Pain suffused your neck where Jungkook’s mouth lingered. He curled his lip at your continued defiance. Out of the corner of your eye, his fangs bore a red glaze. 

Mayhaps it was a warning, but it only served to embolden you. 

"Nothing you could do would harm the pups. Please, Jungkook. I'm begging you." He liked being begged. Liked when you relinquished your power and station entirely. Because, outside your bedchambers, you were as important and respected as he. That he liked, too. 

Your particularly bullish nature meant that Jungkook relished your surrender. Especially in the aftermath of contentious discussions. There had been many an occasion where Jungkook’s red-blooded urges almost jeopardised tactical assemblies, because he simply could not ignore them. Particularly the meetings where you butted heads on some divisive detail or another. The tension grew so stark during these exchanges that it cowed the other attendants into silence. You would exchange little else, thereon, but sultry glares, and Jungkook would orbit you in inappropriate proximity, breathing down your neck and rubbing you where others could not see. The sex after those meetings was singularly wild.

Jungkook attested often to his being a tethered beast, but you were the one with the leash. “Please. Put it all the way in,” you snivelled. “Alpha.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched at your urging; you felt him on your back, chest broad and feverish. He did not perspire out of exertion but sheer sexual frustration. It was obvious by the weight with which his balls hung; you spied them between your legs when you looked beneath. "Please, alpha. Take me completely." 

Furtively, you grinned. Jungkook was an astute man. However, he was also a simple, dick-driven creature. 

“Argh!”

A snarl seared your ear, drawing gooseflesh in its wake. You tilted your head to behold him; to enthrall him with lust-lidded eyes. But it was you who was captivated. Jungkook would never be anything less than breathtakingly handsome. The type women ripped costly bodices for. He was rugged; as hewn in the jaw as he was in body, and with eyes so honest you could be sup from his soul. Your mouth hung in open appreciation of his masculine beauty. Jungkook’s hips stuttered, then, as you drunk one another in. A fleeting slip, but enough to propel him deeper for a crucial moment. The repercussions manifested immediately. Your eyes rolled in their sockets and out came a harrowing groan. The entirety of your body tautened as your cunt did, grasping at his elusive length as it again withdrew. "Ugh. Jungkook!"

"Cease your attempts to seduce me, woman," Jungkook menaced, butting aside your head and raking his fangs along the angle of your jaw. "Your charms will not work." His tongue laved wherever they grazed, his hands surrendering your hips only to snake beneath and caress your rotund belly. So tender was he in his touches, that your cunt pulled with desire. Jungkook splayed his fingertips, cradling your circumference as best he could in his calloused palms. He muttered something soft and indiscernible about our children as he admired you, your provocation momentarily forgotten.

His cheek came by yours, then, rounded nose drifting to your temple to huff in your pregnant scent. According to him, you’d become overwhelmingly, wonderfully fragrant. Such that he would pine if denied it too long. 

Chamomile. 

That was what you effused while with child.

Jungkook’s favourite tea.

The headbutt that came next would reasonably incapacitate the average person; indeed, it was so strong that your knees rattled on their hinges. But Jungkook went unscathed, nuzzling a path through your tangled hair, air whooshing through his nostrils as he scented you. "God, you are beautiful. So round, so full. And utterly mine," Jungkook murmured, teetering on the fringes of abandon. He continued his ardent groping with a whine.

Had he really sabotaged his own restraint? 

How funny that his undoing was his own. Positively hilarious. 

That was, until you felt his cock sink deliberately deeper. Jungkook groaned as you did, though you were far more shameless in your desperation. “Oh, God—!”

"Fuck!" The curse word unravelled into a low, ungodly growl.

"Yes, Jungkook. More—" Your hands scrabbled for purchase on his backside, but it soon retreated out of reach as he again withdrew. "Godfuckingdamnit! What must I do to convince you? Please, do it again. I can take it!"

"I will not. It’s too much a risk. What happened was—was entirely unintentional, and I won’t allow it to happen again." He stated it with resolve, but his hips stuttered traitorously, heeding not him but the wolf within him. A rush of breath buffeted your shoulders and then Jungkook's nose was again in your nest of hair, inhaling himself to his senses. "That is the end of it," he murmured on exhale, seemingly sobered. "Now, let us continue." Penetration resumed at its previous, underwhelming pace, maddening you to your very marrow.

"Fine." A growl of your own grew in your chest. "Then I will not submit to you today."

When you dared look Jungkook’s way, the sheer displeasure buckling his features very nearly undid your determination. His brows hung gravely over his eyes, obscuring their usual, gentle glimmer with a severity that stirred your wanton pussy. "You will. You will always submit to me. I am your alpha," Jungkook stated with a snap of his teeth, seeking to subdue you with his hefty physique.

Oh, you absolutely would and should submit but it was imperative you defy him now or you would never see satiety.

With something of such import in the balance, you heaved yourself onto your elbows and then your hands, quaking beneath the werewolf that hung plastered to your back. As you rose, as you straightened your spine in defiance and denied Jungkook your submission, the growl behind you grew in outrage. His cock stalled at your opening, tip still between your folds.

“Not today.”

Jungkook's lips curled back along his gums, a slight tremor to his tautened jaw. Two, prominent fangs confronted you in the candlelight, your skin prickling where they'd countless times pierced. His authority was difficult to oppose when the mere visage of this apex predator was enough to buckle your knees and sodden your cunt. "You're a baffling woman. I've dominated you on hundreds of splendid occasions, and today is the day you defy me? Must I subjugate you again, my sweet?"

As much as you yearned to present him your sopping hole, it would be another five months of unrealised desire if you did. 

To hell with that.

“Come, now. Show me how ready you are to receive me.” Jungkook sought to bow you with nips and kisses, but you would not be bowed. Not this time. When this much became clear, he peeled himself from your back and his cock from your hole. Oh, no. No, this wouldn't do.

"If you will not obey me then you will not receive me at all," he snorted, as enraged and engorged as a hung bull. Truly, he was a marvel that you could not tear your desirous eyes from. Not when he knelt there so, in all his strapping, virile glory. You whined for what you were cruelly denied. Jungkook interpreted your meaning well. "It is your own fault." He vented frustration through his flaring nostrils. "Present yourself to me or I will simply finish all over you."

Your cunt pulsed in anguish and joy. What a dream it would be if he painted you, cock in hand and strangling it of cum. If his sac throbbed with each ejaculation as it fell across your body, hot and sticky. If his lips were bitten bloody and his eyes crinkled closed.

God.

Yes, it would be beautiful. But it would afford you nothing in the end but your own, spiritless fingers to finish with. Jungkook had been so keen a lover that you could not even recall the last time you masturbated. And you weren’t about to start now, as unquenchable as you were. 

So, you persisted. Prayed that your ruse might finally bear fruit. It all culminated with this: "I won't. How about you I take you, so that I may seek my own pleasure? Get on your back. Offer your belly up to me, wolf, so I may sit on you."

In a lightning's flash Jungkook was atop you, one muscular forearm looping your hips and the other strong across your chest, claws toying with the malleable flesh of your swollen breasts. His weight suffocated you once more, but you did not resist when he sought to manoeuvre you into submission. Not when, in the ferocity of his outrage did he then stuff you full with his entire cock, plunging to your depths in one, fluid thrust. It took your breath away. Deprived you of your vision. For a moment, nothing but blood raged in your ears as you fully comprehended just how in want you were. "Oh, G-Gods."

A scramble of depraved utterances streamed from Jungkook's mouth as he handled you as he truly wished. With just the one, greedy hand he bullied your swaying breasts, squeezing them as if to strain you of milk. Every vulgar grope, every pull of your nipples manifested violently in your cunt, throttling Jungkook's monstrous cock in arrhythmic convulsions. "I-Is it truly safe?" He posed it to you as a throaty moan, his other hand charting the flesh of your inner thighs and skimming them like a potter might wet clay. As his thumbs brushed the apex between, willingly and desperately you split your legs further apart, elevating your backside for his inspection. The mere act of yielding to Jungkook sensitised you to him tenfold. Though you were not werekind, his influence was such in its potency that it affected you all the same. A familiar, innate desire to pleasure him overcame you. And as you submitted to him now, nothing thrilled you more than the whines of appreciation that kissed your ears as his full length stretched you silly. Jungkook murmured again; lower and in earnest. "____. Is it truly safe?"

"It is. A thousand times I've said it." As you spoke he shifted within you, and the world shifted too. The gratification was profuse. "The babes will come to no harm," you sang, sliding along the base of his girthy cock. "And neither will I. No, I need this. And so do you."

"I won't deny that." Was all he said before he pinned you like a ravenous beast its beaten prey, hips snapping, momentum rippling through you. Each drive of his pelvis bombarded your cunt with his weighty, bloated balls as he dove in deep. They struck you like a rider’s crop, again and again, until you were sore and splendidly puffy. “Fuck, you’re so deep. I forgot how far back you go. God, you’re made for me. My perfect, pretty little bitch.” Jungkook was quickly carnal. Every phrase concluded in a wolfish whine. 

He rutted you with the vigour of his first heat, feverish and erratic, jamming you to your limits with his colossal cock. His tip kissed your cervix on repeat, greasing your insides with pre-cum as he ploughed apart your unyielding walls. He leaked it so liberally now, so profusely that it dribbled from around him. All the while you yelped up a din beneath him, fully engrossed in your deference to him. You glimpsed night sky in the bedsheets, spatterings of stars combusting before your very eyes. They fell as tears, streaking your cheeks wet with relief.

"Yes, yes—that's it. Oh, you feel so good, my love. S-So good." Jungkook pistoned into you with expert precision, sweeping across your g-spot with every frenzied pass. A glorious ache tugged at your navel as he did so, wringing your insides like a sopping sponge. And, oh, how you were sopping. Vulgarly so. Jungkook juiced your cunt each time he crammed you full, soaking the space between you. It lacquered his abdomen 'til he shined in the lowlight. Gods, he was gorgeous, you could not help but glimpse him past your shoulder, to observe him as he split you apart, his eyes sharp and expression fraught. Your cunt heaved at the sight and sensation of him, and spurred him on.

"You were right. So right." Jungkook's tongue flicked around his gaping mouth, touching on his teeth in concentration. His eyes remained fixed to the site of your messy joining, tracking the drag and draw of his throbbing cock. "You can take anything. You're so strong. So beautiful," he whispered between uneven breaths, adhering himself to your arching back and resuming his earlier, intimate ministrations. As his lower half rippled and rammed you, his upper half cocooned you in comfort, gifting touches so soft they could be whispers.

You sensed it before it came. Hot breath tickled your nape for the briefest moment and then, there it was, sharp and soothing, a bite as familiar as his tender kiss; the bite that affirmed your initial bonding. It no longer induced pain, only a midsummer's welcome warmth. This first bite was the gentlest; Jungkook reasserting his claim. But then he withdrew, and struck again, and again, latching onto your nape for purchase as he pounded himself into your cunt to eke mewls from you.

"Ngh, fuck, it's happening too soon." Jungkook sounded utterly bereft. He did not, however, slow his incessant pace. His zeal had displaced you so far up the bed that the headboard clattered against your cheek. Discomfort was an irrelevant notion when you were having the life fucked into you, however. "I should withdraw."

"No!" It was practically a scream. "Knot me. Please, it's been too long. I need it, I need all of you," you burbled, tears afresh in your eyes. You were so close. Something momentous accumulated in your abdomen; teased glimpses of divine completion.

"Fuck!" Jungkook's hands roved your underside in woeful abandon, gripping at you like he might yet reestablish restraint. Clearly he could not, for his next move was to indulge in the blood that trickled freely from your neck. His long, rough tongue lapped you clean of his excesses, and his lips made sweet reparation. "I want—" A wet, solemn kiss. "I w-want—" A quick, furious thrust between your legs. "I want to fill you to the brim."

"Yes, do it, alpha. Please, please." Your whining rivalled that of the den's neediest pups. "I'm strong, like you said. I can take it. There is nothing more I've wanted these past months than that. Please knot me, Jungkook." As incentive you pitched your backside higher, clenching both orifices for his appreciation. Jungkook observed the gesture keenly, his cock jumping to a stall within you.

“Sh-shit—”

With surprising composure, he cupped the back of your head and tilted you toward him. Your cheekbones brushed in passing, and the tips of your noses pressed close. He sifted your eyes for sincerity before pressing his lips to yours in a long, torrid kiss that conveyed all that you needed from him. As you parted, Jungkook's tongue lingered long enough to draw strings. And then he grinned. "Alright. As you deferred to me so readily." His pace quickened, escalating into a frenzy of cunt-cleaving thrusts that drove ruthlessly along your upper wall. "I shall oblige you."

"Oh God—" The reservoir within you burgeoned suddenly, pulsed behind your cunt for release. And as you felt the dam begin to fracture, Jungkook's fingers found your clit amidst your plastered folds. One, establishing touch was all it took to undo you. As the base of his cock began to thicken, a river of fluid rushed around it as you finally, joyously climaxed, eyes half-lidded and sightless as you ascended. Euphoria tinged your every atom and daubed the world white. You convulsed on end and with alarming force, your pussy gulping down Jungkook's rapidly ballooning cock. The stretch of him stung wonderfully, pushed apart your seizing hole without care for your capacity.

"F-Fuck." Jungkook faltered upon witnessing the ferocity with which you gushed. It soaked what little remained dry of his thighs, clinging to their definition. You gasped and moaned beneath him, dizzied by orgasm, your mouth agape and cheek crushed flat to the headboard. His vascular forearms shook to support him as he hurtled toward completion. "You needed all of me, hm?" Jungkook panted, drunk on lust and wild with power. He gloated over you like the primeval beast he was, fangs bared and liberated by instinct. "Your slippery little cunt missed this, didn't it?"

You mustered little more than a gurgle as he continued to ravage your boneless body, fucking through your spasming cunt until he himself began to twitch. "Sh-Shit, fuck," he exclaimed on high, head thrown back and knot taking root. Though you were spent and without much sense, Jungkook's sudden, violent expulsion shot new life through you. Together you groaned, until he began baying, grinding his turgid cock as far as his knot would allow, frustrated by its impediment. Possessed by ferality, Jungkook nipped desperate pleas into your bruised shoulders, grunting with each subsequent spurt he emptied into you. Though he could no longer snap his hips, they nonetheless dug into you as he milked himself of residue. “God. Shit. I—” Monosyllabic cusses continued to fall from him as he prised himself from your limp body. Without a moment’s reprieve he maneuvered himself to his knees so as to better inspect your expanding belly, his hands roaming your bulging expanses. "Yes." It was almost a hiss. "You are perfect. So full of me and mine."

"Indeed, I am." You cast him a struggling smile. When Jungkook returned it, it revitalised you. Your smile grew into a grin. "And what a lucky woman I am."

"Come, let us make you more comfortable," Jungkook muttered with a touch to your dampened cheek. Historically his knots did not always abate in a timely manner. Knowing this, Jungkook clutched you to his chest, adjusting you so as not to tug at your joining, nor disturb your swollen belly. Ever so gently he steered you onto your side, his sweat-slick body clinging to your back. His knot throbbed pleasantly within, interlocking you indefinitely. And you did not object, because this was when you felt most at peace, most loved, most protected. His arms cradled you, encircled your precious load, and all the while he washed you of perspiration and blood. No week went by where your neck and shoulders were not a spectrum of colour due to Jungkook's oral attention.

You did not object to that either.

"Thank you, Jungkook. I really needed that. I genuinely shed tears," you giggled, your breasts askew around his forearm. It tensed and pulled you closer.

"So did I." A growl laced his chuckle. "But I would never harm you or the pups to satisfy my own selfish desires. Forgive me my obstinacy, but I had to be sure."

"I understand. And we are safe. We're the safest with you, my love."

Jungkook suspended his rigorous bathing of you to kiss the crown of your head. "You are. Nothing shall befall you while I still breathe.

For a dreadful moment, your ongoing predicament punctured the post-coital glow. But you resolved not to let it. No, it could wait until tomorrow. In the here and now, you did not have to fret whether Jungkook would return home tomorrow. Whether his dinner would grow cold and your bed perennially so.

No.

In this moment, he was here, as were you. One bonded pair and their six, synchronous heartbeats.

Just a quick note to elaborate on the reader’s pregnancy, as I appreciate not everyone will have read these asks.

1) She is pregnant with four boys.

2) They develop in utero as wolves, and are born in that form too - therefore they are quite a bit smaller than human babies. So she isn’t particularly overburdened. A few months after birth they will begin popping in and out of both forms until they learn to control it.

Next: Mark of the Beast || Tooth and Claw Masterlist

[ardent-musings]

Sleazeballs and Submission

Murphy McNully Smut

Warning: NSFW 18+, this is revenge for @kc-needs-coffee making me feel feelings. How absolutely dare ye. It’s pure filth folks. 

You were livid. Absolutely fuming at the report’s inconsiderate assumptions about you and Murphy; although you did your best to hold in your sneers and glares from the rest of the guests at the “Kestrals for Kids” Gala. Of course, you understood that you had a sizeable reputation when it came to the world of Quidditch. That was to be expected. And yet the fact that the reporter saw you as eye candy for your former teammate made you sick to your stomach. But none of that even compared to the way he so flippantly condescended Murphy on his big night.

Yes, Murphy was in a wheelchair. Anyone with relatively good eyesight could notice that. To you, it felt like that was the only thing the reporter noticed about the man that you loved. The man who made so many sacrifices so you could live out your dream post –Hogwarts. The man who spent nights out with your dad just because they felt like it. The man that loved you to the moon and back. After hearing the reporters vitriol take on your husband made you not even angry. It was more than that. It was pure fury that settled within your chest.

But for now, those feelings had to wait. You stood off to the side of the large room after vacating the terrace with Dougan who quickly left you at the promise of another scotch. That was fine by you though. You only had eyes for Murphy.

He was currently with the little kids at the event, grinning happily as they sat with him for rounds and rounds of pictures, being blinded every time the flash went off. It was nice to see him so comfortable. So in his element and so wonderfully himself.

After an hour had passed and most of the guests had left the busy event, you decided to take some time to yourself out on the terrace. The night breeze was helping cool you skin, but the anger that festered started to build again as you stared at the spot where reporter had taken your picture not too long ago. Your painted fingertips tapped on the side of your champagne glass, hoping the smooth bubbly drink would do something to calm you. It did nothing.

“Hello, Rising Star. Care for some company?”

You turned to see that Murphy had joined you, taking a moment to look out the glass barrier to admire the lush landscape before turning his sparkling grey eyes towards you. Even in the shadows they were bright. He was warm and cheerful, and regardless of how upset you were, you didn’t want to ruin his already good mood.

“I always want your company, Murph,” you hummed, taking another sip of your drink even though you knew it wasn’t giving you the effect you wanted.

“Did you have a good night?”

His question, though innocent and well intentioned, reminded you of how the beginning of your evening played out. The reporter’s dumb questions, his gross stinky cigars, and the scathing comments about Murphy resurfaced. Before you could hide it, your glare on Murphy intensified, trying your hardest drink in the image of the man you cared so deeply for.

Instead of answering him, you busied your body by waltzing behind him, your gold stiletto heels clicking against the stone floor with every step. He craned his neck back, trying to follow your path, but he let out a surprised groan once you gently gripped his neck from behind and kissed the side of it, focusing on his beating pulse. You couldn’t help but squeeze a bit, enjoying how Murphy’s breath hitched at the pinch of your manicured grip.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what’s going on?” His face curled in a satisfied smirk.

“I just need you,” you admitted softly, your hot breath tickling his ear, making him stiffen in his chair. Before, at the beginning of the night when decorum was important, you worried about leaving lipstick traces on his skin. But not now. Right now, you just had to prove to him how much he meant to you.

He growled lowly as you tugged on his hair, enjoying the way your nails scrapped and messed up his perfectly styled hair while you nibbled along his neck. Murphy was reeling in the attention, surprised when you tilted his head back and brought the champagne flute up to his lips to give him a taste of your drink. After swallowing the liquor, his eyes grew dark, eating up the image of you in your golden dress as you circled around to face him like a hungry vulture. Your getup had a deep neckline, and he licked his lips as you leaned in to kiss him properly. You wore that style of dress specifically to toy with Murphy’s desire for your chest, and he knew it.

“Call me selfish, but I don’t want anyone else to ever touch you.”

You left his kiss and slowly lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. His eyes bulged at the promise you were presenting as you flipped your scarlet hair over your shoulder.

“I’d suggest locking the door, big guy,” you chuckled as you started to run your hands over his knees and up his thighs teasingly. Without a second of hesitation, he pulled out his wand and muttered a spell in the direction of the French doors that separated you two from the stragglers at the event.

With a wicked grin, you started to unbuckle his belt, finding it comical how he was gripping the handles of his seat with such strength and for a moment you wished his hands were tangled in your hair like that. Usually, you would just pull down his pants as far as you had to; however, the report’s judgement on your husband’s body echoed in your ear.

He saw Murphy as undesirable, which to you was the most outlandish idea. But even Murphy had his insecurities some days. Tonight was about making him feel sexy. Making him feel worthy. Making him feel irresistible.  

You pulled down Murphy’s pants further down his firm thighs, finding the shiny white and even the abrasive red scars on his leg beautiful. They made up Murphy; every tiny line weaved into the smoothness of his surrounding skin: a mixture of soft and rough. You wanted to appreciate all of him. So you slowly kissed the lines that littered his leg, alternating between biting the skin at his knee and then grazing the tip of your tongue along his thigh like his skin was a map for you to travel.

Once you made eye contact with Murphy, you saw his grey eyes softer than they were just seconds earlier. His brows were furrowed at the middle, confused by your subtle worship of his scars. But you loved this. Seeing him all vulnerable before you. His smart mouth was something you adored and yet his lips frowned as you continued your gentle ministrations on his leg.

You sat up high on your knees, gripping his waist beneath his dress shirt and placed a kiss over the wet spot on his briefs. His hips bucked at the feeling, finally reaching down to stroke your cheek in appreciation. He loved how you look nuzzling into his clothed cock while on your knees.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you babbled mindlessly, your thoughts clouded with the vision of your mouth on Murphy. “Please.”

Murphy nearly melted at the desperation in your voice. You usually got like this after he got you off a few times; however it was strange to see you pout at the mere thought of doing anything to him. With the hand that still hovered over your cheek, he pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn’t forceful, just compacted with all the insatiable feelings you too felt for each other. Kissing him was one of your favorite things to do; although Murphy’s need for you on him was becoming apparent as he sighed into your mouth.

“Does my darling girl wanna taste?” His jaw clenched as he looked down at your pleading form, pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. All you could do was nod enthusiastically, already overcome by your neediness.

The ache in your knees was growing, but you had yet to fulfill your plan, so with a cheeky wink, you pulled down his briefs and grazed your tongue from the base to the tip of his cock in one long lick. Murphy grinned at the feeling, running his hands through his hair at your teasing tongue. His view was something straight out of a fantasy: your hands and deep red lips were working on him with such fervor, your copper hair was in his grip and from this angle he could tell that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your slinky dress. It was overwhelming and yet he wouldn’t dare turn away from his beautiful girl on her knees.

All he could do was slump further into his chair as you gripped him in your hand, pumping him perfectly as you went back to kissing his scars. He had never had anyone give his body so much attention, especially the parts of him people would usually turn away from. And yet, there you were, marveling at every curve, scar, and dip of his body. You surprised him every time you did it, and every time he thanked whatever holy power there was for putting you in his life.

He was relieved that he locked the door behind him but with the way your lipstick was leaving marks on him, Murphy regretted not placing a silencing charm around you two as well. His breathing grew more labored as you took him back into your mouth, hollowing around him. Murphy couldn’t help but let out a weak chuckle at the whole situation, growing overwhelmed by the way you tightened your grip.

Before he could get off, you pulled away from him which made the man above you groan in frustration. But you didn’t leave him waiting long.

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily,” you reminded him as you continued to pump him in your hands, digging your nails onto his leg to steady yourself.

“No you don’t, my little beater. Strongest girl I know, you can take it.”

He chuckled darkly at you, gripping your hair a bit tighter, growing more desperate for his release. Murphy’s hips were now unrelenting; thrusting up quickly only to grunt as you coughed around him. But you didn’t care. You rejoiced in the way he was using you, because deep down, you knew that he would only ever choose you. This was your way of reminding him that you picked him as well.

The tears on your face trickled down your flushed cheeks, your efforts working in overdrive to prove yourself to Murphy, touching him in every way you knew he loved. You hummed around him as he lifted his arms behind his head to grip at his seat, meanwhile his hips jutted up from his chair as best he could. Harsher grunts were ripped from his chest, unable to keep quiet as you started scratching the inside of his taut thighs. Your name and filthy swears tumbled from his lips, biting down on them as he was nearing his high.

“C’mon, darling. Fuck, you’re too goddamn good,” was all he could mutter as you hollowed around him, your eyes meeting his as you giggled around him.

With a final grunt, Murphy released down your throat, his clothed chest heaving as the cool summer breeze made him realize just how warm he grew under your touch. He chuckled, hips still bucking as you kitten licked every drop he offered you. Your knees were wobbling from being pressed against the stone floor for so long, but you couldn’t care less.

Murphy rolled his eyes at you, growing overstimulated as you dragged your nails along the inside of his thigh leaving light scratches in their wake. He growled at your teasing, biting the inside of his cheek as he gripped your jaw firmly, beckoning you to rise from your position and onto his lap.

His hold on your chin was strong and you couldn’t turn away from his gaze even if you tried. His gray eyes were wild with desire for you and your heart started racing from his intensity. Your face tickled from the huffs of labored breaths he was still releasing as he came down from his high. Murphy was not only staring at you like he wanted you, he looked at you like he owned you.

“How long have you been devising this little plan, sweetheart?” His words were sweet, but his tone was pure filth.

“Since cocktail hour,” you admitted breathlessly, his fingers trailed from your chin to rest at the base of your neck, holding you like a collar would.

“Since cocktail hour,” he mocked, tipping his head to the side and laughing in your face. Not in a mean way; Murphy would never be cruel towards you. He chuckled deeply at your response because he knew that your mind must’ve been reeling with the thought of him for hours as he went on and worked the night. “So then tell me, love…”

You gasped loudly at the sudden feeling of Murphy reaching underneath your lavish dress to circle your clit with a firm thumb.

“Aw, I was right, darling. You’re dripping. And I didn’t even have to do anything.”

His face twisted in a self-assured grin, one that you loved to see him wear. That meant he was feeling confident, which he should feel all the time. He was everything you could ever want.

Soon enough, his talented fingers started pumping into you as his thumb continued to toy with your body, drawing whiny moans from you with every thrust. His other hand was tangled in your hair, making sure you kept his eyes on him at all times.

“Better keep quiet. There’s no silencing spell in place and beyond those doors are some very influential people. Wouldn’t want them to see my pretty girl getting finger fucked now would we?”

Your eyes rolled back at his comment. Being caught wasn’t your game plan, but the idea of everyone knowing that Murphy owned your body so well is an intoxicating thought.

“Or maybe you do want that?” He hummed against your mouth, kissing every whimper you released against his lips. “Does my baby want everyone to know who gets to play with you? Want everyone to know how good I make you feel?”

Your release was so close, and Murphy’s clenched jaw and teasing words was bringing you to the edge. His fingers were relentlessly working your every nerve in the best way possible, making you clench around him. Until there was nothing left to squeeze.

Murphy pulled his hand away from you, making you buck against his lap which only made your gorgeous husband laugh softly.

“You don’t get to cum, darling,” he began licking your sweetness off his fingers as he stared into your stunning and blown out eyes. “Not until I say so. Do you understand?”

Beneath the thin layer of your dress was the rapid rise and fall of your chest, which Murphy took no steps to hide his gaze on your breasts. His face was no longer as stern as before, he was looking up at you with an amused expression, enjoying how your body had slumped against his from your pleasure.

His nose trailed up the side of your neck, getting lost in your perfume as he kissed the shell of your ear.

“Do you understand?” he groaned.

Wordlessly, you nodded slowly. The feeling of your delayed high made you delirious; you would agree to anything Murphy said if that meant he would eventually touch you again. He pulled you in by the back of your neck and placed a kiss over your hazy eyelids, down your nose. His lips trailed across your cheek and then your jaw until they finally landed on your lips. He tasted like your champagne and for the first time in the night you finally felt drunk off of something.

“I love you, you filthy thing,” he chuckled which made you hide your face in his neck, groaning in annoyance from his teasing. “Up, darling.”

You stood up from his lap with weak legs as he fixed his clothes, trying his hardest to look relatively normal. His fingers raked through his hair to calm the golden strands, but since the event was practically over, Murphy didn’t care that much. With a flick of his wand, the French doors which were once magically sealed shut unlocked in a second.

The distance between the terrace and the Ministry issued car was far too long, growing worse every time Murphy was halted by a remaining guest who wished to speak with him. You stood proudly beside your husband as he worked his charm, you would’ve enjoyed the moment but instead you had to clench your thighs to fight off the desire your body was still demanding. Fake smiles painted your face even though you wanted to be sincere. It just wasn’t happening at the moment.

After a few stops and curious questions, you and Murphy finally reached the black government car that was waiting to take you back to your flat. Thirty minutes. You just had to endure another thirty minutes.

Except that wasn’t what Murphy had planned. As soon as you two were settled in the car and his chair was secured in the back, he closed the partition, put up a silencing spell and immediately began toying with your clit yet again. It wasn’t what you needed and Murphy knew that, too. He wasn’t touching you to make you feel good, he was touching you because he could, and you loved it.

Thirty minutes. You endured thirty torturous minutes of gentle grazes against your clit that did nothing to silence the ache you felt for him. The whole time he whispered filthy compliments to you as you tried your hardest to sit still and look inconspicuous until you reached the flat.

Thankfully, once you reached your destination, you were able to regain some of your sense. The driver assisted with getting Murphy’s chair, although your husband quickly yet kindly dismissed any further help. He didn’t need it.

The moment you two entered the threshold of your flat, Murphy lifted himself onto the soft cotton sheets of your bed. He ripped off his shirt so his wide shoulders were fully exposed to you and your nails instinctively dug into the taut muscle. His grip on your hips was almost painful, but you craved Murphy, in anyway he’d take you.

You yelped as he picked you up over his shoulder and slammed your body down on the bed. He chuckled lowly at your reaction, but soon enough his movements proved to be just as desperate as you felt. He pulled the neckline of your dress to the side to release one of your breasts. The sudden exposure to the cold night air made you gasp, but it was Murphy’s sucking on your nipple that made you yell and grind against his thigh.

“I’ve gotta have you, my love. God, I can’t fucking wait,” he groaned as he lifted the skirt of your sparkly dress over your hips, relishing in just how wet you still were.

He held himself up with one arm as you undid his belt and made quick work of his pants and underwear, lining himself up with you.

“Hands up,” he instructed. As soon as you lifted both your hands up over your head, he captured your wrists in a single hand. You gasped at the feeling of being so powerless beneath him but it was everything you wanted and more.

“I love you,” he moaned more so to himself as he pushed himself fully into you, his head dipped onto your chest at the feeling of you squeezing him. Instinctively, your legs raised to hook around his waist, encouraging him to rock into you harder. He stretched you so good and you couldn’t help but whine as he pumped into you slowly but entirely, every inch of him was accepted by your greedy body.

Murphy marveled at you beneath him, mesmerized by the bounce of your tits every time he thrusted into you, but god your little cries were the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard. You bit down hard on your lower lip, unable to control an ounce of the situation, but you didn’t have to. Murphy knew your body better than anyone.

Your back arched uncomfortably as his pelvis grinded against your clit with every snap of his hips. You were already so sensitive but soon enough he was ravenously pounding you into the mattress.  

“Please, please, baby,” you cried against his neck before biting down on the point where his shoulder met his collarbone.

“Go on, darling. You deserve it. Cum for me.”

Without another word, Murphy laced his fingers with yours as you came hard around him, your whole body thrashed beneath him. It was almost too much to handle, but Murphy was chasing his own high. After a few more thrusts and a cry of your name, he finished, fully dropping his sweaty body against yours.

You were fucked beyond comprehension, the slick gold dress was barely hanging on you anymore and your hair was a wild mess as it fanned out behind you. But you didn’t care.

“I love you.”

Murphy sighed happily at your declaration, memorizing every line of your, now, calm and thoroughly loved body. He loved looking at you after making love to you, no matter how rough or romantic. The sight of you was too beautiful to pass up.

“Wanna take a nap, my love? We can talk afterwards, yeah?”

At the sound of sleep, you nodded tiredly. Still semi covered in your golden dress, you slipped underneath the comforting sheets of your bed. Murphy followed you after covering himself up with his discarded underwear and his crisp business shirt. They weren’t the most practical outfits for sleeping, but as soon as your head hit the pillow, you succumbed to your exhaustion.

Murphy’s strong body pulled yours to him, leaving a whisper of kisses over your exposed shoulder. He uttered a final word before he too fell asleep.

“Mine.”

[is-it-madness]

Sweet Treats

A/N: Well, well, well. As we know, today is the lovely Tom Hiddleston’s 40th Birthday, and to celebrate, I’ve decided to revisit a wonderfully smutty sub!Tom fic the darling @fadingfics wrote for his birthday last year. This fic had me sweating the entire time, so definitely give it a read and show it some love. You can find it here.

Summary: You’ve been preparing Tom for almost two weeks for his birthday celebration. Now it’s time to reward his commitment.

Madness List: this is a list of my thoughts of the fic, so major spoilers ahead.

1) ‘No matter how hard he tried, Tom could not make out what you were doing. The array of sounds around him was confusing, and his own fidgeting did not help. What he could hear were your giggles. You were clearly amused by his current predicament.’

Wonder what’s going on here 👀😏

2) ‘“I’m gonna be ready soon, my sweet.” You kissed his head.’

Cute 🥰

3) ‘Tom whimpered softly, and took a deep breath. Blindfolded and ordered to remain on his knees, hands behind his back, there was not much else he could do but wait.’

OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH OKAY OKAY I SEE

4) ‘He had been waiting for so long! You had denied him orgasms for two weeks, making him wear his cock cage round the clock, with the promise of making it up to him while flaunting the damn key around your neck.’

Hehe

5) ‘And tonight, during his own party with friends and family, you had made him wear his bluetooth anal plug, turning it on and off periodically, teasing him to his breaking point. The plug was still in his ass, vibrating on the lowest setting. He was so ready, his cock and balls were straining against the cage.’

... man is gonna cum by the lightest touch

6) ‘Tom stood up slowly, and removed the cloth from his eyes. His breath caught, and he growled deep inside his chest at the sight of you, sprawled naked on the bed. Strings of chocolate sauce covered your breasts, belly and thighs, like decorations on a cake.’

Thomas, your mistress needs to be cleaned. Thoroughly. Don’t miss a single spot 😏

7) ‘“Are you my chocolate cake, Mistress?” Tom asked in a low tone and half a smile.’

So cuuute bebe 🥺

8) ‘Wasting no more time, Tom crawled on the bed on top of you, and kissed you hard. He took one second to glare at the golden key on your neck, before he started to lick the chocolate off your upper chest. His skillful tongue worked over the chocolate lines almost with ease. All his oral training paying off as he eagerly sucked and licked your skin clean. He took extra time to lavish both your breast with his attentions before he continued his way down. You opened your legs for him, and Tom grabbed the back of your knee to lick the chocolate from your inner thigh.’

The urge to say ‘good puppy’ is just ready to burst from me. Also, totally random, but I don’t think I could ever do this. Too ticklish 😔

9) ‘Scooting up the bed to lay against the pillows, you opened your legs wide. “You may claim your cake now.”’

YASSSS!!! Damn, I am loving this 😌

10) ‘Tom leaned down and circled your thighs with his arms, pulling you close to his mouth. His tongue parted your folds to find you already wet. He moaned, relishing your taste. He pulled you even closer to his face, eating you as if your arousal had ignited something inside of him. He sucked your clit hard, tongued and teased your entrance and drank all your juices while staring right at you. Your orgasm was his prize and it came fast and hard, making you clench your legs around his head.’

Tom:

11) ‘Tom’s blessed mouth had you on the edge again in no time.’

‘Blessed’ 🤣 that’s definitely one way to describe it.

12) ‘Tom smiled up at you and rubbed two long fingers between your folds, getting them wet and warm before sliding them inside your cunt. His mouth went back to work on your clit while his fingers slid in and out, rubbing against your spot. Another orgasm rolled in, making you arch your back as you came shouting his name.’

Not me getting weak right now-

13) ‘In the afterglow, you watched Tom lick his fingers, wearing a rather proud smile. You took a moment to compose yourself before you sat up and beckoned him closer.’

Full of ourselves, are we? 🤨

14) ‘“On your knees, right here…” You patted the bed in front of you, and grabbed the chain around your neck. “Hands behind your back.”’

👀👀

15) ‘Tom did as you said, and held his breath as he watched you take the small golden key off your necklace and unlock his cock cage. He groaned loudly when you finally set him free.’

Also Tom:

16) ‘“You’ve been such a good boy Thomas, wearing your submission obediently.” You rubbed your nose against his, watching him blush. “Now, I’m gonna make it up to you. As a birthday present and a reward for being my good little slave.” You kissed him again. “On your back. Lift your legs up and open wide for me.”’

17) ‘You poured lube on the strap-on, making sure it was well covered, and then some more around his hole before sliding inside. You went slowly, letting him get used to the girth of the toy. Tom’s mouth fell open, his exquisite moans and gasps filled the room.’

*Inhale* I am thinking some dirty thoughts right now, and imagining him moaning and gasping is NOT helping.

18) ‘But you would not be rushed. You kept thrusting in and out, getting more of the toy inside with each slow thrust. It was driving Tom insane . It had been too long. He wanted to be ravaged, and he desperately moved his hips to meet yours. You had to scold him and hold him down to make him stop. Only when the toy was completely in did you increase your pace, angling your hips to make sure the toy rubbed against his prostate. Tom cried out when you hit the jackpot, and you went harder.’

😏😏

19) ‘“Mistress-” He grunted. “Can I- I want-” “Words, Thomas.” You half-smiled.’

🤣🤣 I’m afraid the poor man can’t hold out much longer

20) ‘You kept your hand around his cock as his hips spasmed, cum spurting on his belly. You stilled inside of him, letting him ride down from his first orgasm of the night. Smiling down at him, you pulled out and removed the strap-on. Immediately, you grabbed another toy from your stash and covered it with lube, pushing it inside of Tom, taking advantage of how open he was. He hadn’t fully recovered yet, and moaned loudly when the toy started to massage his prostate. You knelt on the bed between his legs, and grabbed the flogger. “Touch yourself, Thomas.” You leaned down to kiss and nip his inner thigh, setting the massager on low. “What?” Tom lifted his head up, as if he hadn’t heard you right. “Touch yourself.” You repeated, sucking marks on his thighs. “You haven’t done it in weeks, now you’re gonna do it, and put on a show for me. I wanna see that cock getting hard and leaking again.”’

I swear I’m getting so flustered and squirmy but I’m also like ‘Keep going 🤤’

21) ‘“You paint such a beautiful color, my prince.” You said, tracing the lines on his thighs with your fingers. “So pretty…” “Tha- thank you for making me pretty, Mistress.”’

Awww!! That’s so cute!

22) ‘You crawled on top of him, kissing his chest and you went, until you straddled his hips. Sliding your wet pussy lips on his still half soft cock, you used the flogger to mark his chest. Your rhythm was slow, taking time to tease his nipples, and kiss the pink marks of the flogger. You ran your hands down his stomach, feeling the tense muscles ripple under his skin, and you tried to soothe them.’

... pretty sure this is going to be his most favorite birthday after this 😆

23) ‘“You are going to come…” You started moving your hips again, up and down his length. “…when I say so.” You increased your pace, feeling him swell inside you. “Because you belong to me. Your body belongs to me.” Tom was breathing in short shallow gasps, eyes fixed on yours. “Your pleasure and your orgasms belong to me.” Your voice started to quake. “I own them… and I control them. Yes?”’

Why is this so hoooooot 😩🥵

24) ‘Tom grabbed your hips and turned you over, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Fuck me! And he did, hard, deep, relentlessly, as if he was making up for all those weeks you kept him from doing it. As much as he liked to play, nothing ever compared to feeling your cunt around his cock. Hot and wet and perfect . It was the best prize you could ever give him.’

I’M MELTING I CAN’T THIS IS TOO HOT I- brb, I need to get some cold water. I can’t continue without.

25) ‘Catching your breath back wasn’t easy with Tom crushing you. You knew he had come on command right when you did. You could feel his cock still twitching inside of you.“Tom?” You pushed on his arm. He didn’t move. “Oh, shit…” You giggled to yourself: Tom had gone into subspace.’

Mehehehe 😈 I guess the plan to fuck his brains out worked :D

26) ‘He was dead weight on top of you, but you managed to get at least part of your upper body from underneath him. Running your hands up and down his back and playing with his hair, you waited for him to come around, regretting the position you were in, as you would have loved to look into his eyes.’

WHAT THE-? MA’AM YOU GOT ME FROM HORNY TO SOFT IN .1 SECONDS

27) ‘“Mistress?” Tom propped himself on one of his arms and looked at you, eyes still glazed and unfocused. “I’m sorry-” He added, trying to move away.’

So sweet, so bebe 🥺

28) ‘“Come here.” You cupped his chin, making him look at you. “You did so good, my prince. I’m proud of you.” You kissed his forehead and then his lips. “Thank you, Mistress.” He said with a small proud smile and a slight blush on his cheeks. His body wiggled happily as he snuggled against you.

YOU CAN’T JUST MAKE ME GO FROM RUINED PANTIES TO UWU-ING LIKE THAT IT’S RUDE 😤

29) ‘You allowed a moment to rest before you pushed Tom off the bed and into the bathroom. You were both covered in chocolate, sweat and cum, and in dire need of a shower. After getting cleaned up, and despite Tom’s exhaustion, you made sure he drank enough water and had a few snacks. As soon as you disposed of the bed cover, you both slid in between the clean sheets underneath.’

*still grumbling about being soft*

30) ‘Tom cuddled up to your neck, arm wrapped around your waist. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “For everything.” You smiled and kissed his head, holding him close, legs tangled with his. “Happy birthday.”’

🥺🥺😭 THAT’S SO CUUUUTE AND SWEEEET AND NOW I JUST WANNA CUDDLE WITH HIM!!!! *sigh* ;-;

[ceratonia-siliqua]

Sweeter Than Sugar (Ch 3)

Collab fic with @send-me-your-hcs

Summary: Tony is a man of refinement. Only the best, the highest quality specimens get added to his collection. Peter, a beautiful and very rare male omega, quickly becomes his favorite of all his pets. The perfect omega deserves an equally-perfect alpha. (Or: An a/b/o au where pet owner!Tony forcibly mates Peter and Bucky together for his own enjoyment.)

Warnings: Underage, noncon, a/b/o au, dark!Tony, confinement, forced pet play dynamics, forced mating/in heat cycles, minor violence, forced daddy kink, forced feminization, gang r/ape, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

ao3 link

.   .   .

Bucky knows something is going down the moment he enters his kennel, Tony can tell.

He hasn’t had to use the reinforced steel stockade in years, not since Bucky was still new to him. Bucky is anxious and wary as Tony secures him tightly on his knees, his neck and wrists bound, rendering him immobile. “Don’t worry, my love,” he reassures gently. “Your omega’s been a naughty little boy, but once his punishment is over, we can all move on. You know Daddy’s very forgiving. I’ll forgive Peter too, just as soon as he asks for it.”

Bucky’s beautiful steel-blue eyes fixate on the bruise marring Tony’s cheek. He gently runs his fingers through the alpha’s long, silky hair as he pops the mouth guard gag past Bucky’s lips, keeping his sharp canines safely tucked away from their guests and his frightening, bone-chilling growls as stifled as possible.

With Bucky properly restrained, Tony heads back upstairs and enters Peter’s cell for the first time since the incident this morning. Peter looks at him long enough to see he’s come alone, then turns back to his filthy blankets, snubbing him. Tony almost smirks to himself as he walks over, head held high, and stops in front of the large round bed.

“Do you want to see your alpha, baby?” he asks. The sound of his voice shouldn’t startle Peter, but somehow it does.

Peter doesn’t look at him. His face is pressed to one of his messy pillows, but he nods, dejectedly.

“Very well,” Tony says. He snaps his fingers and points to his feet, his universal sign of come here. “The sooner you get over here, the sooner you’ll get to see him.”

The boy reminds him of a sullen, sulky child as he drags his limp body to the edge of the bed and onto the floor. He keeps his head down, a dog who knows he’s displeased his master, and waits for Tony to grab him by his leash, deceivingly meek and obedient.

“Turn around, baby. Show me that pretty little hole before it gets ruined again.”

A scarlet blush covers Peter’s face, neck and chest as he obeys, turning and pressing his forehead to the floor, ass up and trembling. His ass has finally returned to a more natural state, baby pink instead of deep red, tight and modestly damp instead of gaping open and pouring come and slick. It’s a bit of an illusion, though - when Tony presses his thumb against the puckered skin, it gives immediately, stretching smooth and straight and opening up for him in that beautiful way only omega holes can. It’s like pressing a button to switch between an asshole and a cunt; untouched, it’s a hole no different from anyone else’s, but as soon as the slightest stimulation comes along, it blooms like a flower in the sun, opens up hungrily and greedily, transforming before his very eyes.

Entranced, Tony fingers the boy’s delectable little pussy as he slips another, albeit weaker heat inducer inside of him. Peter won’t need any detailed stretching or preparation - not this time around - so he plays with the little omega’s broken-in fuckhole purely for indulgence’s sake. By the time Peter’s rim is turning dark red, puffy and starting to leak, the pill has taken effect and the poor thing is whining uncontrollably into the marble floor.

Tony’s tempted to make him crawl all the way downstairs, sobbing and shaking and leaking like a broken faucet, but he’d never risk skinning his princess’s poor sensitive knees. He unhooks Peter’s chain from the wall, gathers his small, trembling body in his arms, and carries him all the way to Bucky’s cell like the compassionate, generous owner that he is.

It’s a chorus of joy and suffering the moment they step inside. A gorgeous melody of pleading cries, muffled shouts, moans, groans, whimpers, whines. Peter flails trying to get to his alpha - Bucky does his damned best to wrench the stockade from its base inlaid in the concrete slab, but it holds firm. Peter is absolutely adorable as he reaches for Bucky with both hands, crying out, “Alpha, alpha…!” Like if he calls urgently enough, Bucky will shatter his restraints and come to him.

His little pets are so fucking cute.

But now is not the time to indulge them. A lesson needs to be learned here, first and foremost. Emotionlessly, Tony chains Peter to the opposite wall, shortening the leash so the feisty little omega can’t quite reach his alpha at the other end of the long room. While the two scramble trying to get to each other, Tony rolls in one of his breeding benches, parks and secures it in the center of the room, and hoists Peter’s flailing body onto it.

Oh, the little omega puts up quite a struggle then. Tony presses Peter’s body over the arch in the bench, his stomach flat on the plush leather, arms folded behind his back, legs spread, ass up to expose his leaking pussy. Bucky gets the best view in the house - restrained on his knees with Peter’s gorgeous fuckhole staring him in the face. If Tony rolled the bench closer and removed the gag, Bucky would be at the perfect height to eat the little pup out.

The thought intrigues him. Maybe after, he thinks.

He tests each cuff on Peter’s neck, thighs, wrists and ankles to ensure he’s secured, then gives the bench a hard shove to make sure the wheels are locked, properly holding the contraption still so it won’t slide everywhere in the middle of the action.

With everything ready, he supposes this is the perfect time to lecture his ornery little omega, circling Peter’s bound body as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“Peter,” he says firmly, earning himself a fearful, hateful glare from those big brown eyes. “I know you’re smart enough to understand the concept of corrective discipline. I’m about to teach you a very important lesson - everything you have, everything you have been given, including your bond with your new mate and all of the pleasure it’s brought you - they are all gifts from me.”

He steps closer, stares down at that beautiful, angry little face.

“You may not like it, you can hate this place all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are mine, Peter, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better off you’ll be.” He gestures to Bucky, kneeling behind the boy, head bowed in defeat. “I would like nothing more than to keep you and your mate happily tangled together all day long. But this morning, you chose to throw my kindness and generosity back in my face and behaved, simply put, like an animal. So, this is a moment I want you to remember the next time you’re feeling angry or hard-done by: I don’t have to give you any of these luxuries. I can - and will - replace them with much less favorable conditions if you misbehave. Hopefully, the harshness of this punishment will help this lesson stick in your tender little brain.”

He pets the boy’s head gently, then circles around him to address Bucky. “As for you, Bucky, my wonderful boy - perhaps take the opportunity to educate your omega the next time I’m kind enough to leave you two together. He chose to step out of line and brought this punishment down on both of you. If you don’t want it to happen again, I suggest you have a long and thorough chat with him about who’s in charge around here.” He strokes Bucky’s stubble-covered cheek. Bucky’s conflicted, despaired gaze is turned away from him, as good of a sign of submission as any.

Perfectly on time, Tony’s phone dings in his pocket then, alerting him that his honored guests have arrived.

He kisses Bucky’s forehead, pats Peter’s trembling flank, and heads for the lobby to greet their visitors.

—

He gets himself a nice chair for the show.

It’s not nearly as comfortable as his armchair upstairs, but it’s good enough. He reclines in the corner, feet propped up on Bucky’s table between the alpha’s food and water dishes, crossed at the ankle as he lounges comfortably. His guests are standing throughout the room, but each of them knows better than to stand in front of him, obstructing his view. Most stand against the glass wall, in front of Peter’s hysteric, sobbing face, as far away from Bucky’s enraged fury as they can get.

He’s chosen some of the best men he knows. Betas, like him, who lean more to the above-average side of the spectrum when it comes to things like height, weight and cock size. None of them can compare to the sheer massive size of an alpha, but that’s almost the point of this punishment.

Oh, how little Peter screams and fights when the first beta mounts him.

It must be so confusing. His little cunt, dripping with slick, begging to be filled, to be fucked and knotted - only to be given a too-small, too-thin, unsatisfactory beta cock. Some mated omegas have claimed that the semen of anyone apart from their alpha’s burns when it’s pumped inside them, which hasn’t been properly tested or proven, but Tony is tempted to believe it after watching Peter squeal and thrash when the first man creampies him.

And yet, oh, the poor little thing’s hips are moving so desperately. His heat has fully taken hold of him, now - compelling him to be bred, to seek out and attract his mate by any means necessary. With Bucky kneeling so close behind him, close enough to smell and hear, Peter’s body seems to be wonderfully confused. He rides each beta cock that’s humped inside of him like he needs their come to live, then jerks and sobs when he finally gets what his needy little body is after.

It’s a beautiful sight.

Bucky clearly doesn’t agree. Snarling like an aggressive dog, Tony doesn’t blame his guests for quailing away from the bound beast. Frothy spit drips from the alpha’s chin as he does his best to bare his teeth with the mouth guard gagging his lips open. The stockade makes loud, thundering bangs every time he tries to dislodge it from its base, desperate to tear the beta in front of him away from his omega and rip him in half like a Christmas cracker. He’s unsuccessful, of course - Tony built that stockade to withstand an alpha even larger than Thor - but it’s intimidating all the same.

After the third beta has had his turn, Peter goes limp on his bench. He whines pitifully as the fourth man mounts him, sliding inside easily, stirring the mess of come and slick inside of his fuckhole with his dick. Peter, as unwilling as he is, can’t stop himself from moaning and rolling his hips in tandem with the beta’s, trying to make the man’s cock fill him deeper, wider, fuller. Tony smiles at the desperate way Peter is bouncing his hips. It must be maddening, to be fucked over and over again by a series of eager cocks not biologically designed to satisfy you.

Slick and beta come glob onto the floor as Peter desperately rides the man standing behind him. Bucky howls through his gag like he’s being castrated, vicious and frantic to get to his mate and breed him properly. Tony grins at the desperate struggling his gorgeous alpha is still putting up. It makes him rise to his feet almost subconsciously, not sparing the breeding bench a glance as he walks around it and approaches the stockade.

Bucky knows better than to lunge for him. Still, his thrashing increases tenfold when he thinks his Daddy might be crouching behind him to undo his restraints. Tony loves how basic, how single-minded heats and ruts make his pets become, how they reduce them to their most primitive selves. Like this, Bucky can’t even fathom why Tony wouldn’t free him and allow him to defend and claim his mate. Without a doubt, all thoughts of lessons and punishments have been pushed far from the alpha’s mind. He’s a beast, like this. A pitiful, powerless beast.

He grunts and snarls when Tony cups his huge, distended balls. Rigid, swollen and heavy with fresh come, they hang dark and tight between Bucky’s legs, nearly touching the floor. Tony gently massages them, watching the alpha’s massive cock bob and leak precome from the stimulation. Poor thing. He truly doesn’t deserve to be tormented like this, but Tony can only hope he uses this pain as motivation in helping him train and tame Peter.

As five betas becomes six and then seven, Tony stays crouched behind Bucky, gently working his balls with the palms of his hands to provide some relief for his aching, anguished alpha. Peter’s pitiful cries fill the room, louder than the pleasured groans of the men filling him, louder even than Bucky’s muffled screams of rage.

That’s why Tony is able to hear it so clearly when his baby sobs, “I’m - I’m sorry, D...Daddy, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” Sobbing so hard, the words shatter like glass as they leave his damp lips. “Daddy I’m sorry, please forgive me, p-please, Daddy!” Tony stands, almost leaping to grab the beta still humping away wantonly at his princess’s backside and fling him off without a care.

“Baby,” he soothes instantly, stroking Peter’s trembling flank to try and settle his wailing sobs. “Oh, sweetheart, my little princess, hush now. You’re all right.” He leans in, kisses the omega’s quivering back, stroking his sweat-matted hair. “It’s all right now, sweet boy. Daddy forgives you.”

Impatiently, Tony snaps his fingers, dismissing the men without so much as looking at them. As the last one files out, the door automatically locking behind him, Tony undoes Peter’s cuffs but leaves him bent over the bench, hanging there limply, as he once more crouches beside Bucky. He removes the gag, opens Bucky’s restraints, and is quick to jerk back as Bucky surges upwards and descends on Peter with pure animal desperation.

And still, Tony’s wonderful boy is human enough to gather his tiny mate in his arms and carry him over to his bed, crowding him against the dull greys of his bedding as he slots himself between Peter’s spread legs and pumps his cock inside of him. Peter mewls gratefully, arms iron-tight around Bucky’s neck, his trembling legs trying to cling to Bucky’s wide waist, their chests pressed flush together as Bucky sinks his teeth into Peter’s mating bite, sinks his cock into Peter’s well-fucked cunt.

Smiling, Tony returns to the proper side of the glass, leaving the pair to their own devices - or as close as he’s willing to allow them to come to it. He watches for the better part of an hour as Bucky breeds, grooms, gentles and then breeds Peter once again, repeating the process over and over, making sure to pay special attention each time he licks up the mess leaking from his omega’s abused hole, as if the beast cannot rest until every drop of beta come has been cleaned from Peter’s body.

—

The utter lack of sleep his boys have had in the last 24 hours shows when they pass out towards their fifth round. They’d been up talking and fucking the whole night before, and neither had slept a second since their separation this morning. It was bound to happen.

Bucky has rolled onto his side, one of the only (formerly) clean blankets pulled over the two of them. Peter’s face is pressed into the barely-there space between the alpha’s bicep - of which he’s laying his head on - and one of those meaty pecs. They’re chest to chest, and by the way Peter shifts every now and again (and the leg clearly thrown across that broad waist), still firmly connected via knot. Bucky’s other arm is wrapped firmly around Peter’s waist, his nose tucked into the sticky, matted curls of his omega. Only the alpha’s feet peak out from under the blanket, Peter too small to reach that far down under a clearly alpha-sized blanket.

Given that the pair aren’t doing much, Tony decides to attend to a few things. His boys need a bath, badly, but that can wait. Instead, he goes upstairs to Peter’s kennel. Entering with a laundry hamper and gloves, he begins stripping Peter’s bed of all its baby blankets and fluffy pillows. Thankfully, Peter isn’t one to revenge pee. He’s had a few pets who had taken up the hobby. Still, it’s a sticky, come-drenched mess, and dried come isn’t his idea of a good moisturizer.

Usually, a team of professionals come through once a week and clean all the kennels, replacing the bedding, tending to the bathrooms, and grooming some of his other pets. His favorites…well, they tend to get a little more special attention from Daddy. He loves keeping his alphas’ hair long and some level of beard on them. It accentuates the masculinity of already hyper-masculine beings. Trimming and tending to the hairy alphas is a small indulgence of his. The only exception to the hair-loving rule is their balls.

Regularly, his boys receive a waxing. Steve actually had been calm enough for lasering and no longer needs them. Thor enjoys the attention enough to hold still through the tugs, and Tony always gets a nice show of Thor leaning down to clean his now-smooth pair nearly every time. Bucky is…rough at times. His balls are so large, the process takes just a bit longer and it can never be done soft. The waxer tends to always be concerned about too much loose skin if Bucky isn’t hard while getting the service. Tony had never seen Bucky’s skin ever be loose enough to worry much, but now with Peter, he’s beginning to understand it. With Peter’s body to hold all of his come for him, the alpha’s balls have started to show more wrinkles and gentle sagging. Tony’s surprised with himself for finding it appealing, after his love for those balls filled with come has bordered on obsession for a few years now.

Either way, those smooth balls on their hairy bodies is truly a lovely juxtaposition, and his omegas seem to enjoy sucking on them far more without bristly little hairs poking at their face and tongue.

With the bedding now packed away, he lugs it to the laundry shoot to be cleaned. Peter will need spares soon, but his baby is so often cold in the night, all the blankets meant to be extras have made their way onto the bed. His princess loves all things soft and plush, so to deny him any of those things when it’s just so fitting for such a delicate omega, it’s inconceivable, even for him.

The hardest clean-up job will be the pair themselves. As much as he loves seeing them both soiled and rolling in each other’s slick and come, Peter is beginning to look matted and ill-kept, unbefitting of a princess. Maybe Bucky can get away with the look, with his brutish build and gruff disposition, but he is officially mated to Peter and thus now has some upkeep to maintain.

He can’t but help smile to himself a little at the thought. He really does adore the pair. Bucky may have always been a bit of a bull in a china shop, but seeing this soft and irresistibly sweet side to a pet he already loved has pulled Bucky up to a level similar to Peter in his mind.

Wanting to be back with the pair, he wanders down to the basement, watches from behind the pane of glass as he usually does, but with the two sleeping and his hands itching to touch, he slips inside. JARVIS enabled, he goes over to Bucky, letting the tap of his shoes be softly audible so as not to startle the large creature resting on the bed. Bucky isn’t prone to attacking him, not for a long time, but he knows better than to sneak up on him. That is the unspoken agreement between them; so long as Bucky knows Tony is the one there, he won’t make a move to hurt him.

The sound has its desired effect. Bucky raises his head slowly to see who’s coming. Seeing Tony, he rests his head back against the large, spacious pillows that had been one of his birthday presents last year.

Hands wandering across Bucky’s back and up to his shoulder, he leans in close to speak softly to the alpha, not wanting to wake Peter.

“How are you feeling, love? Any pain?” Rubs a thumb along the still slightly red line across the back of Bucky’s neck from banging against his restraints.

“No, Daddy. Just…tired.” Bucky doesn’t make eye contact, but does tilt his head towards Tony, a movement meant to show submission whilst clearly paying attention.

Tony can’t resist kissing up the side of Bucky’s face, working one of those massive shoulders under his hand. “Daddy’s not mad at you, okay Buck? You’ve been such a good boy for me. Not mad at Peter either now; he just needs to settle in and you need to help him with that. Sound doable?”

Bucky nods, eyes darting towards the bite mark. Craning his neck up, Bucky carefully licks at the wound, a clear apology on behalf of his mate, despite the one he had accepted earlier from the boy himself. Tony leans into it. JARVIS would have done something if this was an aggressive move. Years have given the AI the ability to read Bucky’s intentions like a book. Plus, Bucky is transferring some of that sweetness onto Daddy, and he’s greedy for it now that he knows it exists.

He pulls away once the man finishes. He strokes Bucky’s hair, pushing it back and admiring the stunning man beneath his hands. Those steel-blue eyes never fail to drag him under, they were the first thing he fell in love with in his pet. They scream intelligence and speak to a being who feels deeply, even if it’s hidden behind layers of brutal ability and aggression.

Sliding a hand down Bucky’s arm, he touches Peter, letting Bucky see and feel where he’s going with the motion to prevent any sudden, protective moves. Thankfully, it works - Bucky only tightens his grip a little bit on Peter, but refrains from intervening, knowing that Peter is Daddy’s first, even if instinct scream out against it.

Peter’s skin is damn near buttery in just how supple it is under his fingers. He rounds the bed, putting himself where Bucky can see as he runs greedy hands over the boy. It wakes Peter up, but with the punishment still fresh in his mind, he merely curls into Bucky’s arms and gets his fill.

“Petey.” The omega flinches, even as Tony’s tone remains even and soft. “How are you feeling, princess?”

A soft sniffle nearly breaks his heart. Bucky shushes and pulls Peter tight, rocking his hips gently to provide some sort of comfort. Maybe a grounding sensation? He hasn’t had a mated pair like these two, a lot of things are assumptions for the time being.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’ve got Bucky here, and Daddy just wants to make sure you’re not hurting. We won’t do that ever again as long as you don’t go trying to make Daddy hurt again.” He rubs his back, the knobs of Peter’s spine reminding him that the boy hasn’t eaten since yesterday.

Bucky manages to shove his face next to Peter’s, licking up the tears leaking from his tiny mate’s swollen eyes. Being close up now, his pet looks terrible. The betas had been under strict rules not to hurt the defenseless boy, but the bruise on his cheek has Tony feeling terrible. It’s not a dark one, but still a clear sign that he’s raised a hand against the omega. Peter shouldn’t have lashed out, but it’s Tony’s job to be above lashing out in return. Apologizing is not an option. Peter had done wrong and been punished for it, but he still wishes he had reigned in the response. Peter’s punishment should have been more controlled, beginning and ending with the betas.

He runs a gentle, paternal hand through Peter’s curls, bringing in his other one to help gently break up the spunk and sweat-glued strands. Saliva is likely in there as well, but Peter will be getting a bath soon enough to straighten the mess out. It’s terrible to see his hair so flat and limp. It’s an endlessly endearing trait, and why he keeps Peter’s hair on the longer side when all of his female omegas have short bobs or complex plaits and braids to keep things neat.

“Baby.” Taking Peter’s hip in his hand and gently rolling the small amount of baby fat there, he leans down, just out of range of a bite, but still able to be heard in his hushed tone. “You need to tell Daddy where you’re hurting so he can fix it. Can you do that for me, Peter?”

The boy stays still for a few, fleeting heartbeats, before nodding. It takes him a few moments to compose himself enough to speak through his hiccups. “My - my insides. My hole - it burns. Th-they put something in it and it still hurts. E-even with Bucky inside m-me, D-daddy.”

Oh dear, maybe the beta come hurts more than he’d realized.

“Bucky, sweet boy, would you take Peter to the bathroom, please? I need to go grab something. Take a blanket with you, poor omega looks like he’s about to freeze.”

Bucky does as he’s told, gathering his tiny mate up into his arms and moving him to the bathroom. His cock now slips out and swings limply between his legs as he concerns himself with his aching sweetheart.

Going to the supply closet, he pulls out an enema kit. He keeps a wide assortment of tack, gear, medical and various other supplies in it. He has never regretted anything that made its way to the closet, and he’s glad he’d thought to keep such things on hand for times like this.

Moving back to Bucky’s kennel, he goes into the bathroom to find Bucky tongue deep in Peter’s hole, but the poor thing is still shaking and complaining of pain. Ignoring him for the time, Bucky lays himself lightly over Peter, who had been shakily holding onto the edge of the tub during his rimming session. It never fails to make his heart go just a little bit soft seeing Bucky like this. Who knew the beast really just needed a mate - a purpose, really - to bring out something so tender.

He shoos Bucky away, even as the alpha grumbles. Filling the enema with warm water, just a bit closer to the hotter side of things, he caps the bottle with its nozzle. Laying Peter in the tub and having him pull a leg up, he inserts the tip and squeezes the bottle. He has to be careful not to do too much, or the resulting cramps may be worse than the burning semen.

“Now just hold it for a moment, Peter. We’ll do it a few times to wash you out well, then you can have Bucky’s come later without any of the hurting, okay?”

“O-kay.” Curled up and twitching, but covered with a thick blanket from the bed, Peter holds still as the water does its thing.

Moving Peter to the toilet to release the water is easy when you have a 6’9” alpha willing to do some leg work. Peter is repeatedly moved from toilet to tub until the burning subsides and the tears have calmed down. Tony suspects that the tears may have been more from stress than anything now, on the other end of things, but Peter finally calms down enough for him to leave the topic alone.

“Alright, last thing, Peter. You need a bath.” And oh, how Tony would love to be the one to scrub that porcelain body and tame those curls, but that will have to wait for another day. He has work to do, and Peter likely will prefer his mate at the moment. “Bucky’s gonna get you cleaned up.”

He turns to the alpha, sitting quietly on the toilet and now trying to gather Peter into his lap. “I need you to clean him up and keep him clean. If you need to breed again, do it before the bath, but make sure you clean up his curls.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.” He leans down, cheek turned to Bucky, who gives him a gentle, slightly scratchy kiss.

He looks at Peter. “Are you going to be nice and give Daddy a kiss, princess?”

Peter looks away, nodding.

Tony leans forward, turning his injured cheek to Peter. The little omega gives it the softest of licks and a light kiss to the damage he’s done. Tony gives them both a kiss on the forehead as a reward.

As he leaves, he calls over his shoulder, “Bucky, let JARVIS know what you two would like to eat tonight, I’ll send whatever you want down.”

With that, he exits the basement and removes himself from the mates’ lives, for now.

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

Shivering gold — Jason Todd x Reader (S!)

SUMMARY: Camera turns on. It’s been some time, but the couple is back - and they are as explicit as ever, together. There’s clearly a connection, passion between the two. What is that pink vibrating thing he is carrying, by the way?

WORD COUNT: 2204

TW: Explicit smut/lemon scenes. No one is underaged. Webcam live show/webcam use. IDK, it’s what in AO3 the connosseurs would call “PLOT WHAT PLOT/PORN WITHOUT PLOT” but that’s just me I guess. I, uh, had to do a bit of research on some +18 websites. ENJOY I GUESS.

 Camera turns on. It’s only been three seconds, and the first visible shot is her core. She is clearly open and well-lubricated. Both of her legs are open – this time she doesn’t wear any binds, she is completely free. It is rare; not unwelcomed, just rare. She is only covered by two thigh high pieces of lingerie, black, that make her legs sexier. Though she naturally has a sexy essence involving her.

           The couple does this casually. No one really knows when they really started; the videos were quite homemade at its start, not of very good quality, but there was passion and clearly a connection. He roughly got her by her throat the first time they uploaded a video; it was hot, to say the least. He fucked her against the walls of the bathroom, and her legs trembled and were done for by the time he finished. She adored him. Anyone could see that just by looking at the desperation she searched his lips with.

           They never showed their faces, but that was fine; he had a body sculpted by the gods, and she was just like every dream wet anyone has ever had once in their life. Her skin is slightly dark, which perfectly contrasts with his, the whiteness and scars of it. She’s rounder in comparison: thick thigs but a small and tight waist. Perky nipples that could drive anyone crazy. But her butt is the best: is not small, by any means, and that’s perfect. Every time she bounces on him, every time he slaps her: it makes the public go wild.

           Lives are not very common, but they’ve been some months without publishing anything, so it seems they thought it appropriate. The thing is that they are not doing it for money; entrance prices for the live are pretty low, and that’s why the manage to have such a strong fanbase and public, so many tips in the show.

           The camera is static, and the shot is focusing on her gleaming pussy. They have been at it for a while, people presume; it’s quite obvious by the trembling of her thighs, and she’s moaning from time to time: it’s soft, needy. Hers are like little meowls, but not childlike; it is entrancing, charming, to have her submitted in bed like that, without anything to keep her from moving. Pure obedience.

           “She is close, can you see her?” He starts. He laughs, almost cruelly; there’s a lot of emojis that corroborate that in the live chat. Everyone is greeting them for being back as well. Some people have specially miss them. “(Y/N) said she’s so close she only needs what, baby? Ten seconds?”. He asks, again with a smirk, the most he’s shown in a long time. Like knowing she’s been asked, her legs tremble, she tries to reincorporate herself a bit, which he doesn’t let her do.

           “Not much more”. Her voice is soft, submissive and trembles at the end. She seems out of breath. It makes everyone wonder what have they’ve been playing at before.

           “Not much more than ten seconds. You must be extremely close”. His hand caresses the interior of her thigh, but it’s too far from her core, doesn’t even get close to her labia, glistening and slightly moving, asking for something to enter. It’s tempting. She cries as he touches her finally, spreads some more lube on her core, but after retracts. There’s a laugh.

           “Well, we got this new toy that I’d like to try out. It’s vibrator, sent to us”. He shows; his hand carries a pink toy, in the form of a half moon. A lot of people have never seen it, from the comments on the chat, but it has a button in the middle of the center, and the two rounded extremes seem to be the most interesting part. “Should we try it?”

           “Yes”. She begs, moving her butt on the sheets a tiny bit. You can almost feel the frown in his voice:

           “Yes…?”

           “Yes please!”. She finally says, like realizing it after a few seconds in silence, maybe too out of it. People find her cute, her thigs trembling for wanting it so badly, as the toy gets closer to her core.

           “Yes please. That’s a good girl.”. He praises her, both arms caressing the interior of her thighs, moving closer. It’s like he’s warming her up. “Oh, that’s very quiet. I wonder if it has more settings”.

           He tries it in front of the camera, close enough so that it can focus on it and see the little vibrations of it. They’ve invested in new material and you can tell: everyone can see the small motions of the toy as it vibrates, imperceptible as they may seem. He finally, with a laugh, takes the toy and places it on the left side of one of her thighs, making a path to her core; her stomach tremble in anticipation, her legs attempting to close: and just when he’s grazing the clitoris, he pushes again the button: it stills.

           “It’s pulsing isn’t it? Oh, no, wait. That’s nothing”. The pulsing had been done before, on her thighs. The frustration is clear on her voice, as she attempts to say something but she’s shushed by him. “Should we go for this setting?”

           “No! No, I don’t want the nothing setting!”. It’s a bit of a tantrum, really, with some cute giggles mixed. Giving in a bit, he pushes the button again: and this time, the two extremes touch her clitoris, making her melt into profanities and shivers in her voice.

           “Like that? Let’s see”. It’s like an experiment – the results are instant, but he’s attempting to see what makes her shout. “Is that good, baby?”

           She can’t answer. Not verbally at least. She moans something, maybe his name, before she gets shushed: it’s the closest she’s been to say something coherent, and the public is expectant, as her stomach begins to tremble. Her moans are shushed, probably by his hand – she fights back and attempts to get him off. It’s always entertaining the way she tries to gets rid off him and she always loses in the end. His tone does really get serious:

           “That’s more than ten seconds. Want to try another-?”

           “No! No! Please!”. She begs, one of her hands appearing on camera, attempting to take his hand and stop him.

           “No hands, baby.” He says, and she immediately knows to retract, not attempt, as wet as she is and probably desperate.

           Her moans get higher, every gasp shorter than the last one; she is breathless and trembling. Thighs are still apart, but it seems like it’s taking her the effort to do so. Is she close? Her right thigh always moves a bit more than the other one before finally cumming. And well, he always knows best. There are a lot of tips followed by suggestions of things he could do But he always knows bests.

           “Oh! Oh I’m-!”

           “Are you cumming?”

           “Y-Yes, oh my G-!”

           “Then come for me, baby”.

           It’s taken her less than usual, but her shouts are real as they start to increase. She changes from that cute and small voice to a deeper one, filling the room with inevitable sex sounds, a really high gasping as she closes her legs and what’s more, some squirting – she attempts to close her legs, make it stop, but his hands forcefully keep her open. And that’s the thing always when she wears no binds to stop her legs from closing. They discovered it by accident, apparently; on another one of her lives, and the toy seems to do wonderfully stimulating her to the brink and a little bit more. A gasp no one has ever heard before, gets out of her mouth, like she’s been killed, and she moves against the bed, trying to hide, almost. She has cummed, and it’s wonderful to see: the ending of the bed, where she bas been lying is covered in some of her fluids, and it can be heard in the back he touching himself, as the toy makes wonder sitting on her clitoris, almost attached there as she fights it, overstimulated at some point, given her shouts and movement in the bed.

           He makes it stop, but she doesn’t stop trembling – maybe cumming? Her stomach rises up and down quickly. She is breathless, done for; and still he demands a bit more, his hand caressing her wet lips and open entrance: anything could enter her as of now. She’s completely open and fully lubricated, drenching the sheets. It hurts as she caresses her clit over, and she moves her hips, like he burns: but he does so anyways, and she gasps, thighs slowly opening and letting him do as he pleases.

           “God, you are beautiful when you are all sensitive like this. I could blow your little cute pussy, and you would cum all over my mouth, like a little fountain.”

           Dirty talk gets her. Always. She’s weak for praises, and anyone can tell by the way her legs are more lenient on opening for him, slowly, bit by bit. It’s like a flower: the more care one gives her, the easier it is to give her love after. Viewers can only see the back of his head as he gets into the shot, kneeling down into her pussy. He kisses her thighs and slowly enters her core, asking for permission as she trembles, asking him to wait with her hand before he dives in. It’s torturous, but it’s loving – he waits as she comes down from her high and is slowly prepared to accept something else into her.

           “All wet down here, baby girl. I could slide three fingers in, you know? You can only take two, but you could take three now. So sexy, so open, so good for me. Can I drink you in? You can squish my head if you need to as I make you cum again, baby girl. I know how sensitive you get, and I’m planning on giving you two more fantastical orgasms. The bests, only for you, (Y/N)-“. This time it’s her the one that has to lunch into his lips and cut him off before he can say more than the first letter of your name. They both shyly laugh before kissing, and laying on the bed again.

           He kisses her labia, then her clit. His tongue searches for her entrance, but he thoroughly prepares her clitoris, almost assuring it that only pleasure will be received. A thumb stays near it, and she trembles in anticipation. ‘This is how you eat her out’, he seems to say as he starts, his tongue getting into her cavity and shivering almost immediately. One of her hands moves to his hair and he concedes: she doesn’t guide him out in any moment, but it gives her a sense of control she could get off on.

           All of her interiors are drenched, thus making the movement easier. He drinks her in like it’s water, and gulps notoriously, as if making it clear. The laps of his tongue are like those of a dog as he cleans her so that it doesn’t drench more the sheets. It leaves an uncomfortable sensation after, she’s told him before. His thumb slowly starts to rub her off as her hips get off the cloth, her nails start to dig into the duvet.

           “Oh, fuck-J. Fuck-J!”. She can’t help but say, quickly, almost babbling. He hopes the viewers really buy that, because he’s not stopping now that he has found what makes her fall. She desperately tries to dig her nails into his hair, the duvet, but nothing lasts too long. She’s too restless. “It is! I am!”. Clear indications as her right leg starts to move to the side, her hips start to try and get up. “Help me! Let me!”. She begs, chants, she’s getting closer and he doesn’t stop.

           “Cum on my mouth, baby”. He is clear as he slurps her in, drinks it all as she squirts in his mouth. She trembles, shivers and shouts as she gets off her high. He feels incredibly painful, but it’s not about him at that point. It’s all about giving her pleasure, putting himself aside and making sure his girlfriend can’t coherently think.

           He manages to do that as she collapses on the bed, chest going up and down. Tips and clamors of the viewers said, he really thinks that if he fucks her, she might die. Not because of his really big ego, but rather because she was a bit tired before starting. She definitively has used of all of her energy in the last rounds. She can’t even get up on the bed. And as hard as he is, he can relief that later, in private: now it’s all about getting her rested. He says goodbye, closes the show and opens the bed. Slowly gets her cleaned with a cloth, manages to take her to their “real” bed, untouched and cleaned, and tucks her in. He whispers “I love you” as she smiles against his chest and slowly drifts away into Morpheus.

[projectobsidian]

     Ladies and gents, DRUMROLL PLEASE!

     The final votes have been placed, collected and evaluated, and now it is finally time to announce the results!

     Here are the four finalists competing for the first place!

     It has been an exciting journey, with more than one unexpected turn! It definitely was not easy, but thanks to your feedback, Project OBSIDIAN is another step closer to becoming a reality!

     Without further ado, here we give you: the PODIUM!

     •   THIRD PLACE! (24,6%)

     Your bronze medal goes without doubt to submission #1, with a portrayal of our favourite mad scientist by the wonderfully talented @kryptopine!

     Great job, Krypto! Next up, we have...

     •   SECOND PLACE! (29,1%)

     Your silver medal goes to the CLOSEST second, submission #3, with a flask of scorching amber ready for action by the ingenious @neydraws-blog! 

      It was second by only one vote! So wow, amazing job, Neyarts! And now... 

    •   FIRST PLACE! (29,9%)

     Your gold medal, with an incredible last minute recovery, goes at last to...

          Submission #2!!

     The clean and easily recognizable outline of Project OBSIDIAN’s protagonist belongs to the incredibly resourceful Lyanthi @ DeviantART! 

     A wonderful comeback in the finishing hours, that decides at last Project OBSIDIAN’s signature look! Congratulations Lyanthi!!

     With this, the Director Board shall thank all of the wonderful artists that offered their submissions and keep offering their incomparable cooperation to this day, as well as all of you who keep supporting Project OBSIDIAN!

     And a SPECIAL THANK YOU goes to our FOURTH PLACE!  Your wood medal goes to the submission that tied the game in Phase TWO’s Round C, @vanillasacs​’s amber fragment, with submission #4!

     Amazing job, Vanillasacs! It wasn’t an easy race!

     Stay tuned for the next announcements, everyone! Something good is brewing for all!!

     Onward we ride~!

[lov3nerdstuff]

I Found {Part 7}

*Loki x reader*

Part: 7/8

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Loki finds himself stranded in Underworld, a kingdom hidden deep inside a desolate planet. In order to survive, he puts himself in the service of the tyrant king, who promises to give Loki his freedom back if he fulfills one simple task. Loki is to set out and bring the mad king his newest toy: You.

~A dangerous forbidden love. Abduction. Slavery. Tortured conscience. A mad tyrant... Escape?~

Request: A song fic based on 'I found' by Amber Run, requested by @strawberrysandcream

A.N.: This is the second to last part... This is getting exciting! 😁☺️ Hope you all enjoy!

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

______________________________

A loud gasp drew Loki from his thoughts, followed by heavy panting that made him rise to his feet in an instant. His eyes fell upon your shaking frame, sitting up in bed as you ran a hand through your sleep tousled hair.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, walking over to the edge of the bed as his gaze met yours in concern.

"Yeah…" You replied in a breath that shivered just as much as your body did. "Just a nightmare, really…"

"Oh." Was all Loki got out in return, as he fought the urge to reach out and comfort you. That surely would've been highly inappropriate…

"I… I fell asleep as we hugged, didn't I?" You asked quietly and with a tone subtly laced with embarrassment. It made Loki's heart clench.

"Don't worry about it, really. I'm sure you must've had an exhausting day." He said, while what he really wanted to say was how much he had enjoyed you falling asleep on him indeed.

"I'm sorry though. Wasn't very appropriate to impose myself onto you like that…"

"You really didn't. And I… I enjoyed it, actually." Loki managed to say, allowing himself to be honest with you for once. His heart made a leap as you blushed ever so slightly, then bit your bottom lip and smiled a little. 

"Yeah, I… enjoyed it as well. Very much. I just really needed some comfort, some warmth… to feel safe for once, you know." You shrugged with a reluctant smile.

"I do know." He replied quietly, the corners of his lips curling upwards. "It's not easy to find someone to trust in this place."

"Well, I do trust you. So get in bed with me now and let me steal some more warmth from you." You peeked up at him with a small smile and the same faint blush. "If… if that would be alright with you, I mean. Please?"

Despite his admitted reluctance at allowing himself to be close to you, he didn't need you to ask twice now. If you asked of him to be close, he would more than happily oblige. Thus he lifted the covers and laid down next to you, letting the sheer impossible warmth of your body comfort him and scorch his skin at the same time. You certainly didn't need any more warmth from him, that he was sure of… but he didn't question your motives. Maybe you were just as new to this kind of affection as he was, as intimidated by your wish for closeness? 

So now he lay still on his back, next to you, waiting for you to show him what exactly you were expecting of him right now. This, to him, was walking on a very thin line already, and he wouldn't dare crossing it without your consent. Your precise wish, even.

"I get the impression that you are the one who is scared of me indeed. Not the other way round." You said then, close to his ear. Loki shivered. 

"I'm not scared of you." He replied quietly as he listened to your even breathing. Somehow that calmed him more than he'd expected.

"But you do realize that quite possibly every other, ordinary man would've just taken the opportunity and gotten into bed with me the moment I fell asleep?" You mused, turning onto your side to face Loki.

"I'm no ordinary man, Y/n. I'm a god." He answered calmly, yet not in an arrogant manner. It simply was a fact, and he wouldn't speak anything but the truth to you from this point on.

"Oh, I know that." You smiled. "You're maybe the furthest from ordinary I've ever come to experience. However I wonder if you are repelled by me and therefore stay this far away at all times, or if you are simply being wonderfully polite."

"I am most certainly not repelled by you! That's an odd thought. If I was repelled by you, you wouldn't be here right now and neither would I." He corrected in an instant, frowning at the ceiling. "So you may call it politeness that made me let you sleep in peace."

"Thank you." 

"For what?"

"Politeness." You smiled, and finally Loki turned his head to look at you as well. Gods, you were so close to him… his heart clenched and his stomach was in knots in an instant.

"Can I ask you something serious?" You asked a little more quietly as your eyes dug into his.

"Certainly."

"Are you doing all this because you feel like you ought to, after reaping me, make up for it somehow? Or did you… DO you really enjoy my company?"

"Why would you ask that?" He rose an eyebrow at you, but as you didn't answer, he sighed quietly. "I generally don't feel guilt or remorse for the things I do in order to survive."

"So… you like me for real?"

"Yes, Y/n, I like you for real." He sighed, but couldn't suppress the small smile that came upon his lips. Damn honesty… if you kept on asking these things, he would reveal himself to you to a rather uncomfortable degree. Yet, he couldn't really bring himself to care. If you wanted to know, he'd tell.

"So… if I asked you to hold me right now, as close as you possibly can, in order for me to close my eyes without being scared for my life… would you do it?" You asked almost shyly, with a reluctant expression that was simply heartwarming.

"I'd do anything you ask of me." He replied easily, without the smallest shred of doubt about his statement or your knowing of this fact.

"But would you enjoy it as much as I would?" Your voice was merely a breath now, and another shiver ran down Loki's spine.

"Let's find out, shall we?" He said with another small smile as he let his fingers ghost over your shoulder, down your arm and to your waist. Your breathing hitched as he pulled you against him with a start, arms circling your middle as he held you tightly pressed against his chest. "I certainly do enjoy this, yeah." 

You chuckled in reply to that, and the small movements shook Loki's frame along with yours. Yes, he certainly did enjoy this WAY more than you knew. It didn't take you long to fall back asleep then, with Loki drawing soothing circles on your back with his fingers. And for once, Loki fell into an actually peaceful slumber as well, still holding you tightly, safely resting against himself.

The next morning came quickly, and Loki started the fire once more before he conjured up something to eat for breakfast. While you ate, he gave you a detailed summary of the plan he had come up with and a shorter summary of what had happened the previous day. Yet, he elaborated on the part that was yet to come, and the part you would have to play in all of that. By the time he'd finished his explanations, you'd long finished eating and instead moved on to pacing the room.

"Do I really need to do that?" You whined, looking at Loki with a pleading frown.

"I'm afraid so." 

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because he would see that coming. As would everyone else." Loki sighed. "I'm under constant supervision, and nobody would let me come close to the king."

"But I don't think I can do it." You sighed as well, stopped pacing and instead sat down next to Loki on the bed. 

"Have you never stabbed anyone before?" He frowned at you, curious eyes fixed on your blushing face.

"Of course I have stabbed people before! What did you think how I managed to keep from getting caught all these years?" You groaned and hid your face in your hands. "I'm worried about the other thing."

Of course you'd worry about that… it almost made Loki snort to think that killing someone troubled you less than this. But he was equally displeased with the other thing as you were, and he could understand all too well that you didn't want to do it.

"Believe me, I hate this as much as you do…" He said in an attempt to comfort you, but he was interrupted.

"Do you, really?" You snapped, rolling your eyes to yourself. "You're not the one who needs to put on an act and sit in that man's lap, for fuck's sake!

"I'm sorry." He replied quietly, looking down at his hands. "I really wish you didn't have to do that. But there is no way you can get close enough to him without… you know…"

"Yeah." You sighed, making him look up at you again. "I know. I'm sorry for snapping at you… it's not your fault. Your plan is good, great even. I just… don't know how to pretend things like that. I don't know how to distract him well enough to be able to get to a stabbing distance."

"It's alright. I deserve to be snapped at, sometimes." He shrugged, calmly. "And you only need to convince him of your broken spirits. I will do the rest. Even though you might not like that very much. Please, don't believe a single word you will hear from me, it is all means to our goal."

"Yeah, I know… but you're way better at this than me." You mumbled. "I'm not good at playing the little innocent plaything."

"I swear, after this is all over, nobody will touch you ever again without your consent." He spoke before thinking, but yet meant every word. A small smile came onto your lips for a moment, but then passed again.

"But first, I need to actually do the things we're plotting here." You sighed. "I'm no good at this for real. I don't know how to be seducing, how to make him fall for me. How does one do that?"

Just like you did with me… He thought, but luckily didn't speak his mind.

"I'm sure you're not half as bad as you believe. It's all a matter of pretense, and knowing how to play people. I can give you some basics, that may help… Firstly, keep looking down to the ground, that will make them think you're submissive. Secondly, don't cross your arms over your chest, that gives away your refusal. And thirdly, only speak when spoken to, and end your sentences with some ridiculous term like 'your majesty'. He'll like that." He frowned as he spoke, stomach twisting at the thought of you having to do this. Of him having to teach you such thing in the first place. 

"I think I can do that…" You managed giving Loki a half smile. "But how do I get close enough to stab him? And where should I stab him?"

"Go for the throat, that's the quickest and least difficult." He spoke as he conjured up one of his favorite daggers. "You need to distract him though, before going for his blood."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?" You rolled your eyes with a sigh. "That's what I am horrible at! They tried to teach me, but I tried my best to be bad at it."

"Well, try your best to be good at it now! You can do it, Y/n, I'm certain of that." Loki shrugged and held out the dagger to you. "Here, take it and try."

"What?" You stared at him in irritation, frowning as you took the dagger indeed.

"Practice. If you would like to, that is… You said you feel safe with me. So I… I just thought it might make it easier for you to try it on me." He gave you a small smile that was meant to be somewhat reassuring. 

"You want me to stab you?" You rose an eyebrow at him.

"Well, not REALLY… only a little."

"Stab you 'a little'?" You couldn't help but smirk at him, and Loki felt proud for successfully making you smile. That was all he could do for you, really… try to help you feel more at ease with the whole thing, while he himself wasn't feeling any less disgusted by the prospect of affairs.

"You don't have to, of course. I just thought… nevermind." 

"No, I… I think it's a good idea. You could give me some tips, and see if I'm convincing enough. Let's see if I can distract you enough to stab you 'a little'." You smiled at him for a moment, making his heart skip multiple beats, before you got off the bed and hid the dagger in your dress. "Just pretend like you know nothing of my intentions, alright?"

Nodding, Loki moved to sit on the edge of the bed without another word. This would be awkward, or at least rather unfair in comparison to the real situation, for Loki was fairly certain that it wouldn't need much from you to distract him. Hel, he was distracted by your eyes on him alone!

"So… should I keep looking at the ground, or look at you?" You asked, drawing him out of his already very much distracted mind, as you stood at the opposite wall.

"Come closer first, then look up when you're standing right in front of me." He replied calmly, forcing his mind to focus. This was meant to be helpful to you, after all. You did exactly as he had said, only better than he had expected, looking up at him through your lashes so innocently that his heart skipped yet another beat. 

"And now?" You asked quietly.

"Well, I… He… would ask you to sit."

"And I will do that?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"With as much elegance as you can manage." He replied, but as you still looked at him quite lost, he sighed. "Here…" Reluctantly, carefully, he reached for your right hand and found that you let him without hesitation. Slowly he placed your hand on the side of his own face, gently tracing it down to his neck where he let it linger. "This is both distracting and allows you to subtly search for the pulse point. Now, kneel above me."

"What?" You frowned, but kept your hand resting on his neck, gentle fingers caressing his skin almost unintentionally.

"You've got your right hand on me already, so use it to pull yourself, or me, closer. Gently. Right knee next to my thigh, upper body leaned back and hips forward, then your left knee on the other side. But don't sit down just yet, just kneel over my lap and merely look at me."

"Like this…?" You frowned, trying to follow his instructions without falling over or making a complete fool of yourself. 

"No, not like that. You look like you're thinking too much. And you move like you're thinking too much." 

"Well, I am thinking quite a bit to follow your instructions!" You groaned, kneeling above him as you rolled your eyes, looking down at his frowning face.

"Do it again." He ordered calmly. "And try to pretend that I'm someone you actually want to seduce with what you're doing here. It's all in your head… If you can pretend now, you can do it tomorrow as well."

"I am trying to pretend!" You whined as you got off the bed and off Loki's lap to stand a few feet back once more, readying yourself for a second attempt.

"Yes, you're trying to pretend to me that you're enjoying it. But that's only the second step, while you're missing the first. You need to pretend to yourself that you're enjoying it, that you WANT to seduce me. Or him for that matter." Loki explained as neutrally as he could. "Try thinking of a situation in which you might actually want to do this."

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes for a second, checked if the dagger was still in place, and finally looked back at Loki. "What happens after I kneel over you? I… I wanna try without talking in between."

"Get to that point successfully and you'll know." Loki replied easily, not even sure himself what was to come afterwards. As of yet, he had simply told you to do what would drive him most insane.

"Alright…" You breathed, then started moving towards him once more. Slower than last time… more focused. Loki's heart picked up speed as things went very good for you, and very bad for his attempts at staying calm. Your hand on his cheek… so subtly, so gently, barely ghosting over his skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps on the way to his neck. Your eyes wide, reflecting the sizzling flames of the torches, locked with his in a breathtakingly intense gentleness. 

An explosion of electricity starting in his heart, sending liquid heat through his veins… his breathing hitched ever so slightly as you came to kneel over him, your face only inches from his. Your chests rose and fell in unison, heavy breaths filling the silence of the room.

Your hips rolled into his as you sat down painfully slowly, keeping his legs pinned to the mattress as you leaned your upper body back just enough to make Loki follow, before he could will his body not to. You pushed your hips forward another time… and then Loki felt the dagger pressing into his pulse point. He'd not even noticed how or when you had drawn it, which was both amazing and scary to him.

"How did I do?" You asked quietly, keeping the dagger placed against his throat and somehow, that scared Loki far less than having your face so close that your nose brushed against his. He trusted you, even with his own life, and that was, for once, not scary at all.

"You could've killed me." He finally said in an equally quiet tone. "That's all I could ask for."

"So I did well?!" You smiled in honest surprise, not pulling the least inch back. But you lowered the dagger, and dropped it onto the bedding behind Loki.

"You did very well, Y/n… Distracting ordinary people is fairly easy, but distracting me is close to impossible. What's changed to last time?"

"I followed your advice."

"And? What did you think of?"

"You." You smiled, savoring the two split seconds of his puzzled face, before finally closing the gap between Loki's lips and your own. 

His heart, his mind, his entire being exploded into a thousand little shards of light, before coming clashing back together at last, filling him with a radiant energy that finally allowed him to move again. In an instant his arms circled your waist, pulling you even closer while yours wrapped around his neck. Just like last night… only so, so much better.

The remainder of the day, Loki made you practice a couple more times while he changed his appearance to that of the king, a guard, a councilman… Frankly, the idea of you doing any of this with anyone but Loki himself was painful, maddening and cruel, but he wanted to help you, after all. And you would need to pretend tomorrow, so he would help you practice now.

Only hours later you finally stopped, upon Loki's explicit wish for you to rest. Resting, however, turned more into kissing, and Loki really couldn't bring himself to stop you, not when everything within him just screamed to be as close to you as possible. And so he let himself enjoy the closeness, the affection for once, and by the time morning rolled around he was positively overwhelmed by realization that you might indeed love him just as much as he loved you.

Before the guards came to gather you the next morning, to bring you to Agatha in preparation for the feast, Loki made sure to do exactly three things: firstly, he went over the plan one more time with you, to make sure you knew everything he did. Secondly, he gave you another dagger that you would need to hide until it was to be used. And thirdly, he kissed you with the passion of all the unspoken words lingering between you, and with the promise that everything would be alright. That everything would come to an end tonight.

______________________________

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[ash-clarington]

WHO: Ash & Dani ( @daniharperdominant ) WHEN: Sunday 2/7 WHAT: Punishment; Dani punishes Ash after their night out goes awry.  Warnings; shock collar

Explain what she was doing out loud before doing it or receive a shock from the collar secured to her neck, the point was extremely clear and Ash was annoyed. She'd spent the morning trying to pull herself together and get rid of her headache and thought she had prepared herself for a punishment, flogging, or some sort of endurance. She hadn't come expecting to expend so much energy into speaking. By the time Ash had rounded her way to the few dishes in the sink, forgetting to announce an item or so as she washed them Dani had shocked her enough times that her stubbornness gave way to her frustration and after an outburst or so the submissive finally calmed enough again to cooperate. When she began folding the laundry Ash found herself naming garments she folded with less and less thought toward reminding herself to speak and when she was done announcing how she was putting away the folded clothes she kneeled before Dani, eyes cast away. "I'm kneeling to ask if there is anything else you'd like done, Miss." A pause. "What would you like me to do next?"

Dani didn't like punishments.  She never had.  That was why she didn't take the class, and it was why she avoided them whenever possible.  But what Ash had done to her, the ugly position it had left her in, that required a punishment.  Hence the shock collar.  A day of forced communication might hopefully be the thing to help her remember what her obligations were - and the multiple shocks it had taken seemed a good indication that the punishment was necessary.  Her outbursts hadn't been surprising but Dani had been firm, making certain that they didn't derail the punishment for too long.  When she finished the laundry and knelt, Dani rested a hand on her shoulder.  "Good girl.  Just dusting is left, and you'll be finished."

The tight coil in Ash chest seemed to loosen at Dani's touch and the submissive's eyes pricked, getting teary under the praise or as the punishment's end came in view. Either way she kept her face down and nodded, then remembered and spoke her confirmation out loud. "Yes, Miss." Ash said, swallowing tightly around the words. The frustration and emotion from the night and morning were stirring back up in her. Remorse and guilt topping the list and making her stomach turn. Ash announced that she was going to stand to fetch the duster and proceeded to list off each of the surfaces she slid the microfiber over to dust, though there was hardly any actual dust around. Exhausted by the amount of effort she was putting into dutifully communicating with Dani, when Ash knelt again she really just wanted to give a nod and press herself against the Dominant's legs so that she could run her fingers through her hair or sooth at the irritated place on her neck where the collar's prongs touched her skin. Instead she kept her eyes down again and simply announced her that her task was complete.

Dani knew that Ash was exhausted.  Truthfully she was as well, but they only had a few things left to do and it could all come to an end.  She did a great job both with the dusting and the communication, and when she knelt again Dani smiled.  "Good girl.  Very good.  You did wonderfully.  Now let's get this off of you."  Reaching behind her, Dani released the shock collar and set it aside.  "I'm very proud of you.  You finished your punishment, and now it's all in the past.  You're forgiven.  Would you like to climb up on the couch and lay with me for a little while?"  She truly wasn't sure what Ash would want, but the offer was there.  Aftercare now would be doubly important, and one way or the other she would make sure that Ash got what she needed.

Ash lifted her chin eagerly to give Dani access to the collar's buckle and her hand immediately went to run over where the collar had been. Glad to be rid of it. She leaned closer so that her torso was pressed slightly to the Dominant's knees, her eyes jumping from fixating on Dani's hands to her collar, trying to force herself into eye contact and failing. Despite the punishment finishing out smoothly Ash's anxiety was still present and she wasn't taking in Dani's words well. She heard them of course but they just sounding like things people said and the submissive wasn't always sure how to accept forgiveness. Ash nodded but a second later, confirmed aloud. "Yes, please Miss." She climbed up and allowed Dani to lead their position, she just wanted to get as close as possible to the the Domme.

"There we go," Dani nodded.  She laid down on the couch and guided Ash to lie next to her, their bodies entwined just a little.  "I've got you," she promised.  "We don't have to go anywhere, we don't have to do anything.  When you need something, ask, but until then we're just going to lie here on the couch and relax."  Running her fingers gently through Ash's dark hair, she cast a slightly upset look at the mark left behind on her neck by the prongs of the shock collar.  It had been a drastic punishment, but she'd never been left quite as desperate and worried as she was when Ash had vanished under her care.  If it hurt a little, then hopefully it would be a good reminder that the submissive needed to consider others before she acted.  Ash could be mad at her if that was what it took, but Dani at least hoped the lesson would take.

Once settled Ash bury her face somewhere around Dani's shoulder and she exhaled slowly, trying to calm her thoughts. She did something bad, she was punished, and now Dani was stroking her hair. Slowly, the submissive lifted her gaze to examine the Dominant's face. Her eyes were soft, not angry or annoyed. Her lips weren't pressed together in disappointment. Ash only looked for a moment and then pulled her gaze away, the words that felt somewhat like they were going through motions beginning to settle in how Dani actually meant them. She took another steadying breath, and then. "You're not still mad?" Spoken slow and with an obvious hesitation.

Dani was careful with her expression - she knew the dangerous waters they were in, because Ash had dealt with an abusive Domme before and it was important that she know Dani wouldn't ever treat her like that.  Her fingers kept working slowly through Ash's hair and she shook her head, a caring smile on her lips.  "Not even a little bit.  You took your punishment and now it's over, and I'm not mad at all.  You're a good girl, Ash."

Dani's response earned an inquisitive gaze, Ash found herself lost for a moment looking at Dani. Her gears were turning as she struggled though heavier thoughts and a bit of a lag from her exhaustion. She felt like she had more questions but she also knew they were useless to ask. Dani was making herself very clear and Ash was tired of speaking. Zoning out for a moment the submissive thought back to the amount of punishments she'd had and then been sent to bed, only to endure more silent treatment the next day. She blinked a few times and when she realized she was still staring at Dani Ash forced herself to hold her gaze. Training herself out of the old rule of keeping her eyes lowered at all times had continued to be a struggle but Ash knew she was much better at it most times. Instead of looking away she closed them and pressed herself back against Dani, soaking in her warmth and the safe feeling of the Domme against her.  You're a good girl Ash. It felt like a lie but from Dani, it almost sounded true. "Thank you, Miss."

She didn't look away, not for a moment.  No matter how long Ash needed to stare at her to know that she meant what she said, Dani was okay with that.  So her fingers kept moving, slowly and steadily, and the pace of her breathing stayed just the same as her gaze stayed locked on Ash.  What she'd promised a moment earlier was the honest truth - if Ash needed to talk, to lie there, to just breathe, whatever she needed Dani would provide it.  When the dark haired submissive pressed more tightly against her, Dani tightened her grip just a little.  "You're welcome, Ash.  Just lie here and breathe with me, and when you feel ready to do something else we will.  Until then, lie here and know that I'm happy with you.  That you did a really great job today.  Let that knowledge live in your head."

[johobi]

Moonsent

Word count: 2.6k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: smutty content, dirty talk, talk of menstrual sex/cunnilingus, Jungkook sticking his nose where it definitely belongs

A/N: The first drabble drawn from the contest! I hope you enjoy it, @mayhembunny, and everyone else who is a fan of our werewolf/human couple. :)

Next: A Lycan Dignity || Tooth and Claw Masterlist

Sympathetic to the plight of the werewolves your kind have culled to near-extinction, life as a human informant has never been one of safety. However, when you catch the eye of an alpha, your situation only grows more perilous. 

Waking up by your body's own discernment and not some unwelcome, external influence was a luxury these days. The usual, militant door-rapping that assailed your ears each dawn was wonderfully absent this morning. Indeed, the sun had risen many hours ago. Perhaps it had even set. The light that illuminated your bedchamber was so unobtrusive it was difficult to discern the time. All that mattered to you, though, was that you had woken with crusty, rested eyes and a spring to your step.

Jungkook was noticeably absent; in presence, in warmth, and in another, arcane capacity. One you'd never have entertained possible before your mating. Once bitten, however, his venom had forged, between you, an umbilical tie. It tirelessly relayed to you his proximity and wellbeing, even instances of strong emotion. It was impossible to source just where inside you this thread began, and where it ended. All that was apparent was that it was of him, and he was as staunch a part of you, now, as any organ.

The tether was a satisfying thrum today. Jungkook was happy, and he was near. A smile cinched your cheeks upon feeling this. As to why he was gone so early from bed, and without prior warning, yes, you had questions. But he projected no uneasiness, and therefore the day was a good one. Moreso because he’d stoked the fires as you slept, ensuring you a comfortable awakening.

On mornings when den matters weren’t quite so pressing, he greeted you with the tip of his tongue. Today, however, golden light licked at your calves when your mate could not. The cabin crackled all round, ushering you into its similarly-lit kitchen. More of habit than conscious thought, the brass kettle was filled by your hand and lowered to the stove. You were present elsewhere, past the thin pane of glass you peered from. Outside was as cruel and cold as it always was, barely a detail detectable amidst the swathes of snow. It might have been pretty, were you a stranger to its unending imposition. As a resident - and rebel - however, it was nothing but a constant foil. Thankfully, for the time being, you were not out there. You were baking by the fire, swaddled in the scent and security of Jungkook's sizeable undershirt.

And he was home.

You sensed it long before the door hinges rattled. Your connection was so abuzz with anticipatory fever that it threatened combustion. While weak at distance, the tether was heightened when close. Sometimes unbearably so. And he was so close that you could smell him if you had his nose.

As prophesied, Jungkook blew in with a drift of snow that he banished immediately. The door was a stiff, gnarled old thing that was desperately in need of restoration. For you, manoeuvring it without the aid of Jungkook was folly. He, however, had no trouble shouldering it into its frame, like it was nothing more than wafer.

"Good morning. Or evening, or whatever it may be," you greeted with a grin to rival his. Why either of you wore such ardent expressions would likely be a mystery to any bystander. But for the two of you, it was simple. Love and desire curated every of your interactions. It bared your teeth with glee. And in Jungkook’s case, fangs.

His scarf came away with a tug. "It is morning." Jungkook was breathless by cold. Clouds encapsulated his words. "Late morning. And it was an extremely productive day. Things are happening, ____."

The kettle wound up to a shriek, snatching your attention. "What a shame I didn't get to be a part of that." Though turned away, your pout was palpable. "Why did you not wake me?"

"Darling," he started, and that alone thawed you quicker than the stream of steam buffeting your chin. "Every night I have put you through your paces—" elaboration wasn't necessary "—and every, early morning I have dragged you to den meetings. I thought it high time I allow you rest."

"I appreciate that,” and you do, you truly do. Because coupling with the beast of your dreams, often successively, does possess downsides. Well, perhaps only one. That being the resultant, occasional chafe. Some days you’re rawer than frostbite. "But you know how much I dislike being out of the loop."

"Then allow me to illuminate you." By the soft swishes of disrobement behind you, Jungkook had peeled himself of his rimy outerwear. "We've cemented the alliance. Pack Hux has agreed to join our efforts."

Teacups tumbled from your hands. "Truly?" Sullen act forgotten, you twirled to face him. Jungkook was advancing, prising the gloves from his frosted fingers. A sharp smile tugged apart his sore, chapped lips. God, he stole breath as well as the winter. Cold had brushed his cheeks ruby, and just the tip of his nose, too. "It seemed so unlikely."

"I know." The wolf swept a predatory eye along the bare lines of your legs. Feasted, black and hungry, on your provocatively jutted chest.

Was it provocation, though, or presentation?

Even now, it was difficult to ascertain. Militia life had instilled in you a sense of assumed authority. Jungkook’s indomitable will, however, was always so quick to dismantle you. And by then, the only thing of import was how best to make your pliancy, your Godsworn submission, known. He bade it of you without so much as opening his mouth. Well, perhaps only to lick his lips. That was all it took for you to offer up your belly to him. "...when one of your dens is pillaged like that. I imagine that had something to do with it.” A pause. “____? Are you listening?"

You didn't dare share your inattention with him, especially over a matter so important. Jungkook knew anyway. He smiled crooked, showcasing one, tapered fang. "A little distracted, are we?" The accusation was a throaty rumble that travelled your bones. He was so close, so rich in musk that is was dizzying. Jungkook stooped the distance, a hair's breadth between your mouths. "What were you doing while I was gone?"

"I—Nothing," you muttered, bewitched by the hunger haunting your mate’s eyes. His breath was hot, familiar, and ever welcome. "I was sleeping."

A tilt of his head. A click of his tongue. "I don't believe you." Jungkook grazed the words against your parted lips. "You smell like some sort of fucking heaven. I know you've been up to something, ____."

"I haven't," you murmured into his mouth, riveted by the carnal force he exuded. "I'm still recovering from last night."

"Oh?" All became ablur as he span your back to him. Icy fingers trawled your naked thighs, pulling goosegumps in their wake. Jungkook's palms weren't long before they were buried beneath your scant shirt, a firm, cool grasp on the tenderest part of your inner thighs. His thumbs converged, gentle, upon the curve of your cunt. "Because you're as slippery as a fresh catch." Jungkook's breathy mass bore down on your back, coaxing you into a position of deference. Smothered and sweating, you propped your rump high, led by an instinctual desire to be dominated. The strength of his patriarchal influence was that that your legs trembled, rather than spread, open.

Fuck, you craved him. Because only he could fill you, like food does a starving man.

"G-God, you're cold." Your teeth chattered in illustration. It was as much a moan as a protest, however, and Jungkook was nothing if not a man invested in both pleasure and pain.

"And you're enjoying it, love." His torso, as densely built as anything masonry could conceive, cladded your spine as he curved over you. In this intimate clinch he craned closer, affixing his lips to the column of your throat. You tilted your head aside to allow him the plot of skin he duly owned. Owned, loved, and laved, his nose upon your jugular and his tongue, his lips, sucking last night's marks darker. "Have no worry. I can get you hot rather quickly. Fuck, you smell so good," he purred, a curious, whiny noise not in keeping with his usual, gruff stoicism. "You smell like—" fangs dipped shallowly into your flesh "—like—" a familiarly intimidating mass swelled by your unclothed backside "—like me. Like mine."

The thudding at your centre resonated all the more for feeling his cock awaken. "I am that," you gasped a mouthful of your bedraggled bed-hair.

Jungkook's windburnt cheek pressed to yours in passing, possessed by his usual desire to scent you. With his nose at your temple, he sniffed through your hairline like a dog through the undergrowth. The vehemence of it tickled you, figuratively and physically, as his lupine quirks always did. A giggle rattled in your ribcage, summoning him back. Eclipsed eyes bore into yours, dark and deadly. "And what, pray-tell, is so amusing?" Your laugh was as soon a doleful whimper when he stuck you with his fully-fleshed cock, trapped by britches but menacing your cunt nonetheless. "Nothing will be quite so funny when you're brimming with spunk and, yet, begging for more."

A growl weaved through his glorious warning. And like the servile little slut you were, you beseeched him as best you could, with whispered pleas and a lewd rolling of your hips. "Mm, yes. Please."

That was all Jungkook needed to grasp you, plant you to his hips with two, calloused hands, his tented length surging along the slit of your pussy. So taut was he that you could perch upon it, feel the beat of its desire. No longer content with you prostrate over the counter, your mate yanked you upward and back, to crash against his broad body. Like sails in a squall, your arms tangled blindly about his neck, offering up your loosely-covered bust. He took it, of course. Jungkook snapped from your hips to your breasts, gathering your flesh into urgent fistfuls. Grunts of enjoyment warmed your jawline as he lapped at you there, but the noise you made was quite different.

You shrieked.

In a lightning's flash Jungkook had unhanded you, eyes dilated and wide with unknowing. "Did I hurt you?"

Your palms cupped your chest like it were fragile, fine china. "No—Well. A little, yes. It's not your fault. I've been very tender these last few days." Indeed, as you held yourself now, you felt fuller in form and proportionate in discomfort.

Panic unfounded, Jungkook was quick to bring your body back close. He did not reassert his dominance, however. Instead, he applied your front to his, a softer hand pawing at your breast. Beneath his firm but forgiving fingers, he pried from you a sigh of contentment. Something like confusion, perhaps concern, crinkled his brow. "You said nothing of this last night, nor the one before."

"You didn't grasp me quite so hard th-then." Your final breath faltered as he rolled you akin to dough in both his hands. Gentle mewling wound from your lips. "There's no need for concern."

A tangle of wild hair fell across Jungkook's eyes. They glinted beneath. "Oh, is it that time?" he marvelled aloud, breathing shallow. His excitement was palpable. Moreso when nosediving to the gully between your swollen breasts, not so much nuzzling them as losing the entirety of his face to them. As you gazed upon him, his lashes long and sweeping your skin, something more veracious than love stewed within you.

This wondrous man was yours.

It was on this thought that Jungkook reanimated, dragging a long, appreciative breath through his stifled nostrils. He opened his eyes onto you. "Do I finally get to see my mate bleed?" Rough, dry lips chafed questions against your flesh. "Feel her, red and fertile, on my cock? Perhaps a taste of her tang on my ready tongue?

Jungkook's debauched wishes were something he aired often, vehemently, and therefore bore little surprise now. No, you, too, wanted it as he did. Passionate, brutal; scenes of red and a broken bed. An encounter indistinguishable from that of his hunts.

Because the more you nurtured your bestial bond, the more you comprehended his kind. How fine the line between death and rapture. Between your blood and his. How you were one, circular soul.

Wait.

Engulfed in his reverent hold, a realisation trickled through. "I don't know," you whispered, gaze fixed on another time, on another plane. As you peered into the past, your fingers found anchorage in his hair, twisting themselves amidst his thick, unkempt mop. "I-I don't know if you will get to." God, your heart was a chariot of fire, galloping into the unknown. "I haven't bled for near two months."

This held no significance for Jungkook, who had the strings of your commandeered shirt between his teeth for your imminent disrobing. He directed an eyebrow upwards. "What? Is that abnormal for humans of age?"

"Possibly, but in my case it may be indicative of—" your hand coasted beneath Jungkook's embrace to settle upon your stomach. With every inch it descended, his eyes widened incrementally. "—something else."

And just like that, he was no longer holding you but a devout on his knees, awed by the miracle of your moon-blessed uterus. His fingers fell like feathers to your abdomen, never quite exerting the pressure of touch. "You smell like me. Not like me, but—" an excited whine stole the apex of his revelation. Had he a tail, it would likely be wagging. "—like wolf. You are with child. Children. Children!" he declared, to you, to the heavens, to the progeny he had sired. "Our children. Our pups—oh, ____, my moon. My love—"

Joyous and giddy, you lay a hand on the thew of his back. Tears collected in a deluge, ready to fall. "Is it really true?"

Disparate to his gentle handling of your body, the shirt you wore was treated with no such consideration. He tore it with tooth and claw, until there was but a little left hanging from your shoulders. From there you were bare, or with nature as he called it. And, creature of nature as he was, he looked most at home here, clasping your thighs so he could press his nose to your exposed cunt. He scented you for a long, indulgent while, his eyes flickering in and out of fierce contemplation. And then he stopped. Peered up, breathless, and so alive. "I smell it on you. In you. You're carrying my pups, ____."

Oh, how you sobbed. The dam buckled and cast you afloat. "Jungkook." His name was little more than a weak squawk, but it was all he required. After much neglect, he wrapped your torso with glorious heat, suffocating you with his brawn. He rained as many kisses as tears, the kind that allowed little time for breath in between. Only tongue, and saliva, and then his hands on the round of your ass, hoisting you high up his body. Your legs dangled feebly from his waist, at the mercy of his uncoordinated footing. Some minor collisions later, Jungkook saw you safely to the bed. There, he thanked you. Again and again, he thanked you.

The endless winter sorrowed all who endured it. But not you. Not here. Here was a hearth of love and hope. The seed of a union war could not spoil.

Next: A Lycan Dignity || Tooth and Claw Masterlist

[copper-wasp]

Claude von Riegan x Fem Byleth: Reunion

Just a short rewrite of their reunion post time-skip. Minor spoilers for the Golden Deer route!

Rating: T

Words: 1,477

Posted to AO3!

It was dark when Byleth fell, and equally as dark when she woke. Suffocating darkness. Until the one crack of light filtered in. She wanted to turn away from it, stay in the blackness, but Sothis’s voice pulled her up towards it.

“Must I do everything for you?” she had asked in a sing-song, taunting voice and if Byleth could have locked their matching eyes, she’d have rolled her set at the goddess.

“Wake up, dear heart,” she had said, “Wake.”

Byleth came to, drenched, with a friendly face in front of hers. She didn’t recognize the man, but he hadn’t killed her... yet, so she tentatively categorized him as an ally.

His clothes were dirty, and there was a sadness in his eyes that he tried to mask as he asked if she was okay. She nodded, squeezing the water out of her hair and her long sleeves. She stretched her stiff body, blood flowing slow as molasses in her veins, skin cold and clammy from being in the water.

“What are you doing in a place like this? Gotta say, I wasn’t expecting to find someone floating down the river when I woke up this morning,” the man asked, and Byleth willed her brain into submission, trying to remember anything, any details, but she was met with fog.

“The... the Monastery....” she mumbled, a hand to her forehead.

“The monastery’s been abandoned, remember? Almost five years now,” the man said, looking wistfully above her head.

Byleth’s eyes widened, “Five years? What do you mean five years?” Has she really been asleep for five years?

“Are you... sure you’re okay? Did you hit your head? It’s the Ethereal Moon, year 1185. Five years since the monastery fell to the Empire.”

Byleth wanted to sit down, but her body was uncooperative, legs stiff as she listened to the man talk.

“The Millennium festival was supposed to be tomorrow, but with the war and the Archbishop still missing, who has time to think about that, you know? I doubt anyone has enough blessings worth counting.”

Rhea is missing? Where could she have gone...? If she’s only missing, that means she isn’t dead. I have to find her. But not before I find him.

Byleth had heard enough. She forced her legs to turn herself away from the man, taking purposeful steps towards the Monastery.

“Hey! Wait! You aren’t going to the Monastery, are you? There’s thieves and brigands and all sorts of unsavory individuals there!”

“I’m sorry, but I have to go!” she called over her shoulder.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you! It’s not on my conscience if you wind up dead!” she heard faintly, still striding away from him. If I end up dead, she thought sardonically to herself.

Byleth knew she wasn’t invincible, but for some reason, Death had spared her yet again. She may have been asleep for five years, but she was not going to waste the gift that the goddess had bestowed upon her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The stab to her heart as she entered Garreg Mach was nearly unbearable. Abandonment shone on the face of every building in the village, grey and dusty. Flora had taken over when the humans had left, verdant and green and horrible. Looking skyward, she spotted the crumbling monastery, a dark stain against the neutral sky, no signs of life meeting her gaze.

Byleth forced her legs to move, willing the resistance out of them with each heavy step. She had to hold on to the hope that he was there, lighting up the ruin with that smile of his. Like he’d promised. Like she’d promised. There would be no point to any of this if he was gone.

The memories began to slowly creep back in as she made her way through the village; grocery trips with Ignatz, taking Raphael out to lunch and instantly regretting it, leaving with a substantially lighter purse, or Hilda forcing her to give her honest opinion on every new hair accessory she tried on. A bitterness was creeping in, that hatred for the Empire and their destruction sparking back into life, but Byleth hastily pushed those thoughts to the side, focused on one thing.

The stairs leading up to the monastery had never looked so daunting, except for perhaps when she had first arrived with Jeralt, a skilled but still naïve mercenary with little care for anything beyond herself and her father. Byleth had come to terms with his death a long time ago, but it was still another sin of the Empire, another unnecessary loss.

She took the first step. And another. Then a third, until she was nearly running, damp clothes airing out behind her. If he was here, he’d be in the tallest tower, closest to the sun. She hurried, trying to calm her nerves, while simultaneously pushing down her hopes that he was here. It had been five years, five years of war, while she was asleep, and anything could have happened. She feared the worst, but part of her knew he wouldn’t go down so easy.

She pushed open the door with a loud creak, eyes scanning the room. Byleth blinked hard when her eyes landed on his form, just to make sure he was truly there.

“Claude?” she said, probably a little too quietly, but he turned his head all the same.

“Hey,” he said, still looking at her from across the room. “You made it, Teach.”

Byleth could feel the tears welling in her eyes, and she dug her nails into her palms to help will them away. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words would form. Instead, her legs carried her to him, nearly at a sprint until she crashed into his open arms. Throwing her arms around his neck, he twirled her around effortlessly, his hands tight on her waist.

Byleth didn’t let go of him for a long while after he set her down, scared to look into his eyes. Instead she pressed her face against his unarmored shoulder, breathing in his scent, cloves and dust and something else that she imagined was sunshine. He was taller than she remembered, but then again, her memory was in as much of a ruin as the monastery, and she had to tilt her chin up to look at him when her courage finally returned.

The years had aged him wonderfully; gone were his round boyish features, replaced with sharp, distinctive lines. His hair was longer, but still unruly, pushed back as to not hinder his vision. His eyes were the same, though, sage green pools that Byleth had often caught herself staring into, whether Claude realized it or not.

He was smiling at her, letting her look him over, turning his head left and right so she could see all of him. Byleth stifled her grin, giving his shoulders a comforting squeeze. He still hadn’t let her go, warm hands keeping her close to him.

“I was starting to think no one else would show up,” he began, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “But I knew I could count on you. I... could always count on you. Whenever I need you the most, there you are.” He had a wistful look on his face, like all of his memories of the time they had spent together were rushing back at once.

Byleth wanted to tell him everything, ask him everything, but she couldn’t think of where to start. He must’ve read her expression, because she soon felt his hand on her chin, tilting it up gently to look at him once again.

“Byleth,” he said and her lips parted, sucking in a gasp of breath. He’d never called her by her name before. “Thank you.”

She wasn’t expecting him to press his lips against hers, and her hands tensed on his shoulders. She let her eyes flutter shut, Claude’s hand moving to her neck, his thumb brushing soothingly over her jaw. She knew it was just her imagination, but she could’ve sworn his lips tasted like tea; Almyran Pine, his favorite. Byleth let her fingertips play with the ends of his hair, stepping even closer into his embrace. She hooked a hand around his waist, tilting her head to fit her lips perfectly against his. The final piece of the puzzle, nestled in perfectly next to its mate.

The sun shifted, a line ray breaking over the top of the rubble, shining against their faces. Claude broke away, nuzzling his nose against Byleth’s before giving her one last sweet peck.  

“Would you like to join me for some tea, Teach?” he asked with a smile, and Byleth smiled back. For a moment there wasn’t a war, the merchant of death had put away his scythe, and there was only the two of them.

“I would love that, Claude.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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