#and I was about to give up when my eyes Alighted upon it

[aliosne]

Everybody check out the gr8 hat I got yesterday

[winterzsurprise]

Ride me? || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) x F!reader

Tags: Overstimulation, rough sex, choking, squirting, vaginal fingering, big dick Miguel, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), fang kink if you squint.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Just when you thought he's exhausted enough from chasing Miles Morales and had given you the chance to actually ride him, Miguel has other plans.

This man evokes something so feral in me that I forgot I was suffering through the worst writer's block. He got me giggling and twirling my hair yesterday at the cinema wtf. I used my very limited Mexican Spanish knowledge from watching streamers flirting in a block game for this.

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || guapito - handsome

Miguel isn't the type to let someone control the pace, even if he did, his hands grounded on your waist would soon guide your hips into a rhythm he prefers, hard and fast.

You've been hearing the ruckus down the spider webs, something about another version rebelling against the usual stories of every Spider-Man in the multiverse to save his dad. Knowing that your husband sits at the top as their leader, you expected him to disappear for a long period of time.

Not that you mind of course, he's had plenty of times he charges in to handle an anomaly himself.

You do have to give some kudos to the kid for trying to change reality though. After Miguel's story, nobody in the headquarters, even you, dared to defy the fates laid upon every Spider-Man.

It's been three days since he left and honestly, you didn't expect him to arrive yet. A person deterring from the fates of every Spider-Man would be hard to handle, you couldn't even imagine how difficult it'd be.

So when the doors to your apartment flew open and came to him, practically drooping from exhaustion, you were surprised.

He came earlier than expected.

"How'd the chase go?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Come here." 

Drying your hands off on the towel hanging from the wall counter, you made your way to the man laid spread and heaving on the couch. His head tipped back with his usually neatly gelled hair now haggard and messy, he looked up when he sensed your presence and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

You laughed. "Don't fall asleep here, I don't want to carry your heavy ass."

His lips tugged into a weak smile, his pointy canines briefly appearing.

"Spider-Man is supposed to help the weak, are you really ignoring a civilian in need?"

You didn't get what he meant until he pulled your hips closer, dragging your core over the tent on his pants.

You hit his arm. "Go to sleep, you must've been really tired after chasing that kid around."

"Then ride me."

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him. He's baiting you with the very thing you've wanted to do since the beginning. But the dark cloud of lust in his eyes somehow convinced you of his genuineness.

His talons dug onto your flesh, hard enough to take control of your hips to grind on top of his dick sensually while keeping eye contact with yours. You couldn't ignore the pleasure and jolts of heat electrifying and burning your nerve endings alight at every drag of your heat over his.

"I want to feel you baby, I miss you so much."

Miguel pushes you down on his hardness and you moan, the feeling of his girth finding home between your legs shot electric pleasure down your spine.

"You are a convincing man."

"And you love it."

You lunged for a kiss and instantly, one of his hands threaded itself onto the back of your head, locking you in place as your lips danced against each other in a fierce battle. The raw hunger after being starved for a week now surfacing and consuming you both, mind and body. 

His other hand guided your hips up and down his clothed dick, his deep groans and growl lit fireworks in you, igniting your determination to coax more of them out of his lips.

"Get rid of the pants or I'll rip it off of you."

"Rip it then."

He didn't need to hear you twice. 

In one quick motion, he tore your sweatpants into two before doing the same thing to your panties and throwing them somewhere in the room. He groaned as his head fell onto the crook of your neck, hands crawling up to cup your breasts before your top and bra suffered the same fate as your other clothing.

"The pants, only the pants! I loved that bra!"

"I'll buy you something better, from another universe even." He responded, almost breathless as your scent invaded every speck of his senses. Miguel groaned. "Fuck, I miss this scent of yours baby."

"I don't care, get rid of the suit."

His attire dissolved into thin air and retracted back to god-knows-where, revealing his ruffled shirt and grey sweatpants that did nothing but proclaim his clear desire for you.

"Let me prep you real good, huh?"

Retracting his talons, two of his fingers delved into your heat, immediately drenching itself with your arousal and he groaned.

"So wet for me, mi amor."

"Only for you, guapito."

Two of his digits rolled your clit sensually and with the dexterity of an experienced man, urging more of your arousal to coat his fingers further. Once he was satisfied with the amount of fluid now dripping into his pants, he wandered lower and lower until he plunged his index in, curling it up so deliciously you moaned and grinded your hips onto the slow plunge of his hand.

His eyes watched your heat like a ravenous man holding back, the feral look on his face only pulled you closer to the edge.

And it's only a finger in.

"So tight, mi vida. You treat me so well."

He added two fingers in and you screamed, his pace now rapidly gaining speed. Your eyes rolled back as your hips thrashed and clumsily followed his thrusts, there was nothing else that mattered more than coming for your darling in that moment.

Miguel groaned, watching your face twist into the most sinful display of pleasure he has ever seen. The pride and smugness from knowing it was all because of him made him smile.

Only he could see you in such a state and no one else.

You clenched around his digits, tempting him to finally take the dive. Although his fingers coaxed pleasure out of you with no problem, you missed the feeling of his dick carving your insides, stretching you thin and reminding your cunt who it belongs to.

But Miguel ignored the bait and instead hastened up while curling up to push on your g-spot. You almost blacked out from the euphoria he feeds you, a coil in your stomach tightened and you moaned.

"I'm cl-close… Fuck!"

"Give it to me baby, I want it all."

It didn't last long until the coil exploded and your arousal squirts out of your cunt to drench Miguel's shirt, whose gaze turned a shade darker at the scene when you peered down to meet his gaze.

A tense atmosphere rose from his mere gaze and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your heartbeat jumped through the roofs as you stared back at his dark eyes, he triggered your spidey sense.

And for some sick reason, it only ignited the simmering arousal in the pits of your abdomen.

"Fuck the ride, you're not getting up until I say so, cariño."

You barely sensed him flipping you both, with you now seated and spread on the sofa while he stood in front of you, hastily removing his remaining clothing as if it angered him.

It didn't take long until his hand cautiously wrapped around your neck and his other, pinning your hips as he plunged himself deep into your cunt. You screamed as he pushed more of him, inch by inch. He stretched you out to the point of no return, the burn of his cock carving you open once more made you light-headed.

And he loves nothing more but seeing the cock-drunk look on your face.

Miguel grinned, his fangs protruding so attractively. "God, I love how fucked you look for me, cariño. Give me more."

He pulls and plunged himself back in, shooting hot white pleasure in your body. Miguel didn't wait long before his usual hard and rough pace started. The hand around your throat tightened and your mind turned woozy from the lack of oxygen, his thrust taking your breath away only evoking the feeling of nirvana within you.

He drove in you hard and quick enough you can distantly hear the couch legs wincing as it gets pushed back with every plunge of his dick.

"Fuck…!"

"That's right darling, I'm fucking my sweet cariño open and wide for me."

The electric shocks the head of his cock briefly grazing the head of your uterus sent your legs flailing on his sides. Growing bothered by them, he halts to rest them on his wide shoulders and wraps his arm around your thigh before entering somehow deeper into you.

Your hands found his meaty thigh and dug itself onto it and it encouraged him to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge and you swore you could see the pearly gates of the heavens.

"I'm co-coming…! Miguel!"

"Give it to me baby, you know how much I love seeing you convulse so helplessly around me."

The hand on your throat left to find purchase on your clit, rubbing you as fast his cock plunges into you.

With a scream, you came. 

Your legs trembled violently on his shoulder as more of your arousal spurts out of your heat, white hot pleasure burned and stirred every nerve ending awake as your eyes rolled back.

But this doesn't seem to be enough for Miguel who only took a break to see your thighs convulse before continuing his thrusts.

You hit his thighs as he kickstarted another orgasm now bubbling in the pit of your stomach but he paid no heed. 

Not that you minded of course, if anything, it only pleases the sick bastard in your head, wishing to be used and fucked so well by your husband like it's your sole purpose.

"I'm so close, baby. Can you give me another one? Surely you can, right?"

His fingers rubbed your clit to the point of pain yet it somehow enhanced the pleasure growing larger in your chest and you screamed. Miguel bent down to rest his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, in the clouded state you were in, you could make out the sharp points of his canines pushing down your skin.

The threat of his bite shot jolts down to your heavily beaten cunt, once again tightening its coil. The frequent groans and low growls escaping his lips alone told you he's near to climax.

And with that, he's dragging you down with him.

"Please please please, give it to me…!"

"Yes, cariño. Anything, Anything for you."

With a couple of thrust, scorching hot explodes inside of you and Miguel slows down, almost into a halt as he rides down his high. The face of pure unadulterated ecstasy painting his face, along with his fingers, you came with another shout.

When he's calmer, he lets his sweaty body fall into your arms before reaching around to do the same. 

As your breathing returns to normal and the fog in your head clears, Miguel places a gentle kiss on your temple and cheeks.

"I love you so much, cariño."

"I love you more, guapito."

[feyhunter78]

When the Night Turns

Description: The night before your husband leaves for battle, he tells you of his aspirations for the throne. You in turn confess your fears.

“I spoke with Cole, told him it is time for someone better to sit on the Iron Throne, and that will be me. Obviously.” Aemond says, his head resting on your thigh, his silver hair splayed out against the light blue fabric of your nightshift.

You say nothing, only continue combing your fingers through his hair. To speak in agreement with him would be treason, to speak against him would be your undoing.

“That this is where my reign begins.” He continues, the one arm around your waist tightening as he looks up at you, expectant.

You know what he desires, but you cannot give it to him, not here where Aegon is still King, where you do not have a dragon or an army of your own to keep you safe from accusations of treachery. Not when it is so clear that Aemond had no qualms about directing his anger at those closest to him, you cannot count on him or his dragon.

So, you choose the safe route. “Here, My Prince? I am no strategist, but I cannot say I believe my chambers to be the most effective place for anyone to begin their reign.”

Aemond hums in response, his good eye closed, his sapphire one glinting in the low candlelight.

You bite the inside of your cheek, stomach churning as you digest Aemond’s words. Of course, you believe him better suited for the throne but…

“I can sense the wheels in your mind turning issa prumia, speak, let your king ease your mind.” His voice still has that low, smooth tone to it, a gentleness to his words that you remember from when he said his vows, in the Great Sept. He promised that you were his, and he was yours, that none shall tear you asunder.

You smooth your thumb across his forehead, admiring the shadows his eyelashes cast upon his cheeks. “I wish you would take more care with your words. Your brother is the rightful king; it is what this war is all about, and I do not wish to see another conflict spring up when all of your focus should be on defeating the false queen.”

“And her craven of a husband.” Aemond says, unable to let any mention of his uncle go unsaid.

You nod, though he cannot see, and caress the curve of his cheek, fear flicking in your chest. “Yes, and that butcher.”

You shiver at the memory of the screams, of the rage and grief that echoed through the Keep after Jaehaerys’ death.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you once more, there is no need to speak, the consequences of Blood and Cheese’s actions weigh heavily on him, and you. They had been tasked with killing Aemond, but could not find him, Daemon did not know you and Aemond kept separate chambers, did not know your husband spent half his nights in your bed the other half in his own.

If they had not come upon Helaena first, if they had gone a few rooms down and found your chambers it may have ended differently, Aemond would have been able to stop them…

“I will not mourn when the Stranger comes for Daemon Targaryen.” You cannot keep the venom from your voice, even as flames of fear begin to climb once more within you.

Your hand must have stilled because Aemond brings it to his lips, his gaze meeting yours.

His amethyst eye is alight, a smug smile on his lips. “I will defeat them, I will win this war, and the realm shall have a king worthy of the throne. Rhaenyra and Daemon’s heads shall adorn the gates, and I shall decorate the Great Hall with their dragons’ skulls.”

You pull your hand away, your throat tight as the smoke from the flames of fear in your chest rise up and choke you.

Aemond follows, sitting up and taking your face in his hands, his eye inspecting every inch, his expression changed, softer, more attentive. “I am sorry, I should not speak of such things to you, they are far too gruesome for your ears.”

“I am afraid, Aemond.” You whisper, your hands coming to grasp his wrists, clinging to him. You know Vhagar is strong, that Aemond is smart, but you cannot help but be afraid, afraid that his pride will be his undoing.

“Do not be. Have faith in me, in Vhagar, in Cole. We are blessed, guided by the Seven.” He says, his long, lithe fingers threading into your hair, massaging the nape of your neck.

“I do, but I do not fear for you at Rook’s Rest, I fear that you will—” You cut yourself off, you cannot tell him you fear his pride will drive him to act foolishly, you are not the Dowager Queen, you cannot speak your mind so freely. “You are right. I will have faith.”

Aemond’s grip on you tightens, his gaze hardening. “Speak, y/n.”

You cast your eyes downwards, your voice soft. “I fear that you will be blinded by your ambition, that your pride will doom you.”

Aemond releases you with a sigh, and slips from your bed, his back to you as he gathers his things. “I expected such words from my mother. Perhaps you have spent too much time with one another.”

You follow after him, the stone floor cold against your bare feet. “I do not wish to lose you.”

He turns on his heel, eye patch in hand. “So, you think to insult me? To all but imply you do not believe I will be able to accomplish our goals, to win this war, and rule the realm?”

You take his hands in yours and press them to your heart, hoping he can feel how fervently it beats, how it beats for him, as it has since the day you met. “You asked me to speak, My King, to let you ease my mind. I did as you asked because I could not bear it if I did not speak, and you were lost to me because of the very thing I wished to warn you of.”

Your use of My King has softened him, if only a little, and he inclines his head towards you. “You think me prideful, issa prumia?”

“I think you a great man, with the largest dragon in the realm, but you are also a man who comes from hurt, whose family has been hurt.” You say carefully, as you keep a tight grip on his hands. “Your pain is real, and deserves recompense, but not at the risk of your life.”

Aemond’s eye flickers to the burning hearth, and you know you have reached him.

“Promise me, swear to me that if Daemon comes, however foolish it may be, no matter that you think he will not, promise me that you will use the aid of others to defeat him. Let that butcher gloat and preen, let him act as if he is the conqueror reborn, for we know he is a fool. And fools always reveal their weaknesses in time.”

Aemond slips his hands from yours and there is an ache in your chest, but he soothes it quickly, when he presses his lips to yours softly, his hand coming to cradle your cheek, the other settling on your waist. “My little wife, how clever you are.”

You lean into his touch, your own hands anchoring themselves in his tunic. “I must be, for how can I be the wife of King Aemond the first, if I am not?”

He smiles at your words, and pulls you flush against him. “I will have the servants move your things to my chambers, I want to return from battle to find my wife safe in my bed.”

Your heart leaps, when you first married you had hoped that you and Aemond would share chambers as your mother and father did, but he had shown little interest in the idea. In truth, it had served you and him well on that bloody night, but those routes in had been sealed, and his chambers were checked for other secret doors. It had been declared safe and for more than one reason now you could not be happier.

“You will find no argument from me, though I will need prior notice if you wish me to wear anything particular for your return.” Your voice takes on a jesting tone, though your words are true, and the way Aemond’s lips drift downwards, ghosting over the skin of your neck, tells you he hears them well.

“I have no preference, provided it is easily replaced.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering closed as Aemond’s lips find your pulse point. “Easily replaced?”

“How fond are you of this nightshift?” He asks in lieu of answering your question.

“I think it is pretty, but it is not my best one, I did not know you would be visiting me, so I did not have time to prepa—” The sound of fabric ripping accompanied by the clatter of a dagger against the stone floor and the cool air on your skin silences you.

Aemond hums appreciatively, his eye drinking in your form as he walks you backwards towards your bed. “This is why it must be easily replaceable; I cannot attest to the patience I will have when I return.”

HOTD Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305, @solkara, @simpinonyouz, @lorarri

[mooncrestedwaters]

Been thinking about Rafayel and how he shows his love (especially after his newest card trailer).

On the surface, Rafayel seems like he's an open book. He's witty, affectionate, chatty ect ect

But once you dig deeper you realise that he's that way...but only with the person he loves. He's actually quite reserved and doesn't enjoy being the center of attention, even going so far to say his job is a thing of self expression rather than something he actively strives to make money off of.

With the upcoming new 5* card of Rafayel's, I wasn't shocked that we didn't have a kiss or one where he tried to kiss us (and tbh his sweeter form of affection in wanting to cuddle us and snuggle into our neck made my tummy do flips and had me having a near breakdown from how much it made me gooey)

I feel like Rafayel is a yearner to his core, even his interviewer noted as much that he gave an air of 'romance' to him.

The best way I can describe it is; His love is like his profession and his EVOL.

Art takes time, it takes an observant eye and mind. I've grown up with artists my entire life and to make a painting is much more than slapping some acrylics onto a board and calling it a day. It takes tempering, to prepare the board, to build up layers upon the canvas to correct any mistakes without an eraser or undo button.

It's gentle, tending to the whims of the canvas to make a happy compromise of your own.

Onto his EVOL, Rafayel treats a relationship like a firepit. He wants it to have longevity, keeping himself and the fire alight. So instead of chucking a log onto the firepit he nourishes it with kindling, giving it a poke here and here to check on its status while being warmed by the flames.

Rafayel is also horrifically traumatised from previous encounters with love.

Think of it this way;

He was a Prince. Set to be throned as a King and live with his beloved forever.

He set out to find a devout follower to sacrifice their heart to him in turn found himself giving them his own heart and betraying everything because he wouldn't let a pre-destined prophecy rule himself or his beloved.

When he got his love back, in another timeline they were brainwashed and ended up killing him. The absolute agony you must go through, to be maliciously murdered and know that it's by the person you love but not their intention to do so and in your last breath you grant them mercy to die alongside you by singing them to death.

Moving onto Abysswalker Rafayel, the weight of being told you have to kill your love to resurrect your hometown, taking the love of your life on a wondrous journey to know you have to kill them in the end and instead erasing their memories of you permanently to protect them and keep them alive, rewriting a tome for their sake and thus dooming his beloved kingdom and people to be tormented for eternity of his peoples damned screams of death and agony.

Do you ever wonder if he has sat with himself and laminated over this horrifying fall from grace?

Yet he still does it, for them.

After ruminating over this; I wouldn't be as forward as the other LI either.

I think Rafayel is immaculately brave and loyal for even trying again, for still searching for his beloved over years and years.

He has his insecurities, they show when he gets bratty or needy. Quipping at his beloved for not having their sole attention on him, he's meant to be worshipped after all, doted on, praised for having put in so much effort.

Alas, his love doesn't remember, doesn't see the accumulation of sacrifices and things hes done for them.

So he hints, he prods and pokes gently and he starts having them warm up to him again. Braving a tender word here, a lovingly gentle touch there and moving up and forward until he can see that his beloved has fallen in love with him again.

Rafayel is a love that doesn't burn bright, it burns with stability, it burns with loyalty, it burns with truth and gentle care. He would never want to scorch his love.

Rafayel makes accommodations for them, weaving them into his life in any way, if that may be employing them to inviting them on little excursions. Even keeping a watchful eye over them, noticing when they're in need, hurt or just simply making his presence known as a comfortable 'You can come to me'.

He's a gentleman, a romantic...with a little edge (Rafayel audios I'm looking at you, hard)

Anyways, I should not drink copious amounts of caffeine within a short allotment of time. I hope my ramblings have been enjoyable 🤍🪽

[blurboki]

no one talk to me bc changbin would be the sweetest thing ever being your first time i’m going to ugly sob, happy birthday to my favoritest most talented boy <3

he’d talk to you for a long time beforehand, asking about what you’re nervous about and any questions (not as if he had a ton of experience, but more than you at least).

changbin would be so attentive, absolutely infatuated with you and your body — how you react to his touch, eyelids fluttering shut with the most angelic blissful look overtaking your features. he’s obsessed.

he’d trail down your body, basically molding you into his touch while helping you relax, licking his lips as he watched your fingers curl inside you when you assured him you didn’t want him doing all the work for him and could prep yourself.

“shit, shit! it hurts fuck-“ you hiss at the stretch, feeling your eyes begin to water. he can’t go much slower or gentler at that (which you’re very thankful for), but man does it hurt like a bitch.

“i know baby, don’t cry. you’re doing so well, just a little more, hm?” he kisses your cheek, connecting his forehead with your own as you shakily nod. with that he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, big fingers lifting up your thighs to bottom out.

he stills there, making sure you’re alright while you adjust to him.

god. the gravelly sound he let out didn’t give justice to how heavenly you felt.

“bi..binnie— it’s so much.” you whisper, and he nearly whines. the things you do to him.

you’re trembling and he’s overwhelmed with how ethereal you are, how badly he wants to see the faces you make when you cum, your breathlessness when you kiss while he’s inside of you. no, he’ll be patient. he knows this is special.

slowly, once he gets the go-ahead, he gives an experimental roll of his hips, your arms loosely hanging around his neck.

automatically, your breath hitches, all earlier pain dissolving into nothing but mind-numbing pleasure spreading throughout your entire body.

“listen to you, feelin’ good?” he grins cheekily, referring to your needy cries and the heavy squelch of your bodies connecting, evidence of how amazing he’s making your feel. changbin fucks harder than he does fast, taking his time. it makes you feel like he swallows you hole, never a spot he hasn’t filled in your pussy with his fat cock.

“so good, so good, binnie, more, please more.” although, despite your obvious desperation, he—so kindly compared to the situation—smiles down at you, leaving a chaste peck on your swollen lips.

you feel good because of him, you want more of him, he’s your first time. his heart feels so fuzzy.

he gives you more, of course he does. in fact, he gives you everything, mapping out the specific places that make your toes curl and your moans turn into keens to secure the best he can give you.

“i’m gonna give you whatever you want, so let go, i’ve got you.” he urges, kissing the side of your lips as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream, wincing at the tightness of your spasming cunt fluttering around him before he pulled out to paint your stomach white.

you’re heaving, he’s heaving, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and leaning down to check in on your barely-there expression.

“are you tired, love?” he hums, cracking a soft smile upon watching your sleepy nod. your mouth opens halfway and he oh-so-kindly patiently waits for you to speak, gazing down at you like you’re the most precious thing in the universe.

“thank you, ‘love you.”

that was the first time you’d said that to each other, and after changbin had gotten through the stunned-to-silence part, he responded the same, positively alight with happiness.

“i love you, so much.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Intrinsic

Can we see how jungkook feels about human mating rituals like kissing? Do people from his planet kiss or have intercourse??

"I'm back!" You chirp, leaning over the couch to peck his cheek- making him freeze for a good moment as he seems to take time to process what you just did, it seems like.

He's decided to stay with you after your little confession weeks prior- but it seems like relationships in his culture might seem to differ greatly judging from his reaction to your affection. It's like he's not sure what you're trying to do.

So you sit down next to him on the couch, hands in your lap while he curiously smiles at you.

"Say, Jungkook..." you wonder, and he perks up, tail rising. "What are.. relationships like, on your planet?" You ask, and he seems to think.

"Well, we..." he starts, speech having returned by 90% until now- though he still has some hiccups here and there. "...live together?" He shrugs. "Share our bed, protect each other when we sleep.. hm.. and when we want a child we engage in intercourse. Is that odd?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"Do you.. like, not kiss? Hold hands?" You wonder, and he shrugs, before shaking his head. "Cuddle?"

"We cuddle with our young, yes!" He excitedly explains. "Because it gives a sense of safety and nurturing that they need. That's why I like when we.. cuddle. Because I like the feeling it gives me." He says. "What's kissing? Is that what you did just a moment ago?" He asks, and you shrug, nodding.

"Kind of. We.. kiss on the lips. When we love each other, you know." You say. "And we uh.. also, have intercourse without.. you know, the goal to have a child." You say.

"But.. so, that's normal here?" He asks. "I've.. hm. There's a few on my planet who do that too, me.. included. But it's not common. It's kind of.. 'frowned upon' I think is what they say here." He says.

"Oh, OK." You nod. "Please tell me if I do something that could bother you next time, yeah?" You say kindly, when he leans in, eyes determined.

"Please kiss me." He asks, moving closer. "You say when.. you love someone, you kiss them. I want to do that." He rambles.

"You don't have to. I love you without it too-" you try and explain, but he growls under his breath, tail whopping around in frustration.

"I want to know!" He argues. "I want to try!" He demands, and you lean in at that, pecking his lips-

And he's frozen in place after, eyes wide open, blinking for a few times, as if he's processing what just happened. "So?" You tilt your head, and at that he moves again, moving closer, his hands on your shoulders.

"Again." He breathes out watching you. "I want to.. learn."

"You like it?" You ask, and he whines, nodding impatiently.

"I do, now do it again, I want to kiss!" He demands, making you giggle as you lean in again, kissing him a bit longer-

Until he seems to catch on how it works, hands moving to hold your face in his palms, something set alight inside him when you try and open your mouth, tongue poking against his piercing in something like a test.

But instead it sets him off, as he leans in, pushing you onto your back as he takes over, using what he's learned immediately.

Maybe it's instincts. Yeah, it might be that.

"You make me-" he gasps, struggling to take control of himself again. "-want to do much more than just this.." he hums, leaning back a little to watch you. "I wonder how your kind acts on lust." He mumbles, watching your chest rise and fall, collarbone exposed as he traces it with his fingers. "I want to.. act on lust with you." He wonders, making you shrug.

"I mean, not a bad thing." You say. "We do it to be romantic and, you know, show love. And well, there won't be a child either. I'm not ready to be a mom yet." You joke, though he seems to be more serious about it.

"I understand." He agrees. "I don't have to finish. I just want to.. engage in the way you humans love, with you." He tells you.

"I mean, you can still cum." You giggle. "You know.. inside, too. Doesn't really matter since I've got an IUD." You shrug.

"What's that?" He wonders, and you laugh.

"I'll explain it someday, but its a bit too complicated right now." You laugh.

"So I can.. finish?" He asks, eyes wide open, pupils blown wide, round and almost swallowing all of his irises, as he watches you nod. "...inside?" He asks almost as if it's illegal to say it out loud, and you nod again, laughing. "But not here!" He suddenly says, picking you up to carry you into his room he's been sleeping in.

And though you do only end up cuddling and making out, it's still a pretty damn good time to you. It prepares you for what's might coming at some point-

And you're not sure if you should be intimidated, or excited for it.

[muzanswaifu]

Sweet Treat Teaser

Tomioka x Fem! Reader

18+

Here is a teaser for an request im working on for the lovely @muzans-stuff.

Summary: After Tomioka rejects her proposal, reader takes a different approach to gain his affection

Warnings: Rejection, Heart-break, Arguments, Reader has big breasts

-

-

The sour taste of bitter sadness and anger always upset her stomach, food seeming bland and tasteless and hobbies joyless and obsolete. The days drew long and slow, chores boring and pointless, yet sleep hadn’t seemed to be the answer either as she lay awake for hours. Mother and Father tried to give her time, but no amount of reprieve seemed to work, so they continued sending her to busy herself around the Wisteria House. Slayers came and went, their time seeming to last for seconds before the next batch would come and replace the others. All of them knew better than to take up too much of her time.

“It’s not you… It’s me.”

“What kind of ridiculous excuse is that?”

With the cold season cresting, more injured corps members required attention, Mother sending for more doctors and nurses as temporary help. She made her (y/n) help as well, despite her lack of medical knowledge, briefing her on the basics of care for those who had more minimal injuries. Harsh weather meant more victims and prey as demons had no fear of freezing to death. She found the cold refreshing, a numb pleasure to erase some of her darker thoughts. Feeling sad just felt so right during times like this.

“We wouldn’t be a good match… You wouldn’t like the lifestyle.”

“You don’t know that!”

Why did everything have to be so dull? Things used to be so worthwhile before what happened. Maybe it was her. She was the one who tried to change everything and had to open her stupid mouth. She could’ve left everything as it was, sure it would’ve been difficult and anti-climactic, but she would take that over this disgust with herself any day. She missed how things used to be. Why did he have to say no? They could’ve been happy.

“It’s not happening… I refuse.”

“Why?!”

“Because that’s my answer. That’s final.”

“You won’t even give it a chance? You were the one who kissed me! Did that mean nothing to you?”

“Enough.”

“I can’t believe you could be so- so heartless…”

“I said enough.”

“... I hate you.”

“ … ”

She should’ve kept silent, but every word from her pathetic mouth just drove her deeper into her pit of despair. Had she given him time to just think about her confession, maybe Giyu would’ve grown to accept it rather than push her away. But all she’d managed to do was upset him further, a look of disappointment falling upon his stoic expression and quickly making her realize what she’d said. She reached for him in the moment, tears welling in her eyes as an apology pulled at her lip, but he was gone, his form disappearing from her sight in only a moment, leaving only a slight breeze of chill. Or perhaps it was her own guilt that caused her to shiver.

She wanted to blame only herself, she really did, but why did he drag her along so thoughtlessly? He was the one who asked for her personally to apply all his bandages and ointments (despite her novice experience.) He was the one who followed her around the house like a lost puppy while she worked despite her mother pestering him to rest and recuperate. He was the one who kissed her when she checked his temperature during his recovery, staring long into her eyes and slowly leaning in to brush his lips against hers ever-so-gently. Although he quickly pulled away and muttered his apologies, excusing his own inappropriate actions, the deed had already been done. She knew he’d had feelings for her for quite some time. Even despite the kiss she’d seen the way he looked at her, his eyes alight with a delicate passion when they met hers, or the clear lust that consumed him when those eyes ventured southward. It was obvious he had some obsession with her chest, his preference evident with his lingering stare and gaping mouth. Tomioka hadn’t even had the decency to keep his eyes up during their first meeting, his head quickly bowing down and mouth gawking as he ogled at her fullness. Sure, she would admit she was decently large, but she had no idea it would’ve elicited such a reaction from the swordsman. He’d gotten more manners later on but it always made her flush when she remembered that despite his nobility, he was a still man as well.

The house was so quiet ever since their fight, the snow muffling any sounds of nature and lulling everyone into a deep tire. The visiting slayers slugged around like zombies with such little energy which gave her an agonizing amount of time to pity herself.  Tomioka hadn’t visited for so many months, she wished she could excuse his absence for lack of injury but the chances that were miniscule. This wasn’t the only wisteria house in his district, so he was likely hiking the extra mile to another to avoid her. Even if he didn’t wish to see her anymore, she wished he would at least come to heal his injuries. Just knowing first-hand that he was alright would be enough, just seeing him would be enough.

Before long, even winter had passed, the air still chilly and dry but the ice starting to melt and thaw. Snow began to turn to rain and the frozen ground turning to sloshed muddy earth. A whole season passing without a single reunion.

She missed his peaceful company. She missed his small smile when he was humorous. She missed the way he’d look at her, how he’d look at her like she meant everything to him. As much as his rejection still stung, she still loved him.

-

The violent sound of clashing awoke her, feet and bodies audibly pounding across the floorboards in the medical ward of the estate. It wasn’t unusual for wounded slayer to come at this late hour, but they usually had the courtesy to arrive quietly.

“Hurry, hurry! Get him to the table now!”

(Y/n) could hear the frantic shrill voice of her mother and the shuffling of a few others through the walls, their panicked movements frightening her completely awake. Whatever was happening sounded serious, likely a life-threatening injury. Perhaps she should help.

She hastily threw on a robe over her nightgown, speed-walking down the hall to the sight of all the fuss. Her face scrunched in disgust as she was met with blood scattered across the floor, leading a crimson trail to one of the medical rooms. It smelled gross, a metallic odor filling the house and watering her eyes, but she continued onward to the room, peaking in to get some clue of the distress.

Blood everywhere, soaked into every article of clothing, several doctors and nurses ambled about the room, throwing commands to each other. Mother stood at the corner, biting her nails and anxiously watching the treatment. Everyone was frenzied but there was only one person on the table. She leaned forward through the doorway to get a better view. It was hard to see with everyone gathered around the patient, but she could see bits and pieces here and there, the body leaning toward male. But she didn’t have to further theorize as a nurse moved out of the way, revealing his face. She could feel the moment her heart stopped.

His face was a bit scuffed but the harm looked minimal, but there was still sweat beaded across his forehead, his teeth clenched together and eyes sewn shut, indicating his severe pain. A nurse’s hand held his slicked bangs back, and she could see the sea of bandages that began at his sternum. His deep blue eyes flickered open and locked onto hers, and she gasped. She stumbled away from the door, sneaking back to her own room quickly and shutting the door. Her heart was pounding, sweat glazing her burning flesh.

(Y/n) had never seen him so maimed, nor had she ever seen him in any pain really. Her presence couldn’t have made it any better for him, in fact, he was probably even more uncomfortable right now. Look at her, making everything worse as per usual.

She finally fell unconscious several hours later after worrying and dreading Giyu’s health. Would he recover from such injuries? Would he be permanently wounded? The pit in her stomach refused to go away, her angst building and building until her body physically couldn’t take anymore and her sunken eyes closed. She woke only a few hours later, dizzy from so many nightmares and promptly setting off to find her mother to ask for any updates. She found her already woken, putting away laundry in the early hours.

Mother explained he was decent, not perfect but not broken either. Apparently he’d stumbled in hellishly late last night, weakened and hallucinating from a poison demon’s attack. He managed to make it to the closest wisteria house, this one, quickly enough and was treated right away. As for his pained reactions, they were also a result from the demon’s art, the venom merely increasing his body’s sensitivity and heightening the effects. He was knocked out from pain killers and was going to be sleeping for quite some time, the actual damage was going to take a while to heal anyway.

Her answer was satisfactory enough, the girl sighing in relief and limping back to bed to get more rest. No wonder he’d come here, he was probably too out of it to realize why he was avoiding it. She wouldn’t put it past him to leave as soon as he composed himself.

But to her disbelief, he didn’t.

She almost didn’t believe her eyes when she walked past the courtyard one morning and saw him active outside, stretching out and wincing from his injuries. She took another route to get to the kitchen. The next day was the same. And the next. And the next. Each day she would try her best to avoid him, finding he most frequented the courtyard and the section of the estate where his room was. He seemed to be doing the same as well, turning the other way when she happened to come into view, staying in his room or training most of the day. Part of her is grateful he’s healing so fast. The other part is bitter. The bad memories still lingered in her thoughts. He was definitely still mad at her, and she was still hurt. If everything went smoothly, he would be out of here soon, she just had to be patient.

To be continued...

[ar4chn333]

“I Just Got You Back”

Michael Bluth x fem reader

Summary:

You and Michael shared your chaotic childhoods as best friends until your father moves your family away, devastating both of you. Twelve years later, you reunite. Convincing Michael to take the day off work, you revisit old memories…and make some spicy new ones. (2,473 words)

Contents:

Pörn with plot, p in v, praise, f!ngering, kinda tooth-rotty ngl, friends to lovers, x fem reader

Waiting anxiously a few feet from the door, you quickly fix your hair, pushing it behind your ear. Your mother steps ahead of you, giving the door three knocks before stepping back by your side.

“Let’s hope Lucielle has wine,” she chirps.

“Please,” you chuckle softly, careful not to be heard through the door. “If there’s one thing I remember about Lucielle, it’s the attitude–and the alcohol.”

“Amen,” your mom smiles in your direction, raising her eyebrows in anticipation, clearly excited to see her friend of over 40 years. Truthfully, you didn’t care much for Lucille. She was quite harsh and you remember her outright insulting you as a child but you didn’t mind if it meant you got to see Michael. The two of you spent long, hot summers in the Bluth banana stand, teasing each other, commiserating, and of course, half-assedly selling frozen bananas. You jump a little when the door to the model home swings open and out pops Lucielle who promptly hugs your mother then does the same to you.

“Got rid of that deadbeat husband, I see Jennifer?” Lucielle blurts.

“You should have seen the divorce party,” your mom retorts, giggling.

Lucille motions you two inside, making a bee-line into the kitchen to pour another drink. “You’re old enough to drink now, right?” she asks you. “Oh, yes, though I’ll have some later, thank you,” you reply. Lucielle rolls her eyes playfully as she takes a sip and hands your mom a glass. The two start chatting away and you prepare for a long night of third-wheeling two drunk middle-aged women. However, you hear footsteps coming from upstairs and a man’s voice, seemingly trailing up and down the upper floor plan. You wonder if it’s George, though the voice is much smoother than his, and you can’t make out many of the words. You turn back to the women’s conversation, deciding the mysterious noise is none of your business.

A few moments later you hear footsteps descending the stairwell. Whipping your head around, you see a man in a light blue button-up shirt, khaki pants, and a maroon tie with a phone up to his ear, which he promptly shuts upon landing on the first floor. He looks up. It takes a moment for your brain to register who he is, but when it finally does, you dart out of your chair.

“Michael! Oh my god!”

“y/n!”

He wraps you in a bear hug, nearly lifting you off of the floor. Senses overwhelmed by the scent of cologne and the warmth of his body, you sink into him ever so slightly. After a couple seconds you briefly pull away, your arms still on his, to look at him. He’s gorgeous and has grown into his stunning blue eyes perfectly.

“How long has it been? Ten-ish years?” He says, beaming.

“More like twelve,” you retort, having actually counted beforehand during the car ride over.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he says softly before chuckling nervously, as if the comment were a knee-jerk reaction. He smiles sheepishly, hand traveling to the back of his head. “Thank you,” you reply blushing and looking away briefly, stomach alight with butterflies.

Michael pulls out his phone, holding it up. “I really wish I could stay and chat but I have to head back to the office–Gob is causing trouble again.”

“Oh lord, what this time?”

“Can I tell you tonight? I’ll be back around 7.”

“I see you’re grown into your work ethic too huh? That’s not the Michael I remember at the banana stand,” you chuckle.

“No kidding, I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“Are you sure you can’t take today off? We could go to the banana stand and walk around!”

“I’m sorry y/n, Gob’s a handful and I’ve got to take care of this.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight then,” you say fake-pouting. He awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder for a brief moment and begins to walk towards the door. “You’d think the place is imploding with the way he acts,” shouts Lucielle with every intention of Michael hearing it. He turns back around to glare at her before locking eyes with you. Perhaps childishly, you make a fake explosion sound with an accompanying dramatic gesture from your hands. He pauses for a moment, looking back at his phone, then once again at you.

“Screw it, let’s go.”

Smiling ear-to-ear, you hop into his car and head to the banana stand. Walking around, you exchange stories of your childhood together–the banana stand, the bike rides, and burns from attempting to operate the cornballer. Though you leave it unsaid, you once again feel the pain of being thirteen and leaving Michael behind when your Dad decided to set up his company headquarters far outside of California. The pit in your stomach begins to subside when you glance back at the banana stand as the two of you walk past. The night before you left, the two of you were stocking supplies when you began to cry about your life being uprooted and most of all, losing your best friend. He kissed you that night. Your first kiss ever–and his too. Leaving broke your heart.

The two of you grab dinner and you find him to be just as funny, charming, and awkward as you left him, only now, he was devastatingly handsome. You talk about your respective jobs, ambitions, and hopes over the food, collectively realizing how weird your childhoods were–but at least you had eachother for most of it.

The two of you pull into the driveway, and he opens the door for you as you exit the car with the sweetest smile on his face as he holds your hand to help you up. You see your mom’s car and figure she’s probably passed out along with Lucielle. “I think your ride is probably asleep,” says Michael. “You’re more than welcome to spend the night, we have a spare bedroom for you to use.”

“Thank you, I’m not drunk or anything, but it certainly wouldn’t be safe for me to drive, much less attempt to wake my mother,” you chirp.

He opens the door to the house slowly and lets you inside. The lights are off so you tip-toe around to the stairs. “Where’s the extra bedroom?” You ask.

“Up here and to the right–I’ll show you,” he replies.

“Oh, perfect,” you let out with a relieved sigh, flopping on the bed, certainly feeling the sedative effects of the alcohol. “Any chance I could get some clothes to sleep in?”

“Sure! I have a shirt you could wear.”

Michael walks out of the room–the light still off with you perched on the bed. You’d have to travel back to your place in the morning. Though it was only a couple of hours away, you felt like Michael was being taken away from you again and it hurt all the same. You wanted more of him–to be around him, to talk about nothing and everything…to touch him.

He walks back into the room with a baggy shirt in hand, backlit by the slight light of the hallway. Hopping up, you glide toward him, reaching your arms out. He hugs you deeply and you feel his heart through his chest and his breath on your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine.

“I feel like I just got you back,” he says, still embracing you. Slowly, he pulls away, his arms still wrapped around you. And for a brief moment, you just look at eachother. As if in sync, your faces move towards each other, his soft lips making contact with yours. He starts slowly, savoring every moment he tastes you, the texture of his stubble on your face making you melt. Pulling you in closer he deepens the kiss, smiling when an ever-so-slight sound escapes your lips. Your hand slides up his back, to his neck, and finally to his hair which you run your fingers through, gripping it slightly as he presses against you. The feeling of your hand on him causes him to breathe deeply against you, hungry for your touch.

“You’re burning up,” he says. You look at him concerned, cheeks and chest flushed a bright red. Eventually you realize what he means.

“It just means I’m enjoying this,” you chuckle, going in for another kiss. His hands trail farther down to your lower back and eventually to your hips. You let out a slight gasp as he pulls them towards his body. Almost out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his neck and jump, your thighs resting on his hips and your legs wrapped around him. Forearms on your legs, his hands cup your ass, giving it a squeeze as he carries you towards the wall. Back on the wall, you let out a moan as he leans into you. His lips trail from your jaw to your neck, sucking lightly against the tender skin. You feel him getting hard from inside his pants as your nails drag along the shirt on his back.

“I want you, y/n. And not just tonight–I want you with me. I can’t lose you again,” he whispers.

“You won’t lose me–you’re stuck with me now,” you giggle, pausing to lock eyes with him. You lean closer once again, lips almost touching his “So fuck me, Michael.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Spinning you around to the bed, he lays you down gently, once again trailing kisses down your neck. When he gets to your collarbone, his hands begin to reach up your shirt, fingers tracing along your ribs and to your tits. He lifts your shirt off, sitting up for a second to admire you laid out for him, legs around his hips. You get a little shy, covering your breasts with your arms but he pulls them away continuing his trail of kisses from your collar bone to your sternum and finally to your nipple. Your back arches at the sensation of his mouth, tongue circling and lips sucking. Moaning softly, your hands tug on the back of his shirt, eager to feel the skin of his torso against yours. You reach down to unbutton his shirt before stripping off his undershirt.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he coos. You look down at him as his lips continue down your body, his mouth emitting the smallest sounds as he licks and sucks, driving you wild. Kissing just before the band of your underwear, you let out a moan, desperate for him. “Good girl,” he whispers. His words send shivers down your body, your underwear now drenched in anticipation. Slowly, he pulls off your pants, noticing your legs shaking for him already. He puts his hand over your most sensitive region, looking up at your expression–brows furrowed and mouth agape at his touch.

“Fuck, Michael, you feel so good,” you whine.

“I haven’t even started yet,” he whispers deviantly.

His fingers trace along your pantyline, pulling them down at a painfully slow pace, causing you to squirm underneath him. Running a finger through your folds, you whimper at the pleasure.

“Please, Michael.”

At the sound of your words, his middle and index fingers begin to circle your clit. Your hand reaches to clench the bedsheets while the other occupies itself with his soft brown hair. Your back arches suddenly and you buck your hips against him. Your moans become louder but are soon muffled by his mouth against yours. “That’s my good girl, so sensitive.” No sooner than he finishes his sentence, he slips his fingers inside of you, thumb now circling your clit. Curling them, he hits your g spot as you claw at his back, body pulsating with pleasure. “You’re doing so well, baby. It feels like you’re ready for me,” he coos.

“Please, Michael, I want your cock inside me,” you moan, locking eyes with him. His pupils widen as you palm him through his pants, biting your lip. He lets out a groan, sounding almost like the growl of an animal as he grows painfully hard. Sitting up, he undoes his belt in front of you as your hands trace the inside of your thighs, ready for him. Slipping off his pants, he raises one of your legs over his shoulder. Locking eyes with you, his hand runs the tip of his cock along your folds as your head tilts back in pleasure. Lining up with your entrance, he presses slightly into you, gasping at the feeling of your pussy. His hips slowly descend towards yours, cock pressing further and further into you. You let out a small whimper at his size, but quickly adjust to take him in.

“Oh Michael,” you let out, along with a stream of unintelligible whimpers.

He begins to slide his cock in and out of you, slowly, as not to hurt you. The delicious sounds that escape his mouth ring distinctly in your ears, causing you to clench around his member. You look down to see his hips colliding into yours, your legs shaking around him, buzzing with warmth and electricity at the feeling of him inside of you. He moves faster, pushing into you with increasing force and eliciting yelps upon contact.

“Shh baby, we don’t want to wake them up,” he says while continuing to pound you. Clearly unable to hold in your sounds, he slips two fingers into your mouth and your lips close obediently around them. You taste yourself on his fingers, moans escaping in the form of high-pitched hums in rhythm with his strokes.

A knot begins to form in your stomach as he fucks you, winding tighter every time he slides his cock into you. His thrusts grow more erratic, his mouth agape, on the verge of unwinding. He then takes your other leg, placing it over his shoulder, causing his cock to hit the perfect spot inside of you as you squirm and buck beneath him.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Michael!” you yelp.

Warmth runs over your body and the string comprising the knot in your stomach is pulled on like a ripcord, unraveling furiously. Your body shakes and your whimpers break in time with his movement while an electrical current overtakes your body with pleasure. Michael follows soon behind, cumming as his moans echo in the room and his thrusts dissipate.

He rolls over beside you as your arms cling to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I missed you so much–I missed my best friend,” you whisper.

“I missed you too, y/n,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Come biking along the beach with me tomorrow.”

“I would love that,” you whisper, smiling ear to ear.

Author’s note in comments💕💕💕

[the-heartlines]

offering

rhaegon (+ jacenyra if you squint 👀)| [e. 1.1k] dead dove 🪦🕊️

(ughhhh wrote this in a feverish haze when i thought of aegon threatening to kill rhaenyra’s sons if she doesn’t fuck him and give him a son. this is chapter 1/2 most likely {definitely})

“offer yourself up to me, sister, and i shall spare our uncle. provide me with a son and i shall spare your sons my wrath—my fire and blood.”

rhaenyra glances over at the body of her bloody, unconscious husband for a brief moment. his body sprawled, broken, but still breathing—just barely. 

time slows, her heart beats, thundering rapturously inside her chest, when she turns to her precious children, chained up, bound, and gagged. jace, who already has a black eye, and a bloodied, fat lip, struggles against his, trying to fight for her, for his mother—his queen.  

lucerys and joff clutch onto her younger silver haired sons who are all frozen, rooted to the spot, tears streaks and snot staining their faces; desperate to call out for their mother to save them. but there is only one way to surely save them, to spare them from the fiery wrath of sunfyre.

her utmost compliance. obedience. submission.

she has already been forced to kneel, forced to bow to her usurper brother. and now she will either bend to his depravity or break. 

but either way rhaenyra knows she will lose, so she bites her tongue and stares daggers as sharp as their father’s—the one her half-brother is twirling carelessly between his fingers—directly in aegon’s direction, defiant and damning. 

for he can bend her body into any shape, but she will not break. she must remain strong. for her sweet sons.

aegon’s lips curl into a wicked smile, cruelness dripping from his voice, evilly and equally venomous. “or if you would prefer, sister, i can fuck you in front of them all. make them watch me rape their mother before your sons die one by one.” rhaenyra hears a low and guttural noise, a growl, leave jace’s throat and they both look over at him. he’s shaking his head from side to side, trembling with anger, trepidation and tears now running down his face. 

it takes two of aegon’s kingsguard to hold him back, his hands clenching into tight fists, rage alight in his brown eyes. another tear falls down rhaenyra’s cheek, because her oldest son reminds her so much of his father in this moment. no longer a boy, but a man, strong and resilient, unbroken.

and she must be brave for him, her future heir, be a beacon of hope, an example of how sacrifices must be made for those you love, those you cherish. 

“yes.” rhaenyra hisses through gritted teeth, wanting to shove their father’s dagger into her half-brother’s heart. to eat it. to  slice his throat and spill all of his blood, until there is none left in his veins, but her fire seeping inside, replacing his cold, heartless body with every fiber of it.

“my king.” aegon corrects, mocking her, reminding her of her place, beneath him, at his feet, his beck and call. with just one word uttered from her lips that gives him all the power, everything he’s ever wanted: her.

“yes, my king.” rhaenyra seethes, voice unwaveringly upset, burning with resentment. and it makes aegon’s ego swell and cock harden hearing her say it with such contempt, such malice. her lilac eyes ablaze with enough malevolence to murder him. and he wishes, hopes she will try to. for when he fucks her for the first time, he plans on leaving their dagger near her. just close enough for the temptation, near enough to coax and entice that violence brewing and boiling beneath her skin. 

for once aegon tells her it was he who killed their father, that he suffocated the sick man like it he was suffocated for years, unable to breathe, to think about nothing but her—his sister will want nothing more than to kill him. to tear him to pieces. seek revenge with his blood upon her hands and teeth. and aegon will let her draw his blood eventually, but first he wants to have some fun. 

“you’re a good mother, rhaenyra. choosing your children’s wellbeing above your own.” aegon taunts, climbing from the throne, ascending the steps and moving towards her. “an unselfish and caring queen through and through. on your knees, where you belong. below me.” 

his crotch is eye level with her and rhaenyra can see the outline of his bulge prevalent against his breeches, hard and unyielding. she clenches her hands into fists, wanting to retch, to run. “kiss it.” rhaenyra whips her head up towards him, mouth and eyes wide as a full moon at the implications. but before she can protest with words, he smirks knowingly, extends his hand to her, with a huge ring, as an offering, a truce. 

and kiss the ugly signet she does, with tight pursed lips, not daring to taste the sweat or salt of his oily skin, not daring to let her saliva coat it.

“take her sons back to their bedchambers.” rhaenyra turns her head back to her sons, giving them a small smile, reassuring them that she will be okay. she feels aegon’s heat radiating off of him, and her skin crawls with disgust when he reaches to wrap one of her loose tendrils of silver around his finger, twirling it and twisting it, already tangling her around him. her four youngest freeze in their tracks, but are forced towards the red keep’s entrance by aegon’s soldiers. 

“i will be fine, i promise!” she yells, hoarse, voice cracking, the doors closing as promise echoes off the walls, wondering if her children even heard her. but she must believe they heard her words, because she knows she will not be. but she must be brave for all of them, strong—

“nephew.” aegon says the word haughtily, and now more of his hands are tangling in rhaenyra’s hair, tugging her head backwards harshly. “you will remain.”

jace.

“jace!” rhaenyra cries panicked; his name a plea, a prayer, beckoning her son to her aid, to save her because she’s terrified. and jace, always coming to her rescue, attempts to escape the kingsguard—run towards her. but he’s tangled and twisted into the enemy’s web, unable to escape. an armored fist smashes him in the stomach, making him buckle over, next to daemon, who remains unconscious. “please! no!” rhaenyra begs, trepidation in her voice, and aegon’s other hand encircles around her throat, constricting her oxygen, choking her, further entangling her within his grasp.

“yes.” he growls, anger washing over his face. “your headstrong son,” he pauses spitting the word ‘strong’ out vehemently, “is going to watch his king fuck and breed his mother.” 

and that alone breaks both mother and son, as jace starts uncontrollably sobbing, tears pouring down his handsome face, defeated. and rhaenyra wants to sob, to run to him, hold him close and never let go—but aegon’s hand threatens to choke the life from her. so she closes her eyes instead and tries to picture her son’s boyish face, bright and innocent, held tight in his trueborn father’s embrace. for only those happy memories can save her now as her vision starts to fade and darkness takes hold.

[kckt88]

Take My Breath Away XIII.

Summary:

A new Targaryen is born and Aegon does something stupid.

Warning(s): Language, Surprise Pregnancy, Time Skip, P in V Sex, Child Birth, Kiss, Realisation.

A.N - Features an Aegon POV.

Word Count: 4670

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

Tag List - @ammo23, @immyowndefender,

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Where is he?” shouted Vaeryna.

“Who?” asked Rhaegar.

“Your father, I’m going to kill him” replied Vaeryna.

“H-He’s with the King” exclaimed Rhaegar.

Vaeryna turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a stunned Rhaegar staring at his mother’s retreating form.

The walk to Aegon’s rooms wasn’t to far, but it was enough for Vaeryna to work herself up and by the time she reached her destination, she was ready to give Aemond a piece of her mind.

After she took a deep breath, Vaeryna didn’t bother to knock as she just shoved open the door and hastily looked around the room for the object of her ire.

“My love, what brings you here?”

“YOU” snarled Vaeryna.

“Oh gods, what have you done” exclaimed Aegon as he cautiously backed away from Vaeryna.

“I-I don’t know” muttered Aemond.

“Oh, you don’t know-how about I refresh your memory husband. That afternoon we spent in bed, and you said you was going to put another babe in me” replied Vaeryna.

“You don’t mean-“

“-Yes, I’ve just been to see the Maester, and he’s confirmed that I’m with child again” said Vaeryna, her amethyst eyes alight with fury.

“For the love of seven, another one?” gasped Aegon.

“Issa prūmia” whispered Aemond (My heart).

“Damn you with your big cock and fertile fucking seed” quipped Vaeryna.

“I feel like I should not be part of this conversation” muttered Aegon.

“This is all your fault” said Vaeryna.

“Me? I don’t think so-it’s super seed over here” replied Aegon gesturing to Aemond who held his hands up in mock surrender but couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face.

“I don’t know exactly how this is your fault, but it is he’s your brother so there”.

“My love a child is a blessing from-“

“-Don’t even dare finish that sentence or I will have your tongue ripped out” said Vaeryna.

“As I recall, you were a willing participant in the creation of our child, you even agreed to let me put my seed in you multiple times” replied Aemond.

“I-I was in the throes of my peak I wasn’t truly aware-“ stuttered Vaeryna blushing.

“-So, you didn’t mean it when you said that I was the best lover you’ve ever had, and you wished that I could keep my cock stuffed inside you at all times?” said Aemond smirking.

“Oh, you-just shut up. Besides you’re the only lover I’ve had” snarked Vaeryna.

“Even after all these years of marriage, I still love it when you blush like a maiden” muttered Aemond as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

“Is that all you love about me?” mused Vaeryna.

Aemond smiled and shook his head, he went to kiss Vaeryna but then he remembered that Aegon was there, staring at the two of them with a completely bewildered expression upon his face.

“You two are enough to drive a man to drink” muttered Aegon.

“Well, you already drink so how does that work?” replied Vaeryna as she began pressing gentle kisses to Aemond’s scared cheek.

“Hm ābrazȳrys” growled Aemond as Vaeryna lowered her mouth and began nipping and sucking his neck (Wife).

“Issa nēdenka zaldrīzes” whispered Vaeryna (My fierce dragon).

Aemond could feel himself growing hard in his breeches, his desire for his wife quickly roaring to life, coursing through every fibre of his being. He needed to regain control and fast otherwise he’d end up ravishing her right there.

“My love, we cannot do this here. L-Let us go to our chambers” whispered Aemond as he gently squeezed his wife’s rear.

“Then I suggest we make all haste husband; I seem to have developed a desire for you to Obūljagon issa toliot se gūrogon issa hen inkot” said Vaeryna (Bend me over and take me from behind).

“I know the language of our forebears as well you know” muttered Aegon as he pressed his hands over his ears.

“Come wife, let me sate your desire” said Aemond as he took Vaeryna’s hand and dragged her out of the room, leaving a slightly jealous and flustered Aegon in their wake.

The news of Vaeryna’s pregnancy was taken quite well.

It was important that all the children were informed and on board with the fact that they would have another sibling.

“How did the babe get in mama’s tummy?” asked Saeryna.

“Father put it in there” replied Jaehaeryn.

“How?”

“That’s a conversation for when your older” said Aemond frowning.

“Why?” asked Saeryna tilting her head to the side.

“Because you’re a little young at the moment” said Aemond closing his eye and taking a deep breath.

“But I am almost seven name days old” retorted Saeryna.

“Add another fifty million name days onto that and then I might think about telling you.”

“Oh, Kepa your being very silly” laughed Saeryna (Father).

“You know what else is silly?” asked Aemond smiling.

“No what?” asked Saeryna, her eyes wide.

“The tickle monster” exclaimed Aemond as he grabbed hold of Saeryna and began tickling her.

Saeryna’s delighted squeals of laughter echoed around the chamber and soon all of the younger children were set upon by the dangerous tickle monster.

Vaeryna loved watching Aemond with their children. His love for their family was boundless, and every day Vaeryna was thankful to have been blessed in such a manner.

Suddenly a knock at the door broke the tickle monsters reign of terror and Aegon appeared.

“UNCLE AEGON”

“Oh, my so many children at once” gasped Aegon as he was set upon by Saeryna and Caelee.

“Brother” said Aemond as he nodded politely.

“I guess the news of another babe was well received?” asked Aegon as he picked up Caelee and bounced her in his arms.

“Apart from Saeryna asking where babes come from and Jaehaeryn telling her that I put it in there” replied Aemond quietly.

“Well, he’s not wrong, you did put it in there-a lot from what I’ve heard”.

“Spying on me and my lady wife, are you?” asked Aemond narrowing his eye.

“Gods no. I like my skin attached to my body thank you-but I’ve heard you both a time or two that’s all. Mayhaps you should learn to be a bit quieter when you come” said Aegon smirking.

“Halt your vulgarity in from of my children” snapped Aemond as he hauled Caelee from Aegon’s arms and placed her on Jaehaera’s knee.

“Might want to make sure your wife covers up her neck then-I can see the love bites from here, gods brother you should really learn to be gentler”.

“-And you should learn when to close that mouth of yours” snapped Aemond.

“Where’s the fun in that?” exclaimed Aegon as he waltzed past Aemond and sat next to Jaehaera.

“Easy there father, if looks could kill,” said Rhaegar.

“Then my brother would be long dead, and I would free of his sarcastic attitude and punchable face” replied Aemond.

“Come, have some wine. Let us celebrate the new babe,” said Rhaegar.

“Hm” replied Aemond as he spied Daenerys huddled in the corner talking to Aegon the Younger.

“Relax. Their only talking” urged Vaeryna softly as she placed a hand on Aemond’s lower back.

“For now,” muttered Aemond.

“Mother, your neck” said Rhaegar quietly.

“Apologize son, it seems as though I was attacked by a mindless beast” replied Vaeryna.

“Mindless? I knew exactly what I was doing” exclaimed Aemond.

“I did not need to hear that-gods you two are so gross” gasped Rhaegar as he moved away from his parents.

“Is everything ok my love-you look a little pale”.

“I’m a Targaryen, I always look pale” said Vaeryna grimacing as her stomach churned.

“No, seriously you look-“

“-I-I’m going to be sick” exclaimed Vaeryna as she ran to the nearest vase and threw up.

“Mama sick” gasped Caelee nervously.

“It’s ok sweet girl, sometimes having a babe can make the mama’s sick” whispered Jaehaera.

“But your not sick” replied Caelee.

“Wait-what?” asked Vaeryna as she looked towards Jaehaera who blushed furiously.

“Oh, well I-I think that I might be with child” said Jaehaera softly.

“Really? That’s fantastic” said Vaeryna smiling before she threw up again.

“I-I’m going to be a father?” asked Rhaegar as he took Jaehaera’s hand.

“We need to have it confirmed my the Maester” replied Jaehaera softly.

“Another baby” shrieked Vharla.

“Will that make me an uncle?” asked Aerys.

“Yes, it will” said Jaehaera smiling.

“My love, this is wonderful” said Rhaegar smiling.

“I’m going to be a grandsire” muttered Aemond scowling at Aegon the Younger who snickered.

“-Who’s about to have another child. Easy their gramps-wouldn’t want you to break a hip or anything” said Aegon holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“You’re going to be a grandsire too you insufferable twat” spat Aemond.

“Shit, your right” exclaimed Aegon.

This was definitely her last babe.

Vaeryna had felt awful for the entirety of her term, the sickness was incomprehensible, and the back ache was dreadful.

There were of course rare days where she could actually walk around without feeling like her spine was about to disintegrate and on those days Vaeryna would sit with Jaehaera and the younger children in the gardens and enjoy the sun.

Ever since she discovered that she was with child, Jaehaera would often lean on Vaeryna for support, as she was incredibly nervous.

Not to mention Rhaegar at the age of six and ten was also a bag of nerves and would regularly consult with his father on how to support his lady wife during her labours.

Aemond of course was on hand to assuage any fears his oldest son had and would often provide him some much-needed advice.

Even Alicent in her advancing years was on hand to offer her aide, although her ramblings about the faith of the seven often left Rhaegar with a headache, so he tended to avoid spending too much time in his grandmothers presence.

Saeryna of course still followed Aegon everywhere and Vharla had take a shine to her other uncle Aegon and they would often be spotted in each other’s company, which pleased Vaeryna greatly.

Aerys and Jaehaeryn were of course thick as thieves and would find themselves in bother, whether it was with the kitchen staff for stealing sweets or the septas for skipping their lessons.

Daenerys was the only one of her children who seemed tolerant of her grandmothers lectures on faith and duty, and would often spend hours in her company, but as it turned out she was only tolerant because she would stick cotton wool in her ears to drown out the sound of Alicent’s voice, a trick apparently her uncle Aegon taught her when she was a child.

Aemond of course was not amused when he found out and almost gave his brother a damn good thrashing before Daenerys intervened.

Of course, Aemond had other matters to attend too.

“Gods when will this end” groused Vaeryna as Aemond rubbed her swollen stomach.

“I’m sorry your so uncomfortable my love” whispered Aemond.

“This is the last one Aemond. I cannot do this anymore” mumbled Vaeryna.

“You have given me seven children-soon to be eight, there will be no more babes after this”.

“I love you very much you know” said Vaeryna softly.

“-And I love you my beautiful wife” muttered Aemond as he began pressing soft kisses to her swollen stomach.

“Aemond” moaned Vaeryna.

“Is there something you need my sweet?” asked Aemond.

“Y-You-I need you to help get this babe out of me” exclaimed Vaeryna as Aemond carefully manoeuvred her onto her side and laid behind her.

“As you wish” replied Aemond, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as he took hold of his hard cock and pressed it into her warm wet folds.

“Oh, gods Aemond. Yes, right there” moaned Vaeryna as she pushed back against him.

“My wife, my love” gasped Aemond as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

Usually, their love making was passionate and all consuming, but today it was gentle and sweet.

Aemond delighted in the little moans his wife would make as she approached her peak, her pregnancy had made her more sensitive and Aemond relished every opportunity he had to be inside his willing wife.

“P-Please, husband. I-I’m going to-“ exclaimed Vaeryna.

Aemond pressed his face into Vaeryna’s shoulder and groaned as he felt her cunny clenching around him.

“That’s it, my love. Come for me” moaned Aemond as he pressed a finger to Vaeryna’s pearl and began stroking it in tandem with his thrusts.

“Oh, gods Aemond, don’t stop. Please don’t stop” begged Vaeryna.

“Yes wife-“ gasped Aemond as he felt his own peak approaching.

“-AEMOND” screamed Vaeryna as she exploded.

“FUCK” roared Aemond as he spilled rope after rope of seed inside her.

“I love you so fucking much” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“-Love you too my Idañnykeā perzys” replied Aemond softly (Twin flame).

“ōños hen issa glaeson” replied Vaeryna (Light of my life).

“-Should you be here?” asked Aegon.

“Aemond is flying with Vhagar, and I wanted some company” replied Vaeryna as she braced her weight on the table and slowly sat down.

“You look like your about to pop at any moment” said Aegon.

“Oh, believe me I know. I’ve tried everything to get the babe out-walking, spicy food, I even tried some rank tea that Maester Munkun suggested and nothing” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“-Have you and Aemond-you know?”

“I’ve taken his cock everyday sometimes more than once; in every position I can manage and still nothing” said Vaeryna.

“Thanks for that vivid depiction” muttered Aegon.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t enjoy the thought” quipped Vaeryna smirking.

“You know most wives would feel uncomfortable knowing that someone else lusts after their husband” retorted Aegon as he took a sip of wine.

“I’m not like most wives; besides I know Aemond would never stick his cock in another person-not without my consent anyway” said Vaeryna.

“Your not wrong there, I’ve never known a man be so cuntstruck”.

“It’s called being in love” said Vaeryna.

“As much as I think of you both-I know nothing would ever come of it”.

“Wait-what did you just say?” asked Vaeryna.

“N-Nothing” stammered Aegon.

“Y-You said both-” replied Vaeryna her eyes going wide as a sharp pain shot across her stomach.

“I-Is everything ok?”.

“The babe is coming” gasped Vaeryna as the was a sudden rush of water between her legs.

“W-We need to get the Maester” exclaimed Aegon as he sprang out of his chair.

“Just remain calm-oh fuck” shrieked Vaeryna as a series of contractions tore across her stomach.

“W-What should I do” exclaimed Aegon.

“I-I need you to help me” exclaimed Vaeryna as she doubled over in pain.

“Y-Yes I’ll help you to your chambers” replied Aegon as he helped Vaeryna to stand up.

“N-No, it’s coming-now I can feel it” urged Vaeryna.

“Surely it cannot come this fast” grumbled Aegon.

“I-It is coming that fast, Aegon I-I need you to help me take off my small clothes”.

“I’m not entirely comfortable with that” muttered Aegon.

“STOP BEING A GIRL AND FUCKING HELP ME” yelled Vaeryna.

“This is not the way I envisioned taking off your small clothes” replied Aegon as he reached under Vaeryna’s skirt.

“What?” gasped Vaeryna.

“N-Nothing” said Aegon quickly discarding his good sister’s small clothes.

“I need you to look” urged Vaeryna as she sunk to the floor and pressed her back against the wall.

“I-I don’t want to see that”.

“JUST FUCKING LOOK” balled Vaeryna as another contraction ripped across her stomach.

Aegon let out a small whimper of protest as he descended to his knees and slowly looked between Vaeryna’s open legs.

“What can you see?”

“I-I think I see the head and there’s some other stuff that I’m going to pretend I don’t see-oh gods this is so gross, I should not be seeing you in this way” said Aegon grimacing.

Gods, how did his absolute twat of a brother manage to do this seven times? How he managed to remain steadfast at his wife’s side as she birthed their babes was something Aegon would never know.

“I don’t have anyone else. P-Please Aegon, don’t leave me” cried Vaeryna as Aegon began backing away from her, his face even paler than usual.

“I-I’m not sure I’m the right person for this” replied Aegon.

“Please, I need you” begged Vaeryna.

Aegon shook like a leaf as he watched his good sister cry, the tears rolled down her sweat drenched face and something inside him shifted into place, she needed him, even if Aemond would more than likely skin him alive, he couldn’t leave her. Not now.

“I’m not leaving you” said Aegon sternly.

“I want AEMOND” screamed Vaeryna.

“You and me both” quipped Aegon, oh why did Aemond have to go flying with Vhagar today, the selfish prick could have waited.

“I-Is it coming?” asked Vaeryna as she took a deep breath and pushed.

Aegon steeled himself for what he was about to see and prayed to the seven that Aemond would not inflict momentous amounts of pain upon him for what he was about to see.

“Yes, the babe is coming-you’re doing amazing, keep pushing, that’s it” said Aegon.

“I-I’m not sure I can do it anymore” huffed Vaeryna.

“You can do this, you are blood of the dragon, not some weakling mouse. NOW PUSH”

Vaeryna took a deep breath and pushed with every ounce of strength she still possessed.

“The head is out-oh gods it’s so disgusting, but keep going, you’re doing great” said Aegon, grimacing as his stomach churned. Oh boy did he regret consuming that pitcher of wine earlier.

Vaeryna nodded and with one final push, the babe arrived with a wet squelch.

“It’s a boy” shrieked Aegon excitedly as he pulled of his loose cotton shirt and wrapped it around the crying babe.

“I-Is he ok?” asked Vaeryna as he held out her arms expectantly.

“He’s crying well-so I think he’s ok” replied Aegon as he handed the squalling pink babe to Vaeryna, who sobbed with happiness.

Aegon couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Vaeryna’s cheek but at the last moment she turned to face him, and his lips pressed against hers.

“S-Sorry I shouldn’t have done that-“ stuttered Aegon as he pulled away in a panic.

“It was an accident-” said Vaeryna softly.

“-Yes-an accident” retorted Aegon quickly, knowing full well that whilst it may have been an accident on her part, it certainly wasn’t on his.

He’d got caught up in the emotion of the situation they were in and something crazy had taken hold of him.

He had fully intended on kissing her, oh gods Aemond was going to kill him.

“T-Thank you for being here, I couldn’t have done this without you” said Vaeryna smiling.

“It’s ok. Just don’t ever ask me to do it again” replied Aegon quietly.

Suddenly the door flew open and Aemond appeared, out of breath and looking flustered.

“It’s about fucking time” snapped Aegon.

“Y-You had t-the babe” exclaimed Aemond in amazement as he knelt down next to Vaeryna.

“No shit” mumbled Aegon.

“It’s a boy” said Vaeryna, her face lit up as she smiled.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond as he gently stroked his newborn son’s tuft of silver hair.

“I am, thanks to Aegon” said Vaeryna quietly as she gently laid her head on Aemond’s shoulder.

“Thank you, brother,”

“Your welcome” replied Aegon, trying to ignore the odd feelings stirring within him as he gazed at Vaeryna. Their brief kind of accidental kiss was still playing on his mind.

“What shall we call our son?” asked Aemond as he pressed a kiss to his wife’s sweaty forehead.

“Aegar. In honour of his uncle” replied Vaeryna softly.

“A-Are you serious?” exclaimed Aegon, his eyes filling with tears.

“If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know what I would have done” said Vaeryna.

Aegon smiled widely as Maester Munkun finally arrived and the rest of Vaeryna and Aemond’s children appeared, standing at the doorway eagerly waiting for permission to meet their new sibling.

“Come meet Aegar” breathed Aemond proudly as Vaeryna placed their tiny son in his arms.

As Maester Munkun examined Vaeryna and helped her deliver the after birth, which totally grossed Aegon out even more than seeing his good siter give birth, Aemond took Aegar over to his older siblings who immediately began to melt at the tiny bundle in his arms.

“He’s so tiny” whispered Daenerys in awe.

“Congratulations, both of you” said Aegon the Younger.

“He looks like you father” said Rhaegar as he manoeuvred Caelee in his arms so she could meet her new brother.

“No, he doesn’t he looks like an old raisin” said Jaehaeryn.

“Boy are you serious?” asked Aemond.

“Sorry father” muttered Jaehaeryn.

“Oh well done he’s perfect” cooed Jaehaera as she ran a hand along her own swollen stomach.

“I love him already” said Vharla sweetly.

“Can I hold him?” asked Aerys.

“Maybe later ok, remember he’s only just been born, he’ll need feeding soon” replied Aemond softly.

“Would you be able to help take the Princess back to your chambers?” asked Maester Munkun.

“I’ll carry her-Aegon take my son and don’t drop him” said Aemond.

“As if I would” snapped Aegon as he took Aegar into his arms.

Aemond bent down and lifted Vaeryna into his arms, her head rested on his shoulder as she closed her eyes, a small smile on her face.

“Right come on you lots let’s give mother and father some privacy” said Rhaegar as he shooed his siblings out the room.

“But I want to see that baby more” whined Saeryna.

“You can see him on the morrow, sweet girl remember that mother will be tired and Aegar needs to be fed, it’s been a busy day” said Daenerys softly.

“Ok but I want to sew him a teddy, one that looks like a dragon”.

“That sounds wonderful-can I help?” asked Jaehaera.

“Yes, you can and Aerys too” replied Saeryna sweetly.

“Ha-tough luck baby brother” laughed Jaehaeryn.

“-And you can come with me to inform grandmother of her new grandson,” said Rhaegar.

“Rhaegar-no, she’ll talk about the seven” moaned Jaehaeryn.

“Should have thought about that before you opened your mouth-fathers right your too much like uncle Aegon” retorted Rhaegar.

“Which one?”

“Enough-now” snapped Rhaegar as he seized Jaehaeryn by the scruff of the neck and marched him down the corridor.

“Is everything ok brother?” asked Aemond.

“W-What?” asked Aegon.

“You seem a little out of sorts” replied Aemond.

“I’ve seen things today that I wish to forget” muttered Aegon, his accidental-on purpose kiss with Vaeryna kept playing on a loop in his mind.

“Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

“I-I did something really stupid and now-“

“-Husband, I’m ready to get out the bath” said Vaeryna.

“I need to help Vaeryna, wait there and we can talk after-watch Aegar will you” exclaimed Aemond as he gave his brother one last look of concern before he disappeared into the separate bathing chamber.

Aegon sat on next to the crib that Aegar was currently asleep in, and he looked down at his newly born nephew, the beginnings of an unfamiliar feeling blooming in his chest.

He felt truly honoured to have his nephew named after him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Vaeryna.

Their accidental-on purpose kiss had been brief, but Aegon could still remember the feeling of her soft lips upon his.

He’d once confessed that he loved her as his good sister, but over the years as their friendship developed more so had his feelings, sure he had a curiosity about Aemond who wouldn’t, the guy was stunningly beautiful, but his wife gods she was something else.

He wasn’t a very good King and he spent most of his days drunk, but Vaeryna never treated him any less for it, she always spoke to him with unfailing honesty and compassion, she was different from all the women he usually surrounded himself with.

Sure, he was heavily scared below the waist, and he couldn’t sire children anymore but that didn’t stop him from indulging in the pleasures of the flesh from time to time, only his most trusted and favourite whores were invited to keep him company, two females and one male, paid handsomely of course. They were perhaps the richest whores in all of Kings Landing.

Granted he didn’t actually indulge with his male whore all that much, it was more of an itch that needed scratching every so often. It was the females he spent the most time with, they were soft and sweet and sometimes he would close his eyes and pretend that the whore riding him was Vaeryna.

He often felt sick afterwards, much like he did when he would fantasize that the male whore was his brother, he knew Targaryen’s had queer customs, that fact never bothered him it was that he lusted after two people who were so deeply in love with one another that they would never even so much as cast anyone a second look.

Given how their relationship began, Aegon never would have imagined that this is where his brother and Vaeryna would end up, but here they were-happy, in love and here he was kissing a woman who’d just birthed a babe.

Gods there must be something wrong with him, surely doing that wasn’t normal.

Suddenly Aegar gave a little squeak and Aegon lurched forward to check his nephew, who had begun to stir.

“Come on little one; don’t cry” whispered Aegon as he lifted the babe into his arms and began rocking him gently.

Aegar whimpered for a moment before he quietened down and fell back to sleep, Aegon smiled as he gazed at his sweet little nephew.

For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to sink into the delusion that this was his son, his silver haired little boy and that Vaeryna as his wife, but before he could drown, he was snapped out of his reverie by the reappearance of Aemond who had an arm wrapped around Vaeryna’s waist as she hobbled across the room.

“I-Is he ok?” asked Vaeryna as she slipped into bed.

“I think he might be getting hungry” replied Aegon as he reluctantly passed Aegar to his father.

“I did wonder” mused Vaeryna as she began undoing the laces of her shift.

“You know I think I’ll take my leave-you need your rest and well I-I need a drink” said Aegon looking at the ceiling.

“Thank you for today Aegon, I couldn’t have done any of it without you”.

“Don’t mention it” replied Aegon still looking at the ceiling.

“He’s latched on well hasn’t he-“ said Aemond softly.

“Definitely his fathers son with how quick he took to the nipple” laughed Vaeryna.

Aegon cringed as his brother and Vaeryna continued to talk about breasts and nipples and for fuck sake he had to get out of there.

“I’ll go now-mayhaps I will see you both at some point tomorrow” gasped Aegon.

“Didn’t you want to tell me something earlier-“

“NO-I mean it’s nothing, I’ll see-speak to you tomorrow” replied Aegon as he turned on his heel and left the room.

As soon as he returned to his chambers, he poured himself a generous cup of wine, and flopped onto the sofa.

“Y-Your Grace, are you in need of anything further tonight?”

Aegon paused for a moment, unsure of what to say, part of him just wanted to consume enough wine that he forgot his own name and the other part wanted to summon his favourite whores.

In the end he decided to have both.

“Send for Nessa and Markus and bring me some more wine” said Aegon.

“Y-Yes Your Grace”.

The bells of Kings Landing could be heard ringing in the distance in celebration of the birth of a new Targaryen Prince.

If tonight was about celebration, then Aegon was determined to make it one to remember.

[fairy-verse]

Tell me about the nightlight! Whatever comes to mind, there's no rush. I want to know what his relationship is like with killer, dream, error, and ink.

The wind howls and the days of early autumn sing and dance as leaves rustle and fall to the ground. Through holes in the ground the wind enters gently and passing over root and dirt they come upon a secret room; deep down, but spacious. Crystals and chimes hang in silken string from the roof and softly flutter to the touch of the wind, stirring the fairy laid on pillows large and small. Sleepy sockets reveal dim eye lights, though they come alight as Nightlight awakens to the sound of a new day. This one must be filled with moments of light rain, because the air that tickles his bones smell lovely, and he softly takes a deeper breath to savour the scent.

The crystals chime above him, and he sighs. He wonders what he will read today, perhaps one of those fantastical fantasy stories that are full of magic and romance; they never fail to make his mind wander and fill his heart with wonder.

Not caring to change out of his nightly sheer silks, he stands to wander across soft wooden floors, all polished to a near mirror image. Taking a goblet and filling it with fresh moon water, Nightlight drinks heartily. After he takes a few bites of the various fruits and berries laid out on the rounded table, some grapes, a few apple slices, a little strawberry, and some nuts. The fruits will run out soon, so Nightlight takes the time to savour their lovely taste. More will come next summer, but the wait is long, and he’s always enjoyed fruits and berries the most, though some honey on freshly baked bread is also delicious.

Nightlight begins to think aloud as he slowly eats his breakfast. “Will you come and see me today, Nightmare? Will you bring your charming guard, or will you surprise me with Lumin again,” said he, closing his sockets as he smiled softly, “Lumin always has such wild stories to tell. He reminds me of a wanderer in some of the books I read, always seeking adventure, always hungry for more sights to see. I’m sure he’s seen so many places on the island already, but he’ll wish to see more, I’m sure,” he said.

Nightlight began to think of Nightmare’s guard, Killer, and a faint flush crossed his pale cheeks. Killer was so different to the firstborn, so strange and lovely in his mortality, yet so charming in his way with words. The lingering looks he’d cast Nightlight’s way whenever he’d come to visit never failed to make the fair fairy feel light on his feet, and the kisses of parting he’d give his knuckles made his chest tickle pleasantly.

“Perhaps he’ll be busy with you, Nightmare,” said Nightlight, speaking to the charms and chimes who still sang above him, their twinkling lights casting specks all over the room. “You’re still calling in autumn, my other half. I can feel it, my soul is working in tandem with yours. I hope it became easier for you, after my return,” said he.

No, Killer would stay at Nightmare’s side for as long as he stayed outside, so perhaps Dream would come? Perhaps he’d bring Ink and Error with him, too, like last time. It’d been such a pleasant surprise, all three fluttering down the passage and into his rooms. Dream and Ink were so upfront, so eager to decorate him with kisses and warm embraces, speaking words of light and dreams alike. Error still held back, sometimes, acting oddly shy in Nightlight’s presence, but never resisting when Nightlight approached to hold him.

They all have lived centuries without him, have gone through traumas and terrible fights, yet he remained the same; a memory come back to life. It had been such a shock to them all, and Error had been the one who’d needed the most time to take it all in.

“He hesitates, my other half,” said Nightlight, and laid down upon the polished wooden floor, stretching his arms above his head and sighing as he cast his eye lights upon the twinkling crystals up above. The roof glittered, the roots appearing more like living fingers interlacing together to keep the hardened dirt from collapsing down. “He’s still afraid. He must fear that I shall wither away once again,” he said, and instead laid his hands above his chest, over his heart. “He is so cold, Nightmare. Even as I hold him, he’s so cold, and he’s unsure when he goes to hold me back. I wish I could help, but just my presence brings him pain; memories of that horrible day, I’m sure.”

The crystals twinkled, and the chimes sang.

“But…” Nightlight sat up, and he looked around the room, filled with tall shelves of books, tables decorated with trinkets and odd recreated big folk objects, the swirling stair that led to another room, the various archways leading to hallways into other rooms for him to explore over and over, and of course, the flower from which he’d been reborn through, now filled with pillows and tapestries made of silk, wool, and cotton, all soft and delicate; made for a fairy going to sleep.

“I believe it brings him… that it brings Error, Dream, and Ink as much peace as it does for you, Nightmare, to know that I am safe. To know that I will always be here,” said Nightlight, and closed his sockets as he smiled gently. “And that is good enough for me. I do not need the outside world.” He stood up, and as his pale wings dragged along the floor with each slow step, Nightlight came to stand in the middle of the room, beneath the glittering chandelier, hanging low with its pale blue, purple, and pale crystals, glowing dimly yet casting an ethereal light upon the room.

“I only need you all to come to me, to see me, to smile at me, to hold me, to kiss me, to sing to me,” whispered Nightlight, nearly singing as he danced slowly, holding around himself, “Come to me, and I shall forever be happy.”

[dent-de-leon]

Caleb sits upon an ornate throne, the Plank King kneeling on the cold hard floor at his feet. The dull ache of it is good, grounding, keeps him anchored when he starts drifting away. "Are...are you sure about this Tealeaf? You really want this?" "Only if it's you, Magic Man." "And...you are certain?"

"Please."

The Plank King doesn't beg, but it's a near thing.

A gentle hand alights on his cheek, soft and sweet.

Caleb's spell is a welcome reprieve; Kingsley sighs as he sinks boneless into waiting arms, enveloped in his Magician's warm embrace. Surrender on his own terms. Caleb weaves his spell with a delicate hand, binding Tealeaf with but the lightest, faintest touch.

He still remembers the very first touch of Caleb's magic, adrift and fading in the Astral Sea. Like a kiss or a soft caress, being enveloped in another's warmth. A stranger so achingly familiar, breathing life back into him at the edge of oblivion. "Live," that spark of magic begs, igniting a fire deep inside him, setting his shattered soul alight. A dying star burning in the darkness.

Gentle hands comb through his hair, sweep back dark wavy curls from sweat sheened skin, coaxing him to lie still and rest.

The first time he'd asked for this, Caleb just stared at him in disbelief. Too damn noble, too soft, too good. "You...want to be charmed?"

King tried to parse the words, heart heavy as a stone. "Not what they did to you," he chokes out in a rush, throat closing up. "Not like that. I...I'd never ask you for that, I swear. But I...I have all this stuff mixed up in my head, these pretty dreams and fucked up nightmares, and all these little fragments that could be memories, but it's not me, and...I just want it to be quiet, sometimes. It's killing me."

He doesn't say the rest--that his first true memory, his first real feeling, is that gentle brush of Caleb's magic, warm and tingling, binding to his very soul. How he still longs for it, aches for it, the only thing to ever keep him anchored in the vast, endless Astral Sea.

It's easy to submit when he feels that first brush of magic--ghosting on his skin, dizzyingly warm and tantalizing, molten heat and desire, the threadbare longing for more. And it's Caleb's touch, Caleb's will, that takes him apart so well.

It's not being strung up like a puppet, not...feeling something else in his skin, moving with his limbs, hollowing him inside out. It makes him feel safe. Whole.

Caleb reaches for that thread of fading consciousness and pulls, tugs at his heartstrings until he comes undone, unravelling like a soul shattered into stardust so long ago. "Like so much confetti," Lucien had said--as if that was all his mortal soul was worth, scattered leaves blown away in the wind.

All the noise and static of too many lives began to fade, all of it starting to flow and ebb away, a tide of tumultuous memories and distant dreams. Faces flickering one after another, phantom images, ghosts still haunting a soul long dead. Places, faded and forgotten, just the barest sketches and inkblots of impressions. All the voices from his dreams drowned out.

It's good--it's quiet, more peace than he's ever known. He lets himself fall back into that sunken place, lulled by gentle touches and hushed whispers. His limbs are heavy, sluggish, eyes starting to flutter closed.

Vaguely, he's aware of his Magician's softly lilting, soothing cadence. He doesn't know what was asked, not really, but he knows his answer all the same.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Kingsley whispers, head bowed. “I'm all yours."

He has to say the words, to give Caleb all of himself, or it won't mean a thing. The man risked everything before, laid his whole heart and soul bare for Lucien to rake his claws through. He can still feel the blood on hands that weren't his, throat scraped raw from his own anguished scream. He wants Caleb to do the same. An eye for an eye--"blood of mine for blood of yours." A prayer on his lips in the Sanguine Chapel, where he once knelt as he kneels now, and offers up his hollow heart.

But the bastard won't--won't let him repay that blood debt, won't take the only thing he has left to give.

I'm yours.

"Nein," Caleb whispers fiercely, fingertips trembling as he strokes King's cheek. "You belong to no one but yourself, Mr. Tealeaf. Do not give yourself away so freely--not after we fought so hard to save your immortal soul. You are...dear to us. To me. Never forget that. Please."

It's only cause you make it so easy, he thinks. You always had me.

"'m sorry, love," he mumbles blearily, tail curling idly as he turns to nuzzle his cheek into Caleb's palm, burrowing closer with a warm purr.

The gentle fingertips grazing his cheek feels like contrition, the light brush of a thumb over his lips tastes like forgiveness. He sighs, soft and sated, lets his eyes flutter shut as he focuses on the singular sensation of his magician’s tender touch.

"How I've longed to hold you like this, since you last went out to sea," Caleb sighs softly. His pretty blue eyes are glassy, watery, and Kingsley aches to bush his tears away.

One moment King is lying on the floor, the next he's on the throne, sprawled on Caleb's lap, tail curling to wind around him. Caleb pulls him closer still, lets Kingsley nestle into the crook of his neck, breathe in his familiar scent.

"Sleep," Caleb murmurs, a final order--a breathless plea. "Fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. No nightmares will find you here."

[cambion-companion]

Could you write something about Alicent and Aemond? Maybe he is anxious about becoming the father and doesn't want to speak to his wife about this matter and goes to his mother. She recalls what he was like after being born, that he was all sunshine until world's greedy hands (aka Viserys neglection and Aegon's bullying) hurt him so deeply. And then maybe Aemond promises himself that he will never allow to steal his child's happiness and he will do his best so his child will have happy childhood. And Alicent still blames herself she didn't bring justice to him after he lost an eye. So yeah, nostalgic moments between them. I am sucker for mommy and her war criminal moments.

Ohhhh the potential here is almost overwhelming, I hope I did them justice Nonny!

Aemond and Alicent | reader is "offscreen" and heavily pregnant

"You will be a wonderful father, just as you are a loving husband." Alicent rose from where she'd been seated before the crackling fireplace, taking her son's hands in her own. "Aemond." She coaxed him to look her in the eye. "Do not fear to become Viserys."

Aemond was silent, keenly watching his mother's earnest expression. He had not been able to sleep that night, so he slid silently out of bed, careful not to wake his sleeping wife, and found his way down the hall to Alicent's reading room. The anticipation of a new child in the Keep had kept her awake as well and Aemond soon found himself unburdening his worries upon her.

"I am worried about her safety as well as the babe's." Aemond spoke, his long fingers tightening inadvertently around his mother's hands. "It has been challenge enough seeing her suffer through this pregnancy, but to birth a child..." He trailed off, remembering the echoes of Helaena's anguish filling the halls of the Red Keep.

"It is the natural order of things." Alicent gave him a small smile, understanding alight in her brown eyes. "I remember giving birth to you and what a sweet little boy you were."

"Mother." Aemond groaned, pulling away from her to sit upon the sofa.

Alicent persevered, taking a seat beside him and taking his hand yet again. "The first is always the hardest and the most painful. She will have the best healers in the realm attending her. All will be well." Alicent ran her fingers through Aemond's hair which fell loose over his shoulders.

His shoulders relaxed at her touch as he leaned slightly into her, adjusting his weight on the cushions until his head rested against her chest. Alicent made a small comforting noise in the back of her throat, her fingers massaging Aemond's scalp in soothing circles.

"What can I do?" Aemond's voice was small, reminding Alicent of when he was just a little boy tugging on her skirts and asking to be lifted into her arms.

"Be there for her. Be there for your child." Alicent placed a kiss to his fair brow. "You've always been the most perceptive of my sons. The most sensitive."

Aemond sat up to look at her.

She ran a finger lightly along the scar on his cheek, her expression growing somber. "The gods have not been kind to you." She shook her head, auburn curls falling loosely about her face. "Yet you've risen up time and gain, beating every obstacle. This will be no exception."

Alicent's eyes closed as Aemond leaned forward to place a brief kiss to her forehead. "Thank you mother."

[kookieswan]

Red Light - Giggles

Notes: Just a little something for our RL loves.

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

Well… This is certainly a new development.

Namjoon giggles as he splashes paint on the canvas, eyes alight with wonder. You stare, eyes trained on the large man as he flits around the room, finding different brushes and paints to work with. It had worked for Yoongi, and now it seems to be a hit with the others.

‘Recreational time’ you had called it, telling Williams that it would be a new activity for all of your assigned patients. He had hated the idea, and in turn, Doctor Kim had loved the idea. That’s all it took for it to be given the green light .

Seokjin sits beside you, quietly observing his lover. You had invited him to paint as well, curious about their interactions, curious to see what kind of emotion he would being out in the other Nightmare… But he decided to sit and watch instead. You can’t blame him though, watching Namjoon dance around is as endearing as it is entertaining.

“He’s… Quite excitable when he gets like this. Has it always been this way….?” Namjoon picks up a paint bucket, throwing the whole thing on the canvas. It paints it a light blue, the color slowly dripping down onto the tarp below. A good investment, apparently; it’s stained with rainbows.

“Yes. He’s always been very curious, very sensitive to the world around him. Until recently, that is. It was quite… Shocking, let’s say, to see him like this…” Seokjin uncrosses his legs and then crosses them again, sitting back in the chair next to you comfortably. It’s likely the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him; pink hair on display and all. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was a fellow doctor by his composure.

Namjoon shouts suddenly, exclaiming as the canvas clatters to the floor after a particularly hard brush stroke. You watch closely as he simply shrugs, picking it up and putting it back. The smears don’t seem to bother him, not as he drags his fingers across the surface with a smile.

“… It’s odd, I feel like I know what triggers him to properly feel again… But then I’m simply thrown for another loop.” The sweets had been the opener, your gateway to getting him back on track. Now, however, it seems there’s many things that can rile him back into his former normalcy. It’s it progress…? Or is it a fluke?

Seokjin purses his lips, clearly thinking about what you’ve said. He snaps out of it suddenly when Namjoon skips up to him, grabbing for his hand. The other Nightmare readily gives it to him, not paying any mind to the paint that mars his lovers skin.

“Won’t Jinnie come paint with me…?” Seokjin pulls him forward carefully, cupping his hand around his ear. You can’t hear, but whatever he says makes the other man giggle before he skips away. The sight is foreign, but for some reason it makes you happy.

Seokjin stares at Namjoon, eyes unbelievably soft. He taps a finger against his thigh as the other man starts to paint again, some of it hitting the wall. So much for that tarp…

“I didn’t understand him at first, when I found him. It took me years; years upon years and then the realization smacked me across the face. It just clicked, and he’s been mine ever since.” You nod, the room going silent for only a moment. Blinking, you close your eyes just long enough for it to happen.

Paint hits your face and my clothes, a lime green that’s going to make you a beacon for the rest of the day. Kissing your teeth, you pretend to act annoyed when in reality, you’re just happy to see Namjoon having fun…. Even if it involves ruining your clothes.

“You can have him.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

A Perfect Night - A Fenriz/Reader One Shot Story.

My favourite Norwegian had me feeling a certain way. Got horny. Wrote it. Bon appetite.

Words - 1,882

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You knew you had to have him from the first moment you saw him. Tall, with long, silky brown hair, a haphazard collection of tattoos, and the brightest of blue eyes that seemed to shine like beacons whenever he was obviously speaking of something that set his soul alight. He might have played the darkest music known to man, been a pioneer of such, in fact, but to you, he was a puppy.  

A puppy you would have sold all your worldly goods to pet just once.  

But how to attract his attention? He very much seemed the type who looked beyond the outside, had girls throwing themselves at him often, yet none seemed to stick. He looked bored beyond the obvious admiration of their looks, not satisfied for long by beautiful legs or the salacious reveal of breasts, although such certainly didn’t go unnoticed. No. You knew he’d seek more. So that was what you gave. 

It took him a beat to notice you boldly pull up a chair beside him in the bar he was at, Fenriz doing a quick double-take with a slightly baffled smile. Oh, it only made him look even cuter.  

“Er, can I help you?” he asks, lips clamping to the glass in his hand, pulling back a large swig of beer. It shouldn’t have made your insides shudder, but it did.  

“Tell me five bands I wouldn’t have heard of that I should get into, and why.” 

Oh, that made his ears prick up. He looks to his cohorts and then back at you a couple of times, the action comedic, the larger of the men at the table waving his hand in your direction. 

“Go, go on. She’s waiting.”  

With that, he turns to you fully, placing his drink down as he leaned in close, resting his forearms to his thighs. “Okay. This may take some time.” 

Your lips tilted. “I’m here all night.” 

So, he begins. The more he speaks of each band, giving you a wealth of details, the more animated he becomes, his smile wide, impressed that you easily hang on every word. Some got bored when he went on at great length about music, but you play the captive audience to his detailed ramblings, nodding and smiling.  

When he notices your eyes touring him with appreciation, he seems to shy a little at times, letting his hair fall in front of his face, looking down before his gaze finds yours again. And still, you smile. You had no clue, but you were making his heart thunder rapidly.  

“Infernal Overkill is a solid debut, but you have to, I mean you have to listen to Release from Agony!” he enthuses while telling you of the fifth band on his list, a German thrash metal group named Destruction. He grabs your arms, waving them around, your hands curling up to grip his. 

“I have to, hmm?” 

“You do,” he confirms, his grasp slipping to your hands. “Or, I could take you back to my place and play it for you?”  

He doesn’t let go, fingers linking through yours, smiling when you reciprocate the squeeze. “Let’s go.” He sinks his beer in one gulp, excusing himself to his friends. Outside, the night carries with it the slightest hint of drizzle, the chill of autumn making you shiver. He notices.  

“Here.” Shrugging himself from his leather jacket, he drapes it over your shoulders. Ahhh, chivalry. It only adds to the fact you already think he’s the most adorable guy you’ve met in months, sliding your arms in with a smile. 

“Won’t you get cold?” 

He crinkles his nose at such a suggestion. “No. I run hot anyway.”  

Interesting choice of words. “Yeah,” you hum, moving in front of him, your hands press to his chest. “You really do.” Leaning to him, he doesn’t hesitate in bridging the gap, mouth landing upon yours as his hands slide to grip your waist. He kisses beautifully, with the kind of finesse that for some reason you weren’t expecting, feeling the first flutters of arousal tingle in you as you wind your arms around his neck.

Blocking the narrow pavement, people have to walk around you to pass, muttering their indignance. He pulls from your lips momentarily to voice his thoughts. “Fuck off.” You snicker, and he kisses it from you again, fingers swirling over your lower back as those kisses gain heat rapidly.  

His eyes burn cobalt when you finally pull from the kiss, a kiss that truly couldn’t have continued because... well... it would definitely have led to a little public indecency.  

“Wow, that went right to my...” you trail off, watching him smirk. 

“Hm. Same.” Pulling you against him, you feel it poke your belly, laughing and hiding your face against his chest for a moment. “Now I have to walk with a damned tent pole.” That truly rouses a barked laugh, Fenriz taking your hand in his as you continue to walk, adjusting his jeans while giving you a side eye that lets it be known, his current state is all your fault.  

His apartment is a short bus ride away, and by the time you arrive, you’ve all but forgotten about the album you went there to hear. Not that it was much more than a ploy to get you somewhere alone, he still searches through his extensive vinyl collection and locates it, putting it on.  

You make no effort to move a further path from your place in the doorway, taking off his jacket and hanging it onto the open door itself, pulling off your boots and thick socks, your dress following. As soon as he turns away from studying the record sleeve, his pupils ink, rising to his feet as he pulls off his long-sleeved t shirt.  

You giggle against his mouth as he charges you backwards, hands placing rhythmic, rapid slaps to your bum, pushing the bedroom door open and herding you onto the bed. The only light that spills in glows amber from the opposite lounge, just enough to see him still, your eyes following the paths your hands roam over his body. His work much quicker, your underwear disposed of rapidly, the feeling of his cock pressing hard through denim at your apex making heat mist your insides, your tongues circling as you pant with longing for one another.

He moves his mouth swiftly over your skin, not savouring any part of you particularly long in his quest to descend, the excitement of it pooling in your tummy, gratification glimmering over you when your feel his tongue swipe firmly through your folds. You gasp, fingers rooting in his mountain of soft hair, his hands splaying your thighs wider, making you spread for him.  

He pauses, smiling, the sight of your sex glinting in the low light pleasing, even more so your taste as his tongue returns to you, pressing a firm circle upon your clit. It sends streaks of pleasure through you, intensified when his lips close to suck, the pressure harder than you’re used to, a surge of ebullience skittering up your spine. Is this really you right now? Lying upon the bed of a musician you’ve respected for so long, his mouth rooted firm between your legs?  

It feels surreal, the excitement of it cording your muscles, your thighs trembling as the fast flicker of his tongue has you crying out, heat flaring around that point of contact as you squirm upon the bed. His mouth settles into your folds, like it was always destined to end up there, and the heat of it scorches at the base of your spine. His hands move from their clutch upon your thighs, grasping at your breasts, nipples toyed with as his tongue works you with heavy sweeps.  

It’s so good, you know not whether you’re pressing nearer or pulling away, hips rocking against his mouth, your edges catching upon his flame when suddenly you’re bereft, watching him move to remove his jeans. You hear the rattle of his wallet chain, a moment’s search before it clunks heavy to the floor, turning back to you while ripping a condom wrapper with his teeth. 

“Oh, and I was all set to return the favour,” you purr, watching him smile, a speedy wink making your chest flutter. 

“Later.” He leans to you, mouth closing around your nipple as he settles between your thighs, sinking into the slick wet of you with a soft grunt, teeth teasing a little pain as they close upon the furled peak. Your mouth drops open, impressed at what you feel gliding to fill you, not huge, but by no means small. Decent. Very, very decent, and exactly what you crave.  

His mouth covers your neck in kisses, his pulse soaring as he watches you enjoy his cock, gliding back and forth from the soaking clasp of your cunt steadily, hands stroking scorching paths of heat over your thighs. It winds slow like a summer tempest, the pleasure biting like the first chill of autumn as he spears a little deeper, making you cry out, your nails dragging down his arms.  

He shifts up a little, hooking an arm beneath your leg to lever it forward, sinking into you even deeper, sparks crackling heat beneath your skin from each fluid thrust. The sensations sharpen as he adds speed, your mewls filling the air as your muscles tense, walls fluttering on him in appreciation of his fuck. Sparks scrape over your nerves as he pushes his thumb to your slick clit, stroking back and forth, the lewd, wet smack of his body rutting yours only adding to his arousal, leaning to you, mouth claiming your lips hungrily as he groans against your tongue.  

“Oh fuck, like that, just like that, ohhh!” you cry, nails imbedding into his shoulders as he pounds you into the bed, mouth leaving a scorching path of rabid bites and licks across your neck and chest. 

You feel like he’s about to go through you as the pace rapidly reaches frenzy, muscles tightening, hands clenching on one another, his so far fairly quiet groans amping up as he fights past the tight clasp of your walls around him. With a feral cry, you shatter like antique glass as the angle of his cock and press of his thumb sends you into nirvana, a state he joins you in with a deep groan, his body still moving rapidly. It begins to slow, tiny twitches of ecstasy ebbing away slowly, resting his forehead to your chest.  

“Fuck,” he breathes, chest still heaving hard, looking down at you with a very satisfied grin. “I enjoyed that.” 

“Yeah,” you pant, “me too. Will you do it to me all over again if I ask you for another five band recommendations?” 

He laughs, low and throaty, kissing between your breasts a couple of times. “Probably.” 

You don’t even need to ask him anything. All he needs is half an hour to recover and he’s on you again. You’re all the incentive he requires, apparently. Still, it doesn’t stop him from offering a plethora of bands you should give your time to in between bouts of fucking you into the small hours, though. A perfect night, you have to admit.  

[gay-dorito-dust]

If you're open to requests would you write “are you hurt? you look hurt, are you sure everything’s okay?” from your prompt list with George Karim?

Again my brain is still firmly fixated on a spn x lockwood and Co crossover. They fit perfectly in my minds eye. Also I kinda had to break off the prompt a little.

“Hey Casper, why don’t you quit being a pansy arse and come on out for a friendly chat.” You spoke aloud in the dimly light hallway, progressing slowly as you searched room after room for the damned ghost, “I promise I don’t bite.” You add as you tighten your grip on your shotgun. “Much.”

You were currently on a solo ghost hunt in an abandoned warehouse where sketchy people relocated to do their dealings in and from what you gathered, there had been sightings from said dealers of an ghost that has been killing them off one by one in brutal fashion, but the authorities had all but swept it under the rug; seeing this as an golden opportunity to minimise the already alarming percentage of drug dealings within town.

You, however, had been itching for a simple salt and burn for a long while and weren’t about to pass up the chance of shooting some spectral visitors in the face with a shotgun full of rock salt, rather then fending them off with a flimsy Rapier; You had nothing against them but you preferred the way you’ve been taught to hunt over how people these days were being taunt.

You mean sure, it was effective and surfactant but you’ve always hated playing by someone else’s rules. You missed the tales Dean would tell you during his hunting youth but since his passing all you had left of him was his hunting gear, his hunting journals and the impala; All of which you took extremely good care of.

So when the ghost didn’t appear at your taunt, you began to grow annoyed and started doubting the dealers accounts of what happened. They could’ve been high for all you knew and the ghost they claimed to have seen was merely a symptom of the hallucinate drugs they’ve taken prior. However the sounds you’ve picked up on from your little ghostly visitor told you that there was a legit presence here and it was just fucking with you at this point and finding humour in your frustrations.

“Oh, just come on out so we can get this over with you shitty, fuckin-“ before you could finish your sentence the ghost appeared behind you and was about to make a grab for you when you managed to get out of dodge; taking a chest shot at it with your iron crowbar, causing it to dissipate briefly before coming back for another go at you from up close this time and before you could get a clear shot of it.

The ghost used it’s powers to push into a nearby wall, making a decent dent in it, which sent your gun from your hand and skidding just away aways from the ghost. “Simple salt and burn my arse.” You groaned in pain as the ghost was fast approaching you; Gifting no room for you to get back to your feet before being flung once again into a metal shelving rack which collapsed upon impact with your body and you to yelp in even more pain.

“Give me time to get up you unfair prick!” You exclaimed as the ghost appeared before you again, prepping to throw you for a third time, that was until you managed to act quick enough and grab an broken piece of iron, jabbing it into the ghost as it disappeared and within the short time span that you had; you ran back to your gun just in time to get a shot in when the ghost got uncomfortably close.

“Prick.” You spat as you limped out of the warehouse towards the sight where you found the bones of the ghost you needed to salt and burn- just behind the warehouse funnily enough- though not before parking the impala nearby for easier access for a quick getaway should the situation became too dire for you to handle single-handedly.

You nabbed the gasoline from the back of the impala and dumped the whole canister onto the bones before struggling to set the match alight that soon sent the bones into an fiery inferno. Ending the ghost’s reign of terror.

After concluding the case, you dragged your battered and bruised self back to the Impala, groaning in discomfort as you shifted into the driver seat before driving back to 35 Portland Row, London, aka where the people you’ve considered family were waiting.

By the time you got back to Lockwood and Co, you were barely able to stand from both your injuries and the fatigue that was quick to catch up to you directly after the adrenaline rush wore off. “Ah shit.” You cursed under your breath when you noticed that one of the wounds you’ve sustained was starting to bleed and were quick to press a hand against it as you stumbled in through the hallway.

“Y/n?” George’s voice called from the kitchen as his footsteps were quick and hurried as though he was in a rush to see you. “I’m fine!” You called out but it was too late to hide anything as George was stood across from you in the hallway, his dark, expressive eyes glanced from one wound to another. “Are you hurt? That’s a stupid question because You look hurt.” his rambling came to a stop when he saw the pain flash across your face as you put down more pressure on one of your more concerning wounds, “I’m okay.” You grunted.

“Okay? Are you sure everything’s okay because to me it looks like your bleeding out in the middle of the hallway.”

“It’s tomato sauce.” You defended as George was then set off into another rambling rant as he ride himself of his apron, tossing it onto one of the backs of the chairs before rushing to your side to support your weight as he helped you to the bathroom where the first aid was safely kept.

“George, I can patch myself up.” You whined as you were sat on the toilet seat whilst George pulled out the first aid kit, shooting you an concerned glare as his eyes once again scanned of your form. “Not in that state your not,” he tells you, “you look at though you went at it with a cinder block for a concerning amount of time and won by pure dumb luck.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle which only ended in you wincing in pain. “Stop making me laugh, I’m hurt and blessing all over the toilet seat.” You whined lightly.

“So you’re finally admitting that your not okay and that mysterious red stuff standing the carpet down stairs isn’t tomato sauce? Gee, nice to know and here I thought you were just pulling a belated April fools prank on me.” He utters sarcastically as he pulled together everything he needed before patching you up gingerly.