#the rooster

✦ Trying to draw Harbingers with different hairstyles, so here's… uh, Grandpa Pulcinella?

Deep within the biting snowfall of the mountain, rests two bodies, hidden behind a long lifeless tree. You both have been at odds with your untameable affection for one another for quite some time now. The question isn’t how you both rushed into things but rather how either of you had the patience to wait until now.

“Well, my sweet. Might you grant me the right to ask of you to bend over,” the harbinger began. His gloved hands, hanging upward, resting atop your hips.

“I can’t quite reach,you see,.” The small statured harbinger had said to you. He can’t reach, of course he cannot reach, how crude of you to expect him to. You thought to yourself in headedness.

But you do, to your credit, bend down for better access. A rush of heat rises to your cheeks as he enters you. He does a well done job filling you up for someone of his deceptively simple size. But whist-fully, before you can even conjure the taste of him inside you. He starts thrusting. Though It takes him a great effort, and even then, he’s more rocking back and forth rather than pounding you as he said he would in all the dozens of letters he’s wrote to you this past year. But still, the cold touch of him hitting your walls is still remarkably pleasurable in ways a body of larger size cannot possibly comprehend to satisfy. “Ah ah~ p-pulcinella! It’s so good!”

“Ah- Oh I know it is dear- -“ he huffs, his grip on you as fiery as the constant static friction you feel, soaring trough every nerve in your body.

Time goes by quickly when you’re getting wrecked by a pointed eared elf grandpa. And before you know it. He had already released himself, and is now shrugging his small pants back on. While you help him with his hat.

“Well hidey ho, aren’t you a charmer, thank you for that, I found it to be quite worth appreciating.”

He then handed you fifty thousand mora and a lemon scone before skipping off daintily into the snowy landscape.