You go out in search of a legendary substance supposed to give one the body of their dreams. What you find isn't quite what you bargained for...
The warm orange glow of the tavern’s lights glistened on the surface of your drink as you sat in the corner of the bar. When you had left your house that night you would’ve done damn near anything if it meant not being sober; but now, having had the whole long walk here for that ache in the back of your mind to fade, you had hardly touched your drink. Still, you took small sips once in a while - if for no other reason than to wash the taste of that night’s draught out of your mouth.
“Mare’s essence” it had been called, a cure for barren wives and girls born of the wrong sex. The stuff was a closely-guarded secret, spoken of in reverent whispers by those whom it had aided. It tasted foul as sin, but it had proved effective thus far - already your skin had turned softer and your breasts grown tender.
The changes were welcome to be sure, but nowhere near enough to silence the agonizing bouts of dysphoria that came in the lonely hours of the evening, when even the sun could not keep you company.
It was one of these that had brought you to your local tavern. Alcohol was a poor excuse for a treatment, but if nothing else you needed the company. You were just about to take another sip when a snippet of conversation caught your attention.
“… It’s like I said, you talk to anyone down by those mountains and they’ll tell you - the elixir's hidden deep in the caverns, up top those ol’ rocks” It was a deep voice, not one you’d heard around here before - adventurers, if you had to guess.
“What, the elixir of life? And lemme guess, they’ll sell it to ya for only a copper?” another chortled, the group laughing boisterously in response.
“you know I wouldn’t chase an old wives tale like that” scoffed the storyteller, roughly elbowing his companion “this here’s the Sweet Nectar. Stuff of fairies, or so they say, s’posed to give you the body of your dreams if the legends are true!”
“As if!” another drunkenly laughed “whawuddat do t’ ya anyhoo? Grow yer balls t’ the size uvva pumpkin?” The group’s banter continued on like this, the drunken chatter fading back into the background once more as you finished your drink.
After that, the idea kept creeping up in the back of your mind. What if this “Sweet Nectar” really did exist? It could mean an end to the dysphoria, an end to keeping your true self behind closed doors, an end to drinking that godawful brew every night. You laughed the thought off - the only fey you knew of were tricksters at best. They were beautiful to be sure, but you doubted that beauty was something they’d so readily share.
Despite that, you just couldn’t shake the thought, what if it really was out there? The idea became more and more enticing as time went on, the promise of a better life that the nectar offered too tantalizing to ignore. It was this nagging thought that brought you to the local library a few days later. It was a grand building, a monument to an opulence long faded from the small valley town it stands in, carved mahogony scratched and warped, brass turned grey by years of patina. Still, the knowledge kept within was as valuable as the day it was erected.
After a short conversation with the librarian - a thin, nervous man who always looked as though he hadn’t gotten quite enough sleep - you were given a couple tomes to leaf through. It didn’t take long to find what you were looking for, a short book of local myths and legends with a complete description of the Sweet Nectar:
“The Sweet Nectar or Faeries Nectar is a legendary artifact said to reside somewhere in the caverns beneath the savarello mountain. It is said to grant to the drinker their ideal body, a possible explanation for the enchanting figures of the fae…”
This was perfect, you knew where the Savarello mountains were, they were only a day's trek from here. Immediately your mind began racing with the possibilities. You had long convinced yourself this was a good idea, rationalizing away every doubt that bubbled into your mind, now you had to find it.
That night you packed everything you would need for the journey, cramming all of it into an old leather backpack until you were finally ready. That night you slept restlessly, drifting between dreams and daydreams of what you would look like once you drank that elixir, how your voice would sound, how it would feel.
You woke with a start at the first light, leaping out of bed with far more energy than your meager sleep should have granted. For the first time since you could remember, you had something to really hope for, and you were going to chase it.
You made the trek to the mountain’s base with a spring in your step, making only brief stops along the well-trodden road for food and drink. Your enthusiasm died down as the evening came, doubts creeping in to fill the space the sunlight left - how would you even find the cave? Folk tales rarely included maps. Even if you did find the cave, how would you navigate it?
Your energy waning, you decided to rest for the night in the small town at the mountain’s base. The inn was a ragged old thing, the windows were gray with years of soot and grime, and the chain holding up the sign was more rust than metal. Despite that, as soon as you walked in the sound of revelry and the smell of ale hit you like a wall. The liveliness was refreshing, but you needed to conserve your energy for the trek ahead. You quickly paid for your stay, and headed up towards your room.
You were just about to turn the corner to the relatively quiet hall of rooms when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around you saw a gorgeous woman, long curly hair and soft, clear skin, her green eyes sparkling like broken glass in the dim light. She looked out of place amongst the crowd of farmhands and adventurers, a fact not helped by her belly - she looked to be at least 6 months pregnant, probably more. “she’s probably the innkeeper's daughter” you thought to yourself.
“Hi there!” She said, her voice clear and unusually chipper for the hour “You don’t look like a local, what brings you all the way out here?”
“I'm just passing through” you said, trying and failing to match her enthusiasm
“Oh!” She said “You wouldn’t be searching for the Sweet Nectar, would you?”
“y-yeah” you said, taken aback at the forwardness of her question, was it that obvious? “I doubt I’ll find it though, I don’t even know where to start looking”
“oh that’s easy!” She said, “The cave is just by the lake south of here, I don’t think anyone’s ever gone in very far though!”
“th-thanks” you stuttered, her cheerful demeanor was starting to creep you out, why was she telling you this? “Guess I’ll look there then!”
Before she could say another word you had already hurried into your room, something about that woman just didn’t sit right, why was she so cheerful? How did she know you were looking for the Nectar? You set those thoughts aside for the moment, right now you needed rest - tomorrow was a big day after all.
You woke feeling well-rested, not quite the manic energy of the day before, but you were still filled with anticipation. If you were going to find the Nectar, it would be today. You would finally be the woman you always wanted to be.
The trek up to the lake was far more difficult than that of the day before. The trail was rough and steep, more of a deer trail than a true path at times. Nonetheless you carried on, all of it would be worth it when you got that nectar.
You were so focused on the path forward that you didn’t notice the signs of fey influence at first, but as you carried on it became more and more obvious - plants curling and twisting in bizarre ways, the needles of the pines turning from green to vibrant blue. You knew the danger, but you couldn’t help but feel more hope than trepidation, this meant it had to be here.
At last, you arrived at the cave entrance. The lake just behind you would’ve been the perfect place for a rest, but rest was the furthest thing from your mind right now - not when you were this close. You took a brief moment to light your lantern before heading straight into the cave, your hurried footsteps echoing throughout the vast tunnel. Your restless pace was quickly slowed by the terrain. The passage grew smaller and the walls damper the further you went, skowing your pace to a crawl as you struggled to stay upright. The air grew warm and humid as you went deeper still, and you began to see patches of moss on the cave floor.
The cave went on like this for what felt like hours, strange flowers and twisting vines joining the moss until they covered the stone like plush, verdant skin. You swear you saw some of the larger vines twitch as you walked past. Finally, just as your legs were beginning to ache from the long journey, you saw it.
Just a few meters ahead the cave opened up into a verdant grove, strange blooms speckling the ground with dots of vibrant colour, light trickling in from somewhere out of sight. There, in the center of it all was a gargantuan bloom; it’s silky petals, each more than twice your size, spread out invitingly like a carpet, highlighting the pods of glistening golden ichor hanging from it’s stylets. This had to be it - the Sweet Nectar of legend.
You savoured the moment as you approached the bloom, the air was thick with a floral scent that made your skin flush and your mind fog, effects you chocked up to exhaustion. Slowly and surely, you walked across the thick petals. This was finally it, all you had to do was reach out and-
scrack!
A sharp, wet, snapping sound, the ill-tempered child of a whip's crack and the snapping of a branch rang out through the cavern. Before your mind could even open the memo that danger was afoot - let alone read it - the thick petals had closed around you, trapping you in a prison of slick violet foliage. In an instant your joy was replaced with sharp, animalistic panic. You clawed and punched desperately at the soft yet unyielding walls of your newfound prison, but all you got for your efforts was a bruised knuckle and a rapidly growing feeling of doom.
It was then that you heard a hissing sound. You looked up and saw the precious bulbs shrinking, the liquid within spraying out into the air as a fine mist. It couldn’t even occur to you to hold your breath, as soon as the scent hit you any thought in your mind was annihilated by the deepest, most desperate need you had ever felt. Your skin was hot and sensitive, the warm air around you suddenly felt cold and cruel as the spurning of a longtime lover. You needed to be touched, to be fucked, to be bred - each breath turned you into more and more of a leaky, panting mess - your gock straining desperately against your pants.
You began to strip as quickly as you could, desperate to sate the burning crimson need that had enveloped you. Your desperate task was quickly interrupted by a movement in the corner of your vision. You watched as thick vines, easily the size of your arm snaked out from the base of the plant’s pistil. You watched as they began to move towards you in deliberate, almost sensual motions. You knew you should've been terrified, as any rational observer would be - instead, you were ecstatic.
You let out a lascivious moan as the tendrils began to snake their way up your body, tearing off your clothes as they went. With your body like this, even the slightest touch felt incredible. You shuddered with need as they worked their way uo your chest, brushing deliciously over your sensitive nipples. Resistance didn’t even occur to you, not when your body was a bonfire of need, not when every touch felt so good.
You let out a desperate whine as the vines began to tease your most sensitive areas, leaving the gentlest, most teasing of touches at the base of your gock and around your hole. You tried to hump against them, to get any kind of friction, but the tendrils weren’t having it. They tightened around you, locking your body in place as your whines turned to all-out cries, begging for to be touched, to be filled, something.
After what felt like an eternity of torturously gentle teasing, you pleas were finally answered. You shuddered as you felt a thin, slick vine rubbing at your hole before finally, deliciously, it slipped in. The moment you felt the tendril rub against your prostate you were seeing stars, your mouth agape and gock leaking like an icicle in the spring sun as you came to your first of what would be many mind-shattering orgasms.
The vines didn’t stop - and you wouldn’t have wanted them to. Your body was still aflame with need despite your orgasm, and the feeling of finally being filled was like no other. You moaned and thrashed uselessly as the vines had their way with you. Every thrust had you crying out for more, and the vines obliged, two wrapped around your sensitive nipples, another around your gock. The onslaught of pleasure was unbelievably intense, it only took seconds before you were already about to-
And then they stopped.
You cried out in desperation at the sudden lack of sensation as the tendril that had been fucking you pulled out, tugging futilely at the vines restraining you as you cried out half-formed pleas. Your squirming stopped when you saw something snaking it’s way out of the plant’s tall pistil. It was another one of the tendrils, but this one was thicker than the others, and covered in thick ridges. It’s head was distinctly phallac as well, a large opening in the center dripping with thick, golden fluid.
You moaned at the very sight of it. This was exactly what you needed, you just knew it, nothing else could possibly satisfy you in this moment. It slipped inside you, stretching you to your absolute limits as it began to thrust. The other tentacles redoubled their efforts, and it wasn’t long before you were brought to another shuddering orgasm. It kept going. Every thrust felt divine, you could feel the ridges popping in and out, the sheer girth of it crushing against your cum button every time, and every little spurt of that golden liquid that it gave made your head swim. And then you saw them.
Bulges, thick, glowing bulges were travelling through the tentacle inside you. This thing was going to fill you with it’s seeds. Panic set in for a brief moment, but was quickly silenced by another spurt of the golden nectar. You wanted this, no - needed this. You shuddered and squirmed with anticipation as the seeds crept towards you, until finally…
Pop
The feeling of it pushing inside you was rapturous. It should've hurt, but the ichor meant that all of it registered as more pleasure as your vision went white. You came, a shaking, moaning, tidal wave of an orgasm that didn’t even have time to finish before…
Pop
Another slid in. Somehow, it felt better than the first. You came once again as it pushed deliciously past your prostate, your whole body shaking as…
Pop
Your gock is twitching uselessly now. The constant pleasure too much for it to keep up with. Any attempt at coherent thought is shattered by another orgasm when…
Pop
You don’t know how much more of this your mind can take. You’re covered in your own drool, barely anything more than a mindless fucktoy. Your whole body shaking every time it…
Pop
You never want it to end. You’re a shaking broken mess and all you want is more. It feels incredible. Your belly is stretching to accommodate all the seeds and you feel so full it’s like you're going to…
Pop
And finally, it stops. The tendrils gently lower you to the ground as darkness begins to creep in at the edges of your vision. You mutter something vaguely adjacent to thanks before you drift into an exhausted sleep.
You awaken at the entrance of the cave, the calm lake rippling gently in the morning breeze. For a moment, you think it must have all been an exhausted dream, but one look down at your swollen belly is enough to prove otherwise. Half-panicked you look at your reflection in the water, hoping to take stock of the damages. What you see brings tears of joy to your eyes.
It’s you. Not the shell you were born into, nor the approximation you made it, but you. Eyes wide and bright, cheeks round and feminine, breasts hanging gently. Exactly as you were meant to be - plus, of course, a belly full of seeds. But maybe, you think, that isn’t such a bad price to pay. The slight wetness between your legs at the thought would suggest that it isn’t a price at all.
☆BEING MATTHEO’S CHILDHOOD FRIEND TO LOVER ☆ male version||female version
COMPLETELY protective over you ever since childhood. He literally fought a kid back then because they didn’t like that you were a “girl” playing boy games with them. You were sensitive back then, so of course you cried to mattheo about it. And mattheo did something about it. He punched the kid and stole their teddy bear to give it to you.
He asks you about girl things so he can flirt and treat a girl better. You could be literally reading a romance book, and he wants to learn too. Please teach him or else he’s gonna whine about losing another girl.
“Sooooo what does a girl like for a guy like me to tap that ass…cause I got a girl on my roster..” mattheo says sliding by you in the library table you sat in. You were literally getting to the good part of where the two main characters were gonna kiss. “Why are you asking me these questions riddle…” you say with venom in your tone towards his last name. Mattheo frowned. “Actually my name from you is Matty, Matt, and matty bear. So please—”
“—Please kill yourself and never let your soul rest after.” You say getting up from the library table and walking away. Mattheo’s jaw drop as he followed you offended. He never interrupted your reading time ever.
When your period comes…he’s asking you “what the fuck that is” and “why is it hurting you” with a frown. He’s thinking he can solve it like any other with a wave of his wand…but it’s more complicated when you explained how your uterus is shredding itself and that’s all you can get out before mattheo started to gag and leave your dorm room like the overdramatic king he is.
He still loves you dearly so he got you tea and some materials you need for the rest of your week.
Sometimes when you two have a sleepover, which is just either of you two sneaking into the girls dorms or the boys. You two gossip like little girls ready to rip someone’s heart out.
Mattheo is 50/50 on you doing makeup on him. But if you really plead and want to do it. He’s gonna let you. He can’t say no to you sadly.
A guy had broken your heart once, so he broke his face in…and broke his dick. Don’t ask.
Couple of girls hated how close you were to Mattheo. He’s a handsome guy, so of course people may spread rumors around. And Mattheo doesn’t really like that, he’s going to the girl and showering her how equal rights have hands.
If you two ever argue, it leads to Mattheo apologizing first. He’s a sucker for you, he doesn’t know why. He just doesn’t want you to be mad at him.
It’s even worst when you talk to anyone else than him.
When you fully ignore him, no texting, no calling, not even talking to you in public and being by you makes him go insane. He’s smoking in the courtyard. Jaw tightened as he eyes you across. He can tell that you know he is staring. He can tell you know indeed when you shift a lot.
The way you feel his burning gaze on you, it made you feel warm. You always loved mattheo, but with him always “going after” girls…you just thought that maybe he wouldn’t love you back.
Jealousy is something mattheo has built into him. He doesn’t know why, so when a ravenclaw student tried to ask you out. He couldn’t stand it. He had to take you away. He couldn’t bare to lose you. He ushered you away from the student, taking you to an empty classroom. He couldn’t handle not being near you, he hated it the most. You are his other part.
He hates it.
“I don’t know who that guy was. But you’re mine. Okay? You’re mine, you always have been even if we both didn’t recognize it. Shit, I know I’m dumb to think to just push my feelings away from you. But I can’t help but love how you are so amazing…” he says slowly at the end. Kissing your head and closing his eyes. You smile slowly. Your heart swell with warmth, taking a deep breath in as you wrapped your arms around him too. You loved him just like how he loves you. He loves you as if you were the made the creation of his favorite food. He loved you like making new potions. He loved you like music to his ears.
He always has been a gentleman before you two dated. He made sure he opened doors for you. He made sure you were comfortable with things. He would even sacrifice his cloaks if you were cold.
He’s like a puppy in love as he just lights up seeing you.
He loves his girl very much. You are the prettiest thing he could ever ask and give for.
ASMR | Resident Evil - Leon Kennedy x Listener SFW Bribing Leon Into Getting Some Sleep
[M4A] [Established relationship] [Romantic] [Kissing] [No specific game/storyline mentioned, no spoilers for any game, timeskip between the last Leon audio and this one obviously]
Had to censor the kissing on the Youtube one... ugh. They are on the Patreon version of the audio (familiar and fledgling tier) and Audiochan and Soundgasm versions. Hopefully no one's bothered by that fact obviously this audio would have to take place a while after the last one as I'm just working with the requests I get and not everyone wants to join in the middle of a story and just wants a one-off comfort audio. Based on a Patreon request, Trix asked for "maybe Leon sleep aid where he tries to keep watch while we rest at some safe house but we bribe him into bed and it's a trick he's falling asleep with us now....".
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[minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.]
can u draw law (finally) hooking up w/ his long-time ally/acquintance but didnt know reader was mtf and just stares at the dick for a while then carries or smth
+ an: i was torn between making law experienced or unexperienced, so i went with my personal favorite (virgin law)!! also apologies, i know i said i write mtf reader, but dicks are not my specialty </3
minors DNI!
trafalgar law had his eyes on you. ever since you stepped onto his ship 10 years ago, offering to be his nurse.
there was something about you, so appealing. maybe your style? the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders? the piercings you had lining your face?
maybe it was your voice. sweet, alluring.
it was gross. the way he felt about you, sitting in his room, jerking himself off to fucking anatomical diagrams of female reproductive organs. he was a doctor, for fucks sake! and your captain!! this was unprofessional on the highest level.
never had law ever been this pathetic over a crewmate. you probably didn't even want him!!! sure, you were sweeter to him than the others on the crew, but you probably just wanted to warm up to your captain. and that sent blood flowing to the wrong places.
fortunately, it was another late night, and you were long gone. hopefully asleep, safe and sound. he hoped you were. he couldn't afford to loose you - not only as a dear friend, but also because he was disgustingly infatuated with you.
law was confident he knew everything about you - or at least, most. not only was he your best friend, but a doctor too. he could solve any problem you had.
minus the fact he gets a hard-on every time he ends up checking your wounds after a battle.
his heart jumps into his throat as footsteps make their way down the hallway, coming towards his office. he sighs, brushing a hand over his face, making a (weak) attempt to focus back on his paperwork and stop fucking day dreaming.
"who is it?" he calls, his tone stern. until he sees you in his doorway. "shit... hey... can't sleep?"
"somethin like that." you coo, making your way over to him. "law, you know its late... get some sleep." you whisper to him, and in that minute he knows he's a goner. his dick twitches to life, and he shifts uncomfortably in the seat.
"it needs to get done."
"lemme stay here then" you ask, settling yourself down onto his lap without a warning. he swallows a moan, nodding, trying to remain nonchalant as he works away.
law's facade fails when you shift your hips, earning a whimper. you turn back, meeting his eyes. "law.. you good??"
law looses it. he can't, he can't lie to you, can't ignore the way his heart pangs when he sees you. "can i eat you out?" he ask.
your face flushes. out of both lust and embarrassment. this is gonna be hard to break to him
"law uhm... no."
"huh?" he pauses, before looking guilty. "shit, im sorry.... hope this didnt make things weir-"
"no, not no you can't, but literally you can't. i wasn't born a girl." you confess."
he blinks. "ohhh... can i suck your dick then?" he ask.
you chuckle, amused by his boldness.
"sure. why not." he sighs, shaky hands moving to set you atop his desk, hands making quick work of your bottoms. he pulls off your pretty panties - a cute touch, he thinks to himself - swallowing at the sight of your dick.
"fuck... uhm... how do i suck dick?" he ask.
right. he was a virgin. "oh, right. uhm..." you grab his face, bringing him down. you press your tip to his lips, watching him slowly take it in. you sigh breathily, giving him a soft 'good'. "use some tongue, and if ya can't fit it all, use yer hands."
he nods around you, slowly lowering his head down, messy and uncoordinated with his movements, slowly starting to gain confidence.
sure, he wasn't the best. but it was the fact he was the one giving you head that made it feel so good. your hand wraps around his hair, pressing him further down, tip hitting his throat and earning a soft whine from his lips.
law whimpers and moans around you, dick twitching and ready to cum just from pleasing you. sure, it wasn't what he had imagined, but fuck, he would kill for this to be a reoccurring thing.
"so close" you groan, pushing him down further, before spilling hot seed down his throat.
law eagerly swallows, pulling off and licking his lips. "w-was that good?" he whispers, eyes teary and meeting yours, seeking your approval.
you nod, bringing him up to kiss his lips. "mhm. perfect."
Washington Square Park, early afternoon, late summer.
Sunlight filtered like gold dust through the trees. There was a hum of saxophone in the distance, playing something slow and syrupy, and the buzz of conversation wrapped around the park like a familiar quilt.
Your head lay in Mads’ lap, warm and still. His hand, broad and cool, rested against your scalp, thumb occasionally smoothing over your temple before brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. A book sat in his other hand, the spine worn and bent — some battered classic he’d picked from your shelf that morning. Something European. Something unreadable to most but melting on his tongue.
He flipped a page, then returned his fingers to the crown of your head like they belonged there.
You closed your eyes and hummed faintly.
“You’re not reading anymore,” he murmured, his Danish accent low and warm, like the breeze. His eyes didn’t leave the page.
“I’m resting,” you replied dreamily. “There’s a difference.”
He smirked, barely audible, but you felt it. You knew him well enough to hear a smile in the way his throat shifted.
You looked up at him. He was wearing those vintage tortoiseshell sunglasses he always picked up from flea markets, a linen shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled. You had on one of your usual throwback little dresses, white cotton and a red ribbon in your hair. You were the picture of something classic — Mads always said you looked like you'd walked out of a Polaroid from 1975.
“I like it like this,” you murmured. “You, reading. Me, resting. The world not needing anything from us.”
He closed the book, carefully, marking the page with an old receipt from your first trip to Copenhagen. He looked down at you with that expression — fond, but just a little haunted — like he still couldn’t believe any of this was real.
“I know,” he said. “Me too.”
You sat tucked in the corner booth of a cozy little café that had those pale wooden chairs and dusty hanging lights. Your iced coffee had long since started sweating in the glass. Mads stirred his espresso, lazily. A crossword half-filled lay between you.
People had started to notice him. They always did.
The barista had smiled too wide when she saw him. A couple at the window had stared openly, whispering in each other's ears. A girl your age — maybe a bit younger — gasped when she recognized you both.
Mads caught your eye and smirked, leaning closer across the table. “Don’t look now,” he said dryly, “but I think we’re famous.”
You laughed into your straw. “You are famous, old man.”
“And you,” he said, tapping your hand gently, “are dangerously close to overtaking me in followers.”
You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating. Your recent photo — curled up in Mads’ arms on your balcony, him reading, you grinning into his chest — had gone viral. Again.
“Whatever. You’re the movie star.”
He sipped his coffee. “And you’re my favorite co-star.”
Your stomach flipped. He always said those sorts of things without blinking. Never performative. Just true.
Before you could respond, a young fan came to the table — a shy guy with a trembling voice asking for a picture. Mads was always gracious. Calm. Effortlessly warm.
When the fan hesitated, unsure if it was okay to ask you too, Mads reached for your hand under the table and laced your fingers.
“theyre the better half of this picture,” he said with a wink.
The fan snapped the photo, flustered and glowing.
When they left, you leaned back and gave Mads a lazy smile.
“Do you say that to everyone?”
“Only the ones I love,” he said without pause.
You bit your lip. Looked down at your shared coffee rings on the table.
He reached across and brushed a crumb from your cheek, fingers soft, eyes fond.
That night, walking home, fingers laced.
The city lights blinked above you, and Mads pressed a kiss to your hair as you leaned into his side.
