#I also do tug boats

[bruhstation]

thank you for the enthusiasm for the human tugs on the last post! have more of them, and a bit of insight into the things they enjoy :]

[importantpuppystarfish]

Repopulating the whole world with Wonyoung

Male reader x Jang Wonyoung

Plot : You are from a random country "X". World War 3 is ongoing. Genre : Survival, Romantic, Emotional. Includes: 69, rimjob, facesitting, wony pissing, breeding, lots of kissing.

I drag myself onto the rocky shore, my body aching from the endless swimming. My clothes are soaked, my breaths ragged, and my arms feel like they could fall off any second. But I made it.

The world is in ruins. World War III tore everything apart. Cities burned, people scattered, and survival became a desperate gamble. I don’t know how long I was in the water, moving from boat to boat, trying to stay afloat. But somehow, I reached this island near the Korean Peninsula.

I push myself up, coughing out of the salt water, and scan out my surroundings. The island is covered in dense trees, the sand untouched, the wind eerily silent. No signs of life.

Except for one.

A girl stands near the water’s edge, her long, damp hair flowing in the wind. She’s wearing a torn white dress, clinging to her body from the seawater. Even in this chaos, she looks unreallike -- gorgeous.

I blink. My brain struggles to process what I’m seeing.

It’s Jang Wonyoung!

The Wonyoung. The famous K-pop idol. The girl that once stood on dazzling stages, worshipped by millions. And now, she’s here, stranded just like me. Wonyoung also came to the same island through swimming to save herself from the war.

She notices me. Her eyes widen, and she steps back slightly, uncertain. I must look like a wreck, an exhausted or an average looking guy.

I raise my hands slightly, trying to show I’m not a threat. “Hey… I’m not here to hurt you.” My voice is hoarse.

She hesitates, then speaks, her voice soft yet sharp. “Are you alone?”

I nod. “Yeah… just me.”

A pause. The wind howls between us. Then she exhales and sits down on the sand. “Same.”

I look around again. No ships, no planes, no humans. Just us.

Two strangers. A famous lost idol and me.

Alone in the middle of nowhere. Wonyoung asks for my name~ "I'm Y/N!" Nice to meet u! We have a handshake.. Her hands feel soft.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt1:

I take a cautious step closer. “How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. A few hours, maybe. I was on a boat, trying to escape… then everything went wrong.” Wonyoung replies.

I nod. I get it. The war didn’t care who we were, celebrity or nobody, we all ended up fighting for survival.

I sat onto the sand beside her, keeping a respectful distance. My body still aches from the swim, but at least I’m alive. “We should find shelter,” I say, more to myself than her.

Wonyoung doesn’t answer right away. She’s staring at the ocean, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nods. “Yeah.”

We explore the island together. It’s small, covered in thick trees, with no sign of civilization. No food, no supplies. If we want to live, we’ll have to find a way ourselves.

We build a shelter from fallen branches near a rocky cliffside, something to protect us from the wind. It’s not much, but it’ll do for now.

I know Wonyoung is feeling hungry, I can hear the sounds from her stomach. She's embarrassed. I hunt for fruits around in the forest and give some off to her. Wonyoung smiles and thanks me for the first time.

As night arrives, we sleep inside the shelter with a distinct position from each other. I can't believe I'm sleeping nearby a famous K-pop idol!

Wonyoung must be a very clean and neat girl. As morning arrives, with no proper shelter, no soap, and no change of clothes, Wonyoung specifically start to feel disgusting. We both only got one outfit for ourselves and its also getting torn apart.

Wonyoung tugs at her damp, dirt-streaked dress, grimacing. “I can’t take this anymore. I feel gross.”

I look down at myself. My clothes are stiff with dried saltwater and sweat. “Yeah, me too.”

She crosses her arms, thinking. “We need to wash them.”

I nod, then realize the problem. “But… if we wash them, we’ll have nothing to wear.”

She sighs. “I know.”

We stand there in awkward silence, both aware of what that means.

“…Maybe we take turns?” I suggest hesitantly.

She gives me a sharp look. “You mean one of us stays naked while the other waits?”

I scratch my head. “I mean… yeah?”

She groans, burying her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

I shrug. “We don’t have a choice. It’s just us here.”

She peeks at me through her fingers. “Still!”

After a long pause, she exhales sharply. “Fine!" “This is so worse!” she mutters.

I chuckle. “At least we’ll be clean.”

She grumbles but doesn’t argue.

And so, in our strange little world, even washing clothes becomes a ridiculous challenge. But somehow, we manage—awkward, embarrassed, but surviving together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But suddenly, it seems Wonyoung has realized survival takes priority over everything else. Embarrassment, modesty—those things start to feel pointless.

To my surprise, Wonyoung just… pulls her dress over her head.

I freeze. My brain short-circuits as the gorgeous Wonyoung directly takes off her clothes near me, her medium sized breasts with pretty pink nipples, a luscious curvy figure that takes my breath away. Her natural scent is divine yet there's a hint of dirt clinging to her perfect skin. Now as soon as she also takes off her smelly and dirty underwear the same time, I see her pussy is hairy, maybe she doesn't shave it often. I keep looking in at her hungrily, finding every aspect of Wonyoung naked incredibly sexy.

She throws her dress and underwear onto a sea, standing now in nothing but her bare skin, completely unbothered. “You should do the same,” she says casually. “It’s just us, anyway.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I swallow hard, staring at the ground now. “Uh… are you sure about this?”

She shrugs. “Why not? Clothes are useless if they’re this filthy. We might as well just stay like this.”

I feel my face burning. “I mean… isn’t that a little—”

She raises an eyebrow. “What? Weird? Embarrassing?” She sighs. “At first, yeah. But think about it—we’re stuck here, just the two of us. Why should we care?”

I can’t argue with that logic. She’s right. There’s no one else. No society. No rules.

Still, I hesitate.

She smirks slightly. “You’re overthinking it.”

I exhale, then slowly pull off my shirt. Then my pants. The air feels strange against my skin, but at the same time… freeing.

Wonyoung smiles. “See? Not so bad.”

And just like that, we accept our fate. No more shame, no more awkwardness—just two survivors, stripped of everything, living in the most natural way possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As now I'm naked as well, Wonyoung starts to look at my rod standing at attention. I caught her biting her lips and smiling, which I found adorable. She playfully teases, 'I can't help it, it's so…funny!' I blush furiously and retort, 'Hey, don't laugh!'". I'm confused why the heck Wonyoung is laughing at my dick? Maybe she has never seen one before?

"You look funny naked, especially with that thing down standing out of nowhere so hard" Wonyoung teases.

I'm sure Wonyoung knows herself why my dick is hard at the moment. It only get this way when there's a pretty hot girl around. Also the fact, Wonyoung is naked herself too. Wonyoung's stomach makes a noise again, its time for food and we realize we should start hunting for survival.

Yesterday we survived on wild fruits & coconuts, and anything remotely edible that we can scavenge. But soon, we realize that if we want to stay strong, we need real food ~ fish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung figures out that if we trap fish in small tidal pools near the shore, we can just grab them with our hands. It’s tricky, but with patience, we manage to catch a few.

Since we don’t have pots or pans, we cook the fish directly over a fire. We create a simple fire pit using dry wood and stones. We skewer the fish on sticks and roast them over the flames until they’re cooked through.

The first bite of was Incredible. We eat in silence, both of us savoring the moment. Wonyoung licks her lips, grinning. “I never thought I’d be this happy just eating a burnt fish.”

I laugh, nodding at her words.

As night falls, the temperature on the island drops, and the once-refreshing breeze turns into a chilling wind. Its getting cold. Yesterday we had our clothes but this morning, upon Wonyoung's idea, I also threw my clothes and we're both naked still.

With no clothes, no blankets, and only a small fire to keep us warm, the cold becomes a real problem.

At first, we try to endure it, huddling close to the fire, wrapping ourselves in large leaves, anything to stay warm. But nothing works.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung shivers beside me, hugging herself tightly. “This isn’t working,” she mutters, her teeth slightly chattering.

I sigh. I’m freezing too. Then, reluctantly, Wonyoung says, “There’s only one thing we can do.”

I looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

She hesitates. “Body heat. If we stay close, we’ll be warmer.”

I stare her for a second, then exhale, shaking my head. “I can’t believe this…” But then, after another shiver, I mutter, “Fine. But don’t get any ideas. I try to be positive, trying my best to be a gentleman ”

But Wonyoung seems to have something in her mind, she has been trying a little to seduce me even in this kind of survival condition ever since we both got naked.

We move closer, our bare skin pressing together. The warmth is immediate, awkward at first, but undeniable.

She rests her head against my shoulder, her body still tense. “I love this,” she whispers.

Slowly, her body relaxes against mine, and I feel my own muscles easing. The cold doesn’t bite as much anymore.

After a few moments of silence, she sighs. “You’re warm…”

I smirk. “So are you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung hugs me tigher, her chest pressing over mine. I can feel the size of her breasts, I have never grabbed them yet with my hands. I feel so good as well as her skin presses over mine more tightly..

Wonyoung and I can see the full moon together, it looks beautiful.

And just like that, we fall asleep, two survivors, pressed together against the cold, finding warmth in the only way we can.

The next morning, fever hits me suddenly. One moment, I’m fine, tired but fine. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside. My limbs are weak, my vision blurry, and every breath feels heavy.

I collapse near our shelter, barely able to keep my eyes open. Wonyoung rushes over, panic written all over her face.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” She kneels beside me, pressing a hand to my forehead. The moment she touches me, she gasps. “You’re burning up…”

I try to respond, but my throat is dry, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m… just tired…”

She bites her lip, looking around as if searching for a solution. “You’re Sick OH God!!"

Wonyoung has gotten emotional. She swallows hard, taking a shaky breath.

For the first time, I see her cry.

Even in this desperate situation, I hate seeing her like this. I slowly reach out, grabbing her trembling hand. “Hey… I’m not dead yet.” I try to smile, but even that takes too much effort.

She sniffles and squeezes my hand tightly. “You better not die,” she whispers. “I can’t be alone here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Wonyoung stays by my side, cooling my forehead with wet leaves, giving me water, whispering words of reassurance even when she thinks I’m asleep.

And in my fevered haze, I realize something—she’s not just the famous girl I once admired from afar. She’s not just my survival partner. She might be someone special in my life.

The fever doesn’t break overnight, that day Wonyoung does all the job, cooking the fishes and finding survival resources. My body feels weak, my head heavy, and every movement sends waves of exhaustion through me. But Wonyoung never leaves my side.

She brings me water from the stream, carefully tilting a coconut shell to my lips. “Drink,” she murmurs. Her voice is soft but firm, her eyes filled with worry.

I manage a few sips before resting my head back down. “Thanks…” I whisper.

She sighs, brushing my damp hair back. “You’re burning up.”

That night, as the cold wind howls through our shelter, Wonyoung presses herself against me, wrapping her arms around my body. “This should help,” she whispers. “You need warmth.”

I’m too weak to argue, and honestly, her body heat is comforting. She rests her head against my chest, holding me close. She takes care of my body.

At some point, I groan, my muscles aching all over.

She notices immediately. “Does it hurt?”

I nod weakly.

Without hesitation, she shifts, her delicate hands moving to my shoulders. Slowly, gently, she starts massaging me, her fingers pressing into my tense muscles. She also gave me a handjob at the middle. I don’t even know if I should count it as lewd since we have been naked together and staying like this for 2 days already, but this is the first time she grabbed my dick with her hands.

“Relax,” she whispers. “You always do everything for us. Just let me take care of you.”

Her hands move down my arms, across my back, easing the knots of pain. Her touch is soft but firm, careful yet reassuring.

For the first time in days, I feel a little better.

I close my eyes, letting her warmth, her touch, her presence lull me into much-needed rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung asks, “Do you think the war is over?”

I exhale, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”

She stares at the horizon. “What if… no one is left?”

I glance at her. “What do you mean?”

She hugs herself tighter. “Last time we saw the world… there were nukes being launched. Countries were falling apart. If the war is over, does that mean someone won? Or does it mean no one is left to fight anymore?”

A heavy silence falls between us. The thought is terrifying, but not impossible.

I swallow. “Even if there are survivors, do you think anyone would look for us? We’re on some random, uncharted island. We don’t even know if this place is on any map.”

Wonyoung’s expression darkens. “We could be doomed.”

I don’t want to believe that. But deep down, I know she might be right.

She rests her head on my shoulder. “It’s just us now,” she whispers.

I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. “Then we survive. No matter what.”

“But if we are the only ones left…” Wonyoung hesitates. “Should we… you know… repopulate?”

The word hangs in the air, heavier than anything we’ve ever spoken before.

I swallow hard. “You’re asking if we should have kids?”

She nods slowly. “It’s what humans do, right? Continue the species.”

The idea makes sense, logically. But something about it feels too real.

I exhale. “That’s a big decision.”

She glances at me, her cheeks slightly flushed. “I know. But if the world is gone… doesn’t that mean we’re responsible for rebuilding it?”

I run a hand through my hair, trying to process. “It’s not just about responsibility. We’d be bringing a child into a world with no hospitals, no medicine, no help. It’d be dangerous.”

She bites her lip, thinking. “Yeah… but if we don’t, then when we die, that’s it. The end of humanity.”

Silence. The fire crackles between us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt2:

Wonyoung finally sighs, shaking her head. “Maybe I’m overthinking.”

After some while, Wonyoung asks, "Do you want some special comfort?"

Without understanding what special comfort she meant, I nodded yes.

Wonyoung winks and positioned her face between my legs. Her hands reach up to gently caress my thighs, sending shivers through my body. Leaning in slowly, I suddenly feel her pink tongue extends and swirls around the tip of my dick. A soft gasp escapes her as she tastes me, her eyes never leaving mine. She takes the head into her warm, inviting mouth.

I feel my full length inside her mouth. I finally realized Wonyoung is giving me a blowjob already. Wonyoung pulls back a bit. She grins, still stroking me gently. "Mmm…you like that y/n?" She teases before taking me deep again, bobbing her head with purpose now.

"Wonyoung, are you serious right now? You're a famous idol… I can't believe ur doing this!?!" I say.

Wonyoung replies, "Well, I don't think there's anyone left in the world. We should start reproducing already!." She continues taking my length more inside her mouth.

I realize Wonyoung must be feeling emotional, and that I'm the only person in her life now. It doesn't matter if I'm attractive or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung is absolutely magnificent as she works to please me with her lips and tongue. Her tongue dances against the sensitive under side of my dick each time I hit the back of her mouth. She gazes up at me with desire, her cheeks hollowing as she takes me deeper still. Every flick, suck and lick from Wonyoung feels heavenly, it's clear she was made for this. I can't hold back my cries of pleasure - "Oh wow, Wonyoung please stop, you are amazing at this!"

Wiping a strand of saliva from her chin after she finishes sucking my rod, Wonyoung sits up and spreads her legs wide. Her thick bush of dark hair beckons me forward. "Alright, enough pleasing you. I want the same feeling as well. Mind eating my hairy pussy now?" she commands.

"Are you serious? But I'm sick!" I reply to her command.

"Oh right", Wonyoung pauses, a look of determination crossing her face. "Can't stand or return the favor hmm?" She grins slyly. "No problem, I can adapt." She positions herself above me, her beautiful eyes twinkling. "Here, I'll just…sit right down."

And with that, Wonyoung lowers herself, her vertical lips parting as she envelops my face in her warmth. I feel her weight settle on my face as she slowly sits on my face, her pussy hair tickling my nose.

I get flashbacks of watching Wonyoung's performance through my screen at home last year before the war started. It's exactly that same ass! Now that ass is about to be buried all over my face.

As Wonyoung lowers herself onto me fully, I am enveloped by her feminine heat and scent from her ass… She is totally face sitting on me.. Wonyoung is now riding my face!

Eager to please, I decide to really explore Wonyoung's shithole. Gently I spread her ass cheeks further apart, gazing at her tight little bud. I push my tongue forward deep, pushing more deep into Wonyoung's most intimate place. Inside her anus, my tongue meets warm, velvety smooth walls that grip me gently. A faint musky scent fills my senses as I wiggle and stroke within her sensitive rim.

My tongue inside her asshole is absorbing up every sticky morsel. The taste is intense, earthy and undeniably naughty. I delve deeper, driven by an urge to clean every inch of her filthy depths.

Her inner walls clench and grip my probing tongue as I feel the wet, dirty texture inside her tight little shithole. It's a decadent mess inside here. Oh fuck, Am I really eating her wet messy holes as she commands?

Shee gasps but then urges me, "Deeper...stick your tongue in!".

I oblige, slowly working my tongue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her ass shakes over my head with a playful excitement from taking in charge, she still asks teasingly, "Is OK?"

I nod, surrendering to pleasure her. My tongue extends, lapping up her slick nectar. She tastes divine. I feel her move, grinding against my mouth harder. She shifts a bit and my tongue finds her hairy wet pussy, making her bite her lip and smile wider.

I eagerly lap up every drop of her juices, my tongue tracing her folds and circling her engorged clit. I suck the bud into my mouth, flicking it while my hands press against her thighs for balance. Wonyoung gasps, riding my face harder. I insert my tongue as deep as it will go inside her within her wetness.

Wonyoung grinds down harder, inviting me to continue. I oblige, gently probing at her holes with more intention now. The salty-sweet taste of mixing her essence on my tongue drives me wild. Wonyoung cries out, clearly enjoying using me completely.

"Mmm…you're so good with that tongue, I just can't resist returning the favor!" Wonyoung cries. She leans down, taking my throbbing length back into her mouth. Now our bodies form a delightfully lewd 69 position - me eating her treasure while she continues to suck me off.

Her hips move in a sensual rhythm, grinding her wetness all over my face as I feel the base of my shaft hit her throat each time she takes me deep.

Our 69 is smooth and rhythmic now, both of us falling into it as the ecstasy builds. My tongue works her clit in firm circles while I thrust my tongue as deep as possible into her tight back doorway. Wonyoung's mouth moves expertly along my shaft, her lips sealed tight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just when I think it can't get more intense, I feel a warm fluid against my chin and mouth. "Oh my god, I'm sorry!" Wonyoung cries out. But I don't pull back - I simply extend my tongue, catching her pee with every skillful lick. She trembles above me as she finishes, spent. A mixture of her fluids coats my face but I don't mind one bit, still savoring her completely.

Against my will, I'm forced to drink down her warm, tangy urine. It's strong and acrid on my tongue but I obediently swallow, NOT wanting to displease Wonyoung. She seems shy now, her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Here, let me make it better." She whispers. Wonyoung begins gently licking my face with her soft, pink tongue. She methodically cleans every inch, the bitter taste slowly fading. When she reaches my lips she takes me into her mouth again, our tongues meeting. She swallows some of her own urine back from my mouth as we have a mouthful french kiss. Her eyes closed, slipping her tongue into my mouth. There it mixes with my saliva too, a lewd, taboo French kiss. When she finally breaks the kiss, her eyes search mine - a mix of apology and invitation.

She again engages me in a deep and soulful kiss. Wonyoung breaks the kiss, her eyes glinting with newfound desire. She stands up now. "I hope you can forgive me," she purrs before sitting over my shaft. Wonyoung positions herself now ready to ride my dicm. "Now fuck me…fuck me hard, its time for reproduction already! Forget the humanity outside! Theres no one left!" she screams.

She cries out as I claim her. I watch my rod disappearing between her thighs, feeling her walls tighten around me. "Yes, that's it!, Oh my god I can't believe I'm having my first time!" Wonyoung moans as she rides my dick hard. Our bodies connect with a primal rhythm as I punish her core. I know I won't last long after that intense buildup. "Don't stop!" she gasps, pulling me deeper. I'm determined to satisfy us both.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tears spring to her eyes but she keeps crying out "Yes yes yes!".. Wonyoung is literally screaming and riding me at the middle of the island. We don’t know what's happening outside in the real world. But here, it seems we both are actually enjoying. Birds and insects are watching us fuck in the silent island. The island is full of her screams and cries in pleasure.

Wonyoung starts bouncing on my rod harder. Each deep thrust draws out prolonged, wailing cries from Wonyoung's lips: "AHH! AHHH PLEASE!". Wonyoung leans down upon my mouth for a kiss now.

She breathes, "You're taking me so well", "but I'm not nearly done with you yet until u cum inside me."

Wonyoung's forcefully kisses me deep and moans. "Ahh, please, I can't.. Cum already.!" she cries desperately, a mix of fear and excitement in her voice.

Wonyoung screams again, her voice rising in pitch as I cum inside her "OOOOHHH!"

Wonyoung feels the sticky white cum fill inside her. Its a big load. She still continues riding, but now Wonyoung feels something tear inside her… "You…you tore me," she whispers, eyes wide.

I push her away from my dick, I see a mess down in her pussy. Its full of my sperm and cum, her insides must have broken and torn apart since its her first time. "It hurts but we succeeded. I'm probably finally pregnant!." Wonyoung cries.

I get emotional too. I hug Wonyoung, and as she hugs me back, we hold each other with love, and I can feel her warmth and heartbeat. Inside Wonyoung is a complex mix of emotions and physical sensations.

I can't believe it, did I actually breed Wonyoung, the most popular K-pop girl? This feels so real, it’s definitely not a dream! Yes, thats right! If I and Wonyoung are really the only humans left, the next world generation will be descendants of us!

[ultravioletrayz]

Could we get a Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Where they’re married, and they put the kids to bed for the night, it’s been while since they’ve been able to see each other because of work and they end trying to keep quiet since the kids are next door 😼

i literally daydream about this exact scenario 25/8

Pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!reader

Warnings: 18+, very fluffy 'n soft sex, unprotected p in v, a bit of breeding because we all know where i stand on this, missionary, clit slapping like once

Summary: it's been far too long since miguel has gotten to enjoy his pretty little wifey's company

A/N: slowly but surely making our way through reqs from LAST YEAR 😭😭 so sorry this took so long, noni

Word Count: 1.9k

Miguel has developed a strict routine over the past month or so.

Wake up, shower, eat whatever leftovers the wife set out for him, go to work, come home, say hi to the kids and the wife, eat dinner with everyone, watch TV with the kids, put the kids to bed, sleep. When the events of the day were so unpredictable and chaotic, it had always soothed his overworked brain knowing that the bigger picture was simplistic. It was a life as rewarding and ordinary as he could ask for considering his profession.

But over time, the blaring omission from his schedule came to the forefront of his mind, occupying every fleeting moment of free time he came across.

He hadn't fucked the brains out of his sweet sweet wife in too long.

Miguel's hands are on the verge of trembling as he tucks your youngest child snugly into her bed, plump lips pressing a few quick pecks to her forehead, earning giddy giggles and a big smile.

"Night night, mama and papa!" She laughs, patting Miguel on the head. You laugh as you stand in the doorway, which only serves to make Miguel's heart race as he whispers good night to your daughter. He practically sprints out of the flower-decorated, pink adorned room, switching off the light and shutting the door with an urgency you can see right through.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" You prompt, bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth as you fight the urge to grin at the sight of Miguel's dangerously dilated pupils, the smallest, glassy sliver of crimson barely visible in the dimly lit hallway. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, his loose sweats already starting to tent as his burly digits pull you towards him.

Miguel can't help but laugh to himself, his head craning bashfully as his gaze meets yours, a giddy smirk tugging at his plump lips.

"Uh huh. In between your legs." Miguel mumbles, and you both groan and giggle at the cheesy line. But something about how immature Miguel lets himself become when it's just the two of you in the solace of your home is undeniably sweet. You'd also be lying if you tried to deny the growing wet patch in your little cotton panties as his arched nose nuzzles into your hair to hide his embarrassment.

"Well, what's stopping you?" You muse, letting Miguel slowly nudge his aching bulge against your stomach. To think after the years you've spent together, Miguel still acts like a needy, sexually frustrated teenage boy in your embrace would usually make you laugh and tease... but you're in the same boat after being neglected for weeks on end.

Miguel inhales sharply, not wanting to risk being interrupted by the kids and miss yet another opportunity to make you feel good. He's been teetering on the edge of insanity every time he's caught your lingering glances from the kitchen while you finish up dinner. You've put him through hell every time your wandering feet have "accidentally" rubbed over his crotch while you lay on the couch watching Nickelodeon with the kids before bed. And every single night, when you wander into the bedroom from the walk-in wearing the most ethereal, yet slutty little nightgown just to crash immediately when your head hits the pillows... Miguel has had to stop himself from shaking you awake and stuffing you full of him.

But now, finally, as he lets out a small groan of relief, Miguel scoops you up into his burly arms, making quick work of nudging the bedroom door open and kicking it closed behind him. He lets out a chuckle as you squeal in surprise, your laughter muffled against his chest. He slowly lowers you onto the bed, his hands trailing up your thighs before slipping themselves beneath the layers of fabric shielding your sweet little cunt.

You lift your hips to help Miguel slip your shorts and panties off in tandem. The second your body relaxes back into the mattress, Miguel's fingers dance across your folds, finding you already soaking wet and eager. He groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue darts out to trace your bottom lip, nipping gently before diving his tongue back into your mouth. His hand finds its way between your legs once more, two fingers prodding against your clit and circling around the slick bud tantalisingly slow, dragging out a string of muffled moans from the back of your throat.

The feeling of Miguel's rough fingers against your sensitive skin is driving you wild, but it isn't enough. You grip onto his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more contact, needing more of him. You've missed him so much, you want to be smothered by his weight, his scent, his affection. Him.

"Y'missed me that much, angelita? You poor thing." Miguel laughs against your lips, pulling back slightly to look you in your lust-blown eyes. His hips buck against the empty space in his sweatpants as he soaks in the image of you grinding yourself against the pads of his fingers.

Leaning down to kiss along your jaw and neck, Miguel tugs at his pants with his free hand, letting them tumble to the bedroom floor in a tangled heap. Giving your clit a few open-palmed, dragging spanks just to see you mewl, Miguel folds your knees to your chest, thighs squishing against your tits as he rubs the tip of his fat, throbbing, dribbling cock up and down your swollen folds.

Still kissing and nipping at your skin, Miguel leans down to capture your lips again, swallowing your moans and squeals as he prods his tip at your pussy. With each initially small, shallow thrust, Miguel pushes further and further inside, feeding his cock into you inch-by-inch, making you pull away from his plump lips to gasp for breath. He pants against your neck, a small groan escaping him as he revels in the feeling of your walls struggling to stretch around him. It feels so damn good to be buried to the hilt inside of you, to be filled with the warmth only your syrupy sweet pussy can give him.

Miguel pulls away from you just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze dark and intense as he begins to reel his hips back, your slick clinging in shining ropes to the coarse hairs decorating his pelvis. Each gradually harder thrust drives him deeper, and each moan he gets out of you only fuels his need. The way you grip onto his shoulders and arch your back is enough to make his heart race and his breath hitch in his chest. He's completely lost in the feeling of you, the way your walls clench around him with every push and pull, the way your cunt speaks to him as his tip ruts against your gooey centre.

"That's it. G-God. Love you s'much." Miguel huffs, his eyes shutting to let his body memorise every crevice of your own. His grip on your doughy hips is the only thing keeping you grounded as you try to stay quiet, the kids only a few doors down.

But your attempts are less than feeble.

You bury your face into the crook of Miguel's neck, biting at his shoulder to stifle your moans, determined not to make a sound as Miguel rams against the gummy edge of your poor cervix, filling you up completely. But it only serves to make him whimper loudly as his hips stutter, almost finishing right there and then. You gasp at the intensity of Miguel's movements, your back arching off the mattress as he pounds into you with a fiery urgency. Every sharp breath he takes only serves to make your brain foggy as you drag your nails across his back, leaving a trail of stinging red lines in your wake and earning a hearty moan from his lips.

Miguel pants heavily, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. His eyes are closed tightly, and he can feel the sweat beading on his forehead. He leans down, his breath hot against your neck. He can't hold out much longer, his hips snapping back and forth with a ferocity that has you crying out. The way you cling to him, your body jerking and twitching in perfect sync with his deep thrusts, sends a jolt of electricity straight through him.

"You're so good to me, hermosa. Gonna give you everything you want." Miguel whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on your cheek as his hands slide beneath your hips to squeeze your ass, pulling you up towards him with a groan. His cock throbs and jerks inside of you, his balls slapping against your clit in a rhythm that has you seeing stars. It's making you crave his entire being.

"I want... want another baby. Please give me another baby." You manage to squeak out, your words making Miguel's heart swell with love and pride. He nods vigorously, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. Pulling away with a gasp, Miguel can feel the coil in his body twisting to a point of carnal need. A need to fuck another gorgeous child into you.

"Of- Of course, mami. As many as you want." Miguel pants, his hand snaking down to your soft stomach, rubbing loving circles into your skin with his thumb as he cranes his head to focus on the faint bulge coming and going from beneath your glistening flesh, a tribute to the way your perfect body has been moulded for his dick and his alone.

Miguel's hips snap forward again, his thick cock burying itself deep inside you with a loud groan of pleasure. Your walls clench around him, milking his shaft as he pulls almost completely out before slamming back in again, his pace increasing with each passing moment. He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he loses himself to the love and heat surging from you and filling the bedroom. His breathing grows ragged, his body trembling as he feels that familiar tingle building within him, the pleasure coursing through him becoming unbearable. He pushes himself as deep as he can go, his cock throbbing against your cervix as you whimper into his shoulder. His fingers dig into your soft skin, leaving marks that he'll have to make up for later.

With a guttural groan, Miguel lets himself succumb to your warmth, hips snapping forward with enough force to make you gasp and your body jolt upwards, your walls clenching around him tightly. His body tenses, and he comes undone with hot, sticky spurts that coat your insides, filling you with every ounce of his love for you as he whimpers your name against the shell of your ear. His cum mixes with your own juices as he pulls out, your walls squeezing and milking him one last time before letting him go.

Spent and breathless, Miguel collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he nuzzles his face into your neck. You wrap your arms around him tightly, pulling him close as you both catch your breath.

"That... that was worth the wait." You murmur with a slight giggle, already feeling the pull of sleep tugging at your eyes.

Miguel hums in quiet acknowledgement, tilting his head to press a meek kiss against the underside of your chin as his body shudders with the aftershocks of his long awaited release.

"The next few months of waiting will be even better, mi esposa."

PLAP PLAP PLAP GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT PLAP PLAP

[leeloooonfire]

Steve Harrington only wears a bra.

Well, not, only, he's also wearing bright orange swim shorts and a cap backward, too.

The top part, however? Hairy man boobs are prettily covered by a black lace bra with a sparkling strass stone in the middle.

Eddie might be a teeny tiny bit drunk (2 beers after months of abstinence and medication does that to a man), but not drunk enought to imagine Steve Harrington in a bra.

'Uh-', he says eloquently and tries not to stare too much at the other man sitting on what must be Buckley's bed. 'Am I interrupting something?'

Steve, face almost as pink as Erica's favourite shoes, opens his mouth to reply, but Robin, sitting crosslegged in front of him, is faster, 'Oh its just you. Close the door, Eds.'

Eddie isn't sure if she means 'close the door and leave, never talk to us about whatever weird kinky little thing we're doing right now' or 'come in, close the door and shut up'. He hesitates for a moment, studying Steve's pretty flushed face and Robin’s wiggling eyebrows before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

His hand is still on the door knob when he turns and finds Robin leaning against Steve’s hairy chest, one of her arms behind his back. She's fumbling with something, frustrated noises escape her closed lips while Steve simply sits still - like a statue. An Adonis statue wearing a bra.

'Fuck', Robin groans loudly, her forehead knocking against Steve's clavicle, his hand patting her head in condolence.

'Not to be judgmental', Eddie starts slowly as he leans against the book case right next to the door, 'But what are you guys doing?'

(Eddie thought Robin's a friend of Dorothy, so why is Steve fucking Harrington sitting dolled up in a delicate bra on her bed and they look like they're ready to make out?!)

When both Steve and Robin send him evil twin looks, he holds both his hands up in surrender, 'Like I said, not gonna judge you, whatever floats your boat or whatever, but what, exactly, is it that you're trying to do here?'

'Practice', Robin grumbles against Steve's chest, tugging behind his back again.

Steve grins, a bit lopsided and goofy, 'She's trying to open the bra with one hand.'

'It's just so much easier on myself,' she says, and now that Eddie knows what's happening, he can make out her hand tugging and fumbling with the hooks behind Steve's back.

'Ah,' Eddie says, again, rather eloquently. 'I should probably leave you to it, then.'

Before he can turn and go, however, Steve says, 'I heard that you're pretty good with your hands, Munson. Bet you can get it off me in no time.'

'Pfff- ' Robin makes, rolling her eyes, 'I wouldn't be so sure he's ever had a bra in his hands.'

And while Robin has flocked him as a raging homosexual as it seems, Eddie heard the rumours about him too: fingers dancing over his guitar, rolling the perfect joints, Eddie the freak Munson knows how to work his fingers. he doesn't hate this rumour at all. It's kind of nice - for his ego and all.

Yes, he hasn't opened a bra before, but he's met this hot goth dude in a corset before, and that's basically a bra with dozens of hooks. He is fairly sure he can open it with one hand and without looking. What he probably shouldn't do is coming too close to Steve Harrington, the man he's had a crush on since they survived the Upside Down together. Not with his naked skin and hairy chest and dark brown nipple peaking through the black lace of the undergarment.

But both Robin and Steve stare at him and Eddie doesn't run anymore - a challenge is a challenge.

'No problem,' he says far more confident than he actually feels and steps closer, one knee on the bed before Robin's even all out of the way.

'No looking,' she says as if she's explaining the rules to a game, 'chest to chest or face in his neck, but you can only use one hand and your eyes have to stay either closed or on him. Seriously no peeking.'

She shuffles out the way to make room for Eddie between Steve's long, also very naked, legs and Eddie swallows quietly before leaning closer.

Steve smells like sunscreen and grass, a bit like the pineapple they ate earlier before the kids left, and sweat. He smells devine and before Eddie can think clearly, he presses his face into Steve's neck. He feels Steve shudder when his damp lips accidentally meet his sun kissed skin and Eddie feels like he's going crazy. What is he doing? Why is he doing it? Even the slightest touch sends shockwaves through his body. God, he's gone so bad for Steve Harrington.

'Ready?' Robin asks, apparently unaware of Eddie's dilemma or the way Steve's pulse is fluttering like a hummingbird right against Eddie's nose. 'Go!'

He sneaks his right arm around Steve, who jumps slightly the moment Eddie's fingertips brush against his shoulder blades. To keep him still, Eddie's left hand reaches for Steve's waist almost automatically. He doesn't try to focus too much on the way goosebumps spread under his fingers and the way Steve literally whines into Eddie's ear. His right hand follows the scratchy lace, nails lightly scratching Steve's skin, until he finds the hooks.

Thumb under the fabric and pointer and middle finger pressing against it, he feels the first hook opening after less than a heartbeat. For a moment, Eddie doesn't want to open the other two and therefore lose any reason to be so close to Steve.

Steve, who has his nose pressed against Eddie's hair and hand curled into Eddie's shirt, slightly tugging as if .... Well, as if to ask for permission to take it off. Eddie doesn't even know when he had the time to grab for the shirt in the first place.

Eddie moves his hand and the second hook opens. He turns his face, brings a bit more space between them to look at Steve. His cheeks are scarlet, lips shiney with spit and when he opens his eyes after mere seconds of Eddie staring at him, he can see that Steve's pupils are dilated, eyes dark with want.

The last hook springs free and without turning his eyes away, Eddie gently brushes the strap off Steve's broad shoulder. Steve quietly whimpers and pushes harder against Eddie's shirt as if to tear it off his body.

'Eddie', he whispers, licking his lips and Eddie just wants everything Steve is ready to offer.

'Ohhh okay, I think I'll leave you two alone', he hears the slightly panicked voice of Robin and then a door opening and closing.

And Eddie leans in...

[loves0phelia]

hii, I was wondering if I could request something with rafe! when they’re stranded in Morocco, at night, all of them together after Sarah and JJ come back, around the fire, all bonding and rafe being a bit apart, maybe reader tries to talk to him, trying to make him feel less alone or something? would love to see what you come up with!<3

Crazier

Summery: Realizing your as crazy as Rafe for loving him.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: mention of murder, grammar mistakes.

A/N: thank you for requesting i hope you like it even though its not exactly what you asked xx

Everyone walks out of the water slowly and exhausted, the night was crazy. The boat was stranded a few feet away from the shore because of the intense storm that had hit. You were all dizzy and disoriented but also insanely worried. Your friends Sarah and JJ had both disappeared into the water earlier that night, lost in the waves, with no way to find them.

Rafe was the first to hit solid ground. He stumbled forward, collapsing onto his back in the sand, spitting out seawater. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, the salty air biting at his raw throat. 

“I looked everywhere,” John B said, running up the hill, his voice shaky and hoarse. He coughed, forcing himself upright with one hand pressed to his chest.

“I couldn't find them,”  He said in defeat, but nobody answered. You and the rest of your friends only shook your head and sighed. The silence was heavy.

You pushed your hair out of your face, looking over the crackling fire.

“Maybe they just washed up further down the beach. We have to keep looking,” John B said, still hoping his pregnant wife and his best friend weren't gone forever.

“Well look at first light” Kie affirmed earning nods from the rest of the pogues.

Your gaze drifted from the fire for a second and you noticed Rafe, sitting on the other side of the fire, apart from the group. His eyes connected with yours and a chill went down your spine. It's like you and he understood each other without speaking a word. You knew you needed to talk to him as soon as possible. You needed to.

The sun rose on the horizon and the beach was eerily quiet now, save for the crashing waves and the occasional call of a seabird. The others were spread out, combing the shoreline for any sign of Sarah or JJ. But Rafe was apart from them, sitting on a jagged rock a little further down the beach, his shoulders hunched and his face set in a grim expression.

Rafe had stayed up all night, he would never say it but he was worried about his sister. The mere thought of his sister being gone, drowned in the ocean, with no way to find her body, sickened him. He looked so out of place—angry, lost, and alone and while the Pogues had ignored him, you couldn’t. You knew Rafe too well to leave him like this.

Taking a deep breath, you veered off course and approached him.  

“Hey,” you called softly.  

Rafe didn’t look up. He was staring at the waves, his jaw tight, his hands resting on his knees.  

“Rafe,” you tried again, more gently this time.  

He finally turned his head, his eyes narrowing slightly when he saw you. “What do you want, Y/N?” His tone was sharp, but there was no real bite to it.  

You sighed, and sat crisscrossed in the sand next to him “I just wanted to check on you. You’ve been sitting here for a while.”  

“Why? Thought you Pogues hated me.”  He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head

“That’s not true,” you said quickly, and after hesitating you added, “I don’t. I never did”  

That seemed to catch his attention. He looked at you fully now, his blue eyes searching yours. “Yeah? Since when?”  

You tilted your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the tension. “Since always, Rafe. You know that.”  

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered. “Feels like I’m the villain in everyone’s story. Including yours.”  Rafe’s gaze dropped to the ground, his fingers digging into his jeans.

“That’s not fair,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “We’ve been through a lot, you and me. And yeah, you’ve made some… questionable choices. But that doesn’t erase everything from before.”  

He scoffed, running a hand through his buzzed hair. “Before. You mean before I screwed everything up, right? Before I became the guy everyone loved to hate.”  

You frowned, your heart aching at the bitterness in his voice. “Rafe, you’re not that guy to me. I still see the person I used to know. The one who’d sneak out of Tannyhill to meet me, a pogue, at the docks. The one who didn’t care I had to work 36 hours a week to be able to live. The one who used to make me laugh when I had the worst days ever.”  

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “But that guy’s long gone, Y/N.”  

You shook your head, leaning in slightly. “I don’t believe that. Not completely. I think he’s still in there somewhere.”  

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at the ocean, the tension in his jaw slowly easing. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more vulnerable.  

“Why are you even talking to me? After everything… Why bother?”  

You reached out hesitantly, your fingers brushing against his. “Because I care about you, Rafe. I always have, always will”  

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look at you either. Instead, he stared at your hands for a long moment.

“How? How can you still care? I ruined everything after… after I killed Peterkin. I ruined us” His tone was vulnerable.

The memory came unbidden, sharp and vivid like a wound reopened. 

It had been late—one of those sticky, humid Outer Banks nights when the air clung to your skin, thick with salt and heat. You stood on the dock by the marsh, your arms wrapped around yourself, waiting. The soft lapping of water against the pylons had been the only sound as you stared at the dark water.  

Rafe had promised he’d meet you there. The day was crazy. John B had come running to the chateau his skin covered in blood that wasn't his. He had claimed Rafe, your Rafe, had murdered the sheriff. But you couldn't believe it you had to ask your boyfriend yourself.

When he finally showed up, the boy you’d known was a shadow of himself. His shirt was wrinkled and half-untucked, his hair wild like he’d run his hands through it a thousand times. And his eyes—those piercing blue eyes you used to get lost in—were bloodshot and unfocused.  

“Rafe,” you said softly, walking up to him, your hands reaching for him like magnets, the edge of worry sharpening your tone. “What’s going on?”  

He stumbled slightly as he stepped onto the dock, catching himself against a post. “Nothing,” he said, brushing your concern away with a shaky laugh. “Why do you always gotta ask that, huh? I’m fine.”  

“You don’t look fine,” you countered, stepping closer. You could smell the alcohol on him, sharp and sour, mingling with something else you couldn't quite place. Your heart twisted painfully. “Rafe, is it true? Is it true what John B said?”  Tears flooded your vision.

“John B?” He let out a bitter laugh, louder than it needed to be. His unsteady voice carried over the quiet water.

“Yes, did you kill the sheriff?”  Your brows furrowed at his behaviour.

“No! I was saving my dad!” he slurred, stepping closer to you, “you’re always gonna believe your little friends over me uh?!”

“That’s not true!” You shot back, Your voice rising in frustration. “I’m here because I don't believe them. I'm here because I want to know your side of the story.”  

He scoffed, turning his back to you and running a hand through his hair. “Fine, I did kill her!” he shouted and his voice echoed over the water surrounding you.

“Why Rafe? What happened?” your chest tightened and your hands still reached for him but he stepped back and pushed your hands away. 

“She was gonna kill my dad!” he said, his voice raw now, almost broken as he hyperventilated.

You stepped closer, Your eyes searching for his. “Rafe, breathe please, baby.”  Once more you stepped toward him but this time he pushed you away entirely. Your back hits the railing of the dock hard, the wood digging into your skin.

“Don't fucking touch me!” he screamed and held his head like he was in pain.  

Tears burned in your eyes. “Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling. “don't push me away, please. We can figure it out together okay? It doesn't matter to me what you did, I love you”  

He took a step back, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Don't come near me again alright?”  

“Don’t do this,” you begged, your voice cracking.  

But Rafe had already turned away, walking back down the dock toward his truck. You stood there, frozen, watching as he disappeared into the night.  

What you didn't know was, after this moment Rafe felt as if his lungs were being ripped from his body, he couldn't breathe. The feeling of losing you was too much for him even though it was his fault. But you didn't deserve the chaos of his life so he left you broken and empty.

That was the last time you’d seen him before everything fell apart—before all the adventures, the chaos, and the betrayals that split your worlds in two.  

Back in the present, you blinked, the memory dissolving like mist. You glanced over at Rafe, his face as unreadable as ever. For a moment, the words were stuck in your throat.  

“I've always loved you, Rafe. Maybe it's because I'm crazy. Maybe I'm even crazier for thinking you're a good person for killing for the people you love no matter what” At your words Rafe eyes widen and his hand tightens around yours almost like he searched for signs to understand if he was dreaming or not.

“I'd kill for you in a heartbeat,” he whispered.

“And I'd kill for you” Yours and Rafe's eyes pierced each other's souls.

“Guys, they are back!” You heard Pope scream as JJ and Sarah appeared behind the mountain of sand.

Rafe broke eye contact to look over at his sister and when he saw she was in fact well and alive you could see the tension being lifted from his shoulder.

Knowing you still loved him just as much as he still loved you and knowing his sister was safe was all that mattered. 

[domoriu]

the morning after ꕤ s.jake

“eat your pussy just to show you how my tongue works” jake x f! reader smut 18+ mdni !! wc. 1.2k warnings: oral (f. receiving) riize version of this post on my other blog !!

to say jake was obsessed with you would be an understatement. he loved you so much he was sure other people would think it was unhealthy. he missed you even if you were right next to him. 

even right now, while he sat between your legs while he played video games and you played on your phone, he missed you so much. he sunk himself deeper into your thighs, letting himself melt into the feeling of your hand mindlessly twirling his hair as he played. you knew your boyfriend always needed to be as close to you as possible at all times, him constantly whining about not being close enough to you and wanting to live inside of your skin, so the position you two were in was nothing out of the ordinary.

it also wasn't out of the ordinary that jake would end up being turned on from this position, so when he paused his game to sit up and face you, his words weren’t a surprise to you.  

“can i eat you out?”

“jake, it's not even noon yet” you laugh, setting your phone down next to you on the bed so you can sit up to face him properly. 

“i just love your pussy so much baby, wanna eat you out all day every day” he moves so he can place a soft kiss right on your collarbone. 

and he wasn't exaggerating, if he could he definitely would devote his life to eating your pussy and making you cum on his tongue over and over. just last night he had you making a mess all over his face, and he still wasn't satisfied and needed to make you cum again. 

his lips trailed down your chest, making you hold your breath as he trailed his fingers up your thighs. you couldn’t deny the heat you were starting to feel the lower his lips went, and you were sure that you were already getting wet when he pulled away to guide you to lay down on the bed. 

jake was set on eating you out, but he felt conflicted about what he wanted to do when he saw the way your chest rose with every breath as well as your nipples poking through your tank top, or how the bottom of it rode up your stomach. he wishes he could have his mouth on all parts of you at the same time. 

“jake, do something already” you reach for his hand that rests on your leg and bring it to your panties, his fingertips now resting at the hem of them and you lift your hips just a bit so he can get the hint. 

his fingers move down to press against your clit through your underwear and you moan, lifting your hips again in response. jake smiles, pressing his finger harder against you to hear you moan again. 

“you’re already wet,” he stares at you in awe, just moments ago you were teasing him for being needy but you were in the same boat as him, wanting him all the time. jake continues to rub you through your panties, watching as the wetness starts to seep through the fabric the more he touches you. 

jake feels like he’s going to cum in his shorts just from watching you grow needier by the second from his touches, and his need to taste you gets worse with each scrunch in your face. not taking his fingers off you he leans down to leave a kiss by your belly button, then by the hem of your panties. he moves his fingers so he can move further down your body and lay on his stomach, lifting your legs and spreading them so they can rest on his shoulders. he licks his lips before kissing the inside of both of your thighs, sucking bruises into the skin occasionally as he got closer to where you needed him. 

“jake,” you bring a hand to his head and run your fingers through his hair softly, giving his head a slight push closer to you. 

the soft grip you had on his hair turned into a harsh tug as he pulled your panties to the side and placed a kiss on your slit. you moaned at the sensation, and he used his other hand to spread you open. he groaned at the sight of your pussy leaking arousal, he couldn’t get enough of you. 

you were a mess under his touch as he started making out with your pussy, licking and sucking on your clit before dragging his tongue back down to your hole, letting his nose rub against your clit as he lapped up your juices. 

“taste so good baby” jake groans into your cunt and the vibrations run through you, you whine and pull on his hair harder. with your other hand you bring it under your shirt, eagerly grabbing at your tits and tweaking your nipples to add onto the stimulation. when jake looked up he groaned again watching you touch yourself to help bring you to your peak faster. 

from the amount of orgasms you had the night before jake knew you’d still be a little sensitive, so when he felt that you were already shaking he knew you weren’t going to last much longer. 

“gonna cum, pretty?” all you can do is nod as you let out a strangled moan, jake sucking hard on your clit right before you can respond. he moves his hand so he can bring them to your hole, letting some of his spit drip from his mouth and onto his fingers before he pushes two of them into you. 

the feeling of his mouth on your clit and his long fingers filling you up, your orgasm was building up  fast. you push his face impossibly closer into your cunt, grinding your hips into his face as well to add stimulation. once jake curls up his fingers inside of you and with one more a harsh suck on your clit you’re cumming, back arching off the bed as your vision goes blank. 

jake was sure that you had ripped some of his hair out from the way you held onto it, but he didn’t mind when the cause was from him making you feel good. he would lose all of his hair if it meant he could eat you out every day. 

once you got your breathing back to normal you let go of his hair, body trembling as you tried to calm your nerves. 

“are you okay?” jake breathed as he came up from between your legs, the bottom half of his face glistening in your juices and it made your cheeks heat up. you hummed in response as you sat up as well, adjusting your underwear so they covered you back up. jake was still breathing hard, and when you looked down you could see how hard he was in his shorts. 

“are you?” you bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers before squeezing gently and smiling as you look him in the eye. 

“wanna make you cum again” he’s quiet almost like he’s embarrassed, and you have to pretend like you weren’t up for his horny shenanigans. you laugh and place a quick kiss to his lips. 

“im going to put you on a sex ban if you keep this up”

a/n: little surprise release before i post #that fic hehe 🤭 i was debating on reusing this for jake or heeseung cuz they just have to be the biggest munches in enha so i hope yall like this :3

[baocean]

currently thinking of…

jj maybank, who hated sarah cameron’s twin sister. it worked out, because you couldn’t stand him either.

jj maybank, who was such a fucking asshole to you. ‘kook princess’, ‘rafe jr.’, and, oh, can’t forget ‘nasty bitch’ were his favorite nicknames for you. well, almost his favorite.

jj maybank, who couldn’t understand how twins could turn out so differently. sarah was nice, stable, kept things calm. you loved to rock the boat, loved to start shit. you and your sister looked nothing alike, acted nothing alike.

jj maybank, who couldn’t believe you and your sister were still close. you were no rafe cameron, didn’t have the evil in you to do anything like your older brother had. but if anyone asked, you were pretty damn close to the torture that is rafe. and still, you and sarah were as close as ever.

jj maybank, who practically hid from you anytime you made it around to his place, not because he was scared of you, because you made him so unbelievably angry.

jj maybank, who was also super good at pissing you off, too. you swore he was batshit crazy. maybe he was. but, when it came time, he protected his friends, including your twin.

jj maybank, who one day was simply placed in the middle of the grand entrance of tannyhill as a distraction so sarah could snoop on rafe. except, you walked by in a bikini, and suddenly jj was the one distracted. naturally, you fought. and then, jj was back to distracting. distracting you. in your room. between your legs.

jj maybank, who wasn’t sure how it happened. it was all a blurry haze. like he was high off you. something about ‘god you’re so fucking annoying’, and something like ‘oh, is that why you’re hard, then?’.

jj maybank, who after that, couldn’t get enough. you still annoyed the shit out of him, but we’re also the main star of his wet dreams.

jj maybank, who now secretly does not play when it comes to you. sarah gasped out loud one day, running to tell john b about how one of the kooks at the club grabbed onto your arm and pushed you against the bar after some bitchy comment from you, earning you a few bruises. jj overheard, and the next day, the same kook had a pretty black eye and a chipped tooth to match.

jj maybank, who’s favorite nickname for you was actually ‘sweetheart’, said in dark rooms, showers, backs of cars, anywhere he could get his hands on you.

jj maybank, who bent you over any surface he could when you were alone. this time, it was the poker table in the private room at the club. you spit out some unwarranted comment, granting a tug to your hair from the boy looming over you.

jj maybank, who just chuckled when an ‘i hate you’ slipped out of your mouth in between breathy moans. ‘yeah, sweetheart, sure looks that way, doesn’t it?’.

[rubysunnday]

take my hand

summary: as much as y/n appreciates anthony's matchmaking efforts, it's hard to accept them when he's the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

a/n: 4.4k of pure angst/fluff and, yes, smut

Promenading was probably one of the most pointless endeavours the ton insisted on participating in. Miss Y/N Moore loved going on walks around the city. But when she was surrounded by the ton and their watching eyes and gossiping mouths, it was hard to enjoy anything.

"Stop glowering," her mother hissed, elbowing her in the side. "Smile."

Y/N sighed. But she raised her chin and smiled politely as they walked past the Featherington family.

There was only one reason why her mother had forced her out of the house: the Earl of Newburgh.

He'd been courting Y/N since the second week of the season. They'd danced together at almost every ball, gone to museum visits together and he'd had dinner at her house. Twice.

They were practically engaged in the eyes of the ton.

Yet Y/N wasn't happy. She liked the earl, there was nothing wrong with him. He was a lovely man. But there was no spark between them. Their relationship just felt like a good friendship.

She had never confessed it to her mother, however. If she did, Y/N was certain her mother would swoon.

"I do not see the earl anywhere," her mother muttered, rising up on to her tiptoes.

Y/N tugged on her arm and forced her back down. "He might not be here yet, mama."

"He did invite you to promenade with him, yes?"

"Yes -"

"Then why is he not here?"

Y/N kept quiet. Sometimes, when her mother got annoyed, she talked to herself, grumbling about anything and everything. It was easier to let her talk aloud and not acknowledge anything - otherwise they'd end up in a fight and Y/N knew how they always ended.

As her mother kept rattling on, Y/N gazed across the crowd gathered down by the lake. There were awnings pitched up along the edge of the clearing, providing shade to the families sitting under them. It was a beautiful day and the lake had numerous boats upon it, gently gliding over the water.

Y/N's roving gaze moved past and then came back to an awning nearest the lake. It, and the carriage, were both light blue. The carriage door boasted the Bridgerton family crest and Y/N's heart stuttered.

It was as if he knew she was looking.

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton looked up. He was sat on a blanket, his youngest sister Hyacinth sat by him, tucked into his side. They were making a daisy chain together. It snaked down Anthony's legs, growing longer as Hyacinth added to it.

It was as if the world stopped for a moment, blurring everything out except Anthony.

"Y/N, darling!"

Y/N jumped slightly. She turned and saw the Earl of Newburgh walking towards her, her mother practically hanging off his arm.

"I found him!"

Y/N tried not to cringe. She kept her composure and smiled at the earl, curtseying as he approached. "My Lord."

"Would you care to promenade with me, Miss Moore?" He asked, smiling at her as he offered her his arm.

"I would love to," she replied, threading her arm through his.

Her mother giggled. Giggled. Y/N tried not to sigh but her composure must've slipped as the Earl patted her hand sympathetically.

They walked down the grass, past the families and toward the water. Y/N could feel guilt eating at her every time she glanced at the earl. She didn't want to inconvience him or hurt his feelings. But she also didn't want to trap him in a marriage that was one sided.

"Miss Moore -"

"My lord -"

They both stopped abruptly, hearing the other speak. The earl laughed, shaking his head.

"Please, go first, Miss Moore."

Y/N sighed. "My lord, I apologise but I... I would rather we remain friends than take this any further. I value you and our friendship," she added quickly, "but I just do not feel any..."

"Spark?"

Y/N smiled and nodded. "I know I am running out of time," she said quietly. "And any other woman would accept your suit and gladly become a countess. But I yearn for a love match, as foolish as that might seem. I want what so many of the ton have and I am not quite ready to give up on that idea yet."

"I do not think you should either," the earl replied. He took her hand in his. "We all deserve a chance at true love, Miss Moore. I can only hope you find it."

"As do I, my lord." She curtseyed. "I hope to see you around."

It was as if her mother knew what had just happened. As the earl walked away, Y/N turned, glancing over at her. She could see the fury on her face even from this far away. Y/N swallowed as she began to walk back to her mother, bracing herself for the fallout.

"Miss Moore!"

She stilled. The voice as achingly familiar. She could smell him and it filled her with a weird warmth.

Y/N turned. Anthony Bridgerton was standing there, hands clasped behind his back, wearing a dark blue jacket.

"Lord Bridgerton," Y/N said, curtseying.

Anthony smiled. "I was Anthony last week," he said, moving closer.

"My mother is watching," Y/N replied softly. She risked a glance over her shoulder. "I just ended things with the Earl of Newburgh."

"Why?"

Y/N turned back to face him. She shrugged. "There was no spark."

Anthony nodded once. He glanced over her shoulder. "Well, would you like to come out onto the lake with me?" He asked, extending his hand out. "To escape your mother for a moment?"

Y/N looked at his bare hand. Slowly, she placed her own bare hand in his, letting him guide her hand to the crook of his elbow. She could feel the warmth of his body even through the dark blue wool of his jacket.

They began to walk towards the dock set up on the edge of the lake. The sun emerged from behind the clouds, sparkling off the water for a moment before disappearing again.

Anthony held her hand as she stepped into the boat. He kept her steady as it rocked, not letting go until she did. Y/N sat down on the chair built into the boat. Anthony sat down opposite her, grabbing the oars.

One of the workers untied them from the dock and gave them a gentle push out onto the lake. Anthony began to row, the oars splashing in and out of the water. Y/N sighed, relaxing back against the cushions, grateful to have escaped her mother's wrath for a moment.

Anthony was quiet for a while. He rowed them away from the dock, weaving through the other boats on the lake.

"What made you deny the earl?" Anthony asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

Y/N exhaled softly, letting her hand trail through the water. "There was no spark," she replied. "I felt nothing but friendship towards him."

"What is it you look for?"

"A love match," Y/N replied, taking her hand out the water and shaking the droplets off. "Despite how foolish it may seem, I yearn for a love match. One that matches the stories I read when I was younger. Whilst I know it will probably never happen, younger me isn't quite ready to give up on the idea yet."

"I do not think it foolish," Anthony said softly. He slowed the oars, holding them loosely in his hands. "Nor do I think you should give up on it."

Y/N found his gaze. The intensity of it almost took her breath away.

"I must admit, however, that I do not think the earl would have made a good match."

His words snatched her out of her dream. Y/N stared at him, affronted.

"Whatever does that mean?" She asked.

"Well, he lives in Scotland -"

"Do you have some personal vendetta against Scotland?"

"Other than the bagpies and the tartan and the constant rain?"

"Anthony, have you ever been to Scotland in your life?"

"Colin has."

Y/N sighed. "Your brother does not count." She paused. "Is Scotland the only reason?"

"Oh, I have a whole list."

"Oh for goodness sake."

Y/N knew Anthony had a soft spot for her. They'd been friends since she'd come out two years previously. He'd been a desired match despite his whining about not wanting a wife. Her mother had forced them to dance together numerous times and soon a friendship had formed.

Even if that friendship sometimes comprised of a very judgy viscount who seemed to make who Y/N was courting his business.

"Anthony, when will you realise that you cannot control who I court?" Y/N asked softly.

Anthony began rowing them back to the dock. "I do not claim to try to."

"But you do."

"If you want me to stop, you need only ask."

"Anthony, that's not what..." Y/N sighed heavily. "I do not get a lot of choice in this world, please stop trying to control the one thing I do get to choose."

"I was not aware I was," Anthony replied, brow furrowing.

Y/N didn't want to say it. But she knew she had to.

"Well, you are," she replied gently. "I appreciate the concern but... I do not have long left to find my true love. And you, Viscount Bridgerton, are not helping things."

She knew it was a low blow. All Anthony wanted to do was protect her. But he kept scaring off countless suitors - sometimes before Y/N could even speak to them. It was a miracle the earl had managed to bypass Anthony at all.

The boat hit the dock. Y/N looked at Anthony and could see the muscles in his jaw clenching. He cleared his throat and stood up, pulling his jacket down.

Anthony climbed out the boat and crouched down, tying the rope back to the dock. He said nothing. Y/N hated the silence. She'd upset him, she knew that.

But she could not allow him to keep matchmaking for her when the only one she wanted was him. It hurt to see him try to marry her off to another man. All she wanted to do was be with him.

She'd denied it for months. The feelings that had begun to blossom inside her. They had become uncontrollable now, taking over her entire being whenever she saw him.

She was in love with Anthony Bridgerton.

The man who was against love, against marriage, against happy ever afters. He had made his intentions clear and Y/N knew he was not going to back down on them for her.

Her heart belonged to him and he didn't even know it.

Anthony held out his hand to her. "Miss Moore."

"Lord Bridgerton." She placed her hand in his.

Y/N stepped out of the boat and onto the dock. As she did so, she glanced down at their hands, fingers still holding on to one another.

Neither one of them wanted to let go. Even as the seconds ticked by. Anthony ran his thumb along her knuckles, hovering over the ring she wore on her middle finger.

Then, as if struck by lighting, they pulled apart. Y/N and Anthony both took a step back together, not realising another couple were directly behind them.

There was a yelp of surprise. It was a tangle of limbs and ropes and suddenly, Y/N found herself hitting the water. For a moment, she was blinded, but then she found her way upright and surfaced.

She turned her head, catching the splash as Anthony awkwardly surfaced from the depths of the lake, arms wheeling. The other man they'd knocked into the water was glowering at them but Y/N didn't care.

In fact, she was finding the entire situation highly amusing.

A crowd had gathered at the edge of the dock, her mother among them. Anthony was angrily shedding his jacket and cravat, slinging them into the water.

Y/N made the mistake of looking over.

His white shirt was near see through thanks to the water. It clung to his torso, highlighting the muscles and giving her a near clear view of everything.

Her cheeks began to burn and Y/N turned away quickly.

"Anthony, are you okay?"

Y/N looked up at the dock. Daphne Bridgerton, Anthony's sister, was stood at the edge, looking down at them, his brother Benedict next to them.

Benedict looked as amused as Y/N did at the whole situation.

"No," he grunted. "This idiot decided to tie his boat where there was no space!"

"You walked into me, my lord!"

Y/N rolled her eyes as the two man began to bicker. She half swam, half waded away back to the dock. The crowd moved back as she put her hands on the edge and pushed herself up onto it, gratefully accepting Benedict's help as he pulled her back onto dry land.

She knew she looked a mess. Her dress was covered in grime from the lake and there was a stray twig stuck in her hair. Yet she didn't seem to care.

Y/N shook her head, pulling the twig out. She looked up as Benedict straightened, giving her a smile. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet

Y/N watched as Benedict crouched back down and offered a hand to his brother. Anthony slapped it aside, glowering at Benedict as he laughed at his brother's misfortune.

Anthony clambered back up onto the dock and snatched a towel from one of the workers hovering hesitantly nearby. He marched off, giving Y/N a tilt of the head as he passed by.

Y/N watched him leave. A shiver danced through her body and she wrapped her arms around herself. A warm jacket landed around her shoulders.

"So you have a reason to come by," Benedict whispered in her ear as he stepped back.

Y/N smiled up at him, pulling the jacket tight around her.

She knocked on the front door of Bridgerton house, Benedict's freshly laundered jacket in her hand. It wasn't long before the butler opened the door and ushered her inside, taking her calling card.

Y/N waited in the foyer for a moment, admiring the paintings and the walls. Then, the butler appeared again and guided her up the stairs to the drawing room.

"Y/N!"

She'd barely taken one step inside the room before Hyacinth came barreling at her, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Hyacinth," Violet admonished, hurrying over. "Please do not ambush Miss Moore."

Hyacinth beamed up at Y/N before skipping away, back to her marbles.

"Miss Moore - Y/N," Violet corrected, seeing Y/N open her mouth to do so, "what do we owe the pleasure?"

Y/N held up the jacket. "I believe this is your son's." She paused. "The artistic one."

Violet chuckled, taking the jacket from Y/N. "Thank you," she replied. "I do apologise for what -"

"Oh, it was not anyone's fault," Y/N said, shrugging. "A funny accident was all it was."

Violet sighed. "I wish Anthony saw it that way. He is still rather angry at being pushed into the lake."

Y/N knew that, whilst he probably was angry at that, it wasn't the only thing. Yet, she did not say so aloud.

"I apologise for the lack of people here," Violet continued. "All of them are out. Bar Anthony, he's in his office."

"Not to worry, I only came to drop the jacket off," Y/N replied. She paused, hesitating to ask her next question.

"What is it, Y/N?" Violet asked, her mother's instinct isntantly reading the heistation on Y/N's face.

"I may have said some things to your son that upset him," she admitted softly. "I should not have done so but..." She sighed. "I cannot explain it myself, to be honest."

Violet nodded, eyes full of understanding. "You do not need to. Your relationship with Anthony is a special one. I do hope that this does not ruin it." Violet smiled. "I always think it best to be honest with someone, Y/N. Even if it's scary. It almost always helps things."

Y/N nodded. "Thank you."

As she turned to go, Violet called her name, halting her.

"His office is behind the stairs," Violet said.

Y/N smiled at the older woman. She turned and made her way down the stairs. As she got to the bottom, she turned to the right instead of heading for the front door.

It was easy to spot Anthony's office. The door was slightly ajar and she could see his jacket, abandoned on a chair by the fireplace.

Y/N knocked gently on the door.

"Just a moment, Hy," Anthony called.

Y/N stepped in, peering round the door, holding on to the edge. "Should I be flattered that you assumed I was Hyacinth?"

Anthony looked up sharply, his quill scratching along the parchment in one, thick, ink heavy line. "Miss Moore."

"I believe it was Y/N the other day," she replied, throwing his own words back at him, hoping to lighten the tension.

It didn't work.

"Why are you here?" Anthony asked, gripping his quill tightly.

"I came to return Benedict's jacket," she replied.

His reaction was obvious, despite how hard he tried to hide it. His shoulders slumped and his demeanour changed.

"Ah," Anthony replied, turning back to his papers. "Did you get lost?"

"I came to see you as well," Y/N replied. She was still hiding behind the door. "But only if you'll hear me out."

"I might."

"And if you stop being so rude."

At that, Anthony looked up again. He stood up, pushing back his chair. "What do you want, Y/N?" He asked, walking over to a cabinet and opening the doors.

"To apologise for what I said," Y/N replied, edging further into the room. "I was stressed amongst many other things and I took it out on you. Of course I value your opinion and I appreciate your assistance."

"You did not seem to the other day."

"Well, I was having conflicting feelings."

Anthony scoffed. Y/N watched him pour out a glass of whiskey and drink it in one.

Y/N sighed softly. She walked further into the room, pushing the door shut behind her. "The truth is, Anthony, that... as much as I appreciate your matchmaking skills and your assistance with this whole thing I..." Y/N trailed off.

She could still change her mind. She could still lie to him, claim innocence.

But she didn't want to.

Now was her chance to tell him. To let it all out. It would hurt. The denial would sting. But she would get over it. And then maybe, she could find another match.

"I cannot have the man I love trying to marry me off to other men when the only one I want is him."

Anthony's glass clinked against the bottle he was holding. He went very still, frozen mid-pour. Y/N let the confession settle, the silence grow. She moved closer to him, the heels of her shoes against the wooden floor the loudest sound she'd ever heard.

"I can’t get you out of my head," she admitted softly. "You haunt my dreams at night and in the day. I find myself searching for you where ever I go, yearning just to hear your voice, to feel your hand in mine… your lips against my skin.

"You torment my very being. Whenever I see you, whenever I hear you there’s a spark inside me that demands to be let out. A spark that doesn’t exist with anyone but you, Anthony."

Anthony set the bottle down and turned to face her. Y/N didn't know how she expected him to react but the tears brimming in his eyes was not high on the list.

"I know that this might not be what you wish to happen," she added quickly, stepping even closer, "and if that is the case, I will walk away right now and forget this ever happened." She paused, breathing deeply. "But I think there is something, deep down inside, that yearns for this too."

That god awful silence fell again. The clock chimed from the mantle place, indicating that it was inching close to six o'clock. Anthony stared at her. Y/N stared at him. She let her fingers grip her skirt tightly.

"I will admit," Anthony said softly, his voice hoarse, "that I have felt something too. For a long time I have denied it." He swallowed. "I loved my father deeply and his loss aches even today. I fear to love anyone else as much or to allow anyone to love me as much because I do not wish to inflict that ache on anyone else.

"But what I have discovered since meeting you, Y/N Moore, is that the ache means that the love was so great, it cannot be put into words. We know what happens in the end, yet we love anyway. It has taken me a long time to accept that. To accept that falling in love will only mean more pain, more heart ache. But for you, I am willing to accept that. For you, I am willing to love again."

Y/N couldn't breathe. At some point during Anthony's confession, her breath had been stolen away by his words.

Here they were, baring their open and broken souls to one another. It shouldn't have felt this good. It shouldn't have brought her the relief it was.

Anthony stepped closer. Y/N followed his gaze, never breaking away. He lowered his lips to hers. It was slow and delicate yet the desire was there, the need for more was there. He pressed hard, pushing her lips apart slightly, wanting even more.

Then, they broke apart. Anthony took a step back. Y/N looked at him, breathing heavily. Anthony looked at her, his dark eyes burning into her soul.

There was a moment of stillness. A moment of calm.

Then Anthony surged forward, as did Y/N. They collide. His hands wrapped around her waist as he captured her lips again. They were desperate to devour one another, to know each others bodies, to feel one another after denying their feelings for so long.

Anthony lifted Y/N up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, never once breaking their kiss. He walked back and sat her on the desk, knocking over trinkets and piles of papers. His hands were frantic, desperately undoing the hooks at the back of her dress as she undid his waistcoat.

Desire coursed through them. The need to hold one another overwhelming them both. Y/N's dress fell down from her shoulders and ended up on the floor, forgotten.

As Anthony stepped back, Y/N jumped off the desk and pulled Anthony forward by his cravat. She smiled, licking her swollen lips as she pushed him down until he was kneeling in front of her.

Anthony chuckled, his hands reaching up and pulling down her stockings from around her thighs. Her drawers followed next. Anthony's hands danced over her hips and upper thighs as he guided the material down.

Y/N's hands caressed his face and combed through his hair with her fingers as he undressed her and Anthony tried not to moan in delight. He paused as her hands came around his throat, undoing the cravat and then drifting down to his shirt.

Teasingly, Y/N pulled the edge up, letting her nail lightly drag across his skin. A tremor went through his body, desire flaring between his legs. The shirt landed on the floor next to her dress.

Anthony paused, looking at her. “I will stop if you want me to,” he said softly.

"Please don’t.”

Anthony realised just how much he liked her begging.

Y/N lowered herself to her knees, looking Anthony in the eye. He recognised the look in her eyes and he slowly lowered himself down to the floor, the rug brushing his bare back.

She knelt over him, fingers dancing over his chest. Her hands moved down, brushing between his legs. He nearly came undone there and then. Y/N undid his trousers, sliding the fabric down his legs until they were both exposed.

Y/N lowered herself onto him, a sweetness growing between her legs as she did so. She yearned to reach down and relieve it. Instead, she straightened up, resting on top of Anthony. He tilted his head back, a groan burning in his throat. He let her warm to him, to his touch, and then he arched up slightly, encouraging her movements. Y/N moved with him, their limbs becoming one, entangling with the other.

Anthony reached the horizon of his desire, feeling it's release all over. Y/N rested a hand on his chest, breathing hard. She leant down, kissing his lips, the space behind his ear, his collarbone. She brushed her hand along the side of his face, taking in every mole, every detail.

Anthony took her face in his hands. He gently guided her up, until they were both kneeling again. Then, he pushed her backwards, letting her lower herself onto the floor. Y/N laid on the rug, looking up at Anthony, her eyes caught in his gaze. He knelt over her, his knees either side of her waist, his knee brushing her bare skin.

He smirked as slowly lowered himself downward, caressing every part of her body as he went. His hands ran over her covered breasts, hovering for a moment, before moving down to her stomach. He paused at her thighs and then, when he heard her whimper, went down further, to the sweet spot that yearned to be touched.

Y/N splayed her hands out against the rug as the sweetness between her thighs was eased by hands that knew exactly what to do and a tongue that knew just where to touch.

She didn't even hear the noises she made, so absorbed in the feeling of Anthony's fingers inside her. Her hips bucked up and he pushed them back to the floor, resting his other hand against her abdomen.

Needing something to grasp onto, Y/N reached for his hand. Anthony found it and gripped it tightly, riding with her as each surge of breath came in quick succession.

Y/N arched up, her head tilted back, exposing her throat, as she crested the wave of her release. Anthony finished off as she fell back against the rug, her skin glowing with sweat.

He laid down next to her, his hand coming to lie against her chest. He could feel her heart beating through the corset she still wore.

Neither one spoke - they didn’t need to. Y/N closed her eyes and turned her head, nestling into Anthony’s neck and breathing in deeply. His cologne was stronger there, evidently where he’d rolled it on that morning. Anthony’s thumb rubbed back and forth along her back.

In stark contrast from the hunger and desire that had gripped them moments earlier, they were both settled now. Anthony’s kiss was soft on her cheek, his hands gentle as he caressed her bare skin. Y/N found herself drawing circles on his bare back, following imaginary lines along the divot of his spine.

She sighed softly and relaxed further into his embrace, closing her eyes as she listened to Anthony’s heart beating in time with hers.

She awoke hours later. The candles had burnt down and the sky was dark outside the window. She was still in Anthony’s embrace, his hand lazily flung across her stomach, fingers on her thigh. She turned her head to look at him and he blinked at her sleepily, his hair mussed.

“I suspect I might have to marry you now,” Anthony whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I suspect you might, Lord Bridgerton” Y/N replied, smiling back. She brushed her hand through his hair. “Luckily for you, I’m all yours.”

“Lucky for me indeed,” Anthony murmured, pressing his lips to hers once more. Slowly. Deliberately.

For they had all the time in the world now.

[goodeapple]

words on the page (aemond t. sex pollen pwp o.s.)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : PWP, dubcon- this is sex pollen (obvi) they are technically not fully consenting. might be hatesex but it also might not, uncle/niece incest, a ridiculous amount of orgasms, squirting, restraint, spanking & slapping, and a slighttt breeding kink (srry i couldn't help myself)

word count : 10,000+

note : hope everyone enjoys. ty for all the love, always. likes, reblogs, comments, anything is gas in my tank xx

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“This library is big enough for the both of us, Uncle. You stay on your side, and I, on mine.” Ysilla offers, already working on tuning out the One-Eyed Prince’s mutterings as she gets lost in the sprawling shelves. 

“What if I want a book that’s on your side?” Aemond’s voice echoes up to the grand ceilings from where he must be several rows over, his annoyance clearer than the windows in the Sept. 

Ysilla rolls her eyes so hard she fears they might stick. “Do you not understand the concept of my side and your side?”

“These are all my sides. I grew up in between these stacks- I’m sure the texts at Dragonstone are missing you terribly. Why don't you go back and see if I’m right.” 

That retort stabs at her, the mourning for her home still living on in the thick ball of grief that resides heavily in her heart. It’s been a year since her mother took her rightful place on the Iron Throne, a year since the King had passed, and a year where all members of the Targaryen family had to learn how to live amongst one another once more. Nobody was enjoying it. And there were more days than not that the Princess fantasized of stealing borrowing a boat and sailing back to her beloved pile of rocks. 

“Shouldn’t you be out, oh, I don’t know, swinging a sword or ducking under one? You know, what men do.” It’s childish but Ysilla doesn’t mind stooping lower than her years. Her brothers keep her young and nimble, each one bringing with him a fresh battle of wits and stubbornness.  

He goes silent, blessedly, and she resumes her stroll, picking and plucking titles off the shelves that join the burgeoning pile cradled tight in her arms. Her mind wanders, the endless catalogues of writings whispering their words, lulling her further and further into the scriptural maze. 

Ysilla spots a peculiar text on a shelf taller than her, the aphotic ruby binding and woven gold stitching calling her name. She reaches up, tiptoeing until her feet creak and attempts to hook her finger under the edge of the spine. The old book sticks in place, judging her with a faceless scowl. She grunts, wobbling slightly, pushing forward again and gives it a good strong tug. Too strong, as it flies freely through the air and  Ysilla yelps, jumping to the side to dodge it. Everything goes topsy turvy, her balance lost to her and the rest of her assembled collection clatters to the ground. 

She curses, deaf to the sound of approaching footsteps as she drops to her knees and starts to gather the fallen books. She’s considerate of the older ones, stacking them carefully off to the side of the walkway. The causer of the chaos had landed face down, the text split open as if the ground itself was interested in its contents. Ysilla grasps it gently and turns it over, causing a plume of dust to shift off the pages and billow directly into her face. 

She coughs, sputtering for a breath that isn’t made up of ancient soot. She scrubs at her nose, sniffling and groaning in discomfort as her sinuses burn and her throat grows parched. Her eyelids wrench shut, tears already hot and clumping in her lashes. 

A vice grip in the form of strong fingers finds her arm, and she latches onto them desperately. She’s pulled to her feet, and a downy cloth is pressed tightly into her hand. She pats her face with it, drying her tears and spittle, its perfume of oranges and smoke chasing away the moldered stink clinging to every sense she has. 

“You alright?” Aemond asks cautiously, still holding her elbow steady. Ysilla blinks blearily at him, her nose red at the tip. She nods after a pause, coughing softly into his handkerchief. 

“Couldn’t breathe there for a moment.” She croaks, chuckling weakly before she gently pulls her elbow away. Aemond drops his hold, clasping his arms behind him and taking a step backwards. 

“The library is all yours- I’m going to go lie down.” 

She offers his hanky back, feeling a bit dumb as she does and more than a little embarrassed. Her uncle waves her off, and she skirts around him, careful not to intrude into his space. 

“Niece,” Ysilla turns. Concern is not a look she’s accustomed to seeing on his face, and certainly not when it’s directed at her, but the sight of it sends little tingles through her tummy. “Do you need me to escort you to your room?” 

She smiles dimly, self-conscious in all the ways that turn her cheeks peachy. 

“I think I can manage… thank you, Aemond.” Ysilla curtsies in a silly show of thanks, but he can tell her sentiment is genuine. 

Aemond swallows thickly, bowing his head in acknowledgment, watching her keenly as she shuffles out the doors that lead to the rest of the castle. She never calls him by his name. Always Uncle, and even sometimes My Prince, but the mocking lilt of that one is not lost on him. Aemond though… it’s like he’s hearing a brand new word.  

Shrugging off his worriment, he sighs, squatting down to collect the strewn about books. He inspects them as he does, less so judging and more so learning about his niece’s interests through her chosen reading materials. There’s a collection of songs- one for Drowned Men and one for Northmen that he’s read before. Another about the Lion King, Tommen II Lannister and his adventures in Volantis and, most provocatively, the remaining charred pages of Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. Aemond holds onto it for longer than the others; she must’ve searched long and hard for it, he’s never even once stumbled across it in here. He tucks it carefully onto a shelf he’ll remember, and thinks of letting Ysilla know where she can find it later. 

Lastly, he comes to the one that sent her into a coughing fit and he regards it carefully. It isn’t smart, but even so, Aemond draws his dagger and nudges at it, angling up the flap so that he can read the title: Potions of Old Valyria. He lifts it too high, trying to see better in the dreary light of dusk and loses his leverage, the cover falling closed and puffing out a small cloud of dust in his direction. He snaps backwards but he’s not fast enough, the grit already coating the slick press of his lips. Aemond spits, growling, scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. He winces as his nose stings, the watering in his eye blurring his vision. 

He shoots to his feet, gathering up the massive stack of books and tossing them onto an empty writing desk, kicking away the potion book in juvenile anger. He stalks out of the library, cursing blindly as he retreats to his room. 

The Prince does not read the page of which the dust had danced off of. But if he had, mayhaps he would have rethought the course of his actions that night. 

“Pollen of the flower Turnera diffusa- a specimen of which is contained in this very page- has a curious effect on the indulger. Found growing along the creeks of Honeyholt, symptoms noted are as follows: fever, delirium, lightheadedness, and most notably, a heightened state of arousal. The affected should take caution to whom they keep in their company while under the spell of this love plant.” 

.

Aemond shucks off his jerkin, sending it flying across the room carelessly. 

It's still there- the rabid itch under his collar. He stalks to his mirror, tearing up his shirt to check his skin, looking for a bite, a scratch, anything to explain the scorching sting engulfing him in full. Nothing, not even a blemish, mars his pale chest. 

He curses, spinning on his heel and going for his table, seizing the wine pitcher so roughly the lit candles nearby shudder from his haste. He pours a full goblet, the deep burgundy trickle causing his mouth to flood with anticipation. He downs it in several gulps, gasping as he rips the cup away and lets it teeter on the table until it spins out, toppling over emptily. He might as well’ve drank from the Great Sand Sea, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He clutches at his stomach, a sharp shooting pain ripping up his insides. He groans, taking a knee as his legs wobble beneath his weight. 

Fuck, he wonders if it was the book, the dust he breathed in. If Ysilla is as bad off as he is. 

Ysilla. Worry spears through him, bringing with it a healthy dose of clarity. She breathed in more than he did, he’s sure of it. He needs to get her to a maester, lest she’s already staggered out of her own room in search of aid. 

He stumbles to his wall, finding the familiar crease in the stone and pushing. The path into the tunnels is one he knows well and he’s lucky he does, his mind fogging over and his pulse thumping in his temples. He’s never entered her chamber this way of course, so he can’t be sure when he comes to an unknown stone archway that he’s where he needs to be. 

He pushes until he feels the door give way, a slice of light pouring out through the crack. He edges it forward a little more, until he can see enough of the room to confirm it’s not a servant’s quarters. 

“Niece?” Aemond coughs, his tone gruffer than what he’s used to. His throat is arid, greedy for a nectar to soothe it. No one answers, but as he strains his hearing, shuffling feet and rustling bottles comes forth, confirming that someone is inside. 

“Ysilla?” He calls out. Another jolt of agony flares through him and he gasps, startling forward, catching himself on the door and accidentally making it swing open. Aemond stumbles through, colliding with an overstuffed armchair and making it screech terribly across the floor. His head shoots up, and he catches sight of his niece across the room. 

Ysilla wouldn’tve noticed if Vhagar herself trampled through the door. 

She’s… much more undone than she was before. Her curly raven locks, once pinned up and out of her face, spring madly from her head, cloaking her face in a dark flowing curtain. She scurries around the room, mouselike, pressing a wet rag to her throat and then to her forehead, and back again. Twenty or so books are open and strewn about on the long table, looking as if they were caught in a sweeping wind. Long gone are her slippers, and the sleeved pink gown she donned before is abandoned in a silky puddle by the door.

Her chemise, a pale yellow thing with capped sleeves, has gone transparent from the perspiration that has broken out all over her body. It clings to every dip, every curve, shadowing her in a gauzy golden haze. Her bronze nipples tent through the delicate fabric and the thatch of hair over her womanhood matches in color-

Aemond snaps his gaze away, cheeks flaming. 

“Ysilla.” He nearly shouts, stare finding his boots and staying there. 

The woman in question spins around, catching sight of her uncle in the corner of her room, the hidden door she had never had enough courage to use ajar behind him. 

“Aemond… you need to leave.” Her words rumble out of her, like there’s a beast in her belly, roaring through her skin and rattling her bones. “Leave!”

He doesn’t move and Ysilla hurls the rag in his direction.  

“Did you not hear me? I said go!” 

Annoyance chips away at Aemond’s embarrassment. He’s trying to help her, insufferable brat. “You don’t command me, Niece.” He responds, still refusing to look at her. 

She scoffs, happy to channel her discomfort into a much more satisfying emotion. “You sneak into my room, catch me in the middle of undress, and still, you act put out.” Ysilla spits, her temper raising with her temperature.

Gods, she’s miserable. The moment she stepped foot in her bedchamber, her dressings were off, and she drank down water until she felt the urge to spew. It’s as if she can’t catch her breath- she’s so dizzy and her uncle’s sudden company has somehow made it worse. Her belly cramps, and she crosses her legs tightly in search of relief. She cries out, the budding sultriness in her flower springing to life, and wetness coats her thighs in a rush. Gasping, she nearly trips as she collides with her bed’s edge. 

“Ysilla, breathe.” Aemond commands harshly.

His voice is so nice. Has it always been that nice? That soothing? Her snatch gives a happy thrum, her clit fluttering at the memory of his strong grip upon her arm. How he had held her steady in her dizziness, how he had towered over her, so imposing, so encapsulating, making sure she was well. Ysilla gasps, stunned at her body’s wanton reaction. 

“You don’t understand. Please, go.” He’s her uncle- her uncle that doesn’t even like her. This cannot- will not happen. 

“I need to get you to a maester. If you’re feeling what I’m feeling, if you’re feeling it worse, fuck, Ysilla, I need to get you help.”

He needs to stop saying her name like that, in that breathy, strained tone of his. He sounds exerted. He sounds exhausted. He sounds like he’s on the cusp of falling apart. It stokes the fire in her blood. 

“The things I want to do to you… the things I want you to do to me.” She whines quietly, terrified that he’ll hear her. 

A subtle knock-knock at her chamber door quiets them both, and they hold their breath. Again, a knock-knock echoes through, and Ysilla curses the diligence of her ladies. Aemond goes for it, stalking across the room in his usual strutting gait. 

Ysilla panics and rushes forward, latching onto his arm and pulling him to a stop. 

“Aemond, Uncle, please, send them away. I don’t want them to see me like this.” She begs, pleading with him through a glistening gaze. 

Aemond readies his denial, sharp and bitter on his tongue but he loses his voice as he looks at her. He keeps his eye on her face, hyper aware of the press of her nearly naked figure against his side. Her heart shaped face is drawn in a frantic frown, terror rich and vast in her eyes. She smells of the Essos oils in her hair and the coconut oil on her skin, and it all makes his head go a bit fuzzy. 

She squeezes his arm, again, a final silent plea. He nods his assent. Ysilla dashes behind him, slipping deeper into the room, blowing out candles until the bedchamber dims into darkness. She voices a small, urging hum, and Aemond takes his cue and yanks the door open. The visitor, a girl no older than three-and-ten, blinks at him in surprise.

“My Prince,” she curtsies hurriedly and Aemond nods his acceptance, but his face must spell out his impatience because she speaks so fast, her words stumble over one another. “I thought I heard the Princess in distress. I was coming to check on her, to make sure she’s alright.” 

Her eyes dart over his shoulder, her head bobbing to the side as if she were trying to peek in. Aemond moves with her, raising his arm so that it rests above him in the doorway, pulling the door nearly closed behind him. The maid swallows, dropping her eyes in apology.

“The Princess isn’t well- very sick. Keep the other maids away, guards too. She wishes for solitude.” He’s a pushover and he hates it. One look of Ysilla’s beseeching gaze and Aemond gave like a straw bridge. 

“Should I send a maester?” The maid asks worriedly, making to exit down the hall and find help. 

“No!” The young girl jolts to a stop, her eyes wide with alarm. Aemond curses himself, and he speaks softer through gritted teeth. “No, she just needs rest. I’ll see to her, since I’ve already been exposed. I’ll call upon you if I change my mind.” 

The maid eyes him cautiously, but she finally relents, dropping into a curtsy before hurrying down the wall. 

On the other side of the door, Ysilla feels as if she’s going fucking mental. 

She’s balled up her bedsheet, and wedged it between her quivering thighs. The fabric pressed so intimately against her cunt is unforgiving, soaking up her syrupy slick and giving little in return. But the friction along her clit makes her gasp, and it urges on her rutting in dreams of a release so sweet, she could cry. 

The low droll of Aemond’s voice slithers into her ears from across the room, her mind warping the words until he’s whispering to her. What a good girl she is, how desperate she is to find her pleasure, how angry he is that she’s fucking her bed and not him. Ysilla’s eyes shoot open as she hears the squeak of her door, her hopes crashing as she realizes he’s pulling it shut while he’s behind it, not in front of it. 

She collapses forward onto all fours, fisting the furs blanketing her duvet, smothering a broken moan into the softness. Her eyes peel open, her glassy gaze landing on her bedside table. Aemond’s handkerchief is still there- right where she’d left it- the emerald hue of it glowing midnight green in the candlelight. Suddenly, it’s in her grasp, even though she cannot recall moving for it. She presses it to her nose and draws in a shaky breath.

Oh, oh, it smells of him. Citrus and smoke and she’s drooling for it, mouth watering so quickly she has to swallow it down so she doesn’t slobber. She swings her hips forward before rolling backwards, dredging the sodden sheet through her sex. It’s so wet now, the smoothness almost feels like skin. And that’s too much for Ysilla- she can hear him, smell him, but the thought of Aemond in between her legs?- it sends her plummeting off the cliff of desire, her core pulsing vibrantly, pleasure buzzing through her whole body. 

A phantom hand finds the same spot where Aemond had handled her earlier, and rips her upwards. She’s pulled to her knees, still atop the bed, as someone presses up behind her. Ysilla peers over her shoulder, the handsome face of her uncle a welcome sight. He is an apparition appearing from her thoughts alone. He doesn’t even seem real.

Her thoughts are askew with an edge of delirium, her insides purring at his sudden return. Ghoul or not, she will not squander such a golden opportunity. She fists the front of his shirt and drags him in, their mouths joining together harshly. Aemond would be lying if he said he didn’t kiss her back at once. It gets intense. Fast. 

Ysilla melts into his chest, whimpering into his mouth while his grip goes from her elbow to sliding around her, dragging her in closer by her waist. His tongue finds her teeth and she opens up slowly, letting him feel the threat of them, as he slithers in and their tongues touch-

Aemond tears himself away, stumbling backwards, heaving for air and looking at her with a wide eye. Ysilla whimpers, her fantasy failing her, and she slips off the side of the bed to settle on wobbly legs. Her palm goes to press at her abdomen, hoping that the pressure will relieve the burrowing ache. 

They stare at one another, wild animals on alert, a standoff that neither Prince nor Princess can bear to lose. 

Ysilla’s gaze falls to his lips, and Aemond’s to hers. She bites her lip, sucking the meat into her wet, warm mouth before releasing it with a lurid pop. Aemond groans, an audible surrender. 

To Hell with it all. 

They crash into each other like lightning, hands mapping anywhere they can reach. Her body blooms for him, like a flower under the summer sky. He steers them back towards her bed, Ysilla blindly clamoring atop to sit while he stands tall. His touch on her skin has her thighs spreading, opening up and offering herself for his taking. 

“I can’t stop, I can't stop.” He presses kiss after kiss to her mouth, her closeness doing nothing to extinguish the burning in his blood. If anything, she makes it worse, the inferno raging deeper and into his very soul. 

“I don’t want you to stop.” She whines, snaking their legs together and threading her fingers through that beautiful hair of his.

She’ll enjoy this- him. Every inch of Aemond belongs to her tonight. She thinks of drawing the blade from his hip, and carving her name into his chest. Mark him up nice and neat, streak his pale powdery skin red with her desire. Whatever is happening to her- to them- summons something animalistic, something primitive out of the dark parts of their hearts. All tender fantasies of her future husband treating her with such a tame touch are cleaved in half and fed to the hounds. In their place, filthy, feral desires fester and warp her mind until one lone ambition remains: him inside of her, for the rest of their days.

“We don’t even like each other.” Aemond growls between their parting lips. Ysilla slides her way into his mouth, flirting with the sharpness of his teeth, suckling the sweetness out of his tongue. 

“We can’t stand each other.” She affirms, breaking their lips apart, her hands already under his tunic, letting her palms drink in the ridges and rises of his impressive physique. She kisses along the strong edge of his jaw, curling her fingers into clenched claws and rips her way down his chest. Not a blade, but he bloodys all the same. Aemond snarls, catching her by the throat so brutally her teeth clack. His eye pierces through her like a blade, and Ysilla relishes in the pain, his touch upon her skin soothing away her ache.

“Bitch.” He hisses, what little familial respect they harbor for each other crushed under lust and loathing. 

“Prick.” She bites back, grazing at his lip to send her point home. Gods, he’s so close but not close enough. 

Ysilla pulls his hand between her legs- the one not choking her out- and Aemond cups her sex readily. Her heat damn near blisters him, and he grinds his palm into her slick folds, coating his hand in her arousal.

“Yessss…” She hisses in sated victory, her blood pumping thick as her body finally gets a taste of what it's been craving. Even one finger of his is nearly too much as he slips it in, the stretch a tepid burn that only gives way as her body adjusts. 

“You need to be able to take more than that if you want to take my cock, Princess.” He whispers at her lips, already imagining how tight she’ll be around him. He won’t insult her by asking- he knows he’ll be her first. And the thought of that… of taking her maidenhead for his own, being the first man to be inside of her, searing himself into her memory that even time won’t take away… Aemond has to fucking focus. 

“I can take it.” She assures him, head nodding wildly, her thighs splitting open even further. His grip has loosened around her throat, and he strokes where it’s sure to bruise, trying to not grow hot at the vision of his mark marring her body. He hums his approval, letting his middle finger glide forward, her essence enough to ease the way into her hole. 

He scissors them, back and forth, working her pure channel open gently, basking in the silky tensing of her walls. The pained scrunch in her brow has disappeared, giving way to the pleasured furrow of her forehead, her hips beginning to roll up and meet his digits. She grabs ahold of his wrist, stopping his motions, and she pins him in place with a lavender leer. 

“Take off your clothes.” It’s a command, no matter if it is spoken in her soft honeyed voice. 

Aemond loses his shirt and unlatches his belt, tossing it and his sword onto the bench at the foot of her bed. His breeches slide off with Ysilla’s help, her eager fingers untying his laces. He kicks off his boots, not realizing how confined he felt with so many layers hindering him until his skin is bared. She moves backwards, further up her bed and he crawls after her, prowling like a wildcat, covetous sight trained on her. 

The little minx yanks on his elbow, and he crashes into the mattress and suddenly, he’s the one on his back. Aemond lets Ysilla pin his wrists on either side of him, her victorious smile just as comely as the rest of her. Her breasts pillow against his chest, and dammit, she needs to hover above him so he can catch one in his mouth. But she denies him that treat, squeezing his wrists to focus his attention.  

“Don’t move. That’s an order.” His cock twitches from where it’s pressed to her thigh and her lips twitch at his reaction. She kisses his throat, right at the base where his collar bones meet, and her whisper vibrates through to his heart. “Good boy.” 

Ysilla takes her time, voyaging down his body, a traveler on a sought after journey. Her tongue flicks out over each of his nipples, teasing the perked flesh with little swipes of her slick pink muscle. She traces her nose over the jutting contour of his rib cage, counts his muscled abdominals until there’s numbers on both hands, and kisses the scar on his hip, long healed from a tumble off of Vhagar’s saddle when he was just a boy. The fine silver hair trailing down his groin is wispy and it tickles her chin. 

Aemond’s cock is intimidating, even more so as she takes a lick from root to tip. The journey is longer than first guessed, and she thinks he grows even bigger after the swipe of her tongue, the jut of him swaying in the air as more blood thickens him out. The fact that all of that will be stuffed inside of her makes Ysilla shiver, her cunt yearning for the press of his long fingers. 

Fervently, she swallows him down until he greets the back of her throat. The salt of him is jarring but not unwelcome- nothing can be unwelcome about this as Aemond sucks in a ragged breath and fists the sheets. The muscles in his arms strain and bulge, a sight that only incentivises her to keep sucking. 

He’s a thick, velvety weight on her tongue, her mouth full even with inches still to spare. Her drool dribbles down his staff, and her hand wraps around what she cannot swallow. She glides her lips over his length rhythmically, jacking her fist over the rest of him, retreating with a pop to spit on his tip for more lubrication. 

Ysilla has always been one for sweets but this? This is a taste she can find herself hankering for. She suckles on the head, dipping her tongue into his slit, shivering at the sharp burst of his spunk on her taste buds. She dives forward again, gagging around him, the intrusion into her throat a strange feeling she forces herself to adjust to. 

Aemond keeps her hair pushed behind her ears, his thumbs stroking her temples as he fights to not thrust down her throat until she chokes. A familiar tightening in his sack has him voicing the exact opposite of what he wants her to do. 

“Silla, pull off.” She’s on her fucking knees for him, he doesn’t need to defile her like this. Doesn’t need to treat her like a common whore and make her stomach his load. 

She ignores him and he says her name again, more firmly, but she’s such a rebel, swallowing around him once more, letting him feel the constricting vice of her throat. He can’t take it- he gives her what she wishes. 

“Silla, qrugh.” Cursing, he keeps her head still as he empties his balls and fills her belly. He hooks his thumb into her mouth, breathless, breaking the suction and pulls out of her throat. Ysilla coughs, gulping down air and saliva before she gifts him a shiny smile. Aemond scoffs. Unbelievable. 

“You’re a nasty little thing.” He pants out, a compliment he means wholeheartedly. 

She chuckles hoarsely, and her lips are still gooey with his seed. 

“You love it.” 

The urge to fuck her returns tenfold and he sits up, hand at the back of her neck to wrench her up to his mouth. She whimpers, swapping his cum between their tongues. It’s sticky and vulgar and overwhelmingly erotic. 

Ysilla stumbles to her feet, pulling Aemond with her, leading him to the lounge area in front of her hearth. Their mouths remain intertwined, unwilling to part even for a moment. She pushes him into an armchair, the old velvet soft beneath him before following him down, and settling swiftly in his lap. 

“Off.” He demands but he can’t help but be an active partner in his niece’s undressing. Her hands dash to the hem of her shift, gathering up the skirt hurriedly. His hands glide up her body, caressing the naked skin that is revealed to him as she pulls it up and over her head. She’s so sleek with sweat she looks polished- an apple ready to eat, something to be devoured. 

“What do you want me to do?” Aemond asks, not for lack of knowledge but to see how far she wishes to take this. 

Ysilla grins, ducking down and drawing him into an eager kiss. “Whatever you want to do. Just make me feel good.”

Loyal as a hound, Aemond’s mouth goes to her breast, her posture perfectly presenting her chest to him. He takes in as much as he can, greedily sucking and licking until her tender flesh blushes a bright sticky red. He rolls her pert nipple between his teeth, tugging just enough to make Ysilla gasp. She makes pretty sounds- he can’t wait to hear what she’ll sound like as he fucks her stupid. He switches to her other breast, feasting on her supple bosom like he’ll never eat again. His cock bobs upright, his body needing no time to rest, ready and racing to experience the delicacy of her cunt. 

The Princess whines, combing through his tousled hair, tugging on it like she would horse reins. Such a commanding queen she’ll be. 

“Need it, need you.” She whines, swinging her hips lower, searching for the weeping start of his prick.

“Easy, Ysilla.” He warns, even as his thoughts scream to grip her hips and teach her how to ride him, but she’s such a stubborn little dragon and her thoughts may be just as commanding as his. She leans back, reaching between her thighs until she brushes at the head of his cock and steadies him. Lining herself up, she sinks torturously slow, downdowndown every inch until she sits upon his thighs. 

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh… my.”

They both breathe out, blinking away black stars that dance in their vision, the pollen tapping every nerve ending in each of them until they sputter and fizz uncontrollably. 

The discomfort fades for her faster than she’d thought, transforming into a pleasant fullness that she can feel heavily behind her stomach. Ysilla searches for what feels the best, moving faster and faster on Aemond’s lap as each new shift in position guides her further towards the liquid heat in her loins. She settles on swiveling up before dropping back down onto him, riding him like she’s saddled. Hot streaks of exhilaration engulf her insides, every pass of his cock adding to the ecstasy swirling inside of her. The stretch of him, not just from length but from width as well, itches the scratch left behind after the library disaster. Even as she tried to bring herself to pleasure earlier, there was something missing from her peak. Something that’s building, stacking, soaring fast in her belly. That final crest of a wave, ready to crash and drown anything that’s not pure, hot ecstasy-

Before it collapses back into a tidepool. The pitted feeling of falling through the air as you miss a step in the dark settles over her lust, and she jerks. Ysilla’s eyes snap open, her pupils blown so wide Aemond can barely see a ring of amethyst around them. She whines, bouncing on his cock faster, chasing a release she’s not sure she can find. 

“Qybor, kostilus. I can’t cum like this.” Almost to make her point, she circles her hips up, leaving only the head of him kissed by her tight hole before dropping down and taking every inch of him at once. Aemond holds strong to his stamina, refusing to empty inside of his niece so quickly. 

A shame though, he was so enjoying the view. He winds his arms around her hips, keeping her nice and close as he slips them off of the chair and onto the floor. Several furs keep them cushioned from the chilly stones below and he drags a pillow off the loveseat to ease her up on. 

“Turn for me, sweetling.” He maneuvers her onto her belly, his grip finding her hips and shepherding her into position onto her hands and knees.

Aemond stands corrected- this view is nice. The burnished copper of Ysilla’s coloring clashes deliciously with his own pale complexion. Her backside is plush and hefty, budding from her shape in a way that invites his attention. 

Whatever you want to do. Aemond slaps her right cheek, reveling in her sharp gasp, and the way a perfect red welt appears on the smooth skin. He lands another, on the opposite globe, hypnotized by the jiggle of the flesh. He strikes her again because he can, not ignorant to the way his rough treatment has her absolutely dripping down her thighs. Another for good measure, satisfied in the brilliant bruising he’s left behind.

Just make me feel good. He strokes his cock, still slick from her spit and her honey, and lines his head up at her opening. She arches up, dipping down onto her arms, raising her bottom to prop against him. The angle is too good not to take advantage of. Aemond spits, his foamy white saliva dripping viscously into her tight hole and he pushes it inside of her as he strokes forward. 

Ysilla voices her approval of the new position, wiggling back against him as he goes as deep as she’ll take him. He builds a tempo, in out in out, finding a pace that makes her clench impossibly tighter. His sack slaps intensely at her clit, drawing punchy little gasps out of her that he wants to devour. He digs his fingertips into her hips, thumbs fanning out to stroke the luscious bounce of her bottom. He goes to pause, planning on switching his angle so that some strain can be relieved from her spine.

“No! Aemond, stay there, right there, yessss.” Ysilla flails her hand behind her blindly, not stopping her begging until she smacks into his naked torso. Aemond stares down at his niece in confusion, catching sight of her profile, her eyes trained intently on something that is certainly not him. 

He looks up, and catches his reflection staring back at him from across the room. The giant wardrobe mirror is tucked into the corner, and the Gods are good because they're directly in its path, their coupling on display for their viewing pleasure. 

Aemond drops down, blanketing Ysilla with his body, watching his Other do the same. “Oh, I see.” He chuckles, driving into her slowly. 

It’s almost as if they’re watching someone else- surely the couple in the reflection cannot be them. No poise, no manners, not even an ounce of trepidation to be seen. In place, disheveled, howling, rutting animals grind against each other, naked and insouciant in search of their gratification. Aemond enjoys the portrait they make, admiring it so much that he stalls in his thrusting and stills completely inside of Ysilla.

“Aemond, come on.” She whines, moving impatiently against him. “Nākostōbā taoba, making me do all the work.” She mewls, riding down and humping his cock.

Aemond’s trance snaps, and he secures a fistful of her hair, forcing his niece into a backbend. He ignores her yelp, smacking her thigh to halt her gyrations. His lips go to her ear, and this close to her throat, he can hear the lifeblood rushing through her arteries. 

“What was that?” 

“I just thought, unhhh… just thought you would be a bit more… involved in this.” She giggles, fucking laughs even as her bones creak for mercy. It’s harder to breathe this way, and the lightheadedness spurs on her mouth. “Thought you wanted this as badly as I did.” 

Little fucking brat. He laughs too, because it’s funny. Funny because of how right she is- he should be more involved in this, a bit more committed. Ysilla stills at the sound, the audible swallow of her gulping nervously has his cock jumping in interest. Her fear is just as tasty as her willingness. 

He crosses both arms over her chest, his forearms thick bars over her throat and he forces her up, so he can fuck his cock into her belly and watch her tits bounce as he does so. Ysilla’s face contorts into a euphoric mask, her eyes rolling back into her head and her pouty mouth hanging open in slack-jawed pleasure as he pounds her ruthlessly.

“Something on your mind, Princess?” She doesn’t respond, her brain being fucked straight out of her head.

Aemond slaps her face, the sharp crack bringing her back to the present, and back to Aemond fucking her like he owns her. She moans again, her pussy spouting a wash of arousal around his bullying cock. He catches her by the jaw, digging his thumb into the bone and rubbing at the struck flesh of her cheek. His lips are wet at her ear, and she watches him through glossy eyes as he smirks, and bites down on her ear lobe. 

“Answer me, Ysilla.” His niece shouts but Aemond has no sympathy for her. If she can dish it out, she can take it. “You did want this? Or you do want this?” 

He’s searching for the willpower to pull out of her, and put her over his knee to send home his message when she babbles out her acquiescence.

“I want this! Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao!” Valyrian braids through her words without forethought, her focus aimed on Aemond’s cockhead tapping at her womb. 

“Sȳz riña.” She preens at the endearment, throwing her hips back against him frantically. A beautiful toothy smile has broken brightly over her face, Aemond catching sight of it in the mirror before he shatters the grin, nailing a spongy spot inside of her that makes her eyes cross.

“Sooo good, so fucking big, feel you right here.” She tries to gesture to her throat but she ends up digging her nails into the arms caging her in, hanging off of him desperately. Her poor battered cunny is still somehow famished for more, the squelch of his cock moving in and out of her a licentious lyric that lulls both lover’s into a trance. Aemond pulls her even tighter to his front, however possible that may be, and plunges repeatedly into her snug cunt, beating the walls of her swollen so she won’t be able to walk without thinking of him first. 

As if they miss each other, Aemond’s and Ysilla’s eyes meet in the mirror, violent violet and silver steel clashing and melding into one harmonious color. 

Their stares fall lower, where they meet over and over and over again so brutally. Her thighs glisten in the candlelight, her flesh rippling with every thwack of Aemond’s hips. It’s so dirty, so primal, so right. He’s going so deep, he could put a babe in her belly. Just a whisper of that fantasy, of her giving him a child, letting him have such a claim on her breaks her apart. 

She screams, Aemond’s palm smacking over her mouth as her thighs give out, and she sags to the floor. He follows her down, draping himself over her back, still fucking her in earnest, chasing his own blissful breaking point. He finds it, after three more punishing thrusts. But even as his balls release and he feels Ysilla grow slicker as his seed coats her insides until it leaks a white ring from where they’re joined, his cock is still hard and heaving from his body. 

He pulls out and Ysilla sobs at the loss, scrambling on the furs, but her cries disintegrate as she’s flipped onto her back. Aemond slings both of her legs into the crooks of his elbows, yanking her forward so he’s flush to her thighs, her pussy a pretty little jewel winking up at him. His seed oozes a pearl stream from her fluttering hole and he swipes it up with his cock, and it’s as slippery as oil as he bottoms out inside of her. 

Fucking Seven, she’s unreal. “Taking every inch of me… like you were made for this, ñuha pretty līve.”

“Made for you, I think.” Ysilla gasps, ripping at the furs, trying to anchor herself down so she doesn’t burst apart. 

Aemond nips at her chin, doing nothing to quell the smug smile on his niece’s lips. “Careful.” 

Careful for what? She wants to question so badly. Careful on what she voices aloud, even as they speak it in both of their minds? Careful on implying that her cunt will not weep for him anytime he passes by her? Careful to claim that the only place he should be after tonight is right where he is now?

But it is not the time for words of the heart, so she digs her nails into Aemond’s broad shoulders in a gnaw and throws her head back. 

“I’m right there. Yes, Aemond, yes!” 

Oh, is she now? Aemond grins, slowing his thrusts to purposefully watch her eyes shoot open incredulously. 

“Don’t stop! Fuck, why are you stopping?” Ysilla growls, circling her hips up against him, doing her best to fuck him herself. So desperate, so full of unadulterated desire, she cannot find it within herself to be appalled at her own salaciousness. 

“I thought you couldn’t cum like this?” Aemond mocks and oh, it’s fun to play with her. 

Her decorum deserting her, Ysilla lets anger lead her movements and her hand flies at his face to strike him. He catches her easily, still smiling that infuriatingly sexy smirk, and drops a modest kiss on the heel of her palm. She melts, her love bitten lips pouting dramatically. 

“Aemond, ñuha zaldrīzes, please.” He likes when she begs- she can see it in the way his jaw ticks, how his skin flushes, as if his body alights in her prayers to him. Aemond won’t acknowledge it, but somewhere deep in his chest, she’s already wormed her way in. He splits her in half, leaning over her until he can rest his palms by her shoulders, her legs still draped over each of his arms. 

He drags himself out, inch after inch, agonizingly slow before he lurches forward, making her pussy swallow his entire cock. He groans, finding himself burrowed in the valley of her breasts, letting his hips pummel her in an amorous hammering. 

“Scream for me, love.” 

She doesn’t need to be told twice- her lungs finding the air to blurt out,

“Aemond, fucking hell!”

Ysilla goes limp, her thighs butterflying open, giving him full reign to dictate her pleasure. She squirts, a wet spray soaking his abdomen that puddles beneath them. Her whole body heaves, appearing almost pained in euphoria. She’s a holy vision. 

Fuck, he’s losing his mind. “Do that again.” He demands. 

He cups the back of her neck, propping her up until they’re eye to eye. Ysilla’s are lidded, exhaustion heavy weights upon them, but she manages a tiny nod and curves herself upwards for his continued onslaught. 

Completely at his mercy, his to control, Aemond takes full advantage. Dragging her down by the back of her neck, he plunges himself brutally inside of her cunt over and over, again and again. She lies there and takes it like a good girl, witnessing her uncle destroy her in the name of desire until he grants her mercy, and he strokes her pearl with the sharp edge of his thumbnail and she blacks out.

He chokes, sparks shimmering in and out of his vision as she convulses around his cock. He pulls out of her, spurting striping streaks of white onto her belly. He cums so hard, it splashes over her tits and even pools in the hollow of her throat. 

Ysilla moans, coming to, rubbing her fingers over the soiled skin of her stomach, blending their releases together in a filthy film that coats her fingers. She pops one in her mouth, and relishes in the blossoming light brightening once more in Aemond’s lone eye.  

And just as quickly as their relief had come, the satisfaction fizzles out and ravenous blood boiling need takes root once more. 

They groan, barely taking time to catch their breath before they’re on each other again. Their mouths are sloppy, leaving trails of saliva down to their chins and along their throats. Ysilla finds a spot she likes over his pulse point and suckles, her left leg wound tight over his hip, rubbing herself off along the unyielding ridge of the bone. Aemond kneads her arse, an apology for his abuse, rolling the voluptuous flesh in his calloused grip all the while dipping his fingertips in and out of her weeping slit.

They tangle in each other’s webs, so caught up in salt and sin that they don’t realize they’re off the rugs and across the floor until the frigid chill rushes through them. 

It’s uncomfortable- their knees will be bruised by the morrow, scrapes along their backs will sting while in the bath, and a crick won’t leave Ysilla’s neck for half a moon. But the stone cools their overheated skin and together is where they still want to be, so all else falls to the wayside. 

Their mouths have drawn back to each other, Ysilla’s tongue dancing over his back teeth and the roof of his mouth, mapping a place she can only dream of revisiting after tonight. Aemond pulls away and Ysilla’s teeth in his bottom lip scold him for his interruption. He smirks, giving her a departing peck to soothe her sour mood. 

“I need to meet her properly, Princess.” He says with an uncharacteristic amount of mirth, leaning her back as he dips down to her lower body. 

Ysilla is bone-weary and dehydrated, but even she knows that doesn’t make any sense. She cocks her head in confusion, watching him as he settles on his front, his face so close to her center, the hot damp of his breath makes her quiver. 

“Who is her- oh! Oh, Seven Hells, Aemond, fucking please-”

Aemond eats her with a fervor she’s never known, a man starved before being offered the bounty between her legs. Shrill gasps and pitched moans are sounds she thought herself incapable of making, but they sing aloud, her walls stowing them in their stones. 

Her thighs are tight around his head, but the cushioned flesh does nothing to block out her calls of ecstasy. Music to his fucking ears, he slurps, undignified and ravenous, the parched dryness in his throat at last quenched as he swallows down Ysilla’s honey. No wine, no water could ever satisfy him like she does. 

She thrashes about on the unforgiving stone, her nails clawing at the ground so harshly that they chip. He’s sending her into madness, unrelenting in his licking even as she kicks at his sides. She’s too sensitive, it’s too much. 

And then, the realization that he is not only lapping up her arousal but his as well, zings up her spine and has her gushing all over his tongue. 

She can’t control herself anymore. Her worries have faded into nothingness as the night has gone on, as she had bounced on Aemond’s cock and came into his mouth and he into hers, and they’ve drank down one another’s spit and sweat and sex. She’s whimpering and whining, squeaky sounds with no words, only what her voice is capable of making. The pathetic, needy gasps draw Aemond’s attention immediately. He rises, hovering over her, pulling up her knees to frame his hips. He slides himself home, not being able to breathe until he bottoms out, fully planted inside of her. 

She whimpers louder as he faces her, the effects of the potion hitting their last peak. 

“Let me see you. Let me see you.” Ysilla begs, distraught that there’s still something keeping them apart. They should be bare- exposed and raw and free. They’ve already come this far- it’s all or nothing. 

Even with her few words, Aemond understands her completely. He doesn’t give himself time to think, time to let self-consciousness tear and twist him up as he rips off his eyepatch. 

Ysilla sees him- truly sees him- his scar, the jagged split of his brow, the brilliant blue sapphire twinkling a wink at her as it glitters in the low light.  

“You’re so handsome.” And then she cries- big, fat, bulbous tears that spill from the corner of her eyes and streak over her cheeks. 

Aemond wants to comfort her, shush her and stroke her hair. Do all the things he should do with a lover that’s not only a lover, but his kin as well. A sweet girl he remembers always drawing for him on his nameday, sketching pictures of fearsome dragons. And as the years dragged on, they continued to evolve, growing fiercer and more detailed and she would always say the same thing when she gifted it to him: “this year, Uncle, this year you’ll find your match, I know it.” And here he is now, the Queen of the Skies his dragon, as if Ysilla herself had manifested it to life. 

But that was so long ago now that it seems a different lifetime, and Aemond realizes he doesn’t really know his niece. He doesn’t know what she likes and what she doesn’t, and that worries him more than he’s comfortable with. 

“Can’t... take… much… more.” She gulps down a breath after each word. Aemond’s thrusts push so deeply into her guts, that there now seems to be no room for her lungs. He hums, the vibration tickling where they’re pressed chest-to-chest. 

“Yes you can, jorrāelagon. You’ve done so well, taken everything I’ve given you. You’ve made me so proud, sweet girl.” He may not know how to soothe her, but Aemond has a knack for telling someone just what they need to hear. Only with Ysilla, he speaks no falsehoods. He whispers his admiration in her ear, keeping her close by a hand cupping her jaw, forcing her to listen to all of his praises, all the while snaking his hand down between them to pinch at her pearl. 

Small hiccuping gasps couple with her agonized moans; the pride, the pleasure, the pain, all of it an elixir he drinks down his throat as she connects their lips once more, a soft tremble in hers that he soothes with his tongue. They cum together, less intense than their lasts, but still just as satisfying. Aemond spills inside of her, her silken walls milking him for every drop in his fucked out cock. He moans, long and loud into her neck and she peppers his cheek with kisses, her breathing heavy. He collapses, further down on her body so he doesn’t constrict her chest. 

The evening tempo of her breathing beneath his cheek has Aemond focusing on his own, and the two spent lovers take a much needed break to collect themselves. 

Tremors still shake her thighs, the creamy fawn flesh jumping from overstimulation. Aemond presses a kiss to the inside of her knee, a sweet assurance of relief hopefully not far behind their releases. She pets his hair, no energy left to even raise her head. He rises back up to look upon her face, wiping away a stray tear from her lash. She nuzzles into his hand and it all finally feels like enough. 

Until it isn’t. Until the lust fills them up once more, water in a pail, and it overflows and sloshes thickly in their bellies until they’re sick with it. 

Ysilla sobs brokenly, exhausted and at her wits end. Aemond shudders for breath, the pain in his stones throbbing incessantly for relief. They’ll lose their minds if they keep going- chasing an endgame that is unattainable. 

Aemond digs deep, attempting to collect himself and become the man Ysilla needs him to be. He tucks her legs around his hips, crossing her ankles behind him, and rises up to his feet with her draped around him. 

He carries them both on shaky legs, drifting along the wall for support until he rounds the corner to her privy. The golden casted tub is filled halfway with what was once steaming, boiled water but has now grown cool. He swings a leg over the edge, trying not to collapse, Ysilla still wrapped around him like a second skin and settles them both into the pool.

The Princess crumbles, falling to pieces as they’re engulfed by the water. Her heartbeat still thrums from between her legs, her nipples scraping at Aemond’s chest for attention, as if he had not lauded them with his tongue until they were bruised and sore. The undying urge to mate is at her throat, its teeth gnashing at her veins and claws piercing her hips, ushering her to fucklicksuckfuck again and again and again until her brain would be lost to the lust. 

But her body is done- every muscle expended, every limb weighted, every bone crushed to nothing but dust. All she can manage to do is whimper softly from where she’s pressed into her lover’s chest. 

Aemond cups her face, raising her up so that he can look upon her. She’s a sculpture of desire: lips puffy and rubbed red, cheeks flushed, eyes teared and heavy. He did this to her. 

“One more, love. One more and then we’ll stop.” He promises, the need too heavy in his cock, thickening his member until it lies straight up against her stomach. 

She nods stiffly, spreading her thighs until they mirror his hips. He taps the head of himself at her entrance, a gentleman waiting for the lady to make the first move. He doesn’t have to wait long, Ysilla pushing forward and taking his cock in full until their bellies rest flat against each other. She’s as tight as the first time, and the stretch is not lost on her either, her groan equal parts pained and pleased. 

Aemond’s hands are worshiping as he trails down the elegant column of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, the bloom of her breast, until he finds the small of her back and hugs her tight. They just dance, slow and steady, rolling their hips together, the water shifting with their union. They rest their foreheads against one another, eyes closed and noses brushing.

Aemond isn’t sure who leans in first- he thinks it may have been him but Ysilla will say the opposite. Their mouths slot together, innocent and vestal and it’s so much less eager than the times before, but it makes it all the more intimate. He moans weakly and she coos, her hands coming to cradle his face, the breaths they share one in the same. Somehow, it’s as if this exposes them more to each other than being joined so sensuously. A simple press of their lips, doing more for them than a thousand slippery tongues or nimble fingers. 

A gentle wash of pleasure, one that raises goosebumps along their arms and makes their breaths hitch is all that they get and then suddenly, finally, the call for gratification quiets and all prince and princess are left with is the drip of water off the edge of the tub. Ysilla sighs heavily, sounding every bit thankful and spent. Aemond takes a breath that feels like his first, and he sags against the resistance at his back. 

Everything is still, weariness seeping into them like ink to parchment. Aemond thinks he could doze off right here, Ysilla a comforting weight atop of him, his manhood still nestled in her center. 

Her palm is gentle on his cheek, her thumb rubbing back and forth in a tender sweep that stirs his eyelid to open. She’s beautiful, even in her enervation and he lets himself savor this moment. The world has paused for them, and it will not go on unless they will it to. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She whispers, afraid to shatter the silence. A final brush of her thumb over his bottom lip, softer than a feather, is her parting gift. She unseats herself from him, and even if she’s the one who wants to leave, her cunt does not agree. Her walls grasp at every ridge and vein of his prick, a caress goodbye until at last they part. Ysilla floats backwards, away from him, and the fact that he has an urge to catch her wrist and pull her back until she’s closer than skin terrifies him. 

She curls into a ball at the other side of the tub, an ocean away, and brings her knees to tuck under her chin. She stares at him unflinchingly and he stares back, tiredness glazing over them both. 

Aemond sighs deeply. One of them has to be the first to depart and since his quarters are on the other side of the castle, he begrudges that it is him who will have to make an exit. 

“I should go.”

Ysilla’s face is serene, every drop of willpower left in her battling the urge to slip beneath the water and fade away. She nods, a wooden lift and fall of her head.

“I think that’s best… I’m sure the whole castle knows what we’ve been up to.” 

Why her response stings, he won’t let himself dwell over. Nothing’s changed (everything has changed), they will soon return to their routines and carry on with their lives (neither one of them will be able to think of anything else but each other for the better part of a year). He rises from the water, stepping out and over the tub, reaching for a linen to at least try and make himself decent. 

It is she who catches his wrist in reality, her thin fingers looping over the bones until she surrounds him like shackles. 

“But… maybe…” Her eyes traverse their way down his body, revisiting the spots she had tasted, had bitten, had sucked. Her tongue snakes out, wetting her swollen flesh and he has to think of the night he lost his eye, the stench of manure, anything to keep the blood from rushing to his spent cock. 

“Gods, Aemond, what’s one more bad decision tonight?” She’s not looking for an answer, not out loud, looking deep into his eye instead. Searching for an understanding she’s not sure is there. 

“Stay? With me?” Even after all the carnal ways they’ve explored each other, it’s those three pleading words that send Ysilla’s heart galloping in her chest as she voices them. 

He stares at her, unanswering and still, and dread creeps up her neck in a cold chill. 

“Your chamber is a mess. We both need to eat and drink something other than wine. Not to mention sleep.” Aemond states stonily. Ysilla swallows passed the knot in her throat, sinking deeper into the water. Her fingers release him and she drifts away, in both body and mind. 

Aemond catches her fingers, and he threads his through hers like they’re meant to be there. He rubs small, soothing circles about her knuckles, and he brings them to his mouth on pure instinct, and presses a chaste kiss to the bones. 

“So I best bring you to my room then, to make sure all of that happens, no?” 

Aemond smiles first before Ysilla returns it widely. Hers is the sun appearing from behind a cloud, warmth bathing him, and welcoming him home. 

.

.

.

qrugh . shit

Qybor, kostilus . Uncle, please

Nākostōbā taoba . Weak boy

(I want this!) Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao! . This, this, this, fuck, I do I do. I want you, Gods, I want you!

Sȳz riña . Good girl

ñuha pretty līve . my pretty whore 

ñuha zaldrīzes . my dragon

Jorrāelagon . love

[ariahmichelle]

Fake It Till You Feel It- Part 8

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Series Masterlist here

Summary: You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

Part 8- Sunsets and Stolen Kisses

••••••••••••••••••••• •••••••••••••••••••••••

Ever since your conversation with Rafe outside the country club, things between you had changed. It wasn’t sudden, but it was steady—an unspoken shift that had you seeing each other more, seeking each other out without needing an excuse. It was effortless, the way you fit into each other’s lives, like this was always meant to happen.

You weren’t official—no one had said the words—but it was obvious to everyone around you that it wouldn’t be long. The way he looked at you, the way you naturally gravitated toward him, the way his touch lingered just a little too long—it wasn’t subtle. It was only a matter of time before you stopped pretending there was still a line between you.

And today? Today was just another step closer.

A boat day with your friends felt like the perfect way to let things play out naturally. No pressure, no expectations—just sun, salt water, and the kind of company that made everything easy.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But as you approached the dock, spotting Rafe standing there—his shirt already discarded, muscles flexing as he tossed a cooler onto the boat—you knew nothing about today was going to feel casual.

He caught your eye, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Took you long enough, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. “Not all of us live on Cameron time, Rafe.”

He extended a hand to help you step onto the boat, and you took it without thinking. The second your fingers met, his grip tightened around your waist, steadying you as you climbed aboard.

But he didn’t let go right away.

Instead, his fingers flexed slightly, pressing into your skin as he pulled you just a little closer—so close you could feel the heat of his bare chest against your arm.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low. “Can’t have my girl taking a tumble.”

Your stomach flipped at the my girl comment, and judging by the amused glint in his eyes, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Relax, Cameron, I can handle myself,” you shot back, ignoring the way your pulse picked up.

His smirk deepened, eyes flicking over your face before he reached up and tugged playfully on the end of your ponytail. “You look good.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “You always say that.”

“That’s because it’s always true,” he said easily, his fingers briefly brushing against your arm before he finally let go.

From the other side of the boat, Brooke nudged Mia, not even trying to be subtle. “They are so down bad for each other.”

Mia stifled a laugh, and you shot them both a warning look before settling into your seat—pretending not to notice the way Rafe’s gaze lingered on you just a little too long.

This was going to be a long day.

The boat cut through the water, the salty breeze tangling through your hair. Laughter rang out over the crashing waves, blending with the steady thrum of music playing from the speakers—a mix of old throwbacks and rap songs everyone knew the words to.

Paige and Mia were already snapping selfies, Brooke was lounging with oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, and Topper, Kelce, and a few other guys had cracked open their beers, already a little too cocky about who was going to win the inevitable wakeboarding contest.

And Rafe?

Rafe was driving.

And he still had one hand on your thigh.

It wasn’t just a casual touch, either. His fingers flexed every so often, brushing against your sun-warmed skin absentmindedly. Like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Like touching you was second nature.

Or maybe he was thinking about it.

You turned your head, studying him—the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his damp hair curled slightly at the ends, the way his grip tightened just the slightest bit every time the boat hit a wave.

Eventually, you raised an eyebrow. “You do realize I’m not part of the boat, right?”

Rafe smirked, eyes still locked on the water. “You want me to move my hand?”

You opened your mouth—because yes, obviously, that was the logical answer—but then his thumb brushed over your skin.

A slow, lazy caress.

Your breath hitched.

Rafe chuckled, voice low and knowing. “That’s what I thought.”

Before you could roll your eyes, he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. It was casual, effortless—like he didn’t even have to think twice about it.

And the worst part? Neither did you.

—

At some point, the boat slowed, and the guys started hyping up a wakeboarding competition.

“I’m telling you, I own you all at this,” Topper bragged, cracking his knuckles like he was about to go to war.

Kelce rolled his eyes. “You literally eat shit every time, dude.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

“Boys,” you drawled, sipping your drink. “Are we actually going to do this, or are you just going to flirt with each other all day?”

That set off a chorus of groans and playful shoving, and eventually, they started taking turns, each one trying to outdo the last with tricks, flips, and unnecessary showboating.

When Rafe came up behind you, towel slung over his shoulder, his voice was low against your ear.

“You should go next.”

You tilted your head up at him, squinting against the sun. “And embarrass myself? No thanks.”

His lips twitched. “What, scared?”

“No. I just prefer not to have my ass handed to me in front of everyone.”

Rafe leaned in slightly, voice dropping an octave. “I’d never let that happen, sweetheart.”

Your stomach flipped.

Before you could respond, he reached past you, grabbing a drink from the cooler, his chest brushing against your back as he did.

And then—just as he was pulling away—he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, grinning when he felt you tense.

You smacked his arm, ignoring the way your skin tingled. “You’re annoying.”

He just winked. “And you love it.”

—

As the sun dipped lower, casting warm golden hues across the water, the energy on the boat finally started to settle. The steady hum of music still played from the speakers, but softer now, blending with the rhythmic lull of the waves against the hull. The salty breeze had cooled, sending a small shiver down your spine.

Immediately, Rafe noticed.

Without a word, he grabbed a towel and draped it over your shoulders, shifting so you could lean into him. His arm came around you, pulling you closer until your head rested against his shoulder.

It felt dangerously natural.

For a while, no one spoke. The exhaustion from a day spent in the sun and water had everyone content to just sit in silence, watching as the sky melted into deep purples and soft oranges.

Then—

“Alright,” Kelce suddenly said, breaking the peaceful quiet. “How long have you two really been together?”

Your head shot up so fast you nearly bumped into Rafe’s chin. “We’re not—”

“We’re just—” Rafe started at the same time.

The group erupted into laughter.

Topper smirked. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you guys say.”

Your face burned as you quickly looked away, but Rafe? Rafe just laughed, shaking his head.

And then, before you could even process what was happening, he turned his head, gaze flickering to your lips before closing the space between you.

The kiss was slow, lingering—like he had all the time in the world. Like he didn’t care that everyone was watching, didn’t care that this would confirm what everyone already knew.

His lips were warm, soft but insistent, and for a moment, the world around you faded. The teasing, the noise, the gentle rocking of the boat—it all disappeared.

It was just him.

By the time he pulled back, a slow smirk was tugging at his lips.

You stared at him, heart hammering against your ribs, and before you could even think about saying anything, Mia clapped her hands together.

“Finally,” she sighed dramatically.

Brooke grinned. “I was seriously getting secondhand embarrassment from the two of you.”

Paige just laughed. “Took you long enough.”

You groaned, burying your face in Rafe’s shoulder to hide your blush.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your hair as his hand found your thigh again, squeezing lightly. “You know,” he mused, voice just loud enough for you to hear, “you’re kinda cute when you’re flustered.”

You lifted your head just enough to shoot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “And you’re kinda cocky.”

Rafe just grinned, pressing another quick kiss to your temple. “Yeah, but you like it.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

And despite everything—the teasing, the uncertainty, the blurred lines—there was one undeniable truth.

You weren’t faking this anymore.

And neither was he.

—

By the time the boat docked, the sky had fully darkened, the stars blinking down from above. The air was cooler now, a welcome relief from the lingering heat of the day.

One by one, your friends started to pile off, stretching, yawning, making plans for whatever was next—whether that was heading to someone’s house or calling it a night.

But Rafe didn’t seem in a rush to go anywhere.

Neither did you.

As you lingered on the dock, leaning against the railing, you felt his presence before you saw him. A second later, his arm slid around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

“Tired?” he murmured against your ear.

You nodded, resting your hands over his. “A little.”

Rafe hummed, pressing a slow kiss just below your jaw. “Come home with me.”

Your stomach flipped.

Not let’s go back to my place. Not let’s leave together.

Come home with me.

Like it was a given. Like there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that you’d say yes.

And maybe there wasn’t.

Maybe you didn’t have a single doubt either.

You turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you met his gaze.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Okay.”

Rafe’s smirk softened into something warmer, something real. He pressed another kiss to your lips—slow and sure—before pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“Good,” he murmured.

And just like that, you knew.

This wasn’t just a summer fling.

This wasn’t just something.

This was everything.

—————————————————

This is the final part of this series! This is my first ever series so I hope you’ve enjoyed it. I am taking requests for any other series ideas you have for any characters I write for!!

Taglist: @rafecameronsbaeee

@wtfisastiles @emmafitzzz

@yourmomdotcom42069 @yasmin-oviedo

@pogueprincesa @maybankslover

@rrosiitas @my-name-is-baby

@rafecameronsslut1234 @ggraycelynn

@wtfdudesblog @lolasangelz

@iwumrndbm @sassyvilliantrope

@stylesstarkey

[puripurin]

— "What the fuck." You started at the merman who wriggled around for space. His eyes looked at you in fear as he saw you, before a blush had spread across his face.

Up until 30 seconds ago, you had lived a normal life, well, except for the obscene amount of work you were stressed out with. So you hopped on the boat your parents had gifted you some years ago and sailed into the sea. The feel of the ocean breeze hitting your face was a familiar sensation to you.

This was because your parents were fishermen and loved to eat seafood, and naturally, you had gravitated towards seafood, but with prices these days and your never-ending workload, it didn't allow you to do anything without setting you back on your tight deadlines. Until today.

You had gotten a whole week of paid vacation because a coworker was threatening to bring them to court for a long list of harassment. So they gave the people who worked the most a one week paid vacation. Though, to her, it wasn't enough, so you're getting a paid vacation week while they are still going to get sued. Whatever, its their fault either way.

Anyways, how did you reel in a merman that shouldn't even exist? Frankly, you don't know either. You had accidentally started to daydream, which turned into you not realizing something was caught, so instinctively, you were able to reel in a merman.

"H-huuuumann?" His deep moss green eyes stared at up at you with interest whilst you nearly got blinded by the shimmering gleem of his scales that were scattered across his cheeks. He stopped his advancements towards you until it was difficult to hold up his neck to see you.

"Erm... sorry for catching you, I was daydreaming. I'll unhook the fish hook attached to you..." You apologized and went down to unhook him, only for him to pull down your pants and underwear down, making you fall on the bench below you and stuffing his face in your genitals.

"Hey! W-what are you doing?" You pushed his face away, to which he pouted to. He sat there for a while as you tried to push him off the boat, to no avail.

"I... Accceppt thhis marrriaage!" He excitedly said as he tugged on your pants to gently pull it off again, but you held on tightly to your pants.

"What marriage? I didn't propose to you?" You evaded from his pulling hands in confusion.

"Whennn youuu reeeeledd mmeee inn dummmyy!" He slurred his words once more. "Shtop! I waant too tasstte you firrst beeforrre you tassteeee mee!" He huffed before his nails turned into sharp claws that shreaded your pants, then pulled down your underwear again and happily stuffing his face and licking your crotch with his tongue that felt rough.

Once more, you tried to move away but only ended up moaning at the feeling. Your face was slightly hot as you looked away but was swiftly pulled back in for a kiss, tasting your own fluids.

"Ah... finally... now it's your turn, cutie pie. We have to go to my hometown to get married <3"

"WHAT!?!? Firstly, no! Secondly, i will drown!"

"... Who said you can say no? When you reeled me, it was akin to a marriage proposal. Also, that's why you suck my dick and kiss me <333"

"WHAT--"

Was supposed to be posted yesterday, but when i saved a portion of it, i didn't see that i was save so i went back in to edit it to see what's rong before i saved it and for a slpilt second i saw the rest of it before it saved, so i lost majority of my work.

So now it looks like tjis. Womp womp. I think tjis is an afab reader? But i tried to make it gn as possible but i wannted a weird ass mermaid culture where to speak another's language, you gotta eat them out/suck them off before kissing person to speak. At first i wanted him to just kiss in order to get the language js like starfire but i was like,, so what do i do with him tryna eat you out??,, then boom yeahh.

Also, yo quero voy en me casaaaaaa *cries pathetically* No me gusta Español :((((((( not proofread. L

Edit: i forgot about tags. Mb.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

escape from isla nublar

words: 2.6k

warnings: jurassic world alternate universe, dinosaurs, violence, brief mentions of gore (but not detailed), illusions of sex but not actually written out, established relationship, soft!rafe, death tw, proposal, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks

a/n: im having a lot of fun with writing aus, so here! take another one!

“thank you so much for bringing me here, rafe.” you coo out, getting onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

rafes arm slides around your waist, keeping you tugged in close as the boat approaches the dock of the island. you squeal along with all the children gathered around impatient and ready to jump off the boat and explore.

“welcome to isla nublar!” the voice of a friendly sounding woman says over the speakers. “please disembark slowly and carefully and enjoy your stay in jurassic park!”

“baby, can i just say-” rafe begins as the crowd shuffles forward, most with bags in their hands or suitcases being wheeled behind them, but rafe has already arranged to have them brought to your room so you can get right to exploring. 

“mhm.” you hum, encouraging him to continue.

“that you've been so chill this entire trip so far. proud of you.” it might sound weird to anyone else, but you've always gotten nervous when leaving your home for too long, worried something bad would happen. rafe saw it on your first trip he took you on where you tried and very much failed to hide your anxiety.

“im so excited there's like no room for nerves.” you giggle as you walk down the gangway. “and the fact that you let me plan everything. you know how much i love a schedule.”

“we are so different.” rafe shakes his head, hand squeezing yours as you step into the concrete, turning away from the crowds heading to the resort and towards the main street and the iconic innovation center.

“opposites attract.” you state, and it couldn't be more true, but rafe loves you more than he could ever envision caring about someone.

as you round the lagoon, trying to see if you're able to catch a glimpse of the giant mosasaurs in its depths, you feel your excitement levels only elevate more.

“oh my gosh, there's the petting zoo entrance.” you turn and pout to rafe.

“isn't that mostly for kids?” he raises a singular eyebrow.

“i mean yeah, but you also get to pet baby dinosaurs. totally worth it.” you tug him towards the entrance.

--

“okay.” you sigh, placing your hands on your hips. “i guess we should slow down so we have things to do for the rest of the trip.” 

“im already exhausted.” rafe chuckles. “how about dinner then to the hotel?”

as tired as rafe is, he's certainly not going to complain about being run around isla nublar when he gets to see the gleaming smile on your face every time he looks at you.

“sounds good… we could go to winstons steak house,” you point in one direction, then the other “jurassic cafe, or the brachiosaurus restaurant.”

“how about whatever is closest.” rafe rubs his hand over his face.

“okay steak house it is.” it's your turn to take rafes hand. 

he barely manages to stay awake through dinner, and by the time you're back at the hotel, he's passed out on the bed before he can change into his pajamas.

--

“what would you like to do today?” you ask rafe. “anything but that hang gliding, you know how i feel about heights.”

“the gyrospheres look fun.” rafe shrugs and looks at the map pulled up on your phone. “or kayaking.”

“why not both.” you toss your phone to the side and cup rafes cheek, bringing your lips together in a kiss.

“you're the best boyfriend ever.”

rafe places a hand on your shoulder and pushes you down onto the mattress, laying you back.

“we can wait a little bit though, right?” the smirk on his face gives him away.

“i think that would be fine.” you giggle, pulling rafes shirt off over his head.

--

“that was actually so fun.” you hum out.

“it was when you let me drive and we could finally go fast.” rafe says. you were halfway through the gyrosphere tour when you handed the controls over to rafe, allowing him to speed through the ankylosaurus herds.

“but we will not be doing that on the kayak.” you hold your finger up.

“yes ma’am.” rafe says, slipping the attendant a $20 bill to move you to the front of the line, not wanting you to have to wait.

“life vest.” rafe says, slipping it over your head while he just grabs his and throws it into the kayak, not planning on putting it on unless something happens.

rafe helps you step down into the kayak, grabbing the paddle knowing he's going to sit in the back and do all the work.

--

“this is so beautiful.” you say, leaning back into your seat as you look at the stegosaurus and it's long neck reaching up to grab the leaves, his feet submerged in the water as you paddle past.

“this might be even better than the velociraptors.” rafe says.

“wait-” you sit up. “whats that sound? is that a radio?”

it takes a second for rafes ears to pick it up, but he can hear the frantic static of voices over a walkie talkie.

rafe continues to paddle, realizing suddenly that you've separated from all the other kayaks and can't see anyone. he brings the kayak closer to the side when he hears the radio as you reach out to pick it up from the muddy bank.

you turn the volume knob up as you try to make out what the voice is saying through the water logged speaker.

“we sent the containment unit out with nonlethal force and they're all dead! immediate evacuation, get everyone inside and back to the hotel!”

“rafe…” you turn towards him, eyes widening in fear.

“im sure it's just some kid pulling a prank.” rafe takes the radio, finding the speech button and pressing it. “what is going on?”

“who is that? this is an authorized channel.” one voice says before another cuts it out.

“whoever you are, seek shelter immediately. the indominus rex is on the loose, currently heading towards-” the radio sparks and then dies out.

“shit.” rafe hits it against his thigh, but it's clearly no use.

“rafe.” your voice is already shaking. “the indominus rex. i don't know what it is, but it doesn't sound good.”

“okay.” rafe stands up and steps out of the kayak, pulling it onto the bank before helping you out. “baby-” he places his hands on your shoulders. “i need you to stay calm. you know this island like the back of your hand. where are we?”

“we-” you take a deep, shaking breath. “we are halfway through the kayak adventure. we should head just west and find the road to the aviary.”

“okay.” rafe presses a kiss to your forehead. “let's go quickly and quietly. im sure they've already contained whatever dinosaur escaped.”

“yeah.” you nod, gulping, not so sure.

rafes steady hand stays in yours, helping you over bushes and downed trees.

“shouldn't be much farther.” you bite your lip, hoping you didn't get the direction wrong.

“hang on.” rafe whispers, placing a finger over his lips. 

before you can fully comprehend what's happening, he's tugging you down under a giant tropical plant, the leaves hiding you as you hear whatever rafe did, the pounding footsteps of dinosaurs.

“that's the stegosaurus we saw earlier.” you remember the distinct marking along its side.

“get over here.” rafe pulls you in tighter, not allowing you to see as he presses you against the stem of the large plant, covering your body with his own.

“it's okay, it's a herbivore.” you say, when you hear the second set of dinosaur footsteps following it. you tense up, and you can feel a panic attack setting in as you pick your head up to see some sort of giant rex running after it.

you both stay still and silent until it's clearly far enough away.

“rafe.” you tremble as you turn into your back, his body still hovering over yours, protecting you, willing to put himself in the line of danger if he needs to.

“it's okay.” his voice is betraying how scared he is as well, but he's going to try his best to not let you see it. “let's just get to the aviary.”

“i-i can't.” you shake your head. “im fucking terrified.” 

“me too, baby.” he says. “but we gotta get under cover somewhere before that thing catches up to the stegosaurus and comes back for us.”

you swallow deeply, eyes closing for a brief minute, gaining all your courage you possibly can.

“okay.” you're up and moving quickly, running towards the aviary. your steps are no longer balanced and cautious, moving quickly through the jungle until you make it through the trees to the grassy plane.

“the aviary!” you point at the large glass dome, just in time to see a helicopter careening into it, smashing a hole that instantly has pterodactyls flying out.

“shit!” rafe shouts, tugging you back into the treeline.

“we're gonna die.” you sob out, not able to hold back your tears as you crumple to the ground.

“no.” rafe says firmly. “i will not lose you.”

he knows he needs to move, especially as the pterodactyls come closer, and he doesn't have time to console you enough to get you ready to move.

rafe reaches down and pulls you into his arms, hugging your shaking form against his chest as he follows the same path of disturbed leaves and muddy footprints back to the river.

“i need you to paddle.” rafe says, glad your kayak is still in the same space. “i know you're scared, but you need to help me here. we need to go fast.”

you sniffle and look up at rafe, your big eyes filled with tears causing his heart to pang out in pain. “okay.”

rafe bends down, pressing your lips together in a soft and caressing kiss before climbing onto the back of the kayak.

you both immediately begin to paddle hastily, not knowing where the next meat eating dinosaur could be.

“the river goes underground then should let us off near main street.” you tell rafe, eyes briefly closing to envision the map in your head before putting your entire focus back onto paddling.

“baby, still.” rafe says softly, both of you pausing as you look upwards, seeing pterodactyls wings flapping over, thankfully not seeming to notice you under the treetops, yet you still wait until they pass over before beginning to paddle again.

“there's the cave.” you say, pointing as the river bends and you head underground, lights strung along the cave ceiling as you paddle underground, able to take a deep breath now that you're under cover.

“are there any dinosaurs in this cave?” rafe questions, helping you move back so you're leaned against him. 

“shouldn't be.” you say, eyes closing as your adrenaline drops now that you're mostly safe.

“go ahead and rest.” rafe hums as he paddles, looking down at you in relief.

--

“y/n.” rafe shakes your shoulder and you sit up with a gasp, looking around, waiting to see the indominus rex charging at you.

“it's okay.” rafe says. “we're just leaving the cave.”

“so that wasn't all just a nightmare?” you sit up, knowing you must not have been asleep that long, but already feeling majorly refreshed.

“im afraid not.” rafe sighs as you grab your paddle to help steer.

“so this let's out…”

“near the resort. we should be safe there.” you squint into the dying sunlight as the kayak leaves the caves and enters into the large man-made lake.

you both quickly steer to the side, glad to be out of the kayak and on your own two feet.

“to the resort.” you say, able to tell that there are still people running from main street in that direction.

rafe is about to toss the paddle back into the boat when a screech comes from overhead and you both look up to see a pterodactyl perched over cave entrance.

“run!” rafe yells, not turning his back from the dinosaur to see that you haven't moved an inch, not leaving him.

the pterodactyl lunges forward just as rafe swings his paddle at it, hitting it in the beak, but it only enrages the dinosaur more.

you move quickly to grab your paddle, joining rafe in hitting at it, keeping the snapping beak away from pecking at your skin.

“baby, go.” rafe grunts out.

“no! im not leaving you.” you keep slapping at its beak and head until it gets annoyed and roars before taking off to the sky.

“fuck.” rafe groans. “i hate dinosaurs. sorry baby.”

“that's okay.” you say with a slight laugh. “i don't think i like them that much anymore either.”

you take off towards the resort, keeping your oars held tightly in your hands, just in case any pterodactyls try something.

“onto the ship or into the resort?” you question, seeing people trying to get into both.

rafe opens his mouth to respond when a roar rips through the air.

he looks around quickly, pulling you into taller grass, not having any other close cover.

“some of the gates must be down.” you whisper.

“why?” rafe questions, not doubting you as his eyes search through the field before you point at the crowd of people, even more frantic as you watch from a distance.

“because there's a metriacanthosaurus.”

the name makes rafe blink harshly before he sees it, the dinosaur flinging people around as it takes advantage of the hoards of people trying to get to cover.

“oh my god.” you cover your mouth, watching as the carnivore rips someone in half.

“don't watch.” rafe pulls you further into the grass, tucking you against his chest.

you close your eyes and focus on his arm wrapped around your shoulder instead of the screams.

“i got you.” rafe whispers, free hand tapping his shorts to make sure the box is still there in his pocket.

“i know.” you press your lips into his neck. “i know.”

gunshots ring out and rafe looks out of the grass to see that the dinosaur has finally brought down and everyone is safely inside.

“okay, let's run.” rafe helps you stand, deciding to head towards the boat instead of the hotel, knowing it's just one step closer to getting you safe.

you take off in a run, entering up the gangway you went down just yesterday morning.

“inside the cabin.” one of the staff says quickly, ushering you through the glass doors into the packed hallway of people, but rafe keeps moving, tucking you into him until you're towards the front of the boat, able to move up a level and find a place to sit down.

“we're okay.” you say as you relax into the sofa. “we’re alive.”

“i love you.” rafe says, head dropping to your shoulder. “im never talking you on another vacation like this again, but i love you.”

“and i thought you were protective before.” you chuckle, breathing out heavily.

“really ruined my whole plan though.” rafe knows that you both just experienced a trauma that will no doubt need to be unpacked later, but you're just happy to be safe inside the cruise ship.

“what plan?” you lift your head up.

“not the best time but-” rafe sits up and pulls a box out of his pocket. “i planned to ask you in front of the waterfall, all romantic and sweet. but i don't want to waste a single moment longer.”

rafe flicks the top of the box up to reveal a glimmering ring. “will you marry me?”

you let out a squeal and jump into rafes arms, “yes!”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[enchantedflameandflower]

Billy Butcher x you! 18+

NSFW 18+ only for smut, piv, cockwarming, creampie, also a bit of angst and self-doubt

~~~

Thank you @karlurbanism for the request, I loved writing it so much. I hope you enjoy ❤️Thank you so much to @karlurbanism and @babyfri3dric3 for giving me the ideas of how to work Karl’s white t-shirt and black jacket into a Billy story ❤️

Request summary: Reader is working with the boys but the dangers of working for Vought while trying to bring them down are making old anxieties rise to the surface. Anytime reader wants to spend quality time w/Billy, they seem to be interrupted and reader is worried he isn’t attracted to her anymore. Billy decides enough is enough and takes reader to get away for a few days on a boat. Butcher prepares some blankets and a picnic on the boat and then shows reader what she really means to him. Passion ensues. Inspired my getaway boat drabbles on my masterlist

word count: 4.9k

*~*~*~*

What’s Mine ~

The old tv at the safe house filled the room with a low kind of buzzing noise as you flipped through the channels one more time from the even older couch. There wasn’t a thing worth watching. Sighing to yourself, you left it on an old sitcom you’d seen 100 times before but turned the volume down just letting it play in the background. 

You checked your phone once more and flicked your gaze toward the steps but still nothing. 

You had a good job at Vought but as soon as you had found out about the destruction and horror caused by Supes like Homelander you felt you had no choice but to do something to help. You met M.M. and since then you had been able to help the boys out with information and access quite a few times. But only when Butcher was sure you couldn’t be implicated.

Butcher. You had fallen for him almost immediately. And that wasn’t like you but he was something…something you couldn’t resist no matter how hard you tried.  

You’d fallen in his bed even easier.

You told yourself it was just a fling that helped you deal with the stress of this double life but deep down you knew it was more complicated than that. It always was with you. You wanted it to just be about fucking the hottest man you’d ever seen, but you never could keep your heart out of it. And it didn’t help when Butcher did ridiculous things like being thoughtful about your situation. 

He had told you more than once that you could quit anytime you wanted, it was always up to you, and you were thinking about it because this whole situation was becoming stressful as fuck but…

Doubt gnawed at your mind. Was Butcher only with you because of your job? Your own secret insecurities snuck up on you while you sat here in the dim room alone, making anxiety bloom in your chest. Why else would he be with you? You didn’t know. If you quit, would he drop you like trash, on to the next useful nobody?

But then you thought about all those moments you’d shared over the past year, the times he’d let you see all those emotions and thoughts he tried to hide, when he’d hold you and you felt safer than you’d ever had in your life…

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as your anxiety started to fully take over but then you heard those familiar boots stomping down the stairs.

“Hey,” you murmured, sitting up and meeting Butcher’s dark hazel eyes.

“‘ello, doll. Ya ‘ere alone?” he glanced around before looking back to you.

“Yeah,” you nodded standing up. “Hungry? I could make something…”

He came over to you sliding his big hand around your waist, tugging you closer and shaking his head but the lines around his eyes crinkled as he studied you. “How was work?” he asked.

Work. Of course. He wanted to know what you had for him. 

“Fine,” you answered shortly. “Nothing much happened.” You turned away from him, heading to the kitchen to grab a drink. 

But Butcher wasn’t having it. “Oi. What’s the problem, eh?”

You sighed to yourself. “Nothing, just tired,” you murmured, but when you turned back he was right behind you and he was sliding his hand over your waist again. “Let’s go to bed then, yeah?” 

You tilted your head to look into his dark hazel eyes and damn if they weren’t swirling with worry and…affection? Maybe all this doubt really was all in your head. You couldn’t deny it felt like the two of you had grown close, especially over the last six months. You stood up on your tip toes to brush your lips against his but just as he started to kiss you back three pairs of footsteps were thundering down the steps and you both pulled away from each other. 

Of course they all knew you were together but it wasn’t like either of you to be putting on any shows. And they were always around. 

“Got a bunch of new supes to find,” M.M. said, holding up a stack of files for Butcher to see as he came into the room. Frenchie and Kimiko both nodded in greeting, Kimiko heading to her room and Frenchie to the fridge.

M.M. took his coat off and sat down at the table, gesturing Butcher over. “I want to go over them and see what we can set up for the next week in tracking them down.”

Interrupted again. You sort of hoped Billy would protest, he usually protested everything, but he nodded in agreement immediately. “Aye, let’s get these cunts.” He squeezed your waist before he pulled away but any of the warmth you thought had been in his eyes before was replaced with the gleam of excitement in hunting down supes. “Go an’ rest, love. I’ll be there in a bit.”

You nodded but he was already on his way to the table so you went to the bedroom without another word. Of course you knew this work was important, you just…wanted him. 

You were so tired it wasn’t hard to fall asleep, but you missed Billy’s presence beside you. It seemed more often than not lately he was busy with the boys. At some point in the middle of the night, he came in the room and the bed moved as he slid in next to you. Sleepily you shifted closer to him to curl into his side craving his heat but you fell back asleep immediately and were too tired to notice if he pulled you against him or not. When you woke in the morning he was already gone and an annoying wave of sadness washed over you. Somehow you were even more tired now than you were the night before. 

Within a few minutes you decided you should just go home. Fuck it. It was ridiculous to think you really meant anything to him. Why would you?

You got dressed quickly and grabbed your bag, heading out, and luckily no one was there to notice.

Since it was Saturday, there was nowhere you needed to be and you took a shower as soon as soon as you got to your tiny apartment and changed into an old sweatshirt and leggings. 

Butcher texted you around noon asking where you were and you cleared the notification without opening it. He texted you again an hour later and then called when you still hadn’t answered him by 5.

Guilt washed through you as you looked at his name on the screen while the phone rang. You should have at least let him know you were okay, especially considering everything you’d been through together. You tapped the green ‘accept’ button and picked up the phone.

“Hi,” you murmured. “Sorry…”

“Fuck, love. I was ‘bout t’lose me mind. What the fuck is goin’ on? Where are ya?”

He was angry, but your heart still swelled at the bit of concern you thought you could sense in his tone and you felt even worse. “I’m at home. I’m sorry. I was - I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

You heard him sigh over the phone and you bit your lip as you waited. 

“Long as you ain’t hurt. But ya ‘ave to tell me what’s wrong. I ain’t dancin’ ‘round playin’ games anymore. If somethin’s gone pear shaped ya need to tell me, doll. Now.”

You swallowed, the command in his voice intimidating but also turning you on like crazy. Fuck. You shifted on the couch, rubbing your thighs together and trying not to think about his face between your thighs as he held your hips down with those huge hands. Get it together.

“Out wiv it.”

His accent deepened in his frustration. You took a breath trying to decide between denying it or telling him how you felt but in the end you knew he would know if you were lying and he’d just get angrier. “I just-“ you sighed. “I feel bad making you feel like you have to be with me. That you have to fuck me to get information.”

Billy scoffed. “What the fuck you on about? Who said that?”

“No one said it, I just - I mean I think it’s obvious.”

“That’s a load of fuckin’ bollocks, ain’t it. You think I would do that?”

“Well…” 

Actually no, now that you thought about it, he definitely seemed to enjoy violence as a way to get what he wanted more than seducing anyone, or even trying to get along with them at all…

“No I guess not,” you murmured, picking at a thread on the hem of your sweatshirt. 

“Tha’s right. I’m with ya ‘cuz I want to be.” His voice went a little softer, “Want all of you, love.”

He said it so matter-of-fact, you honestly didn’t know what to reply. You wanted to believe him…but it was hard when anxiety was still fluttering through your nerves. 

“I just…what’s the point really? We always get interrupted, there’s always someone around these days.”

“Don’t give a fuck who’s around. You’re mine. That’s all I care about.”

“Yeah…” you murmured.

“Ya gonna stop this rubbish and come back ‘ere?”

For a moment you didn’t answer, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to go back right now. 

“I’m just tired,” you finally said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Butcher was quiet for a moment before he answered. “Aye. If that’s what ya want. But I want ya t’remember what I said.” His voice was short but his possessive tone was clear, and it made your heart thud.

He hung up and you dropped the phone, letting your head fall back against the couch. For a second you had been pretty sure that was it for you and him but the possessiveness in his voice just now had said something very different. 

*~*~*~*

By the morning you had convinced yourself it was over, but then somehow it wasn’t. Butcher texted you in the morning and you ended up texting back awhile later. You tried not to let yourself get your hopes up. Until he called again late in the afternoon.

“Pack a bag for a couple days. But pack light. Won’t need much.” 

You paused for a second. “W-what?” 

You could hear him take a soft breath over the phone. “We’re gettin’ away fer a couple days, love. Just you and me.”

Your heart was thudding in your chest. “What about work?”

“Call out. Tell ‘em yer sick or family emergency or whatever. It don’t matter much does it? Not a job you wannna keep.”

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking. “Don’t you want me to keep it?”

Billy was quiet for a second. “Been meanin’ to talk t’ya ‘bout that. I think it’s gettin’ too dangerous and I don’t want ya to ‘ave to deal with that. Yer safer with me.”

Your heart flipped. He wanted you with him.

“R-really?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask. But I’m sure you can find some easier job if ya want. And we could use yer help on the team. Ya know yer just as good as the lad at that techy stuff, and lots o’ other things too. We’re gettin’ an office and fundin’ and all that.”

He still sounded a little frustrated but it seemed like he was trying to show you he wanted you, and fuck you wanted him.

“But we can talk about that later,” he said. “Be ready in an hour.”

He hung up before you could answer and you almost considered ignoring his invitation, if one could call it that, but ultimately you didn’t want to. 

Trying to push all of your worries out of your head, you took a shower and changed quickly then threw a few things in a bag. Billy was knocking a few minutes after you finished.

When you answered the door it was like a ton of bricks hit you, he was so fucking handsome. And he wasn’t angry, his expression very much said he wanted to be there.

“That’s the jacket I bought you for that undercover assignment,” you murmured quietly. Instead of his usual loud Hawaiian shirt and beat up old duster, he had on a white t-shirt and a trim fitted black coat over his black jeans. Lord, you felt like you were going to start drooling.

Butcher snorted. “Mallory told me not t’look so ‘flamboyant,’” he griped. “And I wanted to wear this for you.”

“You look good.” You couldn’t help yourself, giving him a soft smile. “But why would Mallory care what you were wearing. Are we working?” Your stomach sank.

“Nah. Just you and me. I’ll explain when we get there.”

He grabbed your bag and took you to his car without saying much. You wanted to ask him where you were going but decided you would just see what happened. 

In any case it wasn’t long before you were pulling up to a marina southeast of Flatbush. Butcher parked and nodded for you to follow him out onto the docks. At the end of one a huge boat was moored and Butcher stepped on to the back of it without hesitating, holding out his hand for you to join him. 

“What’s this?” you asked, unsure. It was a beautiful boat, obviously big enough for bedrooms and living space below, a beautiful seating area on the bow with thick cushions big enough to lay on and a two level deck. 

“Confiscated in a drug sting. Mallory’s lettin’ me borrow it.”

You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “Really?”

He grinned, his dimples showing but mischief dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”

“Just us?”

He nodded. “If ya need me t’show you how much I want ya, I will.”

Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip and Butcher gave a devilish smirk as he watched it. “Let’s go.” He helped you step up onto the flat deck at the back of the boat then undid the mooring quickly. 

It only took a few minutes for him to show you the rooms below deck and drop your bags on the bed. You followed him as he went up to the flybridge and sat with him at the helm as he took the boat out of the bay. 

When he got comfortable at the controls he stripped his jacket off and your mouth went dry at the sight of him in the fitted white t-shirt. The cotton seemed molded across his broad chest, the shirt sleeves hugging his biceps and after a moment you had to remind yourself to breathe. Fuck, what had you ever done to deserve this gift…

The stress and tension that seemed to be a constant part of him on land melted away almost immediately as soon as he took the wheel and it filled you with a feeling you couldn’t quite describe, but it was good. The water was calm and as soon as you were on your way, he slid his hand to your thigh. The sun was setting to the west, casting a golden glow across the water. 

As far as you could tell he was just heading out to sea and you guessed he’d find a place beyond the port’s boundaries to anchor the boat and then you’d really have him all to yourself. Or he’d have you. 

*~*~*~*

As soon as the boat was anchored and everything was settled, Butcher made you go down to the bedroom until he called you back up. When he finally did, you climbed the narrow stairs a little bit nervous but very much looking forward to whatever it was he had in mind. 

The actual result though was more than a surprise. 

“Billy…” you murmured, taken aback.

There were some blankets and pillows set out and there was a bag of food, you were guessing, on the big cushions at the front of the boat. The sun was below the horizon now, the sky growing dark. Two small lights on the boat gave the setting a warm glow. 

“It ain’t much,” he said, reaching for your hand, “so don’t go gettin’ all worked up over nothin’.”

His eyes were serious, but you could see the emotion there even if he wasn’t saying it. How could you have ever doubted him?”

The two of you sat down next to each other on the cushions and he started pulling food out of the bag, little trays of cheese and meat, crackers and a few other things. They were all still in their plastic containers from the store, and you figured Frenchie must’ve helped him but it was more than enough to mean something to you. 

It was still warm enough that he was comfortable in his t-shirt and you thanked all that was good for it, stealing glances of his arms especially any chance you could. 

He pulled out a bottle of whiskey last and poured you each a bit into two small glasses. 

“Cheers,” he lifted his glass with a quirk of his mouth and you clinked it, letting a small smile curve your lips before taking a sip. 

“What’s all this for, then?” You asked after a few minutes of nibbling. 

He ran his hand over his beard. “To be ‘onest…M.M. suggested it. Gettin’ away and all. I can tell ya haven’t been feelin’ great. And I don’t want ya to feel like that.”

You looked down, slowly choosing another piece of cheese and a cracker, taking a bite and chewing. 

“I guess…” you finally said, “the stress of all of this is bringing up old insecurities.”

Billy looked at you, finishing his bite and taking a drink of whiskey. “Ya know I’m happy to prove to ya how much I want ya - with me hands as much as me words, love. Ya just have to tell me. I know there are a lot of interruptions, but that don’t mean I ain’t still thinkin’ about you naked and beggin’ beneath me.” He reached out to brush his fingers along your jaw. 

Heat flushed your cheeks but you couldn’t help smiling. He always had a way with words, confident and provocative, whether in the bedroom or out, but for all of his bravado, there was another side to him too. Maybe it was a cover for feelings he found easier to express through small, meaningful gestures instead of words. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, still smiling. He was right, and if this wasn’t enough to convince you then you were probably just insane. But you hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Being away and out on the water seemed to have an effect on him too, and you were very much looking forward to what came next. 

You didn’t have to wait long. When you were both finished eating, Billy threw everything back in the bag and set it aside. He had a remote for the lights and turned them down to their lowest setting, lifting his arm for you to lay back with him against the pillows and you rested your head against his shoulder.  

The stars were bright away from the city. You weren’t sure you had ever seen them like this before and it was beautiful. A soft breeze fluttered across the bow of the boat and a little shiver rippled through your body. 

“Cold, love?” Billy asked, pulling a blanket up to cover you.

“Only a little. It’s so peaceful and beautiful out here…” You rubbed your hand lazily over his stomach then tilted your head up to look at him. The boat was rocking gently beneath you. 

“We can just lay here if ya want. Just want ya with me.”

His hazel eyes had gone very dark, and you knew he was sincere but the look on his face was smoldering.

“I want you,” you whispered back, your voice already going low with the effect he had on you. Out here alone, there was no need to rush or stay quiet. He looked so good, and you were already desperate for him.

He searched your eyes for a second, then pulled you against him and dipped his head to capture your mouth with his own. It had been more than two weeks since you’d been together and you wondered if he missed it as much as you had but your question was answered right away. 

He bit at your lower lip with a low growl and you opened for him immediately, letting his tongue stroke hotly into your mouth. He explored your mouth fervently and you purred from the back of your throat, sliding your hand beneath his shirt. His skin was hot and you rubbed your hand over his stomach, letting your fingers play with the trail of hair leading down from his belly button. 

Billy rumbled as you teased him. He pulled back to tug your sweater over your head and then the tank top beneath it right away. His hand smoothed up your back and unhooked your bra with a twist of his fingers before he rolled you beneath him. 

For a moment you looked up into his eyes, and your breath caught in your chest. They were brimming with heat and lust and more. 

You couldn’t wait another moment to slip your hands beneath his shirt and push it up his chest. He sat up suddenly and pulled it over his head then grabbed your bra as well, tossing it aside. Your jeans and underwear were stripped off next and it was only a minute before you were naked, spread out beneath him. 

Do ya have any idea how fuckin’ gorgeous ya are?” he rumbled, his tone rough with desire. 

You swallowed, unable to find your voice. How could you have ever thought he didn’t want you?  

“Bloody incredible,” he answered for you, shifting to settle between your legs.

He kissed you again, his mouth hot and insistent, his beard a soft scratch on your sensitive skin. You slid your fingers in his hair and he growled when you tugged on the dark strands, pushing his hips against you. His jeans were rough against your inner thighs, but you loved him rough. 

He slid one big hand up to knead at your breast, and swiped his thumb across your nipple until it stiffened to a tight peak. When you whimpered, he caught it between his thumb and finger and tugged hard. 

The sensation made your body buck beneath him, and the seam of the fly on his jeans over his still-covered cock rubbed harshly against your clit, making you shudder with pleasure. 

“Billy…” you gasped his name. He gave a low growl and thrust his cock and the rough material against you again. 

“Please…” you gasped, working your hands between the two of you, grasping for the button of his jeans. You needed all of him, needed to feel him hot and hard in your hands. 

“I’m comin’ love.” He sat up quickly, working to shed his jeans and his boxers, then laid down beside you. His cock was hot and leaking against your hip but then his fingers were sliding between your folds, distracting you. “Fuck,” he rasped, and the sound made you shiver. “So fuckin’ soaked fer me.” 

You moaned, shifting your thighs further apart. He rubbed his fingers along your sex for a moment the settled his fingertips right where you needed them. 

He played with your clit mercilessly as he watched your face, making you more and more desperate with each moment. Pleasure and need pooled low in your belly, and you moved restlessly to try to get more. 

“Stop squirmin’ princess,” he husked. You groaned impatiently but it only made him chuckle. 

Two thick fingers slid down to your tight entrance then, whether in punishment or reward you weren’t sure, and he pushed them in. For a second he left them there, stretching you, deep inside of you and then he drew them out and thrust back in slowly. He seemed intent on driving you insane. 

“Please, please, please…” you whimpered, gripping his arm, and trying to move your hips to get him to move again, faster, harder. 

“Begging’ so pretty,” he rumbled. 

“Billy…”

“Say it,” he commanded. “Tell me what ya need.”

“Need…” you gasped, trying to catch your breath. “Need your cock…”

He hummed and kneeled between your thighs again, pressing your knees up and wide apart and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. 

“I ain’t letting ya go. Ya hear? My girl.”

You nodded quickly, and then he surged inside you, pushing as deep as he could in one thrust. 

A sharp cry left your lips, the sound dancing across the water and fading into the darkness. As thick and wonderful as his fingers were, his cock was even bigger, swollen and pulsing and stretching you open. 

“Fuck Billy,” you cried. Your hands scrambled frantically over his shoulders, needing some kind of purchase. He grabbed one, pinning your wrist above your head, giving you the anchor you needed. 

You cried out again and then he finally began to move. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze and there was so much emotion there, it made your heart swell. He groaned, and then dipped his head to nuzzle and bite at the curve of your neck, finding a steady, hard rhythm. 

You were already so primed for him, it only took a minute before you were on the edge of orgasm. Billy guided your other arm up holding both your wrists down with one hand and gripped your ass with his other hand, tilting your hips up for a new angle. When you gave a helpless cry, he must’ve known he had the right spot and he moved quicker, thrusting hard until he finally pushed you over the edge. Fiery, throbbing pleasure exploded inside you and you came so hard you almost blacked out at first, your cunt clenching around his thick cock as heat pulsed through your body, making you shudder and moan. 

Billy gave a low, deep groan then he was coming too, spilling himself inside you. He gripped your shoulder and buried his face against your throat as his cock continued to pulse, filling you with his seed. 

“Billy,” you moaned. You felt boneless, completely blissed out and mindless. “So good…” you whimpered. 

He groaned in reply, then rolled over, pulling you with him to lay across his chest. You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head and you cuddled closer to his body. 

“Feel better, love?” he asked after a few minutes, still holding you tight against him. 

“…feel better than I’ve ever felt before,” you mumbled against his warm skin, still panting a little. And you meant every word. 

As soon as you’d finally caught your breath, he carried you inside and below deck. When you were done in the bathroom, he settled you in bed, went in the bathroom himself for a minute then came back out. Even in the darkness you could see he was still hard, and you felt a brand new pulse of desire. “Billy…” you murmured as he slid into bed next to you. 

“Hmm?” his voice was soft and low, he turned you to your side so he could press up behind you and you felt yourself growing wet for him all over again. 

“Want you again…” you purred. 

But his answer was just a tsk and a pat on your ass. “You’re exhausted, love. You were about fallin’ asleep in me arms a few minutes ago.”

Mmm, you were tired but you could feel his cock pressing against you and you couldn’t help yourself, wriggling back against him. “Still want you…”  

“Needy girl...” His big hand slid down to grip your thigh, and then you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance again. You tilted your hips back and he started to push in, slow and steady. You moaned gratefully, but when he was all the way in he stopped. 

You moved, trying to rock your hips, but he caught your waist and you stilled obediently. 

“Good girl,” he rumbled, and pressed his cock in just a little bit deeper, making you gasp. “All stuffed full o’ me, ain’t ya? Now you can be sure to remember who ya belong to and how much I want ya.”

“Billy…” you pleaded softly even as sleep pulled longingly at your mind. He was stretching your cunt, swollen and hot and hard inside of you, but still he didn’t move. 

Suddenly you realized he intended to just stay like this. Fuck... You let out a desperate whine but he just hummed, contented, again. 

“Get some rest,” he commanded quietly, his breath warm across the back of your neck, “and we’ll see about givin’ you what ya want in a few hours. But only if ya do as you’re told.”

God, he felt good filling you up, so big inside you, but he’d moved his hand to stroke your hip and your stomach, and it was slowly working to relax your body. In the end you knew he was in control so you willed your mind to give in. Finally your body relaxed. Vaguely you thought you heard Billy whisper, “I’ll take care of ya,” just as you fell asleep, tucked in close to him, with his cock buried deep inside you.

*~*~*~* @kus-babygirl @jynx15 @cassiopeia-grimm @bohemianblasphemy @butchersboobs

@bluemerakis @ariadnerain @bobabilbil @deansaddiction @weallhaveadestiny

@imherefordeanandbones @str8-jack-it @butchers-girl @vavafaure1994 please let me know if you wanted a tag and I missed you! Thank you for reading 🥹

karl urban masterlist

[lovesickhughes]

a/n: since i can’t sleep and this really is what’s on my mind

—

➳ all i can think about is how quinn would be such a physical touch type of boyfriend, but more so in the way that he craves your touch rather than displaying it.

➳ always having his hands on you any moment he can of course, but when you’re out in the city, exploring, when your arms would be interlinked, he’d make sure to have your hand be wrapped securely around his bicep.

➳ in a crowded venue he’d reach for your hand, fingers brushing against one another before he’d wrap his hand around yours, intertwining your fingers and him pulling you closer to his frame.

➳ he’d also take every opportunity to have his hand spread on the small of your back— the curve of your spine fitting like a key and lock with his touch. and when he’s talking to whoever he’d come across, the feeling of his arm wrapped around your waist and hand holding your hip, would elicit a warm feeling throughout your entire body.

➳ the way he held you against his frame was similar to the way he had you pressed against his side while on the boat in the summer, the scorching sun burning down on your skin, but the feeling of quinn, further sent energy through your body. he’d toy with the tied bows of your bathing suit bottoms, mindlessly, as he conversed with his family and friends, or even when he just took in his surroundings.

➳ or when you’d be spending the weekend with his family and you were in need of some alone time with your beloved boy, he’d melt at the feeling of your hands tugging at his hoodie and when he turned to you, the feeling of your hands caressing his muscular forearms up to his shoulders and back down.

➳ and what you both craved the most, was the temptation of touch when spent alone in your shared space. he’d come home and the first thing he’d do would be to get his hands on you, feel the weight of a busy day dissipate at the contact of your waist in his hands. he’d nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in your signature scent, and would pull your body closer to his— if that was even possible.

➳ he would be sure to grab your face, his large hand cupping the side of your jaw and nape of your neck and rush to kiss your lips. sharp breaths being sucked in at the contact. you’d let out a soft moan in response to the abrupt contact, but easily melt into his embrace as your own hands found their way to his brown curls.

➳ his favourite though? your touch when it’d be the two of you in bed, bodies pressed close together and the feeling of your fingers digging into his shoulders and desperately tugging at his hair, left a fire lighting through his body

➳ when you’d be baking or cooking, he’d walk up behind, sliding both hands on either side of you and pulling you back against his broad chest to take you in. he’d rest his head on your shoulder, simply at peace with your presence, and you jokingly swat away his hands when he slipped them under your shirt and farther up your torso.

➳ he simply loved touching you or having your touch to put all his stress and worries to ease

—

a/n: didn’t know i had that in me! i guess it’s just been lingering in the back of my head this last while! anyway, would totally be open to discussing more 🫶🏻

[emolionsrawr]

*at a grant nash BBQ*

buck: *staring off into space*

eddie: he's about to say something really funny or absolutely horrifying

tommy: what?

hen: just wait

buck: did you know these two orcas trained other orcas to kill sharks by taking out their liver and testicles?

eddie: yep horrifying

tommy: wait, really?

buck: yup, off the coast of africa there's these two orcas called port and starboard and they hunt sharks to eat their liver and testicles, they tag team them, one goes for their fins while the other takes out the liver, so far they've taken down five great whites, they even killed khaleesi, who was being tracked and traced for research purposes

tommy: oh my god really?

hen: *looks at tommy and smiles*

eddie: *whispers to hen* he's perfect for him

hen: *whispers back* i know!

buck: yeah! port and starboard have even started teaching other orcas to do the same! so far port and starboards record of how many sharks killed in a day is seventeen!

tommy: oh my god, that's insane baby, what else have port and starboard done?

buck: well they also hunt copper sharks and some fish, they even chased the great whites away from africa for seven weeks! but this isn't even the first time orcas have done something like this, in the early 1900's there was this orca called old tom who would help whalers hunt baleen whales, he even tugged the boats into the right position to get the whales, this happened in the port of eden new south whales in australia, you can actually go and see old tom's skeleton in eden killer whale meuseum, and on his teeth you can see marks from where he would pull the roaps! and old tom even has missing teeth because the whalers had this thing called "law of tounge" where they would strap the dead whales down so old tom and his pod could eat the lips and tongues, on the night where he lost his teeth logan, one of the davidson whaler friends tried to bring the whale in instead of pinning it down for old tom to eat, and old tom was pissed and tried to stop him, and he lost teeth, old tom died from starvation, when old tom died they thought he was 35, but the davidson family swore old tom helped three generations of their family with whaling, old tom was actually in his 90's when he died, they called old toms pod the killers of eden which-

tommy: would make an amazing true crime shark podcast name

buck:

eddie:

tommy:

hen:

buck: *tears up* you get me

[zeroseuniverse]

Customer Service

Word Count: 721 Summary: "Flirting on the job? Really?" Pairing: Diner workers Riki X Fem Reader

Navigation

The diner buzzed with chaos on a typical Friday night. The sound of sizzling grills, clinking dishes, and the hum of conversation filled the air. She  weaved expertly between tables, balancing a tray of burgers and fries while delivering her signature snark to a table of frat boys who were trying—unsuccessfully—to flirt with her.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said with a smirk, "how about you serve me a smile with that burger?"

Without missing a beat, she plunked the plate down in front of him. "Sure thing, here’s a smile," she said, flashing him a sarcastic grin. "It’s $5.99 extra. Want me to put it on your tab?"

The table erupted in laughter, though the frat boy looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. She  turned and caught Riki watching her from behind the counter, trying to stifle a laugh. He leaned casually against the milkshake machine, his messy hair flopping into his eyes, and his grin as bright as the diner’s neon sign.

"Need help out there, babe?" he called, flipping a towel over his shoulder.

She shot him a mock glare. "What I need is for you to stop standing there looking pretty and start bussing tables before I strangle you with that towel."

"Yikes, you sound scary," Riki teased, grabbing a tray of empty dishes from the counter. He breezed past her, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as he went.

"Flirting on the job? Really?" she said, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at her lips.

It wasn’t easy working together. The diner was a pressure cooker of rude customers, understaffed shifts, and an ever-demanding manager. But somehow, she and Riki made it work—or at least, they tried.

Riki had endless energy, bouncing from one task to the next with an enthusiasm that could’ve been annoying if it weren’t so endearing. He charmed customers effortlessly, especially the older regulars, who loved his boyish grin and sunny demeanor.

On the other hand, she was the glue holding everything together. She had a knack for diffusing tense situations and keeping the kitchen staff from losing their minds. But she was also quick to call people out when they stepped out of line—whether it was a customer snapping their fingers at her or the manager cutting her break short.

The two of them had their rhythm: She kept things efficient and under control, while Riki brought the lightheartedness that made even the worst shifts bearable.

One night, after a particularly grueling dinner rush, the two of them collapsed into a booth at the back of the diner. It was nearly midnight, and the place had finally quieted down.

Riki slumped against the seat, his apron streaked with ketchup and grease. "I swear, if I have to smile at one more customer tonight, my face is gonna fall off."

She snorted, sliding a plate of leftover pie toward him. "You mean your charm has limits? Shocking."

Riki grabbed a fork and took a bite of the pie, grinning. "I’ll have you know I’m charming 24/7. That’s why you’re dating me, isn’t it?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "Please, I’m dating you because I lost a bet."

"Ouch," Riki said, clutching his chest in mock pain. "That’s cold, Babe. Real cold."

They laughed together, the kind of laughter that came from knowing you were both in the same boat, rowing through the chaos side by side.

As the clock neared 1 a.m., they cleaned up the last of the tables and locked up the diner. Outside, the neon sign flickered, casting a pinkish glow on the empty parking lot.

Riki grabbed Y/N’s hand as they walked to her beat-up old car. "Hey," he said, his voice softer now, "thanks for putting up with me tonight. I know I probably drive you crazy sometimes."

She looked at him, her sarcastic edge softening. "You do drive me crazy," she admitted. "But you also make this place a little less miserable. So... thanks for that."

He grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "Anytime, babe."

As they climbed into the car and drove off into the night, the diner faded into the background, but their laughter echoed, carrying them forward into whatever chaos tomorrow’s shift would bring.