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mintmatcha · 6 months

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Kinktober: Monster Fucking

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

After months of adventuring with your party, you can't help but be curious about a certain dragon born....

cw: cisfem reader, Monster fucking, OC x reader, fantasy racism (someone is not nice to dragonborn), biting, slight mention of bleeding, fingers in holes

PART ONE OF TWO

a/n: A very special thanks to @tyga-lily, who talked with me about her little dragonborn and made me fall in love with this concept and to @saetyrn9 who came up with his name :)

"The bath is free, Obi."

For how much a night costs, the room is nothing special, but any inn with running water is heaven sent. It’s been almost two months since anyone in your party has slept in a proper bed and your body can feel it. Simply wearing the silk of your nightgown feels luxurious at this point; sleeping on down is going to feel obscene.

"I'll be quick." Your party mate stands with a grunt, the day heavy on his joints. You almost want to tease him, but after this adventure, your knees are screaming too. It's hard enough for you to throw yourself on to the bed

Despite knowing him for the greater part of a year, you always forget how large the dragonborn is until he’s next to you. Towering over you with delicate horns and ridged crest, Obsidian Vyke -Obi, to his friends- is all black scales and teeth. The air crackles around him the way it crackles around all sorcerers, subtle yet wild, so it’s unfair that he’s also built wide. Thick biceps and a barrel chest: no magic user should be that muscular.

"Take your time." You watch him as he moves around the room, dipping around the singular bed and pulling his sleeping clothes from his travel sack.

"I'm sorry about this," Obi says, peering over his shoulder, "I know I'm not as nice to room with as Kiri."

The two other members in your party had been fast friends-- unfortunately, they were also quick to become lovers. Usually, that did not pose any issues to the group, but tonight, the inn only has two rooms available. It seemed cruel to separate the lovebirds, so you and Obi agreed to cohabitate for the night.

"I don’t mind sharing a bed with you." The idea gives you butterflies, this flitting, nervous energy. You trust the man with your life-- fuck, he’s saved your life in battle -- but something about sleeping next to him makes your skin goosepimple. "As long as you don't snore."

His eyes narrow in a smile. "I'll try my best."

The dragonborn undoes the lacings of his leather outerwear using the sharpened tips of his claws, delicately catching them under and pulling. The motion is careful and patient, repeated until he can toss the garment into the room's only chair.

It’s not that you don’t want to share a room with him. In fact, you think you want this a little too much. You're absorbed with all of his movements as he primps a bit, adjusting the hem of his shirt so it sits properly, running a palm over his crest, sliding off his traveler's boots. If you're lucky, his shirt will be next and you can catch a peek of the toned spance of his stomach.

"My lady," His teeth flash in the fire light, pearls against the deep, dark opalescent hues of his scales, "You're staring."

"Ah, I'm sorry!" He’s one to talk; you’ve felt his gaze following you for weeks now. That's the only reason you're thinking about him and his body.

And, using that logic, he's the only reason you bought that bodice ripper last week, the one starring a pretty red dragonborn and his human lover--

"Is there something in my teeth?" Obi teases. That earns him a giggle, but, when you don't respond, he exhales through his nose and moves closer. "We're rooming together tonight, so if there's any tension between us, I'd rather-"

"I heard a rumor," you blurt out.

He goes pale. "About me? What did Thyrll tell you?"

"No, about dragonborns in general."

Relief relaxes his features.

"And you just want to know if it's true?" There's a click in his voice as he laughs, something strange and inhumane, "It's okay. You can ask. Let me guess- I eat poor little gnomes? I enchant humans with my-"

"Is it... inside of you?"

The dragonborn pauses at that, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

"Your..." You cannot believe you're about to say this, "Cock."

"Oh."

You scramble up, hands over your face as you head towards the door. You aren't sure where you're going to go in a nightgown, but anywhere else has to be better than here.

"Oh, I'm sorry! That was so rude of me."

A wall of muscle suddenly blocks your way. Those dexterous hands that you were admiring moments ago are now touching your shoulders, rubbing up and down affectionately.

"It's alright, my lady, I'm just... surprised." He smells like petrichor, something strangely earthy and yet unnatural clinging to his scales, and laughs like summer rain, "I think it's natural to wonder about different races, I just didn't think..."

His sharp eyes are dilated a bit, the pupils closer to almonds than slits as they bounce up and down your body.

"I've had my own... curiosities about others as well," he admits, "So, who am I to judge?"

Your spine prickles at that. Who exactly was he curious about? One of the elves in your party? The barmaid downstairs? Or is it you that the thinks about at night, cock in fist?

The dragonborn misreads the upset look on your face. "I promise that I am not cross with you. How about I answer your questions and you'll answer mine? No judgments."

You settle a bit. "If you're sure."

He smiles a draconic smile, all teeth and the smallest flick of his tongue.

"Of course I'm sure. I'm not embarrassed because my species is a bit different than yours."

You watch him for a long moment. He’s kind. A scoundrel at times, but kind. It's etched into his face, always reflected in his wide, chartreuse eyes.

"So, it is different,” you say carefully.

"It is."

“Very different?”

“When my cock is hard?” He says it so easily. Always proper, it makes you squirm to hear him curse, “No. But when I’m not, it is, in fact inside.”

"It's just... flat down there?"

"Yes- give me your hand."

You weave your fingers in between his without a second thought, but he just shakes his head and pulls away. Then, he takes your still open palm in his and brings it to his torso. The muscle there is just as firmed as you imagined and it's hard not to linger in once spot to appreciate it, Slowly, Obi guides your hand down, running it over the linen of his pants. Underneath, you can feel how it's slightly ridged with larger scales than the rest of his body and, subsequently, larger gaps form in between. It's just skin-- well, it's just scales. You're touching nothing technically intimate, but your heart races anyway, caught in your throat.

"See?" His voice has the edge of a tremble and, when you look up, you realize just how close you two have become. Practically chest to chest, his snout is only inches from your face, close enough that you can see how each individual scale slightly shifts in color as the fire dances. He seems to have realized too; dragonborn expressions are hard to read, but you don't miss how deep his breathing has become.

"It's nothing like touching a human, is it?" he mumbles, hand squeezing yours ever so slightly, “Not intimate at all.”

"Well." You curl your fingers up, clumsily feeling through the fabric, "Maybe a bit.”

The fire crackles in the fireplace. He breathes again, on the brink of a sigh, and you think he’s just as caught up in this as you are.

"Just a bit?" Heat radiates from him. If he were human, it'd be alarming, but instead there's a comfort to it. You're still warm from the bath, and yet you chase that heat, slipping your hand from his just to bring it under the waistline of his pants.

"More than a bit."

He's hot underneath it all, almost uncomfortable to the touch as you explore the space blindly. His eyes haven't left yours, his lids getting heavy with every prod and poke of your fingers.

A vertical line of soft, exposed skin catches your ring finger and his body jumps reflexively as you accidentally dip inside of him. It’s strangely dry, yet much softer than the rest of his scaled body. Despite yourself, you explore it a bit more, pressing in the same way you’ll be playing with your own pussy tonight.

"A-ahh--" The dragonborn sucks in a deep breath and you can feel his abdomen crunch under your touch, "Be careful."

"Did I hurt you?" you ask as you pull away.

His chittering laugh returns. His hands rest on the small of your back, not pushing, but not entirely platonic either. When he talks, the air tastes like distant embers, just far enough away, yet not close enough, "You didn’t hurt me, don’t worry."

“Are you sure?” you press, “You made a weird noise.”

“Very sure,” He dips low enough to press his lips against the shell of your ear, "You’d do the same if I put my fingers inside of you."

This time, the heat is coming from inside you, twisting and pulling with want.

"With your claws?" You manage to joke through your suddenly dry throat, "I might cry."

"I could cut them," His voice is rolling and low as his hands explore, one traveling up your spine and the other dipping the smooth over your ass. When they both reach their zeniths, they switch directions. The silk of your dress catches against his skin, pulling it up and revealing the fat of your ass to the air. "Nice and short."

His nails dig gently into your skin, nothing more than a nip, a test.

"You’re so soft, all over. Your body just gives when I touch it,” There’s a distant tone to his voice as he speaks into the curve of your neck, “Too delicate for me, aren’t you?”

You hum in disagreement and his teeth prove you otherwise. It’s barely a graze, but the nip against your pulse point drags a whimper from deep within you. Your companion chuckles, then coos with pity as he does it again, much, much kinder this time.

“Oh, you’re knock kneed and sweet for me,” The already blossoming bruises are soothed by a warm, textured flash of wet. His tongue is rougher than a humans, longer too, and it leaves behind a string of spit that is more viscous than any human’s. “Like a fawn. My sweet fawn.”

The hand that once explored him is trapped in between your bodies, unable to move, but you can feel something against your stomach: something hard, something thick. Too much cock for your human body, but, fuck, you’re going to try.

“Bet you’re even softer down here.” A singular clawed drags over your bare ass, searching for underwear that isn't there and your body trembles with want, “Oh, look at that, shaking like a leaf. I bet you’d melt if I-”

A sharp knock at the door scrambles you two apart. A moment passes and the sound almost feels imaginary, but then it happens again. You smooth your still wet hair and try to gather yourself, heading to the door in a hurry. Somehow, the dragonborn is more flustered than you. His scales are physically ruffled and his usually stoney brow is creased. He can’t blush, but you swear you can see his face alight as you swing the door open.

There stands a familiar elvish figure, with dark straight hair and the prettiest of smiles.

“Kiri!” you exclaim. She’s a natural beauty, like most elves. All legs and sharp angles, she’s a good head taller than you, leaning over with almost a condescending grin. She’s so beautiful that you almost hate her for it.

“I am sorry to be a bother, rogue.” She speaks in Elvish and the dragonborn’s head tilts slightly side to side, like a dog who hears his name, as he tries to listen. “I came to thank you and the sorcerer.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” Your Elvish is unnatural on your human tongue, “We are fine here.”

“My lover thanks you too,” she winks and giggles. She’s over a hundred years older than you, and yet still head over heels like a schoolgirl. Elves might live for thousands of years, but they take hundreds to mature. “We will not be sleeping much tonight.”

You roll your eyes and pretend to gag, biting back a smile, but then Kiri grows serious.

“If he scares you, please let me know,” she continues.

“Obi?” you say, “He’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m sure he is, but those teeth! Like needles. Braver than me, sleeping next to a monster like that.”

You glance at your dragonborn and he looks away before you can meet his eye. A disappointment settles in your stomach. Monster is such an ugly word for a pretty man. Everything about him is charming and refined, from the way he speaks and the way he walks, to the way he shines his scales when he thinks no one is looking.

“That’s rude.” You’re quick to reply. Kiri grew up around only her own kind and their ideas-- she doesn’t always know what’s uncouth or offensive because of it, “Don’t say such awful things.”

“It seems like he’s already gotten hungry.” She jerks a chin to your shoulder. You reflexively reach to cover it, only to pull away when the spot feels wet. Blood speckles your fingers- not enough to warranty any worry, of course, just the slightest graze of the skin.

“That’s not--”

“I tease, I tease!” she continues, “I know it is just a scrape. Can you imagine? To lay with someone who is all claws, fire and untamed magics! I-”

The man in question stalks in between you two silently. With a towel in his arms and a chip on his shoulder, he stomps by with a snort of his nostrils.

“I’m going to bathe.” His Elvish is worse than yours, but it's enough to make Kiri’s face drop. The worst part is that he doesn’t sound angry-- you could deal with anger. Instead, he sounds heartbroken. “I don’t mean to be frightening.”

You both walk him stalk down the hall until he disappears around a corner. Kiri swivels to look at you, bewildered. “Since when does he speak Elvish?”

PART TWO

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myunconquerablesoul · 7 months

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Recommendations. *NSFW*

Haikyu!!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+ only!!!

Kageyama Tobio

SWEATER SEASON - @tteokdoroki

Iwaizumi Hajime

venus - @saetyrn9

Akaashi Keiji

treating keiji on his birthday - @kiyoobi

Miya Atsumu

himbo!atsumu - @tiniella

Miya Osamu

it's samu's birthday - @sugawarassoulmate

no title, but trust me! - @augustineafterdark (kitchen sex)

THANKFUL - @yukimiyaz

Sakusa Kiyoomi

no title, but trust me! - @sciophobia (sakusa doesn't like the idea of toys)

pussy enthusiast! sakusa kiyoomi - @miyasins

no title, but trust me! - @doingitforbokuto (Sakusa who masturbates on all fours)

Private - @teeyoomi

-> Navigation.

#recommendations #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #akaashi keji x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #kageyama tobio x reader smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader smut #akaashi keiji x reader smut #miya atsumu x reader smut #miya osamu x reader smut #sakusa kiyomi x reader smut

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strawberrystepmom · 6 months

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a trick, a treat, a few tweaks later and i am proud to present…werewolf natsuo todoroki for @saetyrn9! happy halloween and thank you for participating!

contains: NSFW, MDNI. cw knotting, cw monsterfucking, cw breeding kink, cw size kink, cw spit/drool. werewolf!natsuo x afab!reader. established relationship (he is referred to as reader's husband), takes place over a full moon night. piv sex, fingering, knotting, an exaggerated amount of cum, intimate sex that becomes frenzied, size kink (he's big as hell what are we feeding that man), insinuating breeding kink but only briefly.

The front door slams into the frame and makes the house shutter, your spine following the motion of the foundation you stand upon.

Natsuo doesn’t mean to slam the door, stronger than he’s aware of most of the time, and as soon as you’re greeted with a jovial “I’m home!” you know that he didn’t mean to make you jump. It’s a natural side effect of a slamming door along with a sky that has darkened even earlier than it did just a few weeks ago, the wind making branches scrape against your window panes.

You’re glad he’s safe and inside, though, given what’s coming tonight. Peering out of your kitchen window, you squint and can make out the full moon rising across the horizon, your husband already pacing anxiously through the house on his way to you. You can hear his sniffing from an entire room away and you giggle when he eventually sidles up to you, burying his nose against your neck.

“I could smell you before I even walked in the house.”

Turning to face him, you let him press your back against the edge of the kitchen counter while his big arms cage you in. He has the look he usually gets during his transformation, something wild in those warm eyes, something that makes you shiver for a far different reason than a rickety old door in a frame that barely fits it - anticipation.

You know exactly what this night means for you and you spent the whole day preparing for it. A few hour nap in the mid afternoon, fueling yourself with water and snacks and you’ve felt good as new for hours, ready for the long night ahead of you.

Given the way Natsuo’s bulge presses into your clothed crotch, you aren’t certain he can even wait until the moon rises but you don’t mind. His teeth have been getting pointier for days, his silvery white body hair increasing in thick patches, and you can’t wait to be the place where he pins all of his instinctual desire. You know you’ll pay for it in the days to come when your muscles are sore and your sweet husband is burying his chin in his shirt, embarrassed by the bloom of bruises across your shoulder and neck from his nipping teeth, but it’s always worth it.

“All I could think about all day was you,” he pants into your ear and you giggle, light as air, head tipping back to let him trace the tip of his nose down the column of your throat. Sharpened teeth nip at your exposed flesh and you moan feeling his teeth scrape dangerously against your skin, his tongue darting out to lave over the marks left behind, ever a loyal wolf who takes care of his mate.

Mate. The word still leaves you speechless despite how long the two of you have been together. You are his mate in every single way and the one thing your beloved wolf man wants to do the most tonight is just that - mate.

“Gonna give you everything, I promise.”

Natsuo’s whisper is rasped against your skin and you shiver, hot and cold all at once, his arms moving from the counter to your waist. He’s so big and you feel so secure and safe pressed against him despite the looming transformation of his body, broad shoulders darkening the kitchen around him.

Your hands rove automatically to his body, cupping his cheek and his jaw and his shoulders and it’s all he can manage to not toss you on top of the counter and fuck you just like this but he wants to make tonight special. It is your monthly ritual, after all, and he reaches down and taps your hip, a silent instruction for you to wrap your legs around his waist so he can lift you.

It’s no effort for him at all, strong arms swooping you up and against his body, arms cradling your ass as the two of you walk toward your bedroom and he pushes the door open with his foot, immediately placing you down on the bed as gently as he can before trapping you beneath his form.

“I need you so bad,” he pants and you squirm, nothing more than putty in his hands at this point. Your husband is the most earnest man you’ve ever met - as kind as he is handsome - and indulging him is so easy so you spread your legs, letting him pull down your lounge pants and panties in one swoop.

He sniffs again and it’s the most erotic sight you’ve ever been fortunate enough to witness, his eyes fluttering shut while drool drips from his widening mouth. It falls onto your thighs and dots your skin, your thighs flexing involuntarily for some friction while he works on disrobing himself.

Shirt off, tossed aside, you start to salivate as hard as he is when greeted with the strong, big body of your husband. It’s beautiful; his muscles are defined but he’s still soft and you love the way he feels when he’s against you, even while covered with hair thicker than you’ve ever seen. It’s coarse but it feels sensational when he leans down over your hot body, helping you ruck your shirt off without lifting you from the bed. He tosses it to the corner of the mattress with a smile, his fingers sliding down your torso until they reach the cleft of your pussy.

He shivers this time, the silken arousal covering his fingers making more drool drip out of his mouth and onto the hair covering your mound. An outsider wouldn’t notice the subtle changes to Natsuo’s body as the sun sinks lower and the moon rises outside of your bedroom window but you do, his body growing hairier and more taut with muscle as each minute passes. His cock throbs in his boxers and he makes quick work of his pants, unbuttoning and letting them fall and pool around his ankles.

“Natsu,” your breathless whimper makes him chuckle, a dangerous sound that sends heat rushing through your entire body. Your eyes are trained on his bobbing cock, tip so red and angry it has to be hurting him, and your arms reach to grab him but he stops you, pinning your arms above your head with one of his hands gently wrapped around your wrists.

“Let me.”

You do and always will, spreading your legs wide for him to devour and he does. His eyes rove over every piece of you, pupils dilating and drool continuing to drop from his mouth in heavy strings. He becomes less human with every moment that passes yet somehow more and more yours, his heavy body pressing against your cunt and his free hand now delving between your spread lips, the rough pads of his index and middle fingers dragging your arousal from your clit down your entrance and back.

“Have to get you ready for me, you know?”

Your cunt drips, his fingers soaking from tip to bottom knuckle, but your eyes are stuck on the sight of his thickening length. His knot is already bulging at the base of him and you clench around nothing desperately, squirming under his gaze and fingers. There’s no resistance when he inserts the two digits he has been teasing you with and he hums in his throat as satisfied as ever, crooking them inside of you and massaging your gummy walls with expert precision.

Nobody could ever compare to the way he makes you come undone and you tip your head back, eyes fluttering shut while you whine his name toward the ceiling. The sun is retreating completely outside of the window and moonlight shines through, illuminating the way your husband becomes progressively less human as time passes. His mouth becomes more canine in appearance, teeth poking out of his gums and over his lips, and his hands become rougher in texture but gentle in touch.

“Need you, baby.”

He can tell by the way you clench and keep whining his name as if it’s a prayer, a thanks even, to whatever being created him just like this.

Natsuo is delicate with you despite the roughness of his current state, every touch of your body more reverent than the last, and he kisses you with so much love you’re afraid you’ll burst. It’s sloppy, drool still dripping into your mouth, but the sensation of being filled with his fingers in your cunt and his tongue between your lips makes you feel alight, ready for even more of him if he’ll grace you with it.

He climbs onto the bed and effectively pushes you across the mattress, up toward the pillows, and the moonlight catches a pearly drop of precum beading and falling off of the engorged head of his cock. You whimper, walls clenching around his fingers while you cum, and your mate knows that you are as ready as you ever have been so he lets go of your arms, sliding his palm down your head and then your chest and finally your stomach, soft beneath him.

His hand lands at his cock and he grips the thickened base as much as he can despite it being too big even for his own hands, his pinkie holding up his shaft beneath his knot. You wonder every time how you manage to take all of him but you’ve never failed before and with how wet and needy you are, it’s certain to be no problem at all for him to knot you until his urges are fulfilled.

The heavy head of him rests at your entrance and you buck your hips upward to encourage him to at least indulge you in the tip and how can he deny you anything, even if he’s not exactly the usual version of himself tonight?

He growls and pants while sinking his head and the first two inches of him inside of you, your mouth open in a silent moan and eyes wide while you wonder how you manage to take him every time. The stretch is addictive and you look forward to it despite your surprise, another inch followed by another and another until he stops just short of his knot.

“My mate,” he croons and you nod, reaching up to cup his hairy cheek. He’s so different when he’s like this but he’s still himself to you no matter what and he takes it slow tonight, rocking his hips gently to get you used to the size and strength of him in this form.

It's always like this, soft and intimate, until his instincts go into overdrive. You know he prefers the softness and intimacy so you let him rock you gently, his hands coming to your hips to hold you in place as he slowly fucks into you. It's beautiful and your moans are a chorus to his ears, spurring him on into the state you know he can't fight for much longer.

His knot clenches and pulses and you feel it against your cunt while he thrusts, eager to take all of it inside of you. You're so lost in him that it's difficult to focus on anything else and the way he kisses you, drool dripping down your chin and chest, overwhelms you so badly you find yourself about to spiral until he pulls you back in.

"Ready for me, baby?"

You nod, lips still pressed against his skin in a daze, and he grunts as he sinks the remaining length of him to the top of his knot inside of you. Your warmth clings to him, skin stretched obscenely around his cock, and his eyes do not leave where your bodies are connected, sticky arousal webbing between your cunt and his cock with each drill of himself in and out of you.

The sounds are obscene but the scene itself is gorgeous otherwise, the moonlight bathed werewolf making you clench and cream around his cock a vision you'll remember for the rest of your life despite getting this exact view every single month.

Some people have all the luck.

Wordlessly, he begins fucking you roughly, the end of his patience reached. He grunts and pants and growls deep in his chest, your flesh spilling through his fingers as he holds you down and fucks into you just the way you like - head of him kissing every inch of you that no one could ever reach. Just him, your Natsuo.

Drilling into you so hard your body jerks up the bed you find yourself getting lost in the sensations of him filling you like this, focusing on how incredible it feels to almost have the entirety of him inside of you. It's so close, his release nearing with every loud smack of his pelvis and balls against your ass, and you feel him swell inside of you and moan while he cums.

It's always so much during his transformation, the milky cum seeping back out of your obscenely stretched cunt and covering the base of him that isn't already covered with your arousal. Squelching is all you hear before his knot is buried deep in you, walls enveloping him to keep him and his release in place.

Panting, he kisses you again and rests his cheek against your shoulder to allow you both time to catch your breath. You know this isn't the first time tonight so you prepare yourself for more while enjoying the peaceful time in his presence.

#natsuo todoroki x reader #thot-o-ween 2023 #monster mash 2023

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andypantsx3 · 9 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Thank you to @itoshisoup @saetyrn9 and @seravphs for the tags!! I am late and so I apologize if I’ve missed any other tags while I was out!!

I want to say I think this is such a cute idea. I am very proud of how hard I’ve worked on my fics, and I am grateful for the chance to give my Andie director's cut lmfao even if I kind of wanted to curl up like a pill bug writing this.

Um, I think in no particular order, these are my top 5 recs of the moment:

Deceiving the Duke | Shouto x Reader

When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a lady’s maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

I am a huge fan of regency romances and I have incredible respect for them as massive drivers of the romance genre as a whole. So it sort of shocked me when I was talking to Mermie and Cat and we realized we hadn't seen any x Reader regency fics (although I am certain they are out there)!! As much as I love a good pro hero AU (my bread and butter), I really appreciated the chance to try my hand at something that's a little lesser explored in this niche. It's kind of messy in retrospect but I had so much fun working on it that I'll let past Andie off the hook for that.

2. ab intra | Shinsou x Reader

When a wave of disturbing crimes sweep the city, underground hero Hitoshi Shinsou is assigned to work the case with you. What’s even more frustrating than his obnoxious personality is the fact no one will tell you why he’s involved. Things only get more suspicious from there.

This fic was the first time I really sat down and tried my hand at a case fic. I was reading a bunch of Japanese police thrillers at the time, and although my attempt does not measure up, it gave me the tools to understand how to better execute on case fics in the future. Again I really liked trying my hand at something I'm not necessarily good at, because it was fun and I learned a lot. This is probably my most distinct out of all my fics in terms of tone and subject material!!

3. unconventional | Midoriya x Reader

HeroExpo is incredible, and that’s not even counting the really cute hero fanboy you just met. Well, you think he might be cute under that Deku cosplay. It’s hard to tell because it’s really, really good. Like, too good.

I was so nervous to try my hand at Izuku that I actually thought about not publishing this one several times. But this ended up being one of my all-time favorites to write and I get really nostalgic for the time of my life I was in while I was working on this. The fic was so light and fun and such a comfort to write, and to this day I am very touched by how kind people are about Izuku's characterization. It makes me feel really good. 🥺

4. vested interest | Shouto x Reader

You’d just thought Shouto was absent minded, accidentally leaving behind a jacket or a sweater or his vest. You didn’t realize this was a thing. (In which Todoroki Shouto—despite his quirk—has zero chill, and uses his clothes to ward off other men.)

I am probably best known for my Shouto fic if i could keep cool, but vested interest is actually my favorite child!! In retrospect this one is messy too but I had the absolute time of my peddling my little shit Shouto agenda. This fic actually forms the backbone of how I characterize Shouto currently, with just a touch more of spoiled youngest child energy than I had been doing previously. :) Viva la jealous Sho.

5. incendiary | Bakugou x Reader

When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

This is the fic I have worked the hardest on and I am very proud of it (and excited to publish the next chapter when I get back)!! This is my only attempt to tackle an issue of real substance and I am very grateful for the perspective I have been given by my sensitivity readers @cat-slippered and @darkenedniqhts.

I also feel really protective over this one as it got plagiarized and slightly rewritten into something that exploded in popularity and massively outstripped this fic. Though handling that situation was uncomfortable, and this feels like a strange thing to say, it was a good ego check for me. It reminded me that I still have a lot of growing to do as a writer if I want my ideas to be unique and memorable enough that a situation like this won't arise again. I will work hard.

My no pressure tags (and sorry if you've already been tagged!!) @restwellsoon @bobawithpomegranate @darkenedniqhts @cat-slippered @ofmermaidstories @willowser @lorelune @petrichorium @heich0e @sipsteainanxiety @shibaraki @kedsandtubesocks @potionpeddlerpatchy @meggsngrits @coopigeoncoo @crowned-peony @stellamancer @namodawrites @streimiv @ghost-flakes @ghostbeam @kimkaelyn also @procrastination-artist @bluebird-in-the-breeze @acerathia bc I love ur stuff even if I know u have a smaller fic count.

#ur not hallucinating i keep editing to add more ppl i wanna hear talk about their stuff

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heich0e · 1 year

Text

midnights, menthols, maybes - akaashi keiji/f!reader (1.9k, mostly SFW) tags: platonic FWBs, implications of deep but ambiguous affection, post-coital conversations, akaashi smoking cigarettes, general overtone of those weird growing pains of early adulthood where you're still trying to figure it all out, talk of the future (marriage, parenthood), tw: keiji is kind of slutting reader out to his friends (or the other way around! all in good fun), based on this post and amy's (@saetyrn9) tags.

Keiji has a strict, self-imposed 'no smoking' rule in his apartment.

He doesn't want his little space to yellow with nicotine; his furniture, his books, the walls. He also doesn't like the way smoke clings to any soft surface or fabric, the smell turning sour and stale and impossible to remove over time. And he always says that when–not if–he quits, it'll be easier if he's not used to smoking inside anyway so it won't be an ever-present temptation he has to fight.

But there are two exceptions that he makes to this policy, rule-abiding though he may be. The first exception is reserved for when it's raining outside with an accompanying north wind, which means the raindrops will blow under the cover of his balcony, soak into his house slippers, and he might end up catching a cold. The second is saved for midnights spent with you, recuperating from having gone a few rounds, where just mustering the strength to crawl to the end of his bed and crack open the window is a miraculous feat in and of itself.

A plume of smoke curls from Keiji's lips on a long, almost rapturous exhale, his entire body slackening like he’s cumming for the fourth time tonight. You'd already seen (and felt) the tension bleed from him much earlier in the evening as he fucked you down into his mattress–following your usual routine of drinking your weight in whatever liquor was readily available and slandering your respective employers for a couple of hours–but now he’s really, totally at peace.

You watch him lift the mentholated cigarette up to his lips again, and you watch the inhale. The lit end burns bright in the dark room, stark against the shadows. The only other source of brightness is the distant city light against his profile as he sits next to his open window, backlit by the late night glow.

He has no glasses on—the frames discarded on the bedside table next to you, perched over the open drawer with a string of unused condoms still left hanging out from the side. His hair is tousled, dark and unruly. His lips are still a little swollen, their silhouette slightly fuller than usual as they wrap around the filter of the cigarette and take another drag.

He’s so pretty.

“Hey… ‘ji?” you mumur, soft enough to preserve the stillness blanketing the stretch of bed between you.

Keiji tilts his face in your direction, peeking at you from the corner of his eye with his cigarette still held between his lips.

He says nothing, but you know he’s listening.

“Would you ever wanna be my boyfriend?”

You're not quite sure where the question even comes from, and clearly neither is he as he plucks the menthol from his lips in mild surprise. He laughs quietly, a half-rasp, and smoke slips out in an inelegant little puff when he coughs a bit.

“No.” His response is quick, honest, and sure.

You can't help but pout.

“That’s kinda mean," you mutter, your fingers twisting into the comforter that rests over you, preserving your body heat as the night breeze rushes in through the open window. Every so often the wind carries Keiji's cigarette smoke closer to you before it has the chance to draw it out, but you don't quite mind it. It's familiar to you after all this time. Comforting, almost.

Keiji flicks a bit of ash from the end of the cigarette into the ashtray he has resting on the windowsill.

“You deserve a better boyfriend than me, don’t you think?”

You hear a far-off siren blaring somewhere in the city outside as you consider his question.

“No,” you echo his earlier reply, but where his tone had been so resolute your own is offended on his behalf.

Time and sex has dried you out, and you're more sober now than you'd once been, even though the empty beer cans the two of you drained as still littering his living room table. You push yourself up off the pillows at the head of the bed and crawl down towards the dark haired man on your hands and knees. You're still a little shaky, a little weak, and Keiji watches your every move raptly as you approach. You pause just beside him at the end of the bed, blinking up at him expectantly. He lifts the cigarette to your waiting mouth so you can take a little puff, watching your lips as they just barely wrap around the end. You feel the pleasant buzz of nicotine in your veins as the prickling, minty smoke hits your lungs, then the light head rush that accompanies it once you breathe it all out again.

Keiji pulls the cigarette away and you flop down on your tummy next to him, rolling onto your side so you can peer up at his face. He reaches over to the sill and deftly flicks the ash away once more, and then takes another long drag.

“Why do you think I set you up with so many of my friends?”

This time it's his question that takes you by surprise, the words hanging in the air like the smoke he breathes out.

“Because you’re gossip hungry, and wanna know how they fuck.”

Keiji smiles wryly above you, stamping out the cigarette.

“Yeah, true," he admits as he shimmies his bedroom window most-of-the-way shut, leaving just a crack to help the lingering traces of smoke clear. He turns to face you, one hand pressing down into the mattress beside your head as he dips towards you. He takes your jaw in his gentle hand, a thumb on your chin as he tips your face up to look at him. “But it’s also because I want you to find a boyfriend who at least has sheets on his bed.”

Keiji's bedding, at present, consists only of a comforter over a mattress cover. You know there's a brand new package of sheets in the corner of his bedroom, because you'd spotted them when you'd stolen a sweatshirt from his dresser not long prior, but when you asked him about them, he admitted that he hasn’t had the chance to open and wash them yet. Part of you wondered when he got them, how long they've gone unopened, and how long he’s been sleeping like this.

He'd been considerate enough to put down a towel before the two of you had toppled into bed, in any case, so at least you weren’t sleeping on a wet mattress.

But now the towel is in the hamper, and his old high school volleyball sweatshirt is wrapped around your shoulders, and the last few lingering wisps of cigarette smoke are slipping through the crack in the window out into the night.

“Some of the guys you’ve set me up with have way bigger issues than a lack of sheets,” you counter his point, your features scrunching.

He pinches your nose affectionately.

“Those ones are mostly just my curiosity getting the best of me.”

“At my expense,” you retort nasally.

Keiji urges you back up off the mattress and to the top of the bed again, crawling up along with you. He pulls the comforter up to your chins as you both snuggle down on your respective sides of the bed that isn’t quite meant to fit two people comfortably, but that you somehow never feel cramped in.

You curl up on your side facing him and he does the same, his hands tucked under his pillow beneath his cheek. You and Keiji aren't really cuddlers, and never have been. It always feels more like a sleepover than a hookup at this point in the night.

Keiji’s eyelids are heavy as he lays beside you, but he's still watching your face between blinks.

“Lets make a deal,” he says–his voice deep and flat and familiar.

“‘Kay.”

“How about at forty, if neither of us have gotten our lives together yet and you’ve finally fucked your way through every man in my contact list, we get married?”

You want to laugh, but somehow you don't.

“Isn’t forty a bit late?”

“I figure it gives us a fair shot. I have a lot of contacts, you know.”

That makes you snort.

It's quiet for a moment. Blinks instead of words passing between you.

“What about kids?" you finally reply. "How about 35, instead? Biological clocks and all that.”

“You wanna have my kids?” Keiji's eyes look slightly more curious now, a little more lively under his heavy lids, but his tone doesn’t really change. Ever the same.

You hum.

“I don’t think it’d be so bad,"–you shrug as much as you can laying down–“not sure I'd be very good at it though.”

“Well, dual income with no kids could be kinda nice.”

“Yeah,” you agree thoughtfully. “We can fuck whenever we want and go on expensive vacations.”

“That would require taking time off work,” Keiji reminds you—a feat which neither of you are particularly good at, at least not now in your late-20s when sometimes just finding 20 minutes in the run of a day to eat a meal feels like time you don't have.

You breathe out something that's not quite a huff nor a sigh, and yet somehow both at the same time.

“Alright, what about 38? Any earlier than that and we’re just setting ourselves up to fail,” Keiji offers up a compromise, wiggling one hand out from under his pillow to brush an errant piece of hair back from your face. "Still a few years for a baby to happen if it happens, and otherwise it’ll just be us and our vacations.”

“38...” you repeat his proposition, mulling it over.

Time keeps ticking.

A few more blinks.

“So, will you maybe marry me?”

“Sure,” you agree, as easy as anything. You mean it too, you think; there are far worse fates than spending the rest of your days with Keiji at your side. Laughing the way you only seem to when you’re together. Fucking the same way you always have. Maybe popping out a few neurotic, deceptively placid-faced babies if the universe has a sense of humour. Growing old falling asleep just like this, face to face.

You know him. He knows you.

Keiji reaches up into the space between your faces, and sticks out his pinkie.

You reach up and loop yours through.

You're both on the periphery of sleep now, the time between blinks growing longer and longer until soon your eyes are closed.

Keiji hums a little: a question.

You hum back to tell him you're still awake.

“Did I mention that Bokuto-san said the National Team’s trainer is single again?”

“Iwaizumi-san?” you murmur curiously.

Keiji hums again, deep and low.

You crack one eye open, but Keiji’s are still closed and his expression is serene across from you.

You smile a little, and you might roll your eyes if they weren’t already closing again.

“Get me his number.”

“Get me a story.”

“Maybe.”

#akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi keiji #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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miyababes · 1 year

Text

iwaizumi hajime.

long fics. (5k+)

crystallize by saetyrn9 [ nsfw ]

freshman year by aiiwa [ college au ] [ nsfw ]

; pretty in pink ; beautiful in blue

the waiting game by kodaiki [ sfw ; fluff ]

venus by saetyrn9 [ nsfw ]

fics. (2.5k+)

all yours by seita [ nsfw ]

better than by seita [ nsfw ]

honey by stelleum (+ matsukawa, hanamaki, oikawa) [ nsfw ]

; vanilla

operation: sex god by writeiolite [ college au ] [ nsfw ]

strawberry kisses by mrs-kurooo [ nsfw ]

worth the weight by shibaraki [ sfw ; fluff ]

short fics. (1k+)

4.5 by stelleum [ suggestive ]

a stuck vibrator by saintodo [ nsfw ]

accidental nude send by elysianslove [ nsfw ]

after party by hajimio [ suggestive ]

another night of hoping by duino [ suggestive ]

breath by hajimio [ sfw ; fluff ]

camp crush by luvbub-archive [ sfw ; fluff ]

cock and ball worship by bobaji (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki) [ nsfw ]

collusion by sookisaurus [ college au ] [ nsfw ]

defending you by hajimio [ fluff ]

devil by stelleum [ sfw ; fluff ]

don't forget me by shibaraki [ sfw ; fluff / angst ]

exes by heartaro (+ tsukishima, osamu) [ sfw ; hurt/comfort ]

falling in love by hajimio [ sfw ; fluff ]

hit me like you hate me by hornime [ nsfw ]

killshot by eqgtart [ sfw ; fluff ]

let me by adoringhaikyuu [ sfw ; fluff ]

linger by eightonenine [ sfw ; fluff ]

; latch [ sfw ; fluff ]

mentioning their ex during an argument by tetsvhoe [ sfw ; angst with happy ending ]

not good with words by iwaizooming [ sfw ; fluff/light angst ]

overthink by hajimio [ sfw ; fluff / light angst ]

punishment by saetyrn9 [ nsfw ]

stoner sex by bjbex [ nsfw ]

stretching you out by saetyrn9 [ nsfw ]

sweater by shoyoist [ sfw ; fluff ]

take it easy baby, make it last all night by heich0e [ college au ] [ nsfw ]

tease by hajimio [ suggestive ]

they're beautiful by princesskazuya [ nsfw ]

under the influence by strobimilk [ suggestive ]

when he doesn't realise you're sick by dnlcsml02 [ sfw ; angst with happy ending ]

drabbles.

sfw: [ 1 - 100 ].

nsfw: [ 1 - 100 ].

headcanons.

avoiding him by sugarkage [ sfw ; fluff ]

best friends to lovers by elysianslove (+ kuroo, oikawa) [ sfw ; fluff ]

college bf!iwaizumi by utahimeow [ sfw ; fluff ]

crawling into his lap by kageyuji (+ bokuto, oikawa, akaashi, kenma, matsukawa) [ sfw ; fluff ]

dilf!iwaizumi by yuutitties [ nsfw ]

falling for someone out of their league by neoheros (+ kuroo) [ sfw ; fluff ]

first kiss by rintarous [ sfw ; fluff ]

first kisses by stelleum (+ hanamaki, oikawa, matsukawa) [ sfw ; fluff ]

horny thoughts by saetoru (+ atsumu, suna, osamu, bokuto, sakusa) [ nsfw ]

when they're lovesick by kodaiki (+ bokuto, kuroo, atsumu, kita) [ sfw ; fluff ]

timestamps.

5.28pm by hajimine [ sfw ; fluff ]

11.41pm by kodaiki [ sfw ; fluff ]

series.

smau.

asking him to rail you by toru-oikawas-milkbread [ nsfw ]

asking you to cuddle but you have to turn them down by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kunimi) [ sfw ]

boyfriend texts by aiiwa [ suggestive ]

'can i wear your hoodie?' by darlingimawitch (+ terushima, bokuto) [ sfw ; fluff ]

'finish the heart' trend by arhvste (+ suna, osamu, akaashi) [ sfw ; fluff ]

responding to you asking if they're jealous by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani) [ sfw ; fluff ]

responding to you being clingy by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, kuroo, kenma) [ sfw ]

responding to you texting them 'you hurt my feelings' after a fight by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, kuroo, kenma) [ sfw ]

sending you a dirty text by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kunimi, kindaichi) [ nsfw ]

they leave you on read after you say 'i love you' by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, kuroo, kenma) [ sfw ]

when he finds out your fictional crush is your lockscreen by darlingimawitch (+ oikawa, terushima) [ sfw ]

you ask them 'do you only care about my body?' by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, kuroo, kenma) [ sfw ]

you ask them for nudes by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, kuroo, kenma) [ suggestive ]

you ask them if they still find you attractive by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, kuroo, kenma) [ sfw ; fluff ]

you ask them "on a scale of 1-10, how annoyed are you with me right now?" after a fight by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, kuroo, kenma) [ sfw ]

you ask them to 'pick a number between 1-10' and send them that many nudes by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani) [ nsfw ]

you leave them on read after they say 'i love you' by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, akaashi, bokuto, terushima) [ sfw ]

you send them a dirty text by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, kuroo, kenma) [ nsfw ]

you text them 'i want to sit on your face' by toru-oikawas-milkbread (+ oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki, kyoutani, kunimi, kindaichi, kenma, kuroo) [ nsfw ]

smau series.

conversation hearts by kuroosmikasavolleyball [ college au ] [ sfw ; fluff ]

gear shift by boomboomjaz [ racer!iwaizumi ] [ sfw ]

history by rintarous [ sfw ; fluff/angst ]

they were roommates by atsukashii [ college au ] [ sfw ; angst/fluff ]

#masterlist

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mintmatcha · 5 months

Text

MONSTER FUCKING

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

The night continues with Obsidian.

cw: cisfem reader, feminine nicknames, female receiving oral, OC x reader, monster fucking, a TINY BIT OF DUBCON, overstimulation

PART TWO OF TWO (Part one: here)

a/n: again, big thanks to @saetyrn9 and @tyga-lily <3

He doesn’t return until the fire is burnt low, nothing but embers. His figure is nothing but a silhouette against the hall light as he creeps, doing his best to move silently around the room. His dirty clothes are replaced by the sheerest of shirts and pants, thin enough that even in the low light you can see how his scales shimmer in hue, purple and green where the firelight touches. Every now and again he throws a glance towards you, tucked neatly on your side of the bed, and then sighs, low and forlorn.

It feels wrong to watch him while he thinks you’re asleep. Even alone, he makes his movements so small, crouching to take up little space as he fiddles about, oiling his scales and the other mundane things he has to do before sleep. It hits you that he might be insecure about the space he takes up.

The world is not kind. It is tragedies and maladies, injustice and inhumanities. Tensions are always simmering under the surface, chaos always threatening to boil over. Horrible, awful things plague this world and not a single person is left untouched or unchanged.

Through all of that, Obsidian somehow remained gentle. That’s what you admire most of him- the softness he carries himself with. There’s a bitter edge that clings to you, a callus that won’t come off of your palms. He treats you well anyway, despite it all.

“You never got to ask your questions,” you say, voice only just louder than the last licks of fire.

Obi starts at the sound of your voice, then his shoulders soften. He drags himself to the edge of the bed, hands folded politely in front of him like a scolded child. He smells faintly of lemon and soap: soft, sour, and refreshing.

“Why are you still awake?” he whispers, affection honey sweet in his tone. He reaches to grab your ankle, then hesitates before dropping back to his side. “My curiosities can wait for another day.”

The night air is cool against your cheeks and the sheets are not thick enough. Obi, in all his emotional and physical warmth, is just out of reach. When you extend an arm for him, he doesn't meet you at first, hemming about like a child. It’s goofy, for such a grown man to seem so shy- you have to bite your lip to hold your smile back.

Instead of waiting for him, you peel back the sheets and crawl to him. It’s impolite and unladylike, but it earns you a smile from him and an outstretched hand. This time, he doesn’t pull away when your fingers loop with his, instead closing tight.

“I’m sorry Kiri said all that.”

“You don’t have to apologize for her behavior,” he says, eyes never leaving the spot he’s chosen at the end of the bed, “I heard how you… scolded her.”

The innkeeper had threatened to kick you all out after the way you berated the poor girl, screaming in the hallway in just your nightgown, but the elf had deserved it. She’s barely older than a teenager in elf years, you remind yourself, but that isn’t an excuse for bad behavior.

Tomorrow, when the sun is up and emotions aren’t high, you’re sure the group will discuss it all, but for tonight, you want to tend to Obi’s wounds.

“Was I too harsh?” You trail a thumb across the back of his hand. Knees on the mattress, he’s still much taller than you, able to rest his chin on your head if he wanted.

“Too harsh? No,” The hint of amusement you’ve come to love is back in his voice, “Too loud? Debatable.”

Imitating you, he drags his thumb back and forth in comfort, the rounded nail grazing against your skin. Finally, he meets your eye, the green piercing even in the night. The feeling of want is thick, slowing every breath as if your ribs are stuffed with molasses, and all you can think is that you hope he feels this too-- hope he wants this too.“I appreciate you standing up for my honor.”

“Always,” you say. A heat drips into your core as you realize his claws are trimmed and rounded-- just for you. “Anything for you.”

You rest a hand against his chest and wait in the silence, savoring the luxuriant feelings that fills your throat: want and need and desire and greed and contentment and bliss-- all a muddle you can’t swallow again, filling you, but also leaving you with a hunger that can’t be sated.

“You should rest,” he says as he slides his arms around you, grabbing handfuls of cloth.

“Ask your questions first.”

Verdant eyes flicker down, marked by his chittering. It’s like a purr, you realize-- a sound of pure contentment. Feline is the way he moves, elegant and fluid.

“Does it really feel good-” His knuckle drags down your chest and hints over the apex of your breast, “When these are touched?”

He hesitates there, a breath away from you, wondering, hoping. The air crackles a bit wilder with magic for a moment- a response to his excitement.

“Obi,” You loop a finger under the strap of your nightgown and guide it off of your shoulder, pushing the neckline dangerously low. “Do you like my tits?”

“You should know that it’s very cheeky to answer my question with a question,” he leans forward and bumps his head against yours, nuzzling ever so slightly The ridges and tiny horns ruffle your hair and all you can do is giggle and squirm into it, bumping your noses together. His touch has wandered dangerously low, cupping under your ass and lifting you into him.

Then, he sobers, voice lower than ever.

“Yes.” He takes the satin edge between his fingers and delicately, carefully, lovingly moves the other strap down the other shoulder, guiding it until your breasts fall free. Obi swallows thickly, then runs his tongue across the upper ridge of his teeth as he takes in everything about you. “I like them very much.”

His nose is textured against your skin, grooved yet smooth against your clavicle. Each breath is released so slowly that it blooms with heat, crawling across your chest as he moves down, loving every inch above your breasts. The journey is marked with kisses and nips, the lightest touch of his teeth. The way he reveres the boring parts of you makes your heart flitter and, by the time he’s sucking a bruise into the fat of your tit, your body is trembling for him too.

“I didn’t realize they were so…” Teeth sink into your tit, testing the give. The other is cupped by his wide palm, lifting it into the side of his muzzle. “Malleable.”

When he opens his jaw again, wider this time, it’s marked with the click and suck of wet. Strands of spit string together for a fleeting moment, following his panting tongue.

Oh, he’s no longer feline. He’s closer to a dog, feral and drooling for you.

The rough edge of his tongue dragging against your nipple rips a gasp from you, but it only serves as a siren’s call. His body presses into yours, folding your legs back and forcing you back into the down of the bed. The sheets crunch under you as you’re moved by the force of the way he indulges. You should scold him or warn him of the way you’ll bruise in the morning, but a heat consumes every aspect of you, robbing you of any thought. The scorch of his mouth, the delicious drip of spit trickling down your ribcage, the ambient heat that’s simply him- it all ignites that pulling, twist, blazing heat in your core, a fever you can’t sweat out.

Obi pulls away just enough to look at you through slitted eyes.

“My fawn,” he purrs, “Now you are being too loud.”

His hand grips your side hard enough that even the trimmed edge aches.

“People are going to hear you,” he continues, tongue dragging down the sweat touched valley between your breasts, “They’re going to know you’re being bedded by some beast."

That makes your stomach flip, then flip again, tying your insides into a sickly knot. Your hands find the ridge of his horns on their own. Their length is surprisingly long for his age, more than enough for you to tug and stop his descent. Obi glances up at you, giving you the reprieve you need. Both of you lay there, breathing in sync.

"Don’t say things like that," you say once you've caught yourself, "I don't like that. You're not…"

Lemon oil, mixed with the pressing of some sort of shrub nut- that's what he oils his scales with. It makes his skin so soft and makes the air always marked with him.

"You're not some beast." You rub a thumb down the ridges of his horn, "You're my prince."

The words feel so corny coming out of your mouth. You're no wordsmith, unlike him, but you can see the statement physically hit. At first, he just slightly draws back, then his eyes go wide before becoming intensely soft. Then, he curls in, tucked his chin and resting his forehead against your collarbone.

"Oh," he says, voice on the brink of laughter, "Oh, my fawn, my princess--"

He squeezes your hips again. "You're going to shatter my heart one day, aren't you?"

Before you can respond, he's kissing you for real. It's different from anything else you've experienced with humans and elves; his mouth is different, firm lips unable to fully pucker. The feeling is strange, with too much teeth and pressure,but so, so, welcome.

Obi must enjoy it too; he shifts and writhes, finding his place between your awaiting thighs. You can feel how he grinds into the mattress, strokes long and slow and rough, searching for any sort of pressure. You want to touch him again-- no, need to. You need to see his cock for real this time, coax it out of his body for you to ride.

Another tug on his horns pauses him.

"Stop, just for a second," you say. He obeys, pulling back fully, and you untangle yourself from him.

"Are you alright?" Obi says, a tad dejected, "We can stop-"

You wriggle out of your slip and clumsily push it to the foot of the bed with your feet. A sliver of doubt wrangles its way into your thoughts; even in the dim, you're sure he can see your body and all its imperfections, the scars, the marks, the bits you simply don't like: does he know what to expect? Does he even know what humans look like naked?

The room is cold without the fire going. You have to remind yourself who the man is on top of you. It’s not some stranger-- it’s Obi. Your Obsidian. A friend, a confidant, a brother in arms, and the kindest soul you’ve even met. It strikes you then that maybe you have feelings for him outside of all of those definitions, something closer to love than simple lust.

"I haven't shaved in a while, I'm sorry-"

"You have the body of a nymph," Obi blurts out, voice high with surprise, "You're exquisite."

His pupils are fully round, engulfing almost all of the iris as he soaks in the sight of you.

"Human's do not like this?" He leans down, head just below your belly button, examining when your body meets your cunt. His fingers run through your pubes, "But it's so…"

Mid-sentence he halts, mouth parted just enough that you can catch the jagged edge of his fangs. He swallows deep breaths, sucking more and more until his chest is puffed against yours. Strong, forceful hands loop under your knees and cram your legs apart. You squeal and kick, giddy in your embarrassment and barely able to contain your laughter.

"Oh, you smell so good," he exhales each word, only inches from your cunt. He’s pressing into you, almost folding you in half so he can creep into the bed with you. "That's your quim? That's what you've been hiding?"

He traces two fingers up the clef, admiring it even closer than ever. The rumble in his chest, the purring, is so grand that it shakes your thighs. Like this, strung up and spread apart, you feel so exposed, so vulnerable. You muster up even more embarrassment when fingers part your lips and his steamed breath tickles your most inner parts.

“Don’t look so closely!” you scold, but he doesn’t listen.

"Humans get so wet." You try to close your knees on instinct, but the mass of his body stops you, "Is this usual? Do you always?"

"Only when-- a-aa-ah-"

You find out that he was not looking for an actual answer. Obi takes you by the hips and drags you down into his muzzle, wasting no item before dragging that damned tongue across the entirety of you. He's eager and unaimed, licking and sucking and drooling across every inch of you except where you want him. The crest of his brow digs into the puff of your mound, blocking you from reaching down and playing with your clit yourself.

The want, the need-- it's dizzying. Words fail you every time you try to speak, your comprehensibility robbed by the hiccupped whines Obi is pulling from you. Teetering on this edge is deliciously painful, but you're already losing patience.

Frustrated, you grind your hips down and Obi's nose bumps against your clit. The pressure makes your body sing, so you do it again and again, claiming your pleasure on your terms. A laugh rumbles through your skin as Obi chuckles and obliges, lapping at exactly where you need him too.

Heat sears through you as you cum: hard. It's almost a surprise, boiling over when you least expect it. It’s a flex and release of your muscles, a quick, simple thing that gives you just enough release. It’s nothing life changing, but it’s better than what you get with most men.

You breathe and wait for Obi to move or comment, but he's still, waiting for you to pick up your pieces.

"That was nice." You say after a bit, "Now, why don’t you come here and let me ride you?"

Whe he doesn’t respond, you sit up slightly, only to be caught. A hand presses down on your stomach and locks you in place against the mattress. Dark eyes glance up at you, narrowed.

"Stay still," he says, voice rougher than ever, "I can do better than simply 'nice.'"

Immediately, you regret teaching Obi where you liked to be licked. He abuses that knowledge, focusing on your poor, overstimulated clit until you're nothing but whimpers. Your brain cant think when he's touching you; all you can do is whine. Reaching and grasping for hair that isn't there, your nails run across his scales head and find no purchase.

Then, your own head is tapped by… something. You screw back and realize he's ran you into the fucking wall; you have to extend both hands to stop yourself from being crumpled even further.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit--" This one's going to be big. You can feel it rolling in, coming like a wave.

Two thick fingers press inside you. If you weren't impossibly slick, the stretch would ache, but there's no friction left to resist the intrusion. He explores a bit, pumping and curling and-- there. That's all you need to tumble again, falling and falling and falling-

Until the drop hits.

You're left boneless. There's no resistance in your body as he adjusts you again, throwing your knees over his shoulders-

"Obsidian, no," You drum your heels against his back, "No, no, no, no, I can't take another--"

A deep, rolling growl fills the room as he squeezes tighter, locking you together as his long, firm tongue presses inside of you. You realize he’s speaking an unfamiliar tongue-- Draconic, most likely. It’s sultry tones and clicked vowels, rolling deep and slow into one long slurred sound. Maybe he’s scolding you, maybe it’s praise: you don’t care. He holds you like he owns you-- like he controls you, and you find that you like that.

“Please, please, please, just fuck me already-” You find yourself blabbering, “Need you, need it, just-- oh, Gods and Stars-- Please fuck me, please--”

You clutch on to the mattress and hope the world stops spinning. “On me--- in me, just-- Gods, fucking cum already-”

“No,” Common slips from his mouth, “Not yet.”

The night is a blur after that. There’s no possible way to count how many times you cum; they all roll into one in your mind, an unstable peak. He’s everywhere, he’s everything. You always imagined him as a patient lover, but you’re quickly proved wrong. He’s mean and demanding, drawing everything from you until the ache in between your ribs grows unbearable. Slick runs from your thighs to your knees, ruining the cotton beneath you both. The unbearable sounds of wet fill the room, marked by your occasional protests.

You hate him, you think. Maybe you love him. You can’t tell when your brain is absolutely swimming in dopamine.

“‘m gonna pass out,” you whine, weakly batting a hand against his forehead. The dragonborn pulls away with a dot of a kiss, finally listening.

“Then do, fawn.” Obi’s chest and face shine with a mixture of your excitement and his spit, “Sleep. That doesn’t bother me.”

With that, he spreads you open again. You eventually do drift off, too overstimulated and absolutely fucked to even keep your eyes open. There has to be something to it. The taste? The smell? Dragonborns are more sensitive to pheromones, you think. Maybe he's high off of you?

No, it’s too focused to be solely for him; it must be for your pleasure. He must get some sort of sick fucking satisfaction from unraveling you down to your very core and then continuing. You feel unwound, a ball of yarn left to uncoil and flounder in the breeze

In the moments of twilight between sleeps, you manage to catch him moving, legs positioned around your rib cage as he whines, voice tight when he speaks. It’s mumbled nothings, ripping through his broken voice. Draconic seems to be paced so much slower than Common, each word rolling carefully slow off of his tongue.

Exhaustion sits so heavy that you can't keep your eyes focused. You have to keep one eye closed to even get a glimpse of what he's-

Oh.

Above you, inches away from your face, Obsidian Vyke fists his cock. Contrary to what he said, his body is not very similar to a humans. All of the important parts are there, of course, but the shape is much, much bigger, with a tapered end and ridges running down the bottom. It's an ashen purple, the same color as his skin under his scales, and his balls are a bit darker, hairless and slick with his precum. The head pulses every couple of strokes and you know he's dangerously close to cumming himself.

You want that. You’ve been begging for it this entire night and it’s there, inches from your face. That needs to be inside me, you think, but your poor pussy is twitching and raw from all the attention.

You settle for the next best thing.

With all the effort you can muster, you prop yourself up ever so slightly. You stick up your tongue and the pillow of his cock presses against it. It only takes a couple of kitten licks for him to spill; he crumbles into a whine and your mouth is suddenly painted with thick, potent seed.

It’s… different from other spend you’ve had the displeasure of tasting. Less astringent, more… you’re not sure. When your ex husband used your mouth, you always winced at the taste, but now you close your mouth and suck. His cock doesn’t stop kicking, dribbling more than a man could ever dream of producing. It’s hot enough that you flinch with it touches the back of your throat, but you don’t stop swallowing, draining it down as fast as you can.

The taste was enjoyable, you realize. You liked that, as if you were a common whore. Before any sort of shame can set in, Obi scrambles away, cooing and stroking the side of your face with his usual warmth.

“Oh, sweet fawn, you didn’t have to,” he says, “Let me get you something to spit that into.”

You shake your head and open your mouth again, tongue extended to show him it’s already gone.

"Little minx." Obi speaks with a wild amount of warmth and you bathe in it, letting your eyes close again. "Beautiful, dirty thing.”

There’s no way you’re beautiful now, with your makeup smeared and your hair ruined, but you choose to believe him. The swipe of a tongue against your cheek, comforting, not erotic, elicits a giggle from you. Gods, it hurts to even laugh.

“You’re dripping in sweat. I’m going to steal a towel to clean you up with, alright?” Obi pauses, presumably waiting for your approval, before hurrying about. You can make out the slip of fabric being pulled up, the creak of floorboards, the-

Sleep overtakes you.

The sun is much, much higher than you’d like it to be when you awake. The town is in full force, boys screaming the news, merchants peddling their wares, but you can’t seem to find the energy to join them. Not when the bed is so warm and welcome.

Obi is gone. He’s always been an early riser, so that doesn’t bother you much. Besides, you aren’t sure you want him seeing you like this, knock-kneed and drained as you try to gather yourself together. Down there is unbearably slick still, even after all the time that's passed, and that fills you with a sick excitement.

It’s not until after your bath that you feel remotely human again. The glitter and lust of last night begins to fade as you strap yourself into your clothes, but a relaxed giddiness still hangs on.

By the time you meander downstairs, the inn is busy serving lunch. The air is tinged with salt and spices-- the familiar kind you haven’t smelt in ages, let alone tasted. Familiar faces are crowded into one of the smaller booths, Obsidian’s comically large shoulders bumping against his two elf companion’s. Tensions have clearly calmed since last night. The elf is busy spooning bits of vegetables out of her stew and plopping them into the dragonborn’s.

“You must take my carrots. I know how you like them,” she demands, “And I’ll have your rabbit, since you don’t eat meat. Does that sound good to you, sorcerer?”

Obsidian is already obliging, cornering the bits he doesn’t want out of the bowl. “If that’s what you want.”

"You'll take this bread too. I grabbed an extra for you."

"Oi, you didn't grab any extra for me."

"The Sorcerer probably weighs fifty times what you do, he needs more."

Obsidian pats his stomach with concern. "Fifty times?"

“She awakes!” Tig, Kiri’s lover, croons, head in their hands as they notice you. They are just as lean and beautiful as Kiri is, but painted much, much fairer. “We feared you dead, Rogue!”

“Aye, both of you act as if I would leave her rotting,” Obi bemoans. Both elves turn to the poor man and coo, patting his shoulder comfortingly. Your speech clearly had some effect on the group and that deepens your giddy feeling.

“Did you bathe again?” Kiri hands her bread over to the dragonborn as promised, “I thought you had done so last night.”

You glance over at your… lover? Friend? You aren’t sure. He watches back, brow quirked, waiting for you to lead this dance.

“Just taking advantage of the water,” You reply as evenly as you can, taking the empty seat. Your relationship news to be figured out before you make it public knowledge, especially since your last relationship ended with such…

The dragonborn slides a roll across the table with a crinkle of his eyes, sparing you a train of thought you’re not emotionally ready for. It steams as you rip into it and cram it into your mouth. Hunger suddenly rips through your body and you perk up, searching for the source of this stew.

“Did you sleep well?” Tig asks between mouthfuls. They aren’t as proper as Kiri; they spread their legs wide and take up as much space as they can, holding their utensils like a shovel. If they weren’t so ethereal and genderless, you’d think that they were a half elf.

“Hopefully I didn’t keep you up,” Obi says, offhandedly, “I’d hate to think I kept you awake.”

Oh, that rascal. His nose scrunches as he tries not to laugh.

“You bothered me a bit,” you reply, equally placid, “But I don’t mind.”

“What a shame.” He takes a spoonful of the meal and chews it thoughtfully. Then, he pauses, pressing two fingers into the crook of his jaw. “I must have sleep strangely because I woke with this awful ache in my jaw-”

A swift kick to the shin silences him.

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