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dropsnectar · 2 months ago

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Fawning Rose: Vine Monster x GN!Reader

The Adventures of an Elven Herbalist Part One

NSFW or NSFT

This is my first time writing anything in 6 years so keep that in mind. Also my first smut fic. Or monster fic. I literally learned about the sexual parts of plants for this fic. Don't know how I got here but this was fun! btw if you don't like oviposition, I marked the parts with three !!! before and after that scene, so you can skip it if you want.

WORD COUNT: 3167, or 7 pages on Docs

It had been a long journey from your home country, having to cross an entire sea to get to the sleepy elven town of Hairevick. An Herbalist, you could craft pills to treat a human flu, create a poultice for a dwarves sore, work-tired limbs; even brew potions to help a beastmen ease out of a mating season-- but it was still lonely. Their were no elves about, except for the rogue eccentric nomad.

Feeling as you had fully mastered your craft in that area, and curious about your kind, you set forth in hopes of bettering yourself. However, when introducing yourself to your neighbors, you found everyone to be polite, but detached. As far as elves went, you were quite young, and the people of Hairevick were elder and not so trusting of outsiders. But worse of all, everyone here seemed to have an excellent knowledge of the local flora and fauna, and their uses in maintaining health. There was no need for an herbalist, especially one so unfamiliar with their lands.

You spent the entire week mourning your state over glasses and pints of botanical alcohol-- The local tavern drinks were amazing!-- until you finally met a sympathetic face.

He had long silver hair and the wisp of a ginger beard around his sharp jaw; a peculiar trait. He greeted you friendly enough, asking how you were settling in. It turned out that he owned a store in town, selling odds and ends. He even had a little apothecary in the corner, where those who couldn’t be bothered to make a forest run would buy herbs and tinctures.

Starved for companionship, you bombarded him with questions about clients, and local herbalism. He was jovial, and after quite a few dregs of honey yarrow grog, offered you a book on the local flora. After some midnight bonding over stories of patients, he gave you a proposition.

He was having some issues procuring some materials from a special plant, a Fawning Rose. It had incredible healing properties, but a bad habit of uprooting itself and fleeing from anyone who wasn’t a youth. If you could lure it out and bring back anything, be it petals, roots, greens, he would pay you handsomely. Maybe even give you some lessons on how to work with local plant life.

It was for this reason that you found yourself two days into a trip to the heart of the Haire Wilds bordering town. It was not going well.

***

The cool air caressed your skin as you entered the grove. You had caught a peculiar sweet smell, somehow floral and buttery at the same time, and had followed it with hope filling your heart. The scent had gotten so thick you could taste it, strong as a tea on your tongue. Blue wildflowers covered the ground, interrupted by the common tree route or vine.

Your eyes followed the vines or small roots, colored a sage with a speckled gradient to midnight blue. They traveled up into the middle of the grove. Sunlight, so rare this far into the Wilds, fell down in large delicious specks from the trees. They refracted off a large flower, almost two yards in width. Its petals were raspberry pink, turning blood red in the middle. Vines from its base led upwards and rested on the low boughs of the nearest trees, framing the flower and its various young buds like some sort of ethereal art study.

You grew excited, feet tripping over roots as you ran forward, losing a shoe. You lost balance again and landed face first into the crook of a particularly large vine and hit your head. Hard.

Hot pain crashed through you, making you curse as you steadied yourself. You tried to get up but the heat struck your temple like lightning as you moved upwards. Alright. Best to stay down then.

As you waited, you were able to see past the stars in your eyes and notice a slight powdery substance on the vines. It, too, was pink.

Maybe it was the thrill of finally finding the damn thing, or the head injury, but you felt different. You could hear your heart pumping hard in your chest, pleasantly tight. Your breath was ragged, the air pushing a hard, chilling heat through you.

Like a particularly good run, your mind registered. A high.

Your limbs started to tingle at the tips.

The rose’s perfume felt more like a mist now. You were only a few feet away from the base flower, and the scent had turned heady. Your hunger from a missed meal seemed to be surfacing, goaded on by the delectable smell the plant was giving off. While the pain eased and the stars disappeared from your eyes, you noticed that the lightheaded fuzzy feeling stayed.

Uh oh. Not a concussion.

You had to work hard to bring the fear into your mind. There was very little anyone could do to help you out here. The best you could do was not move around too much, and hoped the Fawning Rose would cooperate.

Suddenly, you notice some movement from the roots under your palms.

No no no not now! Please, I haven’t harvested you yet! You thought as you tried to scramble up.

The roots moved upwards with you, shoving you onto your side. Sliding around your feet, one took your other shoe with it as it slithered about under you. Another seemed to upend itself and squeeze cooly between your toes. You jumped a bit, but your gaze and mind were slow.

Something thick gilded itself on your shoulder making you look up. Vines, three, four, five of them descended and started rubbing themselves against you like cats. The movement was kicking up clouds of the pink pollen, making you sneeze as you wiggled against the plants outer limbs.

A part of you was horrified, thinking that perhaps you had scared the thing off. After all, you had been warned that this type of rose was particularly skittish. But the plant did not seem to be gathering itself to run away, rather it was pulling you closer to itself, the dragging tearing at the underside of your clothes.

Try as you might, you couldn't seem to think. Foggy, fuzzy, your mind was like cotton. The tingling in your fingertips has spread through your body, and an embarrassed part of your brain noticed your lower body was starting to awaken too. A warmth was beginning to pool in your gut, slow and lazy. Tingly. Fuzzy, like your head.

The vines continue to rub against your body, tearing the rest of your clothes away until only skin remains. They were relentless, cool against your hot skin. Their outer layers were textured but still smooth; a foreign sensation but extremely exciting. It felt almost like something was licking you, the powder giving a wet feel as it spread itself all over. Liquid heat glazed the innermost parts of you, much to your embarrassment.

Aphrodisiac. You finally registered. You started to curse out that damned store keeper.

You’d been played.

You were now at the base of the flower, with even more roots and vines cradling and moving over your body. You were… pushed? Pulled? A foot into the air, close enough so that some of the smaller buds were leaning over you, as if they were getting a good look at you. You felt a knowing, a presence from this plant now. It really was looking at you.

Some desperate part of your mind, far far back in your mind, tries to set off danger bells. That you needed to get up and run.

Ooze started to secrete from the smaller buds, and the already overpowering scent of floral butteriness seemed to multiply. It dripped out onto your belly, warm and tingling, then your chest, your inner thigh, even a bit on your cheek.

The syrup dribbled down into the planes of your mouth as you wriggled under the vines. A particularly mischievous one pushes through the plush cheeks of your ass and moves up, poking at your entrance, causing you to gasp.

The liquid touches your tongue. It tastes just as it smells, deliriously delicious. Sweet. Hot. It was divine compared to the little rations you’ve been eating the last few days. Like youd been starving and had sudden.ly been given free reign of a pastry shoppe. But no pastry could top this silky butteriness

What little heat that had kindled inside you was now a roaring flame, putting your past arousal to shame. You groan, and pull your head up, sticking your tongue out for more. A part of you is screaming to stop and run, but it is a stupid part that is buried instantly under your sudden overwhelming need. You are desperately horny, and you deserve to feel good after all the trouble you've been through lately.

Still sticking out your tongue, you start to moan even louder as the vine messages your entrance with its thick girth. At the same time, one of the buds above your face seems to notice your desperation, and leans down to your lips.You lick at its plush petals and sweet sweet nectar seeps into your mouth. It tastes much like a floral pastry and you suck greedily as it pushes itself deeper in.

The petals are so soft, yet still firm in your mouth as a river of nectar floods your throat. You giggled around it as it started to take its full effect. You felt light as air, so good.

The vines had moved over to allow a bud to circle itself around your most sensitive part. You gasped out as it started to suck you, making stars flood your already glistening eyes. Your wet lashes fluttered as it began to suck wave after wave of pleasure out of your body.You had never felt so good, you noted somewhere in your sex drunk mind. The whole time, the bud leaked nectar, completely soaking all parts of your groin.

The nectar left your skin feeling sensitive, and completely soaked. This seemed to please the vines, which continued to massage the oil about you, then finally push in. You cried out at the sensation. Drool started to pool out of your mouth, mixing with the nectar.

The vines rubbed lazy curving lines around your walls, making your hips jerk and shake. They seemed to know what they were doing as they started out slow for a time, then sped up their pace, thrashing about inside you. You clench around them, overwhelmed by the unyielding sensation. The pooling heat in you was building high, and you could tell the walls were about to break.

A rogue, mischievous bud had decided to examine your hole, tracing around your entrance in lazy circles. The petals were so soft, softer than skin. The texture made you feel desperate. As if to read your mind, the bud stopped. It must have been blooming because you felt little feelers, probably stamans, tracing about your genitals, wet with its lovely, delicious pollen.

You swore and whined and pleaded for more as the vines fucked you through it, voice garbled by nectar. Another, thicker vine veined in indigo added itself to its companions and you finally came. The rush was like being tossed in the ocean, a shock that completely enveloped your entire body in cold, pulsing ecstasy. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your juices spilled down on the forest floor below.

The echoes of the waves of pleasure were still rocking through you when the vines surrounded your body started to move you upwards again. The vines were slow and delicate as they handled you, as if you were precious cargo. You were brought upwards, almost as if they were about to set you on your feet. Your neck was out, as you were still suckling the addicting flower liquid.

You noticed through your long damp hair that you were positioned just over the center of the Fawning Roses main flower. A drop of nectar slipped out from inside you and dribbled down and onto the flower's green pistil. The stigma was thick, with four fat lumps at the top. The stamen surrounding it swayed, almost as if there was a breeze. Their magenta anthers rained down more pollen, causing a beautiful gradient against the deep red at the middle of the large petals. It was a truly breathtaking sight.

A single vine wiggled towards your face and pushed back your hair. You found the gesture almost sweet, leaning into its touch. You remained like that for a time, before the vines started to lower you on to the stigma.

No no no, you tried to whisper, some understanding dawning; but the bud was being aggressive with its feeding, pushing further in your mouth. It had a job, and its job was to make you so desperately horny and stupid, you’d let this flower breed you.

The stigma was a hard fit at first. Its lumpy texture felt so good rubbing against you, you couldn’t help but hump back into it. The vines around you squeezing your skin, tilting your hips this way in that, trying to make the fit. The surrounding stamen started to rub their anthers against you, two started focusing on your nipples. You continued to hump the stigma, smearing the nectars from your groin all over it. Then, finally, finally, You were able to squeeze it in.

The vines had taken over the humping for you now, pushing you down harder and harder onto the pistil. The lumps dragged against your walls in such a beautiful way, that you screamed out babbling whines. Your skin was covered in nectar and bright pink pollen. Every part of you was being squeezed, rubbed, oozed upon with tingling liquid, that you weren’t even sure you had a body anymore, just pleasure. After you came for the fourth time, you started to feel a pulsing within the pistil. It was like the thing seemed to grow within you.

! ! !

Ridges started to squeeze against your entrance, rubbing against your walls. They moved up, up, up, into the deepest parts of you. There was a sudden burst of warmth, then something small and squishy. You marveled at the texture, as the flower continued to lower you down on the pistil, now at a slower pace, in smaller movements. You ached so badly, but the new sensation of the objects and warmth inside you made you wanna keen louder. They felt sort of like eggs.

Seedpods. You registered lazily. You were being turned into a seedbed.

This realization only seemed to turn you on even more. They felt so good, rolling about inside your walls. The warmth they brought rivaled the cool temperature of the pistil, a delightful duality.

You moaned with every bulge, push, then pop of warmth and heaviness. It was getting to the point now where the vines were pulling you up off the pistil to make more room for the seeds.

! ! !

You were cumming so much now you lost count. It was getting to the point that you were just continuously orgasming, as the seeds and the pistil dragged against your most sensitive parts.

You may have been like that for hours, days even, the nectar kept you so dizzy you couldn’t tell time. But at some point you were so full that the pistil seemed satisfied. The wriggling stamen around you stilled, and the vines carefully lifted you off the pistil, giving one last drag within your walls.

The bloom inside your mouth slowly dragged itself out, making you whine in protest. The vines carefully laid you down at the foot of their roots, arranging your body in a comfortable position. The vines slowly retreated from your body. They lazily moved about, sometimes knocking into each other in a way that was almost comical. Their movements seemed lazy, almost like it too was spent.

As the last vine left your skin, it caressed your cheek. Within you some affection of your own seemed to bloom. The haze that was in your mind was starting to dull, and replaced itself with the need to rest. Your heavy eyes closed and you gave into sleep.

***

You awoke without opening your eyes. You could feel that the curving mound of roots you’d been sleeping on had been replaced with fluffy grass and soil. The smell of freshly tilled earth flooded your nose, and you jolted upright, eyes wide.

The grove was quiet, and empty of the Fawning Rose. All that was left behind was you, the upturned soil it had left behind, and light dusting of pink pollen on the trees. Even the sweet pastry-like smell had left the grove.

You looked down at your naked, sore body and groaned. You could see a trail of bruises from where the vines had gripped you, along with dried out nectar and tons of pink pollen. Your stomach puffed out a bit more than normal, meaning all of this had NOT been a dream. Much to your surprise, nothing hurt though. Your body felt great, healthily spent like you had just run a marathon. Considering how hard you had been working there should have been some pain, but there wasn’t. Just the pleasant pressure of the seedpods against your insides.You recall the conversation with the shop owner at the tavern. Looks like this is the flower's healing abilities at work.

You continued to search around the grove. Your clothes were still in shreds on the forest floor, but your bag was safely tucked under one of the trees the flower had rested its vines in. With some effort, you managed to get yourself off the ground to pick it up, waddling the whole way.

The pollen was still working its magic on you, but you guessed you had been exposed to it long enough to build a slight tolerance. Or maybe the growing rage within you was doing the trick. You pulled out one of the many glass bottles, and a silver knife. You went to work, scraping the dried nectar and pollen off your body, into the jars.

I’m gonna charge that asshole so much money, his kids will be poor. You seethed as you spent hours getting your money's worth off of every plane of your body. You’d have to birth those seed pods later too. Your insides grew warm at the thought.

You tried not to think about how you were going to have to walk home naked, where you’d been and what you’d been doing laid bare upon your skin. It’d be free advertising tho, you tried to reason.

You'd make a killing. Aphrodisiacs were rare, and extremely expensive, especially to a crowd of immortals. I think I'll sell these seed pods on my own though. You smiled.

You’d make sure to be properly prepared the next time you went into the wilds.

Might do a part two, maybe with slimes next time? Also sorry about any switching of tenses, I have a hard time with that! Hope you guys enjoyed!

#monster x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #monster #vines #tentacles #monster x gn reader #teratophillia #terat0philliac #tentacle smut #vine smut #monster smut #ovipositor

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the-froschamethyst4 · 11 months ago

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Tentacles

𖤐Pairing: Octo!König x Witch!Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐AN: I mean imagine König a 6’10 God of a man the size of a flapjack octopus that is 50cm. I mean come on, it’s perfect

𖤐Warnings: Smut, fluff, language, slight harassment, P in V, tentacle play, kinky, boob grabbing, nipple play, ass grabbing, slight choking, kissing, biting/nipping, obsessions, flirting,

𖤐Summary: König was the familiar to Witch Y/n, and he is OBESSED with her in every way possible always by her. never leaving her side for any reason, is her protector, and has gotten a little to comfortable

————

Y/n was the village's Witch, people came to her to seek potions made by her some that are good and some that can lead into problem. Y/n refuses to do any sort of potion that causes death, that is not something she wants on her record.

Her familiar König who was a little flapjack octopus rested on his favorite spot. On Y/n chest aka her right breast. He's too touchy and to clingy but there's nothing for Y/n to do but just except fate.

Her chest and her butt are his favorite places to be.

"Hello, Y/n."

"Oh, Soap, it's lovely to see you again," Y/n says looking at Soap as König growled at him. For some reason König didn't like Soap, she didn't understand why. "Hey, now," Y/n tries to pull König off her chest but he didn't want to move till Y/n started to tickle just under his tentacle. He ended up releasing and she moved him into his tank.

Where he sits pouting.

"What can I do you for Soap?"

"I need a spell."

"You know I can help," she smiles at him.

König made an angry clicking sounds crossing his tentacles over his body.

"I don't see why you have an octopus, Y/n, don't Witch's usually have cats, foxes, grogs and rats?" Soap says, tapping on König's tank. König made some more angry clicking sounds and started to tap on the tank back but a bit more angrily.

"Only in the stories, Soap," she says. "What kind of spell?"

"A love spell."

"Someone you want to impress?" She asked.

"Maybe," he smirks leaning on the counter as Y/n did her magic, moving her black Witch hat out of her face, 14 years of being a Witch and her damn hat still barely fits her head.

"I can only do so much with a love spell, you know this."

"I know, you did it for Price," Soap says.

"So, you know the side effects to it and you know that it can be a hit or miss?"

"Yes, Y/n I know," Soap had turned and didn't see the small black octopus in his tank, he slowly turns around and sees him back attacked to Y/n's chest and clicking at him.

"Behave...I don't understand why you don't like him, König," Y/n says.

König clicks and turns to look up at Y/n who placed her hand on top of his head.

"He's a bit clingy isn't he?"

"Nothing, I can do," she says as she starts bottling up the liquid and placing a cork to block the top and putting a label on it. "There you go, Soap, have a good day."

"You too, Y/n."

"König, come on, you need to get back in your tank, you'll dry up," she takes him off her chest a lot more easier this time and placing him in his salt water tank just behind the counter of her shop.

Next thing she knew someone new walked in.

"Hello." She greets with a smile.

"You must be the infamous Witch of the Kingdom."

"I must be...what can I do you for?"

"Interesting octopus, he's a bit small though."

"He's a flapjack octopus, what can I do you for?" She repeats.

"I need a spell."

"Okay, what kind? I special in many," she says, taking out a notepad and pen. Y/n has learned that there is many different people that come and go from her shop, she has also learned to never get annoyed with customers.

"I need a death spell." König jumps at the man lows voice, Y/n looks up at him and shakes her head.

"Unfortunately, I don't do death spells...it's uncalled for."

“What a waste of my time then,” he walks out and once away from her shop, Y/n quickly get out from behind the counter and locks up for the night, turning her open sign to close and shutting the curtains.

"Come on, König," She placed her hand in his tank and he attached his tentacles to her hand.

Y/n has been working on a little project and it's to make König human, well at least part human, he'll still have some of his octopus features.

She placed him on a little plush pillow just in front of her cauldron. She adds some herbs and a few potions she had to make on the side for this work.

She's tried it at least 4 different times and none worked, so hopefully 5th time is a charm? She stirs the wooden spoon adding a few of those potions in and stirred some more.

König leaned over the big pot seeing the liquid inside go from dark green to a baby blue color.

"That seems right," she grabs her book. "When the liquid is changed from dark green to a baby sky blue, the potion is ready." The other times they'd be blue but never work properly.

She pulls her wooden spoon from the liquid and poured some into a small bowl for König.

"Here, König," she says, he climbs up on the side of the bowl, he sticks his beak in and gets a few sips. "How do you feel, King?" She asked him.

He just looks up at her and clicks in confusion on what's suppose to be happening.

"It didn't work..." Y/n placed the bowl in the sink and looked down at König. "Sorry, bud."

He just clicks at her as a way to apologize and say it's not her fault.

Now, the reason on why Y/n is trying to turn König human is mainly for safety reasons. Y/n had caught herself into some trouble with some old customers of hers and would like to have some sort of protection, so why not have König be able to change into a human whenever he can.

Of course König had given her the clicks of consent as she likes to say when she wants to experiment on him.

"I'm beat, let's head to bed," she says, taking him upstairs to her home just above her shop. König of course resting on his favorite spot on Y/n. Purring in a way to let her know she was happy. "I'm my boob is your comfort place, König," she said, sounding 'annoyed'.

Y/n was doing her usual nightly routine, brushing her teeth, taking a shower with the company of König placing himself on her butt and crawling up to her chest to rest in his spot.

"Shampoo will get on your skin König, I don't want you drying up on me," she tries to pull him off but no use, where König is, he stays.

Y/n continued like normal and got on her pajama set, König was on her heels where ever she walked, he was behind her, suction cups sticking to the floor any time he walked behind her or anywhere.

Y/n could tell where he was just by listening to the sound of suction cups sticking and unsticking to the wooden floors of her home.

She got in bed and König moves under the covers attaching himself to her plush right thigh.

"You need to go to your tank, King, you can't be out all night, we go through this every night," she says, getting him off her thigh and placing him in his little tank just on her nightstand close to her bed, so he could see her.

"Good night, King."

Click, click, click

--------

Y/n was asleep her pillow between her arms as a bit of drool came from her mouth. König swam around just a little bit in his tank, a bit bored, he wanted to be on the bed with her, but he knows that Y/n hates waking up to a small puddle on her bed from him.

He placed his tentacles on the rim of him tank and pulled himself up, moving down the edge of his bowl getting to the wooden nightstand, he moves off the nightstand to the floor.

He felt a bit...off

He saw how tall Y/n's bed was and that he'll need to scale the walls to get back up there again, but the reason why he was out of the tank was because of him feeling a bit off.

He felt weak in a way, he could barely move, he curled up in a small ball on the ground next to Y/n's bed.

Y/n had woken up to a small sloshing sound, she sits up and looks at König's tank seeing it was empty.

"King?" She questioned, she looked on the ground seeing some small water droplets on her wooden floor. "König, are you up?" She questioned.

She walked around the corner still tracking the puddles, she then saw how they got bigger and then turned into a-

"Footprint?" She looks up and the corner they led to. "King?" She asked.

Click, click, click, click

"König, come on out...what happened, bud?" She asked as he came out of the shadow and she saw how tall, and muscular he was.

"W-Woah," she steps back a little, he face was covered by a black shirt with red coming from him eyes, like how he normally looked it he was an octopus but his body ALL human.

He walks towards her confused and doesn't know what to do, she places her hand out on his bare and buff chest.

"Hang on, bud, let me get a good look at you first," she says, moving around him, her hand touching his side to keep him still. "Your human, bud," she said, sounding excited.

Click, click, click

"I know, I know, but...we did it, we finally got you to be human," she says with a smile. She takes his hands and looked at them examining them.

"Your hands are so big," she says as his face became hot and bothered. "This is amazing," she says.

---------

Y/n was still examining König even after a few hours, she had given him a towel to wrap his lower half for now, before she can get him some clothes.

"OH KING! I need to go get some more ingredients for potions, I need you to stay here for now do you understand?"

Click, click, click

"It's okay, I'll be fine, you stay here, you're not properly dressed, I don't want you to get arrested, it's gonna be hard to explain that you are a familiar that turned human," she grabs her purse. "I'll be right back, okay!" She cups his chin and kissed his cheek.

König narrowed his eyes and he was DETERMINED to follow Y/n. He concentrated on turning back into an octopus and surely, he did, he lands on the wooden floor but not before the towel he wore fell on him.

Click, click he says in frustration.

Y/n was so happy that he was finally human, she needed potion ingredients and look for clothes for him as well.

"Well, well, if it isn't, Y/n."

"Soap!" She smiles.

"Where's your octopus?"

"Oh he's at home, he didn't listen to me about drying out, so now he's at home in his tank as a punishment," she lied.

"Ah, I see," Soap moved closer to Y/n, his hand on her waist.

"Soap?"

"Since, he's not here, can I ask you something? Seems like every time I try to talk to you, König gets in the way."

"He's just trying to protect me."

"Normal octopus's aren't that protective."

"Well, he's not a normal octopus, he's a familiar and familiars have different mind sets then a normal animal," Y/n tries to explain. She steps away from Soap, his hand moving off her side.

"He's still a bit annoying," he says.

"Soap, please stop disrespecting my familiar."

BAM

Y/n had looked up and saw a tall familiar man standing between her and Soap.

"King?" She whispers. His hand had slammed down on the table in front of Y/n and Soap. She sees that he had found some clothes.

"Can you move?" Soap says. He doesn't know this is König.

"König," Y/n says sternly. Within seconds König had transform back into his octopus-self. Y/n sticks her hands out catching him mid-air and placing him on her shoulder.

"König?!" Soap yells. "You turned him human?"

"I did, I did it so he can protect me from idiots," she says, giving Soap a stern and serious look. "Good day, Soap," she walked away, König turned to look at Soap and stuck his tongue out at him.

"King, I wish you didn't come out, you could have gotten hurt-"

"HEY WHERE IS HE!!? WHERE'S THE THEIF THAT TOOK MY CLOTHES!!?" A man came running pushing through the crowd looking for none other than König.

"Seriously, King?" She says, he clicks and shrugs. "Excuse me, sir?"

------

"Don't steal, I thought I taught you better than that?" König turns back in his human form and clicks into trying to explain himself. "I understand you need clothes, but I was going to get you some."

He watches Y/n move around the shop, she was about to open her shop but König had quickly moved behind her and pushed himself against her, holding her waist and stopping her from turning her sign.

"K-König," he lifts his mask and his tentacles they were longer not like his normal tentacles, cupped her chest and went around her neck. "Hey, w-what are you doing?" She asked.

He clicks and turned her around, he picks her up and slams her back against her door.

"Where in the hell did you learn this?" She questioned.

Secretly König had seen a few couple get in the alleyway between Y/n shop and the shop next door, he has watched a few...get it on perse and he's learned from the views.

He clicks in response, his tentacles still messed with the strings on the back of her dress wanting it off, Y/n didn't realize he was messing with them till she felt it go lose around.

"Hey, King-" his tentacles went to her waist and down to her butt, he lifts the side of her dress exposing her plush thighs and her thighs being squeezed by her thigh-high socks.

He walks to her counter placing her back on the hard wood. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands on his hard chest except her right hand messing with one of his tentacles.

His face was red and he loved when her small hand was messing with him.

"König...do you even know what you are doing?" he just shakes his head 'no' and made some clicking sounds. "It's okay...you can stop whenever."

Y/n had no idea that König that he has been waiting for this moment for so long. He messes with his belt and slips his pants down to his ankles, his hands went to her waist this time, pushing the bottom of her skirt up and looked at her black panties.

König's head moved to the side of her face and kissed her neck, his rough hands squish her.

"H-Holy," she moans.

He pushed the side of her panties with one of his tentacles, another one stuck to her inner thigh, close to her clit and then one was being pushed into her.

She lets out a soft moan, her legs and arms squeezed around him. "You lie," she says as he clicks, he looks down at her eyes seeing tears wanting to fall. He felt bad but he learned that sometimes it takes a while for someone to get use to someone's size.

She then felt something else being pushing inside of her. She looks down and seeing that it was him, his dick, she could see her stomach was bulging. She sees something moving inside of her which was his tentacle.

"W-Woah!" She moans. He starts moving his hips slowly, her head flew back and she let out some soft moans then the tears fell. König leaned forward taking the tears away from under her eyes and kissing her cheek and neck.

He then started to pick up the pace, her arms squeezing around him, her eyes squeezing shut because of the pleasure.

König then started to remove his shirt giving Y/n and good view of his built.

"H-How can you b-be so b-buff?" She asked as he just shrugs, I mean it's not like he worked out as an octopus, the closest thing to working out for him was picking up an empty glass potion bottle.

Y/n cups König's face and lifted the shirt that covered his face seeing his tentacles scrunch up like they were afraid of the light. She takes one and moves her dress scrunched down to her waist and placed his tentacle on her chest.

Some more came out and squeezed her boobs and one pinching at her nipples. She moans and she squeezed herself around his dick and tentacle.

Y/n let him do what ever he wants to her body, his pinches, kisses, nips, at her skin. He placed his hands on her waist and then placed his hand on the bulge in her stomach, he starts moving a bit faster earning some breathy moans from her.

"F-Fuck," Y/n moans. Her hands went to his arms as they were buff and she could feel a few veins in his arms. Her hands then went up his arms to his hard chest and down to his toned body. "H-Holy shit," she moans.

König sees her face and loves seeing her in so much pleasure and loves hearing her soft moans. Y/n could feel herself about to cum, König was close to, his thrusts were becoming sloppy.

KNOCK, KNOCK

"Y/N!? Are you in? It's me, Soap, I wanted to come and apologize," Y/n's eyes widened and König started to make some angry clicking sounds, she cups his face.

She walks to the door just cracking it, she hold her dress back against her chest as König was hitting her now from behind. His hands on her waist, thrusts still sloppy, his tentacles going to her waist, thighs and going between her wet folds.

"You okay? Can I come in?" Soap asked.

"N-No, König is...reeking havoc right now, and you k-know how he is with you," Y/n says. She tries to hold back some moans.

"Your face-"

"What's w-wrong with my face?" She questioned.

"I mean it's all red...are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm..."

"Sick?"

"YES! I am sick, I should go back in and warm up, thanks for stopping by Soap."

"But I wanted to say-" Before Soap could officially apologize König had slammed the door shut. He picks up Y/n taking her back to the counter, he was being rough with her now, manhandling her and bending her back over the counter.

Soap heard some crashing going on inside the shop. He goes around the corner and could just barely see Y/n.

Her head was turned away from the window, Soap could see her hair and her arms resting on the counter. He looks and saw someone tall behind her and saw it was the guy from earlier.

He could see her being dicked down by this guy, his eyes traveled up the guy and could see him staring back at Soap. But it was more of a serious look like 'you wish this was you?' König lifted his mask and showed off his tentacles and Soap knew who this was now.

"König?" He whispers as he drops his mask and went back to pleasuring Y/n. Her moans were soft as far as Soap could hear.

Y/n felt herself about to cum and with a few more thrusts from König she ended up coming on his dick, with a few more he ended up coming as well, he pulls out just in time and came on her lower back.

"K-König," she moans, but she didn't feel that tall presents anymore instead she felt his tiny body running all over her till he made it to her breast. "Seriously?" She says as he made himself comfortable on her chest.

-------

Y/n was in the bath, König still resting on her chest, he clicks when Y/n start to wash her body, her hands traveling all over herself and he watched intently like he was seeing when the next time they did this to learn more of her spots.

Once Y/n was done and drained the tub from it's soapy water, she placed König in his small tank next to her nightstand and started to change into some pajamas.

He clicks and taps the glass of his tank wanting to be out, he knows he can escape but he watched Y/n's naked body move around the bedroom putting on some panties, silk shorts and a silk top, her nipples poking from her shirt.

König jumps out of his tank and makes his way to Y/n's bed.

"King, you're making the bed all wet," she groans but he didn't care he went to his favorite spot under her shirt and laid there all night and his little tentacles pinching at her harden nipple.

"King, I will put you back in your tank if you don't stop pinching," she threatens.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #konig mw2 #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig

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atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

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Hiya! I love your writing so much it's amazing. Can I request Joel and Reader! smut? Maybe angry s3x? I loveeeee grumpy Joel. They would def be primal and rough and fast about it too...oof. I'm not too good at coming up with plotlines haha

Anyways thank you so much if you do! :3

oof, this was fun to write

gif by @tightjeansjavi

Menace

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

When Joel refuses to join her at the bar, she has a good time by herself. But he just can't stay away.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, rough sex, little angst, little fluff, mostly just smut tho

...........................

If Joel were here right now, she knows he wouldn’t like the looks of things one bit. Not because she’s in any sort of danger, the only real danger at the Tipsy Bison is whatever that cheap grog is that they keep stewing in the back. No, what Joel wouldn’t like to see is her having a good time, for once, without him. And that’s exactly what she’s doing.

It’s a Friday night in Jackson, a town in which she can actually enjoy the luxury of having a real Friday night after a long week of patrol shifts. Joel, in all his brooding glory, had rejected her invitation to go out to the bar, telling her that all he wanted was some “fucking peace and quiet.” She hadn’t let that get her down, though, scoffing at his petulant grumbles and heading out by herself. And she was having a damn good time too.

“Goddamn, girl. Giving me a run for my money.” She grins at the man, idly spinning her cue stick in her hands as she walks along the pool table.

“You better shape up then, or you’re gonna owe me another drink.” The man throws his head back in a laugh at that, his eyes crinkling up as he looks at her. His name is Teddy, one of the younger men around town who also works patrol shifts. She had a shift with him earlier in the week, and he had been warm and welcoming to her, still pretty new to the swing of things. It doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s flirting with her, and she’s happy to play along for now, knowing she’s got her grump of a man waiting for her back home, probably snoring in bed already. Love is strange, but she is Joel’s and he is most certainly hers, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. But for now, a little banter with this sweet boy isn’t going to hurt anyone.

“Watch and learn, Teddy. I’m gonna show you how it’s done.” The man whistles low as she bends over the table, lining her cue stick up with her target. So what if she’s hamming it up a bit? Shimmying her hips and flicking her hair out of her face. A small crowd has gathered around the table to watch her smoke this kid, and she’s enjoying the feeling of letting loose after being tensed up for so long.

She moves cool and slick around the table, driving home her last three balls before setting her sights on the eightball. It looks like a tough shot, and she revels in her confidence that she can sink it, feeling Teddy’s eyes sweeping down the slope of her back as she arches over the table. There’s a hushed swell of laughter and a few whoops when she hits the eightball clean into a pocket, and she turns and shoots Teddy a crooked smile.

“Pay up, boy. I want the good stuff this time, top shelf only.” Teddy barks out another laugh, but it quickly dissolves as his eyes flit just behind her. She feels him before she sees him, the solid warmth of him pressing up behind her and a broad palm splaying over her shoulder. He’s certainly not snoring in bed.

“You’ll have to take a rain check, son. She’s needed at home right now.” The low rasp of his voice tells her all she needs to know. He saw her, and the little moves she was making, and now, Joel Miller is pissed.

She can see the bob of Teddy’s throat as he swallows, nodding jerkily. She winces at the crack in his voice when he says that’s alright, he’ll see her around. Joel may be a grump, but he’s also a scary grump when he wants to be, like right about now as he’s steering her out of the bar with his hand still on her shoulder.

“Putting on a little show for all them townsfolk, darlin?” His southern drawl always gets headier, slower, when he’s angry. It’s never a good sign when she starts having a hard time pulling his honey-thick words apart. But she refuses to let him intimidate her, huffing as they trudge through town toward their house.

“It was just a little fun, Joel. I know you’re not too familiar with the concept, but—”

“Oh, you’re wrong about that, darlin. Me and you? We’re about to have a whole lot of fun.” So it’s like that. She can’t help the excited shiver that runs up her spine at his words, heat already starting to lick at her core. She’s known him long enough to know that when Joel is pissed at her, it can only go one of two ways. Sometimes, he’ll shut down and sulk off, keeping his distance until he’s gotten some sense back in his body to come talk to her. But other times, his anger flirts over into a jagged lust, only simmering to cool when they’re both too sore to bitch at each other anymore, a heaving tangle of sweat and pleasure. And judging by the hard flush she can see peeking out of his shirt collar as they get home, she’d put money on this being one of those other times.

The instant the front door closes behind her, he’s pressing her back up against it, swallowing her gasp as he licks into her mouth. She presses her palms into his chest to try to get some space, but he’s immovable, dragging his lips down her neck and nudging the collar of her shirt out of the way to suck searing bruises into her collarbone. She tugs harshly at his hair to get him to finally take a breath.

“Hey, hey. What about Ellie?”

“At Dina’s.” And with those few gruff, syllables, he’s back on her, shoving his jean-clad thigh between her legs and pressing up hard into her core, her hips immediately grinding down to seek any kind of relief to the quick-building heat blooming up her spine.

“You’re something else, you know that? Saw you acting so tough, so cool down at the bar.” His words are a smear across her chest as he works the buttons of her shirt open, dipping down to mouth at the fabric of her bra the moment he gets access, her back arching up into his mouth as she lets out a long sigh of his name. He chuckles into her skin.

“None of them know how sweet you get like this, though. S’just for me, right?” She chokes on a breath as his hand wrenches down the front of her jeans, rough fingers swiping through the slick pooling between her folds. He drags his nose up her cheek as he works one, then two of his fingers into her, her knees buckling when he crooks his digits just so, her cunt clenching hard.

“Asked you a question, darlin. Who’s all this for, huh?” His fingers are pumping into her relentlessly, the squelching noise of each thrust embarrassingly lewd and loud. It’s all she can do to give him a response.

“You– it’s all for you– fuck– only for you– it’s– just you– please–” He laughs, the smug bastard, smearing a kiss to her temple as he continues to fuck her with his fingers, the heel of his palm digging just right into her clit.

“That’s right, baby. S’all for me. Think you can give me one just like this? C’mon, know you can. Be good for me. Just for me.” He doesn’t have to tell her twice, her cunt already spasming around his fingers as she lets out a broken cry, pleasure crashing over her in ebbs and flows as he fucks her through it. He finally relents when her preening whines turn into whimpers, pulling his hand away and sucking his fingers into his mouth as she slumps back against the door.

She’s a complete mess, her shirt hanging loosely off her arms, the cups of her bra shoved down to let her tits spill out, while Joel stands before her still fully clothed, a contrast that sets heat simmering in her belly all over again. She closes the gap between them this time, pressing in for a demanding kiss as she shrugs her shirt off the rest of the way, fumbling behind her back to snap the clasp of her bra open as well. Joel’s hands are on her right away, palming the swell of her tits before squeezing just harshly enough to make her gasp into his mouth, her fingers stuttering where she was working on the buttons of his shirt. He seems to get the hint, swatting her hands away from his half undone shirt and tugging it the rest of the way off by the collar.

“I need you right now, darlin. Got me fucking aching here.”

They’re a stumbling swirl of limbs as they fumble upstairs to their bedroom, banging into walls and slamming doors along the way.

He gets her exactly where he wants her, on all fours at the end of the bed, and she yelps as he wrenches her jeans and panties down her thighs. She cranes her neck over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of him, his jeans rucked down just enough for him to free his cock as he fists himself over her, his other palm kneading the swell of her ass. He nudges his swollen tip through her folds and she shivers at the sensation, trying to press her hips back into him to get more of anything. Joel doesn’t seem to like that though, laying a harsh smack to her ass that makes her nearly jump out of his hold.

“Mind your manners, darlin. Don’t get greedy on me.” She huffs, trying to look back over her shoulder at him but he presses a rough palm between her shoulder blades, forcing her back to bow until she’s collapsing onto her arms, cheek smushed into the sheets.

He presses into her with one hard thrust, his hips grinding into the plush of her ass as she lets out a broken cry.

“Fuck– always so tight for me– fucking made for me, huh?” She can’t respond to his breathless words, not with the brutal pace he’s setting, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room as he pumps into her, his leaking tip hitting a spot inside her that has her mouth opening in a silent scream. Suddenly, he’s snaking his palm up her chest, pressing between her tits to pull her up until her back is snug against the warmth of his chest, his lips pressed hotly to the shell of her ear.

“Tell me you’re mine, darlin. Wanna hear you say it.” She lets out a low moan as his hand dips down, the rough pads of his fingers dragging across her clit. Meanwhile, he’s skirted his other palm up to her throat, curling his fingers lightly, a faint but firm pressure making her mind go hazy.

“I’m yours– I’m all yours– please, I’m so close–” His thrusts are getting shorter, more of a deep grind up inside her that has her clenching hard around him.

“Want you to say my name when you come, darlin. Make a fucking mess– c’mon, that’s it.” It becomes too much all at once, and she finds herself letting out a panting sigh of his name as pleasure finally snaps inside her. His hands slacken where they had been holding her up and she collapses forward, resting her teary face in her arms as he fucks her through her high.

“So perfect for me, darlin– shit– just a little more, huh? Fucking close.” His hips start to stutter against hers, and she does her best to press back against him.

“Please, Joel– want it so bad– c’mon, baby, give it to me.” He lets out a low curse, pulling out and fisting himself once, twice, before he’s painting her ass with his spend. He lets out a hard breath before flopping down next to her on the bed, dragging a hand down his flushed face. She winces as she lets her legs splay out, slinking down onto her stomach. There will be bruises tomorrow, without a doubt. She crooks her face to the side to look at him, still panting, eyes scrunched closed.

“Feel better now?” He cracks one eye open, glancing at her before fully turning on his side to steal a kiss from her lips.

“Fucking menace. Yes, I feel better now.” With that, he flops onto his back again, crossing his arms behind his head. She shimmies over to rest her head on his chest, her chin propped up on his sternum so she can look at him.

“You better get me cleaned up, Miller. Made a damn mess.” He huffs, bringing one hand down and smacking the curve of her ass, making her yelp in surprise. She tries to kiss away the all too smug grin on his face, but it’s still there when she pulls back.

“I will. But first, I gotta know. Where the hell did you learn to play pool like that?” She lets out an exasperated laugh at that.

“Come with me to the bar next Friday night and I’ll tell you.” A low grumble resounds through his chest, but he’s still smiling as he shakes his head at her.

“You’re on, darlin. I should warn you though. I’m gonna whoop your ass.”

“Looking forward to it, Miller.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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the-iceni-bitch · 10 months ago

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𝕸𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕾𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝕮𝖑𝖆𝖞

𝙾𝚛𝚌 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜. 𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎.

𝙰𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝙰 𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜.

𝙰𝚕𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝚂𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜.

Words: ~1.1k

Relationship: August Walker x princess!female reader

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (non-con, bondage, manhandling, cum marking), mean August, size difference, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: I love a bad boy so much and I’m not even a little bit sorry about it. If I’m going to hell, so be it.

August grinned as he walked through the horde’s camp, holding the head of his conquered foe high and roaring before tossing it to one of his clansmen and instructing them to boil it so he could add the skull to his collection. His blood was still up from the battle, and there was only one thing on his mind. He took a mug of grog from someone before throwing aside the flap to his tent and striding inside.

“Little princess!” August threw his head back and howled with laughter when you flailed against your bindings as soon as you saw him, taking a swig of grog before setting the tankard down and starting to remove his leathers. “Did you miss me, little one?”

“Fuck you!” You spat at him when he reached out to demeaningly pat your cheek.

“That’s rude language from such a pretty princess,” This time he slapped you, licking his tusks lasciviously when you gasped and shuddered. “I’m assuming this means you’re still rejecting my proposal.”

“Of course I’m rejecting it!” You thrashed even more, determined to get free from your bindings even though you had no luck in your attempts during the past few weeks of your captivity. “I’ll never be the mate of a filthy, murdering orc bastard!”

“Tsk, how disappointing,” the way you were writhing and squirming against your bindings was making him hard, as it always did, and it only got better when you screamed furiously as he began to undo his breeches. “It’s not as though you have many options, princess. I just killed another one of those suitors of yours who thought he could rescue you. His skull is going to look rather fine hanging around my neck with those of the other failures.”

That made your already fraught emotions sink even lower, but you were determined not to let him see you cry. There were now four different prince’s and their armies who had tried to take you back from the horde after they had pillaged your family’s kingdom. Every single one of them was dead, along with their armies, and you didn’t know how many more would make the attempt now that so many had been killed. A sense of dread started to settle over you at that thought, but you refused to be defeated. So you just continued to struggle against the ropes that bound you, glaring at him and ignoring the way your eyes stung with unshed tears.

“I fucking hate you,” you kept your eyes fixed on his face while he pulled out his massive cock and started to stroke it over your restrained body. “You’re disgusting and I’ll never be yours.”

“Your stubbornness only makes the fact that you’ll eventually break all the more delicious,” August snorted when you jerked away from him as he gave your head a condescending pat, slapping you instead as his fist kept moving over his cock. “You have no other choice, princess. I’m going to have you no matter what, it will go easier for you if you submit willingly.”

You just snarled at him, tired of telling him to fuck himself and deciding to just try to ignore him instead. It was difficult, though, especially when he gripped your face and forced you to watch as he stroked his cock over your squirming body. The worst thing was that you were getting wet as you kept struggling, and he could tell, a wicked grin spreading across his face when his precum started to drip on your already soiled gown.

August just grunted with annoyance when you pouted and closed your eyes, rolling his own before taking his hand off your face so he could yank at the ropes binding you until they were flung over one of the tent beams so you were suspended in midair.

“Stop, what are you doing?!” You shrieked when he shredded your gown so it fell off you in tatters and left you naked as you dangled in front of him. “You bastard! Put me down!”

“Always fucking complaining. You’re lucky I don’t decide to shut you up by skullfucking you, princess,” he chuckled when that made you finally fall silent as your eyes lit up with terror. “Don’t look so scared, like you don’t enjoy everything I do to you. Remember how messy you got when I broke you in?”

“Shut up… stop it!” You thrashed wildly when he shot his thick cum all over your stomach and thighs, screaming when he grabbed one of your legs and propped it on his shoulder so you were spread wide open for him. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

He ignored you, smearing his fingers through the thick mess he’d left all over before reaching between your legs so he could rub his seed all over your swollen pussy. His first smack caught you completely off guard, making you wail when his hand cracked against your quivering folds so hard you almost blacked out. But then he leaned down and kissed you and you were brought back to consciousness against your will, gagging at the taste of grog on his tongue while his hand started slapping your cunt over and over again.

His treatment was brutal, it always was, but still your body responded to him. You cried and choked on his tongue as his fingers struck your pussy at a brutal pace, hating that each time he smacked your sensitive flesh you gushed juices all over his hand and trembled from barely controlling your climax. You held out longer than you would have thought you’d be able to, but after twenty minutes there was nothing you could do. August grinned and spat into your mouth when you sobbed as you squirted everywhere, rubbing your raw and sore folds viciously while you spasmed through your climax. As soon as you were done he released his hold on the ropes and let you drop to the floor, laying on his bed of furs and picking up his tankard of grog again as he watched you whimper and squirm.

“When are you gonna admit how much you enjoy this shit, princess?” August nudged you with his foot to turn you over and chuckled when you whined. “If you can handle this you should be able to actually survive carrying my baby. Of course you will be much more comfortable if you’re not bound and restricted during your pregnancy. So why don’t you take the night to think about how much better your life will be if you actually accept a role as my mate instead of just a brood mare.”

You sobbed when he rose to his feet and pulled his breeches back on, leaving you alone in his tent to consider just how miserable you wanted your future to be.

#natalie writes #monstrous mayhem #kinktober 2023 #orc!august walker #august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x you #august walker smut #female!reader #tw noncon #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry cavill smut #eighteen plus

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zima74824 · 2 years ago

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Grog x zima fic shower smut

Zima was in the shower washing herself grog knocks on the door

Zima : come in

Grog: do you mind if I join you?

Zima : sure

Grog undid his belt and removed his pants and his armor

Grog went in the shower with her

Grog : hey you ~

Zima blushed

Zima : hey hun

Grog blushes red seeing her naked

Zima : something you like?

Grog : you look so sexy with nothing on

Zima smirked and kissed him passionately

Grog blushed red *

Grog was hard

Zima smirked and stroked his cock

Grog : ah…….yes…..mh…that feels so good baby….ah……

Zima purred as he played with her tits

Grog pants and grabbed her lifting her up a little as he sucks her nipple

Zima : oh~!!

Grog teases her by moving his dick around her vaginal lips

Zima : ah…..oh fuck~

Grog chuckles and groped her ass

Zima : f-fuck~

Grog tied her legs up *

Grog : You ready? I’m gonna give you the best blowjob You will ever get grog : but first ~

Grog stroked his dick as he came on her breasts

Grog got on his knees she put her hands on the back of his head

Grog kisses her clit and some other spots

Grog : mmh you taste great baby ~

Grog eats her pussy as zima thrusts into him while he did this

She whines in pleasure she came many times while he does it

Grog squeezed her tits

Zima : f-fuck!!

Grog untied her and picked her up

Grog : your pussy is so drenched ~ I wanna fill you up so bad

Zima : do it~

Grog slipped his dick inside her and thrusts hard and fast

Zima : ah~! Yes! Fuck my pussy grog that’s it ! I want to have both holes filled ~

Grog : three holes

Zima : ah~ yes such a good boy

Grog thrusts faster and harder

Zima : aaah…..fuck yes!!

Grog grunted and came inside her pussy

He quickly pulled out as she gets on her knees as he fucked her face

Zima sucks his dick

Grog: mmmmh~ you are a good girl ~ taking my giant cock~

Zima continued sucking

Grog : fuck~ you suck it so well ~

He pushes it down her throat

Grog : so sexy……

Grog grunts and came down her throat

Grog : go on then pet swallow it it’s for you

Zima gulped down every ounce of it as she could he pulled out

Zima purred and rubs his tip with her butt

Zima then bent down

Zima : please grog I want you to fuck my ass~

Grog smirks

Grog finished the shower Zima laid on the bed as she lied on her stomach he quickly got on top and growled

Grog : prepare your ass~

Zima spread out her legs ready for him and lifts up her tail

Grog penetrated her and rammed his dick in and out

Zima : ah~ oh fuck~ yes!

Grog puts on hand on her shoulder

Grog : yeah you like that?~ that feels good???

Zima : yes fuck me !!!~

Grog pushed his dick deeper

Zima : ah~!!

Grog continued to thrust fast

She grabbed onto his arm

Grog : mh~ you have such a tiny hole good thing that my dick can fit heh

Zima : ah~ ah…oh gods I needed this

Grog went harder

Zima : ah~!!!

Grog : almost there ~

Zima pants with grog as he kisses her before he came inside her

Zima : mmmh~

Grog :mmmh~

Zima : h-holy fuck that was amazing

Grog : yeah I’m glad you enjoyed yourself ~

#zima lurzo #my ocs #grog strongjaw #tlotvm grog #grog smut #zima x grog

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jungle-angel · 4 months ago

Text

"I Don't Need A Nurse" (Sentry x Reader)

Summary: Your husband insists that he can take care of himself, but just this once, he'll let you help him

Warnings: Light smut (ya'll know the rules), hurt, injuries etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist

You didn't realize how long you had been asleep until you blinked your eyes open and found your copy of "The Mists Of Avalon" splayed on the floor, the pages slightly dog-eared and crumpled from the fall. You picked it up and stuck it on the coffee table, rubbing the grog from your eyes, surprised that it had already gotten dark out.

You looked at F.R.I.D.A.Y's screen in the kitchen, each one with a small, typed message from the rest of the team. A few were due to return in an hour, some were still out for the night and others had gone to help down at S.H.I.E.L.D due to an emergency. A loud meow from Goose had caught your attention, the orange tabby hopping up onto the kitchen counter and his tail swishing as you scratched his ears.

All of a sudden you felt something warm around your ring finger on your left hand. You looked down and found that your wedding ring, the one Jane and Thor had made in the dwarven forges of Asgard, was glowing bright white.

Robert.

You saw something streak across the sky followed by the sound of a quinjet approaching the landing pad outside. Relieved though you were, it was unusual that your husband and the rest of the team was home this early.

You rushed outside with Goose hot at your heels, the engines on the jet dying down and the back hatch opening. Out stepped Steve and Robert first and the rest of the team behind them, your husband looking a little worse for wear. The white hospital scrubs were torn and tattered, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, the paper tag bracelet still around his wrist and a pained look on his face.

You rushed right to him and he immediately caught you in his arms. "Oh baby......baby......m'so hot and tired," he panted.

"What happened?" you asked him.

"Mission took longer than we thought," he winced.

"Why don't you two go inside," Steve told you both. "We'll finish up here."

You helped Robert back into the tower, your ring having cooled down and the glow now so faint that it could hardly be seen. It took a while, but at last he was home and in your shared apartment where he could rest.

You ran a hot bath in the adjoining bathroom, not even bothering to measure the epsom salts you had dumped into the steaming water. You had tried the traditional way of getting his clothes off, but Robert was in so much pain that he could barely lift his arms.

You went straight to the First Aid kit in the medicine cabinet and pulled out the surgical scissors, cutting away the ratty scrubs that would be used for kitchen rags later on. Robert sucked in a breath as you helped him into the hot water and helped him clean the cuts, scratches and bruises that were all over him.

"Baby thank you," he croaked.

You kissed the crown of his head and put a cold soaked washcloth on the back of his neck. "You know I'd do anything for you," you whispered.

As soon as Robert was done, you helped him out and left a fresh set of clothes on the bed for him just in case he wanted them, but sleeping naked seemed to be the better option, even with the air conditioning going.

"Aw fuck!" he hissed, laying on his back. "Fuckin hurts."

"Well shit Bob where doesn't it hurt?" you chuckled.

"Here," he said, pointing to his cheek.

You rolled your eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to his soft cheek.

"Right here," he mumbled, pointing to the other.

You kissed his other cheek. You could feel the lazy smile forming on his face already.

Robert silently pointed to his lips, a yearning look in his eyes and the need and want for you burning inside him. Your lips met his, the kiss sweet and gentle but passionate and fiery all at once. You let it linger as his eyes fluttered shut and soon he was quietly snoring away in deep sleep. You crawled in next to him, your head resting on his chest and the strong beat of his heart putting you to sleep.

#robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #robert sentry reynolds #sentry x reader #thunderbolts

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

Text

Man-Sized

7/9 Shadowplay

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost�� Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

Christmas came and went, and all she knew was that Simon wasn't working. She still didn't know where he lived – whether he had a home in Manchester or if he resided elsewhere. He could live in London for all she knew. He could live down the street, and she wouldn't have a clue about it.

She sent him pictures of her family and the Christmas tree, of the cute pajamas her parents had got her – they still got her cozy sleepwear as a gift, like she was a child. She sent her a photo of herself later with that thing on. Or most of it on, anyway. She even added a few hearts to her texts, knowing he wouldn't return them. Simon was born at a time before emojis were even invented.

She didn't know if he spent the holidays with his family. It was odd to even imagine Simon in a happy, domestic setting, sipping grog or decorating a tree. His father was dead, and he rarely talked about his brother or mother. All the details he had given her of his life were from a pre-military time.

True to his habits, he only sent a short reply on Boxing Day that said: "See you soon."

And she waited. She went back home the next day and sat in her lonely apartment watching historical dramas and eating chocolate until she felt sick, and he never came. She stayed there the day after, didn't leave the house even for the store. On the third day, she started to get anxious, on the fourth, rather angry. No one turned that extra key on the lock of her front door, and she felt like an idiot.

On New Year's Eve, she decided she would get the fuck out. She would not stay at home like a whimpering, lovesick puppy, waiting for its master to come home.

The long-distance relationship was getting on her nerves, and his occasional unavailability didn't feel exciting anymore. It was just vexing. Sometimes it felt like a paranoid exaggeration that he couldn't tell her when they would meet again. She didn't need much: just a fixed date would have sufficed. Her other life was stupidly on hold because she was always on high alert for him. This had been going on for months, and it was high time she did something else. Just for the shits and giggles. To hell with his soon.

So she went to see her friends and drank herself into an impressive stupor.

It wasn't her usual approach to dealing with anxiety and frustration and a yearning heart, and it didn't work as well as she had hoped. But at least she got out of that stupid flat and saw some people who actually had time for her. She had been invited to a party before the holidays with the knowledge that she would not attend – just like she never attended any student shenanigans and was rather curious as to why people kept inviting her.

But right now, an evening full of alcohol and uni people who had normal problems, problems she should've been thinking about too instead of her supersoldier, sounded better than binge-watching Outlander for the fifth day in a row.

And it was actually loads of fun. She decided right then and there, while having her fifth or sixth drink, that she should leave the house more often. Connect a little, get acquainted with new people who did normal shit. Even if they were a bit boring compared to a certain brooding giant who made love to her like she was a goddess.

She laughed so much that night that her stomach hurt, and a few boys from school were really after her at the party, quenching her need for validation and attention just a tiny bit. The whole crew went to see the fireworks to the city, and they all shared some bubbly in the frigid night, and even if she wanted Simon to somehow teleport himself behind her at the turn of the year, to grab her from behind and raise her in the air and whisper something naughty in her ear, the longing wasn't enough to rob all the fun from that night.

When she walked home, feeling a bit wobbly and more than a bit guilty for having flirted with not one but two guys, she reached for the pocket that held the push dagger Simon had given her. It received loving attention every time she walked to school or to the club, the excitement of doing something forbidden soon having turned to a feeling of security and a promise of prowess, all granted by Simon. It was almost like a comfort object, the way it instantly carried her thoughts to him.

Home felt dark and shabby and even more lonely after having a few good laughs with cheerful people her age, who studied the same subject and had big plans for the future. Her plans for the near future were another day alone, but this time, with a hideous hangover. That future felt so dreary that she didn't quite catch the familiar dark shoes in the hallway as she barged in and fought herself out of her heels all but suavely.

She went straight to the bathroom for a late-night shower, and the men's shower gel bottle – the one Simon had brought to her apartment because he didn't want to smell of "girl shampoo" – stared at her like a reminder of what she couldn't have. She then brushed her teeth and went to get a glass of water before crashing into bed.

Even in the dark, she could see a man sitting on her couch as she stepped into the living room that extended to an open kitchen.

She didn't panic this time. Her reaction was a simple, annoyed sigh upon seeing that he was yet again trying to gauge a reaction out of her.

"You really need to stop doing that."

She could see him tilt his head a little at her bitter tone. They had never fought, but right now, feeling emboldened by the booze, she had a feeling that an explosion was about to happen. Returning to a dark home filled with a dark man was such a contrast to the spirited, youthful gang she had spent her evening with that all the laughter left her for a moment.

How long had he even been here? It was nearly 3 AM. She had gone to the party as early as she deemed acceptable, wanting to get some fresh air and fresh vibes as soon as possible. If Simon had come to surprise her in the evening, he had had a long night.

"Where were you?"

The raspy voice was demanding, and she fought back a jolt of irritation just from hearing that dominant tone. It was just a simple question, but it felt like an interrogation.

And she wanted to scream.

Where were you?

How many times have I waited for you to bless me with your presence?

She had been away just this once, and he hadn't called, hadn't sent a text, had chosen to wait here for her to return from her all nighter, and then accused her of not being home.

"At a friend," she said.

"Which one?"

"Marc."

She heard him draw air upon hearing that she had been to some other guy's apartment.

"A new friend," he noted.

"He had a party," she explained, then tested her luck like an idiot. "It was fun. I made lots of new friends."

She turned to get that glass of water and noticed Simon had done her dishes while she was away. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, too. He had wanted to surprise her on New Year's Eve, probably hoped to spend another peaceful evening at home together.

A tiny needle pushed into her heart at the sight of the pink tulips. Simon didn't know it, but they were her favourite flowers. She wondered whether he had been to the club to see if she was there, only to come back when he noticed she wasn't up tonight. If he had sat on that couch as hours passed by, with dread sinking in from the thought that she might be out somewhere, cheating him with another guy. The needle inside her heart burst into flames.

"Where were you?" She whispered. He finally rose and walked to her, much in the same way he had done when she had been upset in this exact same spot when morning light had filled the room.

"Covering my tracks."

She already knew that "covering tracks" meant he took extra precautions before coming to see her, whether there was a real, heightened risk or not. Christmas time might be a heightened risk: those who wanted him harm would probably want to know where he spent his holidays. Who his loved ones were.

It meant that he was devoted to her, an actual sign of care and deep affection. Simon had just made sure he wouldn't set her in danger.

She could feel his warmth behind her, could smell him, and felt distress spike in her chest when he wouldn't proceed to touch her but just stood there. She turned to face him with a quivering lip and wasn't sure whether she was about to burst into tears or a manic giggle.

He was wearing a black hoodie this time, but it didn't quite manage to make him look any more youthful or boyish. But it was snug, almost cute. The size of it probably double or triple XL to accommodate those shoulders and that chest. That hoodie told her he had definitely planned to stay home, cuddling and making love while the tulips slowly opened their blossoms in that vase.

She knew he came here for her softness. He would never admit it, but he craved the softness of her bed, her couch, her body, even the food she made for him with love. He had just wanted to spend the evening filled with some color, laughter, and affection, certainly not go and watch exploding fireworks that would only remind him of war and death and darkness.

Suddenly she felt guilty about getting so worked up. She felt shame for her condition: she was still drunk, like a sailor, wearing nothing but flushed cheeks and a towel.

"Are you angry?" She searched for judgment in his eyes. He watched her sternly, didn't betray any emotion other than that of guardedness.

"Why would I be angry?" He said in a Should I be? kind of way.

"Because I'm drunk?"

She must smell of booze, of a whole pubful of drunkards. Not ladylike at all. He had heard the state in which she had barged in — she had even sung a dirty song in the shower.

She felt like a child compared to him, felt like every guy she had talked to at that party tonight was like a child compared to him. The shyness never quite left her, even if they had known each other for months now.

What if he was angry? Or disappointed?

Or worse yet, disgusted?

"You said you didn't like women who drink."

She certainly wasn't a drinker, even if this night had been a bit rowdy. But trying to explain to a man who disapproved of drinking that she wasn't an alcoholic while smelling of booze was somehow too funny in her sleepy, partied, lovelorn state.

She couldn't hold it in any longer, and a stupid little chortle pushed through her lips. This time, he raised a hand and took hold of her shoulder, as if to ensure she was okay.

"I never said that," he said gently. The brown of his eyes was blown dark, and she vaguely remembered that dilated pupils meant drugs or darkness or love.

"One of the guys wanted to walk me home," she blurted out of nowhere. The alcohol in her system had apparently decided it was quite alright to tease him a bit for taking so long. His head pulled back, a subtle indication that he didn't like what he was hearing.

"Or actually, two. It was funny when they both came to give me my coat when I was leaving."

He was silent, the feeling of being reduced to a flustered child – or a drunken moron – in his presence only increasing by the minute. Either he was genuinely astounded by her behaviour, or then she was really pushing her luck with her drunken babble.

And fuck, she would never get over his eyes. Perfectly almond-shaped and so big that supermodels would kill for them. But it wasn't the warm, dark chocolate or the eternal exhaustion of hooded lids that made them so enticing. It was the look of having walked through hellfire… and having emerged undefeated, with scars and a sardonic, knowing smile. He was like Lucifer cast out from heaven, a fallen dark angel who had been thrown to Hell, who merely shrugged at his fate and then started to rule the whole goddamn place.

She opened the towel and let it drop to the floor, then took a step and wrapped her arms around his neck. He went rigid as she pressed her body flush against him, the amber eyes roaming her face while the rest of him was stiff. It was a new situation, her meeting his solemn stare with bold teasing while making it clear that she wanted him to rut her — on that counter if need be. Or better yet, she wanted to climb onto his lap and ride him, run her nails down his chest and sink them in, perhaps to the point of drawing blood.

It was usually he who ravished her…

"I've been a bad girl," she tried to imitate a seductive voice but it turned into another giggle.

Good God… She wished someone would come and put some duct tape on her mouth.

But then a hand was placed possessively on her hip, a thumb brushed over the side of her stomach. Those eyes were now looking at her much in the same way they always did when she was dancing for him. Hungry and dark. Proud… Pleased.

He had looked at her like that for months and months now. Like he owned her. In a stupefied recognition, she realized he had looked at her that way before they had even shared a word with each other.

He moved in a sharp flash, scooped her in his arms and started to walk toward the bedroom.

"Are you gonna punish me?" She whispered without even bothering to cover the heavy anticipation in her voice. He wouldn't say anything, but when they reached her bed, she was thrown on it. Gently and with care – but it was still more of a flung than setting down.

"It's not really a punishment if I enjoy it, right?" She laughed with excitement, all the remnants of her anger dissolving into a soft buzz that gave a nice edge to the upcoming retribution. "I guess the joke's on you."

He still wouldn't budge, still wouldn't speak…

"Are you sure you're not angry?"

She rose to lean on her elbows and watched him undress with a soldierly sharpness. Under the black hoodie was a black t-shirt — of course. But only now did she notice that he was wearing grey sweatpants. Fucking sweatpants.

Why did he have to be such a kissable, huggable cuddle muffin on this night of all nights? Those sweats were so far from the glitter and glamour she had surrounded herself this evening that she felt another burning sting beneath her sternum. The ample bulge against that soft, grey cotton was visible even in the darkness.

The muscles bunched as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. She would probably never tire of seeing those shoulders, not to talk of his divine forearms that were so different from the skinny little things she usually saw at school or even at the club she danced in. Even she had more muscle in her forearms due to pole dancing than some men – but Simon… God, he was an absolute specimen. And with that tattoo slapped on that bulky, veined muscle, she could verily fall on her knees and pray to this man.

Her earlier teasing felt stupid as hell. She wasn't interested in anyone else than him walking her home. That ship had long since sailed.

And how could anyone compare to him? Those boys she had talked to would shit themselves if they saw Simon, even without his gear. Would turn tail and run seeing him in those cozy sweats, even. She wanted to explain herself even if the cleverest thing would be to just shut up.

"Marc's just a friend from school. He was in this group project and then we started to talk about our plans for the New Year, and then I figured I should go to this party because I never go anywhere, you know, and -...mh."

His pants were off, all of them, and she could see his cock spring free, already hard, like he always was when she was lying down like this and he was about to descend upon her. The night swallowed most of him, but it wasn't enough to hide those forearms, that hungry, slightly amused glint in his eyes – or that heavy, obscenely thick erection that was jutting from between his equally massive thighs. It was veined like his forearms, surrounded by the palest, faint hair, similar to the almost invisible ones that coated his chest and back here and there. Everything in him was heavy and thick, except that pale breath of hair…

Her mouth shot full of water, and rich heat pooled between her thighs, which instinctively clamped together as if knowing that this man was too big for her, even if evidence already proved otherwise. He always told her how tight she was, but she felt like it was more the cause of his size than any asset of hers.

"I thought it would be good to connect with people because you never know, right?" Her mouth kept yapping on while her eyes were glued to his massiveness. All of it.

He crawled to the bed between her legs, which opened by themselves for him as if this man was a whole VIP pass that granted access to the exclusive area of her.

"If you wanted to know where I am, you could've just called me. You never tell me where you are or when you come back. You know, "soon" could mean anything."

She expected him to insert himself to her opening, to push in with a full-blown ego because he must already know she was wet from just seeing him, the bastard. But instead, he dove face first to her folds while sweeping her thighs over his shoulders like they weighed nothing.

"But I get it, you need to–"

A pair of hot lips surrounded by a peak stubble hit her skin, and her head fell back with a moan. Her thighs drifted even further apart as his tongue traveled up her slit, parting the swollen lips with so much love that she knew he definitely wasn't angry with her.

Oh no.

She had only managed to amuse him again.

And of course she had. Her intoxicated state and desperate attempts to make him jealous must've told him that she was a bit of a mess because of him. He wasn't petty, even if he was possessive. It was crystal clear to everyone in this room that she had just tried to distract herself, and she was featherbrained if she thought she could fool him.

"I was mad at you," she confessed with a sigh. "I still am…"

She peeked a look down. The sight of a brawny, wide man on his knees between her legs made her more heady than all the punch she had had that night. The bulk of muscle on his back made her legs look sleek and slender and weak, the coarse stubble against her delicate, swollen folds made her head spin even when she was lying on her back. The faint scent of tobacco and his musk were like incense to her; she inhaled it like it was her only way to heaven, that haze of blazing masculinity, of fire and smoke that was thoroughly him enveloping her as she fell back on the mattress.

Her hand found his hair; it was cut shorter from the sides, but the top had generous amounts to grab hold of, and she curled her fingers there while pushing her cunt against him. She was tired of pretending that it didn't feel fucking best when he gave her head.

An exceptionally hungry kiss echoed through her body, making her spine arch and her legs slide up and down his back. How could it feel like he was kissing her instead of fucking her with his mouth? She had taken Simon as a man who didn't worship women like this, but like always, she had been wrong. Even the very thought of a commanding officer of some super special tactical unit having his face buried between her legs was enough to send her to the verge of orgasm. Not to talk of seeing and feeling him actually there.

She sighed as his hands drew her against his face by the thighs, then gasped as a firm, thick tongue – thick like the rest of him – thrust inside her.

"God… yes, just like that…"

If she was pulling his hair a little too hard, he didn't mind. Or at least he didn't say or do anything about it. At first, she had thought that perhaps he tried to make her shut her mouth this way. Speak with moans and sighs instead of words. But now she felt like she was his prisoner, about to make the confession of a lifetime.

"It drives me crazy, the waiting… I'm always waiting for you." It was a miserable sob, and she was arriving at the center, the numb, veiled core of this whole conundrum.

"You drive me crazy, Simon."

He let her monologue go on. If anything, he encouraged it with his tongue, with his lips that nibbed her swollen bud and sucked.

"You're so annoying." She felt him huff a brief chuckle against her, inside her even, as she was open and dripping and hurting, wholly at his mercy. "Like, no one comes even close. And, and, I…"

The darkness made it seem that she could spill any secret in such a lightless, safe cavity where there was suddenly no time, no past and no future to make her pay for what came out of her mouth next.

"...I love you."

But the laws of cause and effect still applied to this world, and Simon stopped, breathing into her pussy like a long-distance runner.

"What?"

His first words since forever hit her folds with a husky, tentative roughness. That voice was better than any dark rum or gooey chocolate cake or even a hot tub bubbling with maple sugar bath bomb. The heated knot in her stomach coiled and twisted, her eyes were brimming with tears.

"...Nothing."

He breathed into her tender folds, she could feel his lips draw into a smile. He kissed her right at the center, at the core of her, and she jerked a little, bit her lip, and waited.

"You sure?" The gruff, murky voice still talked to her pussy, like it was there where the confession of his prisoner was to be found.

"Yes..?"

A devastatingly languid lick stroked her folds, and the starved sigh was that of a happy, happy man. He had a winning hand, and he knew it.

"Are you absolutely positive?"

She swallowed, her lips trembled, and her heart rammed against her chest as her drunkard's brain thought of the terrible fate that awaited her if she yielded to him. What if they were still playing? She hated poker, especially when she was playing against Simon who always had a royal flush in his hand. She wanted to play together, not against each other.

"For fuck's sake, why do you always have to…" she started, then bit her lip again as he plunged his tongue inside, so deep that it made her chin shoot up toward the ceiling and her hips grind against his face.

"You always have to win," she sighed strenuously, on the brink of tears.

"Love you too," he rumbled against her, and her walls clenched around nothing, more moisture leaked to coat his chin.

"Wh-...What?"

He picked up where he had left, proceeding to kiss and lick and suck like it was just some small talk they had briefly shared while he was eating her out.

"Simon…"

"Shh."

She pursed her lips from happiness and allowed him to finish the job, which didn't take long in her state of bliss and drunken overstimulation. She came with a cry, leaked love in the air – leaked literally, on his lips.

He rose to sit after he was done, panting like it had been a while since he had tortured anyone like that.

"What took you so long?" She asked when he threw himself to lie on his back next to her.

"What took you so long?" He huffed, and she wasn't sure if they were talking about their mutual absence or the late confession. She turned to press against him, thrumming with love. He shifted too and took her in his arms, and her head was shoved against the plates of muscle that made his chest. He was still hard, and she wanted to take him in her mouth, to return the favor tenfold.

"You're so annoying," she chirped with a broad smile while crushed against the world's safest chest.

"Copy that."

"I love you."

His cock twitched between them when she said those words. It was his only reaction to her repeating that long-kept secret.

"You're drunk," he commented with sleepy, honeyed amusement.

"I'm drunk, and I love you."

He sighed and pulled her into an even heavier hug. "Come 'ere."

They cuddled sometimes, mostly after sex, but it was never this ardent. She ran a hand up and down his back while the other was squeezed somewhere between them. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and powerful underneath her cheek.

"Don't send me pictures of your family," he grumbled through half-sleep. "It's an unnecessary risk."

He had rigged her phone with schizophrenic detail so that their calls and messages couldn't be traced. He had even built a sort of a Faraday's cage out of a shoebox, wired mesh, aluminum foil and whatnot, where he put his phone when he came to her place. She didn't even know all the things he did to ensure no one knew about their relationship. Safety measures weren't doubled, they were tripled with Simon.

She gathered the photos she sent of herself were a weakness for him since he never forbade her from sending them. She didn't know if they got destroyed right after, though, or what kind of a headache it was for him to get rid of all the metadata.

"Whatever you say," she murmured while pressed flush against him. His erection wouldn't die, and in her opinion it was unfair, downright sinful, to leave him in such a state after he had given her so much love. She raised her leg and swept it up the side of his thigh until it came to rest on his hip so she could rub against him.

"You need to sleep," he said, but didn't stop her. He even allowed her some space to snake a hand between them to grab him and guide the tip to her folds, still soaked from his treatment. The notion that he prioritized her rest over his own pleasure only made her more wet. He responded with a shallow, hoarse exhale as she helped his cock against her slickness, coating it with moisture.

"You love me?" She was a lovesick puppy now, and he grunted at her neediness.

"How many times do I have to say it?"

"You only said it once."

"Once is enough."

She glided along his length with slick, moist sounds filling the darkness pulsating with love.

"No it's not."

"Insatiable woman," he muttered, slightly out of breath from what she was doing to him. And as if he had only now noticed that she was handling him and not the other way around, he switched their roles and rolled partially on top of her.

"Could you just say it?" She watched him with what must've looked like the most desperate, needy stare she had ever worn. He simply seized his cock and adjusted it to her entrance.

"Pretty please?" She whispered while he pushed in, only halfway, knowing she was more than ready to take him fully. She even grabbed his ass to force him, but he refused her.

He always had to win… Always.

"I love it when you beg."

The voice was harsh, rugged, but his eyes were soft, even softer than the double bed under her.

"I love your cunt," he continued, and a moan slipped from her as he teased her with a few shallow, unhurried thrusts. "Love the sounds you make when I fuck you hard."

"Mh-..."

"...or gentle. Fuck you real slow and deep. I know you like that."

He finally went completely in, finally gave her that sweet satisfaction that came from being filled. It felt so snug, so gratifying that it could only be compared to having a piece of your favourite cake after a shitty day or taking the first sip of coffee in the morning or easing into a hot jacuzzi when you were cold.

"I love it when you say you're a bad girl when you're the swee'est girl there is."

That one ended in a short, mocking laughter. As if she was absolutely shitty at trying to deceive him in anything.

He continued to tell her everything except the thing she wanted to hear. He told her he loved her bedhead, her cooking, the look of concentration when she was curled somewhere to read a book. He told her he loved her laugh, her sharp tongue, and how adorable she was when she was mad at him. The list went on and on, it even had the time when she had slapped him, on it. She was just about to plead again, beg for it if she must, when he finally relented.

"Yeah, sweetheart… I love you," he whispered in her neck with a burnt voice, burnt from tobacco or barking commands. "Should be bloody fuckin' obvious by now."

She dug her nails into his back, not worrying about the consequences, which were only delightful. The coarse stubble chafed her neck as he kissed and sucked her skin, surely leaving marks.

She was so wet for him that she was creaming around his shaft. Big as he was, he glided inside her with no effort at all, even when she felt herself tighten around him with another upcoming release. She was going to come a second time, a rarity, even with Simon.

He pressed her against the mattress with every thrust, the feeling of being crushed between the plush, soft bed and a bruisingly hard body absolutely glorious. Feeling weightless and completely open, she came while clinging to him, knowing it would send him on another ego trip for having worked her to a climax twice already.

The sound that left her, more like a helpless wail than a satisfied moan, meant she had lost all her chips in a bet against someone who had invented the whole game. Her cries painted the darkness as she throbbed and clenched around his cock like it was the sweetest thing in the world.

"Now what did I say? Insatiable." His voice turned into a wined and dined tone when he was pleased, almost braggingly so, and she wanted to dig her nails in his back again and make him grunt instead. But that voice also caressed her, much like his hips that gently rocked her through the waves of the orgasm.

He came shortly after, through gritted teeth and a feral edge to his peak. Her neck was burning from all the love it was getting, but the last roll of his hips was almost lazy, and he collapsed on top of her, trapping her under a blazing hot chest. A palm slid along the dip and swell of her waist, caressed the side of her thigh, and pulled her leg to rest on his back while he remained buried deep inside her. He turned from a savage, heated man into an affectionate lover so quickly that she could only hang onto him as best she could.

His back had broken into a sweat, but when he eventually pulled out, he didn't roll to the side like he usually did. Instead, he shifted to lay his head on her chest, and clutched her in a sideways hug, slack against the bed and partly on her. The ragged breathing was interrupted by an uneasy swallow.

"Life was easy before you came along. Didn't have to worry about gettin' killed."

More confessions were spoken in the fading night, and she raised a hand to stroke his hair. The light had slightly changed, the wintry night was easing into a break of dawn while they were finally about to get some sleep.

"Guess I have to stay alive now."

Only Simon could make something like that sound romantic, but his tone was somber, as if he was letting an essential part of himself go when he chose life and her. She wondered if she had brought Simon back to life like he had brought her. It wasn't what they had planned for themselves, but here they were: spent and alive, meshed together at the dawn of a new year.

"You're spooking me to death as it is. I don't want to know how you would be like as an actual ghost." She tried to lighten the mood that was slipping into something darker, something she didn't wish to think about after a night like this. But Simon had chosen to make her cry.

"Would haunt you still."

She couldn't say anything from the bittersweet pain that spread through her heart. It was hard to breathe when a choked sigh clawed at her throat and tears threatened to cause a whole flood.

"Did you like the flowers I got you?"

…And just like that, he changed the subject. She blinked back tears and tightened her hold of him, so snugly settled there over her heart.

"I love tulips. Thank you," she whispered in the crown of his head.

"Hm."

He was already on the verge of slipping into sleep, like men used to after a good fuck, especially when already exhausted from work. Or from loneliness. She hugged him so tight she could feel the flare of his ribs as his breath slowly evened out. She caressed his hair, the back of his neck, stroked his back and felt him rumble softly against her.

"Not your pet..."

His last note was more of a weary sigh that turned into soft snoring as he fell asleep on her chest. She was not far behind, drifting off to sleep too while cradling him — precisely like a pet, or a child, her last thought being how oddly beautiful it was that he finally allowed her to hold him like this.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x oc #mw2 smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x female oc #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #ghost x female oc #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x original character #simon riley smut

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blueseachelle · 2 years ago

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Announcement

Since I have been writing a lot recently, I am taking requests. If you want a specific Oneshot or even a smut. Let me know.

I have my chat open so, just send me a DM. I’m particularly talking about Vox Machina. X reader’s preferred.

I’ll open it to other fandoms soon but, I’m obsessed with The Legend of Vox Machina right now.

It seems to me that Vox Machina smut is (slightly) hard to find. Maybe I’m not searching for it right but, I’m still ready to write it.

I will make a master list of everything soon.

Shoot me a DM for Vox Machina Smut, Oneshots, or imagines.

IM AM READY. LMAO

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reriart · 2 months ago

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Hi i saw your post about Percy headcannons and I was wondering if you could write about Percy together with an adhd reader and the readers meds make them lose their appetite and he helps them eat and just a generally fluffy headcannon?

Hiii! Thank you for asking :3 I have ADHD too, so I hope I somehow made the story more realistic. I hope you don't mind if I ended up writing a fanfic directly, I've been thinking about this comfort story for the entire day!

I'm safe with you.

Additional tags: reader has ADHD and they're using meds, stimming, food disorder, GN!Reader, not smut for once, love confession, very soft Percy. You can read it on AO3 too! Remember that English is not my native language (plus I've wrote it in the middle of the night). Divider: cafekitsune Summary: It has passed three days since the last time you've eat something. You fainted between Percival's arms, who is deadly worried for you.

“I swear I can burp louder than you!” Grog shouted, swaying the overflowing beer mug dangerously, then drinking it all in one gulp and loudly belching in front of Scanlan's face.

“Pff. You're a rookie. Take that!” the bard replied, echoing the gesture but intensifying the sound through his magic.

The vigorous man crossed his arms over his chest. “That's not fair! I can't win that way!”

On your end, you stood in a corner at the very end of the table, smiling shyly. Or rather, it wasn't so much a shy smile as a nervous one, which exuded discomfort. The medicine that Whitestone's doctor had prescribed for you (Percival had insisted that you go there) tasted terrible and the side effects were even worse: nausea, tremors, lack of appetite, dizziness. Except for that last one, so far you had checked all three off your daily list. You hadn't told anyone about it, to avoid worrying anyone (or even worse, that someone would force you to stay at the De Rolo castle, especially if that someone was your boyfriend). Yet, as soon as you looked up from the plate full of beans and steaming beef, two pale green eyes, circled by an elegant silver frame, were there, staring at you. Eyebrows bent downward, lips half-closed as if to say something. Percy was doing the dishes -- it was his turn (and, besides, he was practically the only one respecting it, besides you) -- but he was close enough to know that something was amiss. Although his attentions were always appreciated by you, whatever their nature, you just wanted to stay by yourself that night.

However, the first (and only) attempt to sneak away was a fiasco. Two steps and your knees collapsed like a potato bag. Thankfully, keeping you from hitting your head, Percy was right there. He had thrown the plates in the air to catch you on the fly. You felt your mind getting foggy, your mouth heavy.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes wide. “Are you okay?” “Mm-hm.” You didn't have the energy to think. Curling up in his arms suddenly seemed like the most reasonable choice. He smelled of jasmine and black powder. Around him, Grog, Scanlan and Vax also gathered.

“Maybe I'd better take you to the room. Hold on to me.”

“Do you need a hand?” asked the half-elf, frowning.

“No, I thank you. I'll take care of it,” he replied, lifting you up and resting his arms behind his neck. Vax couldn't see it, but he was gently stroking your muscles with his thumbs. He loved to run his fingertips over your body, especially when he could get lost in making little circles. Somehow, he was giving comfort to both of you.

He carried you out of the huge dining room without saying anything else, holding you to his body. He was radiating a pleasant warmth, and you instinctively rubbed your face against his blouse on the way. Within minutes, you were in your bed, him sitting beside you, stroking your face.

“Hey,” he said smiling, stroking your cheek. “It's the medicine, isn't it? How long has it been since you've eaten?”

Three fingers up. You hadn't eaten for three days.

“Three days? Holy shit... you should have told me,” he remarked, running a gloved hand through his snow-white hair.

“I didn't...want to worry you....” Guilt began to weigh down your heart, forcing you to bite your lips nervously and touch your fingertips to each other in a vain attempt to calm down, but it was only his hand under your chin that stopped the flow of obsessive thoughts. He forced you to look at him.

“It has to stop happening, okay? Talk to me. Let's communicate. You don't have to carry everything on your shoulders.”

Yeah. Percival was right. But it was so difficult even the act of thinking sometimes. Your head was perpetually bulging with thoughts, things to do, external stimuli, sounds, smells, textures. The missions, the places to explore and their dangers, the screaming, the blood, the metal, the fire. Medication had lessened all that, it was true. For a moment, sleep and daily life had become more bearable, but food had lost your attention.

“I'm sorry.” You felt tears in the back of your eyes. The last thing you wanted was to make him angry.

“You don't have to apologize to me,” he said softly, then stood up and reached for a pitcher and a glass of water. He filled it, handing it to you. “Let's start with the simple things. Drink a little.”

Very quietly, the first sips went down your throat. Then, faster and faster. In a few moments you had swallowed all the water. Percival watched you from the edge of the bed, one hand on your leg distractedly playing with the fabric of your pants.

“Good. Shall we try to eat something?”

Your stomach hadn't fully opened yet, but the idea of worrying your boyfriend made you feel worse.

“W-What can I eat?”

“Let's see-I can get you a slice of cake, if Grog has left some. Gods, he eats like he's still about to grow!” she huffed, raising his hands to the sky and earning your laughter. His green eyes sparkled and he smiled back. “Wait for me.”

“E-even if I wanted to, I don't think I could move from here except as a worm. Crawling.”

He stood up, chuckling. “You're terrible,” he said, kissing your forehead and then pointing toward the door. “I'll be right back.”

You spent the next few minutes looking at your hands. How worn they were ... then, flashes of hands covered by leather gloves: protecting your fingers, squeezing them, medicating them. Not a moment had passed since you had met Percival De Rolo that those hands had been left to their fate. Since he had become your boyfriend, then, less so. The knuckles had been kissed, the hands held on your warm, milk-white chest. Loneliness was but a distant memory, but ... having someone taking care of you was far beyond your expectations.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the squeaking of the wooden door and the rush of cold air against your skin. Percival was holding not one, but two slices of chocolate cake, rigorously arranged on finely decorated plates. He placed one of them on your thighs, held the other in his hand, then sat back down on the edge of the bed.

“Can you sit closer?”

“How much closer?” “Here. Let's eat together.”

Percy, being very careful not to let his dessert fly onto his jacket, settled down next to you at your pat on the mattress. You rested your head on his shoulder for a brief moment, and he rested his own on top of you. Your free hands sought each other, entwining. It was a quiet, long minute, except for your breaths in the cold room. Then, he broke the silence.

“I know it's hard -- but really, let me carry some of your struggles on my shoulders.”

“Percy...you just got a demon off your fucking back, why don't you leave them in peace?”

“Because I love you.”

You almost had a stroke. Yes, you were now a couple (in a very adolescent way, had been your response after an initial, very shy kiss and his question, “What are we?”), but you had never confessed to each other, you had limited yourselves to a few brief contacts of hands, arms and yes, occasionally lips. Things between you were complicated, mainly because neither of you had ever been in a steady relationship and everything was pretty new.

And just as you opened your mouth to respond, a forkful of cake flew down your throat, followed by her laughter.

“Percy! I was going to choke-”

A blow kiss sealed your lips. “Maybe I found a way to get you to eat more often.”

#percival de rolo #percival de rolo x reader smut #percival de rolo fluff #the legend of vox machina #tlovm #adhd #neurodivergence #reriwrites #rerireplies #cr #critical role

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