#bud the driving dog

[catpartyletsgo]

'Bud' the First Dog to Travel Across the US by Automobile

In 1903, Dr. Horatio Nelson Jackson decided that he would become the first man to drive across the US in the newly invented automobile. Jackson had been looking for a small dog to accompany him on his trip across the US, and in Idaho, due to happenstance, he got his dog. Jackson & his partner left Caldwell, ID early on the morning of June 12, but soon Jackson realized he had left his coat at the…

[minzart]

Btw I loved krypto the superdog animation and the hyenas with bathound where, unsurprisingly, my favorites

[tyrianlynch]

Sigh. You guys. I’m feeling rather trapped. Like a 16 year old girl stuck atop a mountain with no way of getting down.

[macmanx]

Horatio Nelson Jackson (March 25, 1872 – January 14, 1955) was an American automobile pioneer. In 1903, he and driving partner Sewall K. Crocker became the first people to drive an automobile across the United States.

The description fails to mention the third member on this wacky adventure, Bud:

[jojoturnip]

Bitch I'm not fucking leaving you shut the hell up

big fan of characters with abandonment + attachment issues so profound that they leave claw marks in everything they touch but would sooner gnaw off their own leg than admit they just want someone to stay for once. in a totally normal well adjusted and not at all projecting way of course.

[jahsontodd]

i think airlines truly underestimate how much money i would pay to fly with my dog in cabin like they are... truly so behind

[gojosprettyprincess]

"Pleasepleaseplease m'gonna cum, can I cum please, wanna fill you up s'badly" he begged looking down at you with those desperate eyes prickling with tears, you felt his cock twitching inside of you as he's recklessly rutting his hips deeper into you, the audible squelch of your cunt was absolutely filthy, He was pounding you so fucking hard, like a desperate dog in heat. One thing about Choso is that he gets absolutely fucking wild when he's close to cumming, your cunt drives him crazy.

"Y-yesyes cho g-go ahead" you blattered out, shaking your head in affirmation. That's just all he needed to hear before emptying his balls into your tight little cunny. "M'cumming, M'cumming! Fuckkkk" he cried out, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt, he continues pounding you, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into your hole before he collapses on top of you, panting and breathing heavily while reaching to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the small bud while his seed is leaking out of your pussy, dripping onto your asshole and onto the bedsheets.

He continues circling his tongue around your nipple, sucking on it like a hungry little baby while pinching the other one, groaning while looking up at your face, to see how good he's making you feel, he loves it so much, looking at your face while he fucks you, seeing how your eye roll back while your moaning and clenching around his cock, it makes him feel proud because he's the cause of it.

He releases his mouth from your boob, moving up to your neck, trailing wet kisses from your neck to your jawline while murmuring "I love you, Love you s'fucking much" ,his hot breathe fanning your skin before moving his head back down to bury it in the crook of your neck, while your brushing your fingers through his messy hair damp with sweat. "I love you too choso" you replied smiling, playfully messing up his hair, while his cock is still buried deep inside of you to the hilt.

Bonus

This is what Choso would sound like when he's about to cum. ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

[werecreature-addicted]

Have you ever written about an amnesiac werewolf? Like the reader finds a poor lost soul in the forest and takes them in, unknowingly dooming herself to becoming a breeding pet when the moon strikes and his instincts take over? He doesn't know what's come over him. He really doesn't. :'(

TW: car accidents. dubcon. do i know anything about hospitals? no. shhh. enjoy the werewolf porn.

You've grown quite attached to John Doe. He came in three days ago, he'd been "found" naked wandering a forest road at night and gotten cleaned out by a driver in a pickup truck. The driver said he thought he hit a dog or a deer that had wandered onto the road and was horrified to see a man there instead lying bloody on the asphalt.

Despite how bad John Doe looked when he was wheeled into your clinic, he'd been recovering quite nicely. He was even conscious now although he didn't seem to remember anything from before the accident. That coupled with the fact that he was found naked in the woods, it was proving difficult to contact any friends or family who might be able to give a concrete identity.

You weren't too worried though. It was a small community, and you were sure someone who knew him would turn up eventually. As for you, this was a slow time of year for a humble trauma center doctor, you were able to spend lots of time with your favorite amnesiac. It was a little miraculous really how well he was recovering everything but his memory. If you didn't know any better you'd say it was supernatural.

You found yourself spending more and more time with your John Doe, he was sweet and funny, Not to mention he was very attractive, even bloody and bruised. Although the budding warmth you felt for him was tainted slightly both by the fact that he was your patient and the nagging worry in the back of your head that this wasn't the real him. This could all be a false personality that he would lose once he got his memories back.

You'd already started toying with a daydream where once recovered John Doe would still come by to visit you. You shake your head and try to dispel those fantasies from your mind. You mentally chided yourself, you weren't a teenager with a crush you should be handling yourself more professionally than this. Still, your heart raced when he smiled at you.

In the end, it wasn't a friend or family member who revealed who John Doe really was, but it was the summer rain. You were just about to leave for the night when you started getting phone calls. A bad storm was coming in and soon it wouldn't be safe to drive on the largely dirt roads in this town, no one would be coming up to fill in the night shift. You could make it home safe if you left now. But that would mean abandoning your patient and you couldn't do that. So instead you just sighed and hunkered down preparing to wait out the storm inside the hospital.

John Doe was more than happy to have your company- he liked you better than any of the overnight team anyway, and over the past day he'd begun to feel strange. Not in pain just energized in a usual way. there was a tingling sensation just below his skin, he felt hungry but not for food. He couldn't really put a name to the strange pressure in his body, he only knew that it was growing and it made him want to keep you close.

You were in the break room when it happened. You were trying to figure something out for dinner which was hard with only vending machine options available when lightning strikes and the lights die. you hesitate, waiting for backup generators but only the red EXIT lights stay on, casting an eerie red glow to the room. You were just starting to pull open cabinets looking for a flashlight when you heard a loud crash and what sounded like an animal growl. Your heart stops and before you can think you're running toward the sound relying on muscle memory to navigate the darkened halls.

You freeze seeing the hulking form of a wolf over the tipped-over bed of John Doe. How the hell did a wolf get in here? And alone. Even panicked you know something isn't right. Wolves don't come this close to humans, they don't attack humans and they never ever do it alone. Then the wolf looks at you and stands on its hind legs and you realize it's not a wolf but a monster.

Your hands tremble, you should run- call the sheriff- search the lost and found for a gun and shoot the damn thing. But you can't bring yourself to run. The creature in front of you is awe-inspiring despite your fear, you're curious. Then the monster moves and the interest vanishes. Again your body moves before your brain can think you turn and run. You don't look behind as you run but you can hear the beast howl and the solid thud thud thud as it chases after you.

It's a small emergency room, you know there's nowhere to hide unless the werewolf can read and respect "staff only" signs. You feel a large clawed hand wrap around your waist your legs are still kicking trying to run as you're lifted in the air by the monster.

"You took such good care of me...now let me take care of you, sweet mate," the werewolf growls in your ear, turning you to face him, forcing you to look at his hulking monstrous form. You struggle futilely in his grasp he's strong and you can see his muscles bulge under his dark black fur. Lightning strikes again illuminating his sharp white teeth and his bright hungry eyes.

It takes you a moment to catch up to the fact that 1. The werewolf had spoken and 2. That he had promised to "take care of you". Before you can catch your breath let alone ask what that meant he's shoving you down onto the cold linoleum floor, shredding your pants with one clawed hand and the other he presses down hard on your back in between your shoulder blades keeping you pinned to the floor. You can feel his warm breath on your exposed skin as he huffs your scent. you can't see him but you know he's drooling. The attention makes you tremble, and then he pushes his thick rough tongue against your body and you moan. His tongue is thick and wet against your trembling cunt. He can't keep his hands to himself, his clawed hand wraps around your breast squeezing as he pulls you back against his hungry lapping mouth.

You can't keep your moans to yourself. The little cries of pleasure slip from your mouth only making the beast more aggressive as he eats you out. Eventually, you give up trying to even hold back the sounds or pretend that you aren't enjoying the ravishment.

It doesn't take much longer for you to cum, he doesn't pull away when you reach your peak. He pushes his tongue deep inside of you savoring the flavor of your cum and the fact that he had successfully pulled an orgasm from you just like he'd promised. His tail wags as he cleans you up, then you start getting wet again and he's not cleaning you up as much as he is eating you out again. His cock hangs heavy between his legs too big and thick for his erection to lift so it just throbs with need and drips thick beads of precum onto the clean floor.

He can't quite decide what he needs more, to jerk himself off or to keep both his hands on you. Eventually, his own ache can't be ignored and he starts to jerk himself off. it doesn't take long for him to cum the sweet flood of your cum just drives him insane. his knot swells pitifully as his semen splatters against your legs and ass dripping down to your pussy. two of his clawed fingers scoop up some of his spilled seed and push it inside of you.

"Next time I cum tonight it's going to be inside of you." It sounds like a threat, you can't wait.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

i need more of that Shameless toji fic, god please

i'm SICK 😭😭😭

Shameless Mini Drabble

Tags: dilf!Toji x fem!Reader, reader is pregnant, breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, all the kinks idk, smut, nsfw, mdni

An: Hi! A lot of people requested a part two of the Shameless fic I posted not too long ago. I actually never intended on continuing that story because I figured no one would really like the ending lol (everyone seems to hate the pregnancy trope at the end), but I’m not opposed to writing one-offs with those characters.

“Mmmn~ So pretty, mama.” Toji’s voice quietly rasps out after he unlatches from your nipple. He’s been excessively attached to you recently, and you have a sneaking suspicion it’s because you’re starting to show.

Your belly is starting to take shape, and you have a small little bump. Pants were starting not to fit you anymore, and you have noticed a lot more new symptoms as well.

Achy breasts are one of them.

“Toji… please, it hurts..” You softly whimper as you roll your head to the other side of the pillow. He’s been going at this for at least an hour: gently torturing you with his mouth.

“I know it does.” He purrs lowly before lapping his tongue over the small bud of nerves again, causing for you to shudder. “It’ll start feeling good soon. Just trust me.”

His mouth gently clasps back over your nipple, and his eyes flutter shut. His hand is mindlessly toying with the other one — making sure it doesn’t “feel left out”.

Your nose scrunches at the odd feeling. Your breasts were so sore these days it was torture having to put on a bra (Toji definitely advocated for you not to wear one anymore), but right now the pain was tolerable while he was stimulating you.

Your back subtly arches off the bed as a small hum emits from your mouth. You’re starting to feel a different sort of ache between your thighs. You press your legs together, trying to cope with the feeling of your panties growing damp.

Toji slowly pulls away and smirks up at you. “Told you that you’d start feeling good soon.” He teases with almost a smoldering look in his eye.

“Shut up.” You mutter out as you look away from him, feeling embarrassed that it was so easy for him to get you in the mood.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t you get an attitude with me because your pussy likes me so much.” Toji continues on with his teasing, and his fingertips just barely brush against your core, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

With a small chuckle, Toji pulls off your sleeping pants and panties. “Oh, poor thing.” He muses as he gazes between your thighs.

You quickly cross your legs with a huff. “Don’t say those things while you look down there!” You whine with a pout. You loved how vocal Toji could be in bed, but sometimes, it made you feel all shy and embarrassed.

He rolls his eyes and places his hands on his knees before he forces your legs apart. “Don’t try to hide ‘er from me.” He chastises as he leans down between your legs, pressing a soft kiss at the very top of your core. He can almost smell your arousal like a damn dog, and his mouth starts to literally water from the promise of your cunt.

“She’s cryin’ for me.” He drawls lazily as he licks a stripe between your glistening folds. “Mmm, she wants to be bred so badly, yet she doesn’t know I’ve already done that.”

Your hands fist at the sheets as he teases you. Your body is restless, moving around to try to feel something. The under stimulation was going to kill you. “Toji, please.” You whine to him, trying to make him speed things along.

Toji’s pretty green eyes look up at you as he laps at you again. His dick throbs in his pants as he realizes your getting desperate. “What is it, pretty mama?” He doesn’t break eye contact as he goes in for another lick.

Your body shudders as you hold his gaze pathetically. He’s so fucking good at driving you up a wall. He literally fucked you this morning, and you’re already so pent up again. “More — please, I.. I need more.” You beg to him.

His tongue immediately swirls around your clit in tight circles, causing for you to hiccup and gasp. Your juices are practically flooding his chin. “Greedy pussy.” He mutters lowly before giving the small bundle of nerves a gentle suckle. “Always so desperate to be bred by my cock.”

After another torturously slow lick, Toji gently places his thumb against your clit, and he rubs in small circles. His eyes are fixated on the way your cunt clenches around nothing. Your body is practically begging to be filled by him!

“You know, most animals don’t fuck while pregnant. Biologically, there’s no point to it. Maybe I should wait until you pop my brat out before I fuck you.” He suggests with a small smirk.

“W-what-?” You immediately ask in a pouty tone. Realistically, you know Toji’s just bluffing, but you’re in such a vulnerable state that you immediately try to dispel his claims. You know, so he’ll fuck you. “That’s.. mmnf~.. that’s not true, Toji… Cats can have a litters from - hah! .. multiple dads. That means they fuck while pregnant.”

“What are you suggesting, slut?” His voice drops to a dangerously low warning tone, and he adds pressure to your clit. “You tryin’ to get fucked by another dad?”

“No-!” You immediately cry out as you feel his thumb bringing you dangerously close to the edge. He’s so mean when he gets jealous. He gathers spit into his mouth before he expels a glob of his saliva onto your pretty cunt. The sticky wet sounds only grow in volume as he continued to rub. “I only w-want you, daddy.”

Toji grits his teeth upon hearing you profess your want to him. His dick is painfully hard as he’s been carefully grinding himself into the mattress while he was eating you out. He wants to feel you so bad; his dick is practically pulsing your name in morse code.

“Atta girl.” He grunts as he removes his hand. You immediately start to whine and protest since you were so close. His hands push down his boxers, and his cock immediately springs upwards from the confines of his clothes. His tip was an angry shade of red from neglect, and there was a small pearl of pre-cum gathered on his slit.

“Let’s see if you’re still stretched from this morning, eh?” He muses as he gathers your legs, and he places them on his shoulders. He doesn’t put you in a full mating press out of fear of making you feel uncomfortable with your bump, but he keeps your body at a 90 degree angle.

He holds your gaze as he presses his cock against your entrance. He’s slow to push himself in, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from busting inside you prematurely. Your cunt is just so fucking warm, and you’re practically gushing around him.

The ring of muscle makes a sort of ‘pop’ feeling as his tip bullies its way inside of you. “Fuuuuck, mama..” He groans as his hands grip onto your thighs tightly. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes himself in until he’s buried to the hilt. Your gummy walls pulses around him as feeling so full pushes you right over the edge. Your head tilts back with a loud moan.

“Did you just cum from me puttin’ it in-?” He asks as he eyes you closely. A dangerous chuckle escapes him. “I’m gonna mmf- fuckin’ marry you one day, doll.” He professes as his hips go to work, pounding himself into you.

Your eyes cross as you’re completely blissed out — already so ruined, and Toji’s only just started on his fun. He grabs at your thighs and pulls you into him with harsh thrusts. His broad chest is barely covered by your legs as you’re just a little thing compared to him.

Toji groans as your pussy is squelching around him with each thrust. He can’t decide if he wants to look at your pretty cunt taking him so well or your face as he makes you take his fat cock while you’re so sensitive. Your little fucked out face is quite literally a masterpiece to him.

“Mmnn~ daddy-! Ah..” You’re a babbling mess, calling him by his government name and by your little nickname for him.

“Feels good, don’t it?” He asks as his reaches down and starts to rub tight circles on your clit.

“Y-yes!” You hiss as your back arches off the bed. Your thighs are already trembling, and your slick pools on the sheets below you, creating quite the mess.

“Shh, shh.. don’t wake that brat up, you hear?” He warns. Little Megumi has only recently started sleeping the whole night in his own room, and Toji has been taking full advantage of that. Normally you two will sneak off for quickies in the bathroom or laundry room, but now, he’s keen on taking you in the middle of the night and waking you up with your cunt full of his cum.

“Hah~ ah..” You pant as your hips start to flutter upwards to meet his with each thrust.

“Dirty fucking girl.” He muses as he watches you try to fuck yourself on his cock. He adores when you get so desperate like this, like a little fucktoy who can’t help themselves. “Just need to be bred, huh?”

“Ngh.. please Toji..”

“Nuh uh. Ask me properly, doll.”

“Please breed me, d-daddy!”

Toji leans in a bit, almost forcing your body into a mating press. His hips slam into yours; his tip kissing strings of pre-cum onto your cervix. He becomes so animalistic when he’s close like this. “Yeah? Again? Want daddy to breed you again?” He growls lowly as he continues to stuff you full of his cock.

Fat overstimulated tears slip down your cheeks as you spasm around him once again. Toji’s hand reaches up and grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking you to look up at him before he forces his lips onto yours.

His cock then pulses inside of you, shooting rope after rope of warm cum deep inside your core. It seems like he never runs out. As if his body has to keep up with his almost breeding kink.

His rough hungry kiss slowly calms as he empties himself into you. He gently helps your legs off of his shoulders, and his kisses turn tender and loving. Post-nut clarity hit, and he remembers that you’re his pregnant girlfriend. He’s almost angry with himself for being so rough sometimes.

“Did so good, doll. You hurtin’ anywhere?” He asks between soft kisses.

“No… I think I’m okay… just sore.”

In between his wet loving kisses, a knock on your bedroom door could be heard. “Mama.. papa..” A small voice sniffles from the other side with another small knock. Poor Megumi had a nightmare… something about papa making mama scream? Weird.

Tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby @gojosburger @sparkling-obsidian @thatonehotguy15 @honey-teaaaaaaaa @saucypeanuttt @3llawrit3s @viecyi @fancyzombiepuppy @missthatgirl @desscries @alaida777 @kuro-chi69

[tacticalprincess]

wowza, the first time I've ever made a request on Tumblr, but I just love your writing so much!!!

Just here to request more about Konig and his love for tiddies

Thanks for your service🩷🩷

könig and period boobs…

due to his obvious obsession, könig has picked up on the fact that some days out of the month, your breasts get noticeably fuller and bigger, and his infatuation with them somehow grows. his already insatiable need to have them in his hands gets worse, coming up behind you to grope them under your shirt at random times out of the day. he tries his best to quell his excitement when you complain about how tender they are, how sore your nipples feel, knowing you won’t be wearing a bra for the next week or so. he feels selfish and guilty for getting gratification out of your pain, but he’s transfixed by the way they bounce while you walk around the house wearing his shirt as a dress.

generously, he’ll offer you a massage, instructing you to sit on his lap so he can rub them for you. his cock pulses and hardens in his pajama pants at how heavy they feel in his hands, how fat and full they look, giving the illusion that you’re storing milk. that thought drives him insane, the rough pads of his thumbs circling along your sensitive nipples, swallowing your gasps of pain while he tongues into your warm mouth. he’ll pinch your hard buds just to feel you squirm and try to writhe out of his broad lap, his hips bucking into the feeling of your pad pressed snugly against his hard boner through your underwear.

he’ll watch your reaction as he ducks down to catch a nipple between his lips, lapping softly at it with his tongue, his suckles starting off gentle and coating your chest in drool. still, your face twists in discomfort, whining as you attempt to push his head away, but the way your cunt grinds all over his dick betrays you, and könig takes it as encouragement. he’ll make you cum in your panties just like that, whimpering as he sloppily makes out with your tender, sore breasts, his large hands guiding you to fuck yourself on his lap. he’ll press sparse, gentle kisses to them after he’s finished as an apology, and you can’t stay mad at the glossy puppy dog eyes he gives you, especially not after making you orgasm so intensely.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

Showering with RAFE CAMERON always seems promising. The potential to be intensely romantic, stuck in a close and steamy location completely naked, washing and massaging each other, watching his dick physically fill out at the sight of your soapy tits. Instead, it’s cut and dry. Practically formal as he focuses on getting in and out. While he’s in the shower, he’s got a routine, a list of things he needs to complete and they have to be in order. The last thing he wants is a distraction, and he purely allows you in during his private shower time because “You’re like a dog, you know? You’ve got like… separation anxiety or something.”

Nevertheless you enjoy it. You listen to him when he directs you away from the faucet for his turn, you get a front row seat to how he scrubs shampoo into his hair and the suds run down his contracting muscles, sometimes he even lets you cling onto him. You wrap your arms around his waist as he rinses his conditioner, soapy bodies sliding against one another as you stamp your cheek onto his chest. Hot water runs down, warming the two of you as you share the faucet, and the remnants of slippery conditioner form a film on your skin.

What’s even rarer is when he’s in an uncharacteristically frisky mood during it. For the most part, showering is a utility, no room for fun. But a variation can be seen from time to time, taking advantage of his good mood. You can tell he wants it when he swats your little ass as you walk in, eyeing it up as it ripples from the impact, growling at the sight of it. He follows in right after you, keeping close behind you as you enter the stall, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t go first, he lets you do as you please, dunking your head under the spray to wet your hair, and he rubs circles into your hips. Brain— usually running wild with his extensive to-do list— is now empty, save for the image of fucking you right now, bouncing your ass on his cock. All he’d have to do is bend you down with a splayed hand on your back, give his dick a few yanks, and tuck it inside, he knows you’re slick enough. And if you’re not, getting fucked like he owns you will certainly do the trick.

“Rafe?” you call, snapping him out of trance but not freeing him of his dirty thoughts, drawing his lower lip between his teeth as he keeps his eyes on the curves of your backside. He hums, and you nod to yourself, having to keep your eyes closed to protect them from the shampoo that trails down your forehead. “You wanna rinse?” you ask politely, realizing how long you’ve been under the faucet for.

“Nah, baby, do what you need to do. Y’look damn good doing it.” Another swat to your ass deepens the blush of his handprint from earlier, and you squeak. “Fuck.” You wet your hair again, washing the suds down so you can see, but he’s already decided what he’s going to do to you. Big hand slots in between your legs, stooping to reach as his fingertips scoop, and brush your clit. You jolt from the sensitivity, unconsciously lifting your leg with a tilt of your hips to accommodate him. His middle finger passes through your slit, witnessing the moisture that’s already accumulated there. A little feigned gasp sounds behind you. “Princess, you’re so wet.” he murmurs the observation, like you expected something like this to happen. You brace against the tile, and try to look over your shoulder at him. “Can’t be walkin’ around like this acting like I’m not going crazy over here.” He chases your cunt as you squirm, using your slick to rub circles into your bud. That hand clamped on your hip yanks you back, controlling your escape from him as he mercilessly swipes at your clit. It makes your legs shake.

Only when your overcompensating pussy drips pre-cum down your thighs does he let up with driving your clit insane, diving two fingers into your hole without hesitation. You cry out, clawing at wall as your tits press into that cold tile. To get a better angle, he wedges his wrist in the crook of your ass cheeks, watching them jiggle as he sets the pace, slamming his fingers in to the hilt. Even though the shower’s running, he can still hear your cunt make music for him as he fucks it with his fingers.

[littlexdeaths]

steve harrington x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: injured steve, unprotected piv sex, car sex

a/n: this is an old blurb of mine that i’ve re-edited and added onto. i am the biggest slut for a injured man what can i say? enjoy xx.

steve is bloody, bruised and completely exhausted.

fighting off demo-dogs and billy hargrove really did a number on him. the blossoming bruises beneath his eyes and the brightly colored band-aid on his forehead are a testament to that.

but that didn’t stop him from wanting you any less, his chapped lips beginning to roam the expanse of your throat after you dropped dustin off at home.

“steve, baby…” you sigh, gripping tighter onto the steering wheel. “let me get you home first, so i can clean you up.”

steve just groans against your skin, his hands starting to wander further south as you continue the drive towards his house. you don’t make it much farther though, having to pull off on the side of the deserted road as his fingers unbutton your jeans.

“steven,” your attempts to scold him are all but futile as his fingers slip beneath the fabric of your panties and it comes out as more of a breathy plea instead.

“we almost could’ve died back there, honey,” he answers, circling over your bud as he nips at your overheated skin. “just don't wanna waste another second with you.”

he quickly removes his hand from your center, helping you out of your jeans and into the backseat of his car. steve coaxes you onto his lap, gripping your hips tightly in his large hands. your thighs bracket his own, the heat from his body radiating through the denim.

your lips brush against his bloody ones with the utmost care, as to not cause him any more discomfort. but steve isn’t having it, pressing his lips more firmly against yours with a deep seated groan.

“no need to be so gentle, baby,” he chuckles. “i’m not gonna break.”

his words seem to be a direct contradiction of his current state, but there’s no use in arguing with him. especially when you want him just as badly. your hips grind down as he kisses you with an urgency you’ve never experienced before. your clit catches against the growing bulge in his jeans, the denim providing some much needed friction.

you can feel yourself getting wetter the longer steve guides your hips along his clothed cock. the combination of your heavy breathing begins to cloud the windows of the bmw, the air between you sticky with desire despite the cool temperature outside.

your body trembles in his arms as he continues to rock you against him until he can't take it anymore, his hands only leaving you to unbutton his jeans.

“shit— i need to feel you, honey.”

his desperation has you whining into the flushed skin of his neck as he pulls his cock from the confines of his jeans. he teasingly rubs the tip against your now soaked panties, catching on your clit once, twice, a third time before you’ve had enough.

you wrap your palm around the base of his shaft, sliding your panties to the side before you sink down onto his length.

steve's head falls back against the seat with a strangled groan as you allow him to fill you. your own face burying itself in the crook of his freckled neck, your breath comes out in small pants once you’re fully seated.

he’s just so big, and so deep that you could’ve finished from that feeling alone.

“stevie,” you whimper softly into his shoulder, allowing the male to lift your hips before guiding them back down.

it’s slow, intimate as he continues to bury his cock inside you, pulling the prettiest sounds from your lips. your fingers are tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck, his whines of your name filling the car.

he knows you both are getting close but steve can’t handle not being able to see you anymore. he gently coaxes you from your hiding place to meet his piercing gaze.

the moonlight that streams through the windshield highlights his battered and bruised features, and despite his injuries he’s never looked more beautiful. his eyes are molten honey as they take in the dirt dusting your cheeks and the small cut above your left eye.

but he’s looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

“god, i love you.”

the words are spoken before he can stop himself, his heart pounding beneath his rib cage. any doubt or fear leaves his mind as he feels your walls flutter and tighten around him in response to the confession.

“i love you, steve harrington.”

[duskier]

cw mommy kink

It took Laswell a long time to get used to the idea that you loved going down on her. That you relished the feel of her cunt on your tongue, her soft thighs and how they hold you tight in your place between them, as if you'd ever give up the tart ambrosia her sex had to offer.

Wrapping your arms under her thighs and holding, squeezing her hips feels like a hug, like coming home.

"Gooood girl, sweet girl," Laswell sighs, gentle fingers petting your head as you settle into your place, knelt before her chair. Nosing her sensible cotton panties to the side and holding them there with fingers hooked in the elastic so you can suck her into your mouth.

The soft praise melts into a low, needy groan. It makes you feel good to make her feel good- little pinpricks of pleasure traveling down your spine at how quickly Laswell melts into your ministrations. You flex and straighten your tongue, diving between her lips.

The world goes quiet as Laswell's thighs squeeze together involuntarily, your ears fully covered. You peek and can see her hands are now at her sides, squeezed into trembling fists.

"Taste so good f'me," you moan and pant against her clit.

Lips never leaving her pussy, the words just had to escape you. You mean it. She tastes like fucking heaven. Not like chocolates or strawberries or whatever else shitty romance books might imagine up- Laswell tastes like sex. She tastes like salty hedonism and tangy pleasure and musky atonement and she tastes like the fucking love of your life.

Her hips buck up at your words, your voice, your praise. She gives a weak gasp, her eyelids heavy as she looks down at you with a dizzy smile. You meet her gaze with a flat tongue wiping up her cunt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you really know how to-" Laswell's words are cut short when you repeat the motion. Your entire world is narrowed down to Laswell, how your nose feels being buried against her light blonde thatch of hair. "Know how to drive me crazy honey."

Drawing her clit into your mouth again, you can feel her thighs flex again when she notices your fingers dipping into her pussy. Just two fingers gliding in up to the first knuckle and out with ease, teasing.

Due to being past menopause, it takes much longer for Laswell to warm up to being penetrated, even by fingers. She's also got the refractory period of about two business days, so she usually prefers just one orgasm. Usually. Most of the time like this you make her cum before you get to the point of fucking her, which you're fine with as long as she's happy.

With your tongue swirling around her clit and the smell of her heavy in the air and- fucking hell- the sounds she's making like you're hand delivering her a slice of heaven- you're moaning yourself, sound vibrating against the sensitive bud.

"Honey, I'm close-"

Your tongue doesn't stop swirling her clit, but you open your mouth again, panting.

"Yea?" You ask, the words sounding loose from your numb libs and occupied tongue.

"F-fuck, yeah-" Her hips are bucking erratically now, chasing the swiftly approaching release that has her eyes falling closed entirely.

Your fingers leave her hole, instead taking the place of your tongue. You know how to work her, it doesn't interrupt her descent into madness.

"Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Please, please, please..." Your voice is hoarse, desperate. Like it mattered more to you that she finished than it did to her. "Cum for me, please, lemme see it."

You can see the tendons in her arms flexing as she grips her chair, see how her entire body tenses and relaxes in these slow pulses, crashing waves growing stronger with every circle drawn by your fingers on her clit. She's there, she's teetering at the edge, and you're like a dog wagging your tail looking at a treat in your master's hand.

"Please," You whine, pussydrunk and enraptured at the sight of her. "Please mommy, cum-"

If her mouth hadn't slammed shut, she might have openly screamed. Her knees crash together as her body shakes, her head thrown back. When she returns to you, looking down with heavy drunken eyes, you can tell immediately she isn't done.

"Bed, now." She's breathless.

You don't snark back. You don't question. You're like her personal little soldier, following every order to the letter. You're also so pent up that you don't have much blood flow going to your brain to think of doing anything other than obedience. It's quickly rewarded, it's how you end up with Laswell moaning prettily on your lap, her fingers circling her clit as she slowly sinks herself down on you.

You keep your hands to yourself, letting Laswell take her time. The sight is entertainment of it's own, the flush in her cheeks intoxicating. Every little huff of breath making her chest rise and fall in turn making your mouth water. The crazed woman didn't even bother taking off those panties of hers, just shoved them to the side. Impatient, perfect minx. The lighting perfectly highlighted the gorgeous stretch marks on her hips and breasts, your eyes raking in every inch where you wanted your tongue.

"Say it again," Laswell directed.

Obviously, you didn't need to ask what she meant.

[lets-try-some-writing]

yo what if instead of less armor/softer protoform, sparklings had a Ton of kibble and armor to later grow into and spiky bits for protection

imagine baby drift with the same size finials. just. Huge finials on that lil bud

and on earth, cybertronians are /enamoured/ by echidna, armadillos, and porcupines

That would be hilarious, but would also make a lot of sense survival wise. All these sparklings popping out of the Well and from Hotspots really need the protection. I can imagine that the spiker looking they are, the less likely animals are to attack. So baby Drift with giant finials is sitting comfortably in the 'do not attack' category.

I can imagine that since these sparklings emerge with a crap ton of extra armor, their first ever alt mode is quite literally, a ball or some variation of one. Even the fliers start life as balls and roll for their lives when chased until they turn into SPIKY balls.

Just, packs of sparklings who've just begun to grow in their rather pointy kibble roaming Cybertron and tearing up the ground wherever they go. Small bundles of terror in the form of minicons and cassette carrier sparklings causing problems as a group. Dog sized sparklings so prickly and covered in spikes that they can and will get onto roads and stare down mecha who drive at them with a promise of pain in their optics. Fliers and future speedsters skidding over the landscape as apocalypses in their attempts to get from point A to point B as fast as physically possible while also tearing up everything with all their kibble.

These small creatures might as well be resident plows with how well they shred the ground in their attempts to get around. It's only made worse because they all have the inbuilt desire to get to the biggest collection of Cybertronians in range, so they can and will damage roads, housing, and everything in between in they are not caught before they can roam. A sparkling that gets rolling is very unlikely to stop until they get hungry, and even then, they are so spiky by that point that trying to grab one is the same as drop kicking oneself into a pack of cyber-hounds.

I can imagine whole agencies being devoted to collecting the balls of mayhem. Every speedster across Cybertron has to spend at least a few stellar cycles helping the Well Guardians rush after sparklings who roll away too quickly to be caught after their emergence. Every speedster carries at least a few scars from a prickly pack of sparklings getting a bit too excited to be near people or rather upset at the idea of behind captured.

Even after the terror tornados are brought into civilization, I can see these spikey creatures still causing trouble. They can't get alt-modes until they are older, so until then, rolling ball of destruction it is. Much of the tax money gathered for repair work is devoted to repairing roads that were obliterated by a rogue sparkling having a field day on some unsuspecting neighborhood.

Some are feral. Some are clingy and cute.

All are wheel puncturing menaces to society.

[stardew-shitposterino]

Stardew Valley Bachelors and how they deal with their secret crush on the farmer

———-——————————

BEHOOOOLD! I’m kind of back but I’m not because I have a job and feel tired most of the time. I still need to get used to adult life. Anyway, here are the bachelors and how they deal with having a fat crush on you, you cutesy farmer person covered in filth!

Contents might be a bit NSFW so MINORS…you know what not to do *fights them off with a stick*

Enjoy my brainrot 🍓🥰

Sam:

-Sammy is a cute little guy, almost like a dog wagging it’s tail when they see their owner.

-he is SO BAD at hiding it

-he will dream about you two jamming on a big stage together. In his ideal world, you two are a successful duo who make noise rock (kind of like the white stripes minus the weird siblings or married controversy)

-Sam will write songs about you. It’s not intentional per say, and he thinks he really sucks at writing love songs, but it just happens whenever he has to think about you. The words just start flowing.

-he might or might not have had some steamy shower fantasies about you…while in the shower. Jodie keeps complaining about the water bill being unusually high 👀

-yet, Sam is usually not too horny when he is in love with you. He is more gushy and daydreamy than anything

Sebastian:

-homeboy works with nightcore versions of love songs to cope with his longing

-he isn’t the type to show his feelings so openly, so no one really notices his crush on you. Maybe Sam, but well, he is Seb’s best bud. Of course he can tell

-He notices how his sleep has improved since having a crush on you. He willingly goes to bed earlier to have some time to imagine scenarios of you two

-just you and him together on his cool ass motorcycle, driving into the night and ending it with a passionate kiss (sounds familiar?)

-well,,, let’s just say Seb is increasingly horny since having a crush on you. Before, he was almost certain he is some sort of asexual, but nope 😃 he’s healthy and extremely down bad for the filthy farmer who eats raw fish out of the pond 🥰

-what I mean by horny? Uhhh… he didn’t really need to rely on certain websites to satisfy his needs, that’s for sure 👀

Harvey:

-Harvey is a good man. A very good man

-god bless his soul 😫

-Harv isn’t the type to have crushes easily…I can’t believe it either, considering his crush on Maru who is way younger than him 💀

-but in my head, he isn’t the type to be all lovey dovey over someone. That’s why he’s so bad at hiding it. But you don’t really notice. You just suspect it but it could also be his usual anxiety lol

-it happened anyway😎 and he doesn’t know how to cope. At all.

-he has to think about you at all times, especially when he looks at the empty jars of delicious pickles you’ve made him

-This man is usually collected, but now?! He forgets everything, can’t even form a comprehensible sentence at times when his mind is busy thinking about a romantic picknick date with a lovely farmer

-Harvey’s libido is pretty much a dead beat horse 💀 but now he even feels the desire to do some nasty nasty at times. It’s still pretty tame, he’s a gentleman through and through, but wild for him to have those feelings and longings after what feels like decades. He’s not mad at it. He has felt low-key dead inside for so long so this is very exciting and he’s eager to explore this side of him…despite being anxious 😭

Elliott:

-bet your ass he’s the prince of crushes

-he is very dedicated and welcomes those refreshing feelings with a kiss

-feeling better than usual AND having inspiration to write ?! SIGN HIM UP

-he will use every chance he can get to talk to you, maybe even get you drunk (in a non creepy way) because he likes when you’re unapologetically authentic and let loose. It makes him feel more in touch with your soul (or some shit idk I’m not a poet)

-Elliott is NOT SUBTLE

-you practically know from the start that he has the hots for you, but it’s kinda funny seeing him try to pretend it’s not that way…if you can even call that pretending not to be 😭

- his passion doesn’t end at his artistry. This guy will spend a lot of time in his shower thinking about what could be, or sitting at the docks at night just staring at the sea (he’s NOT doing anything nasty in public, peeps. Don’t get it twisted)

-I can also see him recreate a romantic bedroom date he’d love to have with you…but it’s just him 🤷🏼‍♀️ self care king 👑

Shane:

-like Harvey: HE CANNOT COPE!

-he hasn’t felt like this since high school. Every other encounter with potential partners was surface level and only based on sexual satisfaction

-so caring about you, thinking about what makes you happy and how he could be the reason you smile every day, that’s a lot for him

-as stupid as it sounds, he spirals and becomes low-key miserable over it. Give this man a 101 lesson on how to process emotions 😭

-despite the constant anxiety he feels, he low-key enjoys it. It’s kind of hopeless as well as pointless in his honest opinion, but there is this believe, that 0.00001% chance (in his mind) that he could turn his life around and be happy with you, married and maybe have a child of his own one day

-but that’s wishful thinking, riiiiiiight? So what does a self loathing piece of alcoholic man do instead of making a move? Yeah, self pleasure even more than usual, to get at least a bit of serotonin and the willpower to get his shit together, at least for you if it isn’t for him. He’s pretty rough with it too (ouch, unless you’re into that)

-sorry bros but him having a crush is not really all that cute. He’s my cutie pie, but let’s be real: him dealing with those feelings he tried to shut off for so long will be tragic in a way. He’s battling his inner demons here. So yeah… :(

Alex:

-my man, my maaaaan 🥰

-he has earned a soft spot in my heart, bless his soul

-so Alex has a crush on you from the start, it’s basically canon

-can he show his feelings? Yes! Can he do that in a way that can be read as the feelings he tries to get across to you? NO!

-low-key bullying is his love language 🥰

-at least in the beginning. He’s a bit anxious and fears he isn’t good enough for you, so he doesn’t try to be authentic. Being the jock jerk everyone expects him to be gets a reaction out of you and that’s better than nothing, right?

-he’s neither the poetic nor the intellectual type, so he doesn’t process his emotions by writing them down or putting them into words. Just imagine him going about his work-out routine, just thinking about your beautiful smile and rocking bod while sweating like a hog

-Alex and quiet ? Yes that’s possible. I imagine him to go quieter than usual since having a crush on you. He processes everything internally and that takes a lot of time for him as he usually just shrugs off his emotions and doesn’t try to brood too much on them. But now?! He can’t but blush in silence as he just imagines how soft and small your hands must be next to his (yours are way more impressive than his and calloused to the gods, but let him have this moment)

-when it comes to being nasty…Alex is a serial romantic. We know that he probably was the lady’s man back in school so he probably got some action one way or another. In other words, man has the libido of a teen that just hit puberty 💀

-despite being quite horny, he was able to manage to just do it every other day. Now, he cannot even get out of bed in the morning before doing it as you pester his dreams and make his hormones go crazy first thing in the morning…so many nice boxer shorts were lost along the way 🫡

-he also did his own laundry for the first time during that period lmfao

[perfinn]

the heat that drives the light

aemond targaryen x tyrell!oc - part vi

wc: 4.4k

summary: aemond begins to scratch the surface of understanding his wife's family, and takes her to meet vhagar

cw: NSFW, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), sex in front of a dragon (she's sleeping)

masterlist, read on ao3, divider by saradika

Aemond can scarcely believe now that he spent so long agonising over whether he should lay with Cecily. There is little better, to him, than enjoying his wife every night and most mornings. He has found, though, there is but one detriment to sharing a bed with Cecily. A small thing, really, for most every other aspect of it is utter delight. That detriment comes in the irritating, furry form of Bud. Though he spends the night obediently in his own bed, the little creature is fond of joining his mistress in her bed in the mornings and licking incessantly at her face before curling up by her pillow. 

It is the predicament he finds himself in now. The useless little beast having shoved himself between them in the early hours of morning, demanding Cecily’s attention when Aemond is the one that wants it. It's childish, he recognises, but he’s jealous of the thing that Cecily coos at. 

“You should not let him do this,” Aemond mumbles as Cecily rubs at his furry belly. 

Cecily lifts her head, pouting ever so slightly. Her hair, tousled from sleep, falls in dark cascades around her face and Aemond finds himself wishing she would wear it this way more often. “It does no harm,” she says. “It is twenty minutes of the day that he gets to misbehave.”

Aemond grumbles a wordless dissent, reaching out to let Bud lick at his fingers. Perhaps she’s right. But he could be spending those twenty minutes between her thighs. “You are more generous than I.”

Cecily smiles, laying back against the soft pillows. “I’m certain that if Vhagar fit in the bed, you’d let her in too.”

He scoffs. “That’s preposterous. She’s a dragon, not a hound.” She may not be wrong, though. As a child, he had always kept the dragon eggs he was given on the pillow beside him with the hope he might wake up to a dragon hatchling in his chambers. “Vhagar is no more a pet than Bud is a dragon.”

Aemond watches as Cecily listens to him, a contented smile on her face. “Aegon thinks Bud and Sunfyre are similar in temperament.”

He stiffens, searching her face for any sort of discomfort at recalling the memory. If Aegon has been at all improper with her, he’ll… Gods, he can hardly begin to think. “When did he say this?”

“Last week,” she says, giggling when Bud places a demanding paw on her hand, dragging it toward his belly. “He came by whilst I was with Helaena and the children. Bud was playing with them.”

Aemond feels the tension release from between his shoulders, but only a modicum. Love his brother as he might, he is not the most delicate of men. Cecily is delicate. A lady, one of virtue and fair of heart. He wants not for her to be corrupted by Aegon. But idle conversation in front of the children… he supposes he ought not worry for that. “We should rise,” he murmurs after a moment. “Lest we become lazy like your dog.”

Cecily laughs, reaching out to gently poke his shirtless chest. “He is a very fit and active boy,” she says, sitting up and gently clicking her tongue. Obediently, Bud scrambles onto his front and stands up, jumping down from the bed as Aemond grabs Cecily’s robe for her, quietly warning her before slipping it onto her shoulders. 

“Would you like to join me for prayer this morning?” Cecily asks softly. Aemond has yet to say yes to that question– but she asks each morning nonetheless. Aemond supposes it's sweet that she wants to share in faith with him, but he still desires his solitude with the Gods.

“Not today,” he murmurs, and she nods her head, accepting his answer with grace as she always does. Aemond takes her hand, lifting her knuckles to his lips. “I will meet you when we both have dressed for the day. There’s somewhere I wish to take you.”

Cecily smiles, nodding again. “Okay,” she whispers. “Until then.”

He presses another gentle kiss to her knuckles before he releases her hand, stepping away from her and leaving her chambers. They switch each night between one another’s chambers, though Aemond wonders if it might be worth it to move her into his entirely. It would save them both the trouble, and it would help Cecily to not have to remember two different layouts. 

Later, Aemond emerges from his own chambers to meet Cecily. She walks with Ser Rickard, holding onto his elbow as he guides her with gentle footsteps. She wears today a gown of sapphire blue silk, with long flowing sleeves that brush close to the stone floor. Aemond’s heart thumps in his chest at the sight, reminded of something she’d asked him last night whilst he was buried inside her. 

“The gemstone,” she had murmured between sweet moans. 

“What?” asked Aemond, pulling his lips away from her neck to look at her. “What gemstone?”

“In your eye,” she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek as her face contorted in pleasure. “What is it?”

Aemond, never slowing in his languid thrusts, searched her gaze. “A sapphire.”

A sapphire gown. A colour she can hardly even see, for a silent show of unity with her husband. Aemond wishes he might take her right here against the wall. Instead he manages to contain himself to the smallest of smiles and holds out his own arm for Cecily to hold. 

“I can guide her,” Aemond says to Ser Rickard. She finds him with ease, looping her arm into his far more intimately than she had with the knight. “You look beautiful.”

Cecily smiles up at him. “I asked Janna to find a gown of mine in this colour,” she says, gently lifting it and setting it down again as they walk. “I only have one. But I will have more made, give a few of my older ones to her.”

Aemond smiles, looking forward. “You are frugal for a Tyrell,” he says, earning himself a gentle elbow in the ribs. 

“And you for a Targaryen,” she counters. “Where are you taking me today?”

“Corner,” he warns her gently as they turn, allowing her to acquiesce to the change in direction. “I’m taking you to meet Vhagar.”

Cecily is quiet for a moment, lips pursed in that way they always get when she’s considering her words. “To ride her?”

He opens his mouth to answer her question, but as they leave Maegor’s Holdfast and step out into the courtyard he’s stopped by the sight on the other side of the yard, knowing it will slow them on their progress. 

“Aemond?” Cecily presses, frowning before perking a bit, clearly recognising the voice across the way. Aemond does not much recognise the smile on her face, a type of love in her eyes he’s not certain he’s ever felt. 

“Come,” she encourages, now the one leading Aemond down the way toward her father’s voice. “Good morrow, father!”

Martyn Tyrell turns away from the conversation he's sharing with Lord Beesbury, his own face lighting up as though he hasn't seen her in weeks when Aemond knows for a fact they shared lunch together only yesterday. What wonder it must be for a father to love his child so. Aemond guides Cecily away from a loose paver as she makes her hurried way to Martyn. 

“My girl,” Martyn says, opening his arms as Cecily approaches, gently placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing her forehead. He smiles fondly before pulling away and bowing his head to Aemond. “My prince.”

By right he probably should have addressed Aemond first. But Aemond decides not to comment. He nods his head in greeting. “Lord Martyn.”

Lord Martyn is a handsome man. He is tall, strong even into his forties, and he shares his colouring with Cecily, only his dark hair is streaked with silver. The Highgarden sun has worn shallow lines into his face, particularly around his mouth and eyes. Evidence of a lifetime of smiling, Aemond supposes.

(Aemond wonders if Cecily will age with similar lines carved into her face, if only he may keep giving her reason to smile.) 

He is dressed as opulently as Aemond has come to anticipate, clapping his ringed hands together and turning to Lord Lyman, giving him a warm smile. “We’ll continue this later, my friend,” he says, clapping the older man gently on the shoulder. “Enjoy your morning, Lyman.”

The master of coin, despite slowing in his old age, seems eager to be going. Perhaps for a morning nap after being awake a gruelling two hours, Aemond thinks to himself, amusedly. 

Martyn watches him go for a moment before turning back to the young couple. He sighs, smiling fondly at the both of them. “A wonder they let him sit the council,” he says lightheartedly, but Aemond hears something in his voice he cannot place. “It warms my heart to see you both together. What are you up to today?”

“Aemond is taking me to meet Vhagar,” Cecily says, adjusting her stance and her grip on Aemond. “I think with the sun out so bright, I may be able to see the shape of her.”

Aemond had not even considered that. He knows that Cecily can see masses of colour in the bright sunlight, but he hadn't considered Vhagar to be a mass of colour until now. 

“With any luck,” says Aemond. “Though I fear she’ll blend into the green of the Kingswood.”

Martyn still smiles at them both, clearly quite pleased with himself. “No matter,” he says. It is odd, thinks Aemond, that he carries himself like a plumper man than he is, rocking on his feet as he speaks. “An auspicious meeting all the same.”

Just then, the distinctive clinking sound of someone jogging while wearing armour approaches them. They each turn to face the noise and Aemond feels himself clenching his jaw. Any more Tyrells, and this will become a joust. 

Leo stands before them all with a tired smile and tousled hair, his helmet tucked under his arm as he bows to each of them, Aemond first, then Martyn, then he greets Cecily by name, then he nods to Ser Rickard, who raises a brow at him. 

“Should you be on duty, Ser Leo?” He asks the younger. 

Leo inclines his head to Rickard with deference. “No, ser. I had the night’s watch over Princess Helaena and the children, Arryk has just relieved me.”

Ser Rickard relaxes then, content to let the man speak to his family. 

“I was on my way to have my breakfast when I spotted a squire carrying a letter with the Tyrell seal.” He lifts up the rolled up paper in his hand, the seal unbroken. “Roses and grapes. From my Lady Aunt Alerie. So, I thought I’d bring it myself”

Martyn perks then, surely expecting the letter from his wife to be for him. Aemond assumes much the same, but Leo looks at Cecily. 

“I suspect the silence indicates it's for me,” Cecily says with a wry smile. 

Leo laughs good-naturedly. “Shrewd as ever, cousin,” he says, gently placing the letter in her hand when she offers it. 

Cecily takes it, rubbing her thumb across the wax seal and glancing in the vague direction of her father. “Thank you, Leo. You may go. I am sure this is only news that she has reached home, and sordid details of her dreadful trip there.”

Leo grins. “Very well. Good morrow,” he says, then bows again to Aemond and Martyn. 

Only when they cannot hear the clinking of his armour does Cecily offer the letter to Aemond. She asks him, quite seriously, “Will you read it for me?”

This is not the first time she’s asked him to relay her correspondence to her. Though never has she been so grave in asking him. Aemond glances at Martyn, who looks equally as grave. What? Why are they suddenly serious? Do they expect the letter to say she is in danger? Aemond does not think he’s ever seen Martyn quite this serious, though it's not an unfamiliar experience from Cecily. It disquiets him. Nevertheless, he cracks the seal and reads aloud the contents. 

“The rat plays while the cats are away. A weed is growing strong. - Alerie R.”

Aemond frowns, lifting his gaze to Cecily's face. He notices she’s playing with the embroidery on her sleeve as she often does when she worries, though she hasn't done it quite as much of late. Aemond dreads to think what has caused her to lapse into anxious habits again. He knows quite little of Alerie Tyrell, has only met her at the wedding where she said very little. She seemed an aloof and distant woman, content to let her husband speak rather than to do so herself. Cecily has described her as cryptic. Aemond can now see why. If this is not a coded message, it's simple nonsense.

“It is as I feared,” says Cecily. 

Martyn huffs, looking in the direction Leo had just departed to. “Right you are,” he says. “As always. I had hoped removing Leo might have put a stop to it.”

“You know his ambition sees not beyond his own nose,” Cecily says. 

“I might like to be enlightened on who this rat might be,” Aemond interjects, frustrated that he remains not privy to what they speak of. He has a fair estimate, but he’ll not assume and make a fool of himself. 

Martyn looks at Cecily, whose brow is furrowed. His face cycles through a wordless debate with itself, before his gaze shifts to Aemond. He smiles tightly. “I will allow my daughter to explain, my prince. I must write to my wife.” He bows his head to Aemond and does not wait for leave before departing. He is an impertinent type of man, Aemond thinks. 

Aemond looks at Cecily, face expectant. She smiles at him. “Not here. Come, take me to the Kingswood to meet your dragon.”

It is only when they’ve mounted their horses and left the walls of the Red Keep that Cecily speaks again, her hands gripping the pommel of the saddle tight. Her horse’s reins are secured to Aemond’s saddle, guided by him. 

“My uncle thinks me unfit for my duties,” she says with no preamble. 

Aemond looks over at her, taking in the way she sits sidesaddle with ease and comfort. He thinks she must have been riding horses since before she lost her sight, and continued even after. Reachmen do so love their horses. Hers is an older chestnut mare that had greeted her with familiar affection at the stables. He watches her as they go for a moment. “An opinion shared by many, I’m sure.”

Cecily smiles wryly, brushing her dark hair over her shoulder. “I suppose. But none of those people are in Highgarden’s line of succession,” she says, gazing up at the sky. It is cloudless, a great mass of blue haze. 

Aemond lifts his eye to look at it, seeing for once exactly what his wife sees. 

“It was my hope that in marrying you, and in having Leo swear to the Kingsguard, Moryn might cease in pursuing his ambitions. A fool’s hope, I now realise.”

Aemond looks at her again, contemplating. “You made sure Leo left before I read the letter,” he observes. “You do not trust him.”

“I love Leo,” she says, words careful, considered, as though this is a statement she’s mulled over a thousand times. “Like a brother. I trust him with my life and with anyone else’s. He’s a good man, and I know he has no wish to usurp me. But I cannot wholly trust his discretion on matters of his father.”

Aemond looks forward, spotting Vhagar’s hulking form nestled between the trees. “So your uncle is the rat. The growing weed.”

“Indeed,” she sighs. “The rose’s thorn, as it were.”

Aemond brings his horse to a stop, and Cecily’s chuffs as she slows. Aemond looks back at Ser Rickard on his own horse and asks him to secure the horses before he dismounts, coming up to Cecily and placing his hands on her waist. He grunts softly as he lifts her from the saddle, setting her down in the grass. 

“Mm. Thorns ought to be plucked if they end up in one’s side,” Aemond says as he leads her across the grass. Sensing his approach, Vhagar grumbles, waking from her sleep and lifting her head. “Or they'll fester.”

“Or worse,” says Cecily, pausing in her footsteps as she hears and feels the low rumbling of the dragon. “The wound will close over without the thorn ever being removed. A permanent fixture.”

“Don't be afraid,” Aemond murmurs when she stops, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. He looks up at Vhagar, whose colossal head is slowly swinging around and lowering to their height. Aemond watches her nostrils chuff as she takes in the new person before her. 

Cecily, to her credit, does not tremble or back away. She does, though, pinch her face into a little scowl, clearly trying her hardest not to. Vhagar doesn't smell the nicest, and though Aemond has grown used to it, it must be worse for Cecily and her acute sense of smell. 

Aemond presses a gentle, affectionate kiss to her temple, a silent apology. “Can you see her?”

Cecily’s eyes search the space in front of her, but she nods after a moment. “I… I think I can. She is green? I am not just seeing the trees?”

“Yes,” he says, reaching a hand out toward Vhagar. She meets him halfway and brings her snout to his hand. Typical of her to not even bother threatening Cecily. She has always preferred the fairer sex. He takes Cecily’s hand, guiding it up toward Vhagar. She gasps softly as her palm makes contact with the rough skin of the dragon. Aemond looks back at her, and she looks more nervous than he thinks he’s ever seen her. 

“Does she dislike it?” Cecily asks. 

“If she disliked it, we’d know it,” Aemond says with a smirk. “I rather think she likes you, in fact.”

Cecily’s eyes seem trained on the hulking form of her, and Aemond’s chest swells knowing he has brought her before something she can see. Her hand gently rubs at Vhagar’s leathery skin. “How can you be sure?”

Aemond rubs his free hand gently over her back. “I can feel it. She can feel that I am fond of you, and she must share the sentiment. Besides, I think she has always had a soft spot for gentle women.”

“Am I gentle?”

“More than most I know,” he says, gazing down at her. “Gentle as a woman should be. But more clever than most.”

Cecily stares silently up at Vhagar for a long second, and Aemond cannot hope to read her mind, or even her pinched expression. “I cannot only be gentle,” she murmurs. “Some part of me must be feared.”

Aemond is quiet for a moment, his nose brushing against her temple. “I will be the fearsome part of you,” he promises in an earnest murmur.

Cecily pulls her gaze away from Vhagar, turning her face to Aemond. Her hand drops from Vhagar’s snout and carefully finds the back of Aemond’s neck. With a gentle tug, she pulls his lips down to hers and kisses him with fervour. 

Aemond is surprised for a only a split second. He grabs her gently by the hips and pulls her closer as he kisses her. Her body presses to his, and he can practically feel the thrum of her heart against her chest. Cecily winds her fingers into his hair at the base of his neck, making a soft noise of desperation as she urges her tongue forward into his mouth. Beside them, Vhagar grumbles and moves her head away, settling down to continue with her nap.

Aemond grants Cecily entrance to his mouth, rather liking this side of her that leads the charge. She licks into his mouth, tongue dragging over his as Aemond begins to walk her back toward a tree. She acquiesces and walks back, but never dares to part her lips from his. He backs her up against a tree, hands squeezing at her hips through her dress. As she sucks at his bottom lip he reaches back, groping at her behind before beginning to tug up the layers of her skirt. 

Cecily gasps then, pulling her lips away from his. Undeterred, Aemond presses his lips to her jaw, dragging his tongue lewdly across her skin. “Aemond,” she breathes. “We cannot-”

“Yes we can,” he murmurs, nipping gently at her skin. “I’ll have my wife if I wish it.”

She whines, so beautifully it makes Aemond’s cock stir in his pants. “But Ser Rickard- and- and Vhagar–”

“Ser Rickard is with the horses,” he says against her skin. “He will be discreet. And Vhagar does not care. She’s already gone back to sleep.”

Cecily closes her eyes as Aemond brushes his hands over the soft skin of her thighs. “Okay,” she grants. “I suppose I did start this.”

Aemond hums, trailing his kisses down her neck as he lowers himself to his knees in the grass. He pulls Cecily’s dress up past her hips, holding it up with one hand so he can knead gently at her thigh with the other. He looks up at her, taking one of her hands and guiding it to her bunched up skirt so she can hold it, taking the other and placing it gently on his head. “Trust me,” he murmurs, feeling the slight, confused tremble in her legs.

With both hands now free, he tugs down her small clothes and slings the leg of it over his wrist so it doesn’t get lost. Cecily presses her thighs together shyly, but Aemond gently coaxes one leg into his large hands, lifting it up and settling her knee over his shoulder. Cecily says nothing, biting her lip and shifting nervously. She doesn't ask questions, trusting Aemond as he’s requested. He presses a gentle kiss to her thigh. “Good girl,” he praises in a murmur, then kisses her thigh again. He trails a path of kisses down the length of her thigh, cherishing the supple flesh before he reaches his prize. 

Cecily’s cunt already glistens with arousal when he reaches it. Aemond cannot help but drag a thumb gently through it, making Cecily sigh and shiver when he rubs the rough pad over her pearl. He leans forward then, granting himself an act of debasement in a moment of debauchery, and inhales deeply. 

(Her cunt does not smell of roses. But he will not grant Aegon the satisfaction of telling him so.)

“Aemond!” Cecily squeals, squirming above him and tangling her fingers into his hair. He can only imagine the blush dying her cheeks bright pink, for he cannot make himself pull away from her sweet cunt to check. 

Aemond chuckles, gently squeezing her thigh in apology. “If it feels strange and you want me to stop, tell me so,” he murmurs.

Without waiting for an answer, he presses his tongue between her folds and laps a long, languid stripe along her, ending at her pearl. She gasps at the sensation, the sound quickly crumbling into a moan when he circles the bud and flicks his tongue at it. She tastes divine, like he imagines nectar to taste. He moves down again, lapping at her slick entrance and groaning. She tightens her grip on his hair, grinding her hips down against his tongue as he pushes it desperately into her. 

The hand that doesn't grip her thigh comes up to play with her pearl as he laps at her hole and Cecily’s hand drops the grip on her skirt to grab at the tree behind her for purchase, moans tumbling freely from her mouth. The silk drops onto Aemond’s head, held up only by Cecily’s hand in his hair. That, she does not let go of. Aemond isn’t stopped or even slowed by the sudden weight of fabric on his head, he keeps his pace and continues to lap at her, tongue curling up against the spot he’s learned drives her wild. 

“Ae-Aemond!” Cecily cries, rocking her hips as Aemond pleasures her from all sides. Aemond, secretly, is a touch impressed, perhaps arrogant, that he can feel her beginning to clench already. He has grown quite familiar with how her body tenses before her climax. He strokes at her pearl, silently encouraging her to let go. She cannot hold on a moment longer, and her noises cut off sharply as her whole body tightens– her cunt feels as though its locked Aemond’s tongue in place, grip vice-like. She pulls on his hair and Aemond can only groan as her silence ends and she melts into sweet whines. 

“Gods be good,” she whispers when she seems to regain control of her tongue. Aemond pulls his own from her, licking at her once more before pulling his head back and looking up at her.  She’s panting, eyes closed, and smiling. Aemond gently lowers her leg, holding her hips to keep her from buckling to the ground. Cecily loosens her grip on his hair, gently smoothing down the tousled strands. “How did you think of that?”

“I wish I could claim to have invented it,” he says, moving to help her get her smallclothes back on. “It was good?”

Cecily lifts her legs one at a time and lets him pull her smallclothes up and drop her skirt. When Aemond stands, she finds his face to hold it. “Strange at first,” she admits, leaning up on her toes to kiss him gently. Aemond wonders if she can taste her own essence on his lips. “But very good.”

Aemond smiles, happily returning her gentle kiss as he helps to adjust and smoothe her skirts. “Good. You were loud. I like it when you’re loud.”

Cecily blushes then, that beautiful shade of pink Aemond loves so dearly. “How humiliating,” she murmurs, winding her arms around Aemond’s waist to hold him, resting her cheek against his chest. “How might I return the favour?”

“You needn’t,” he says. 

He can practically feel her pout. “Someday you must let me.”

“Someday,” he promises. "But not today, not here. I would not put my wife on her knees in the dirt. Not unless she begged me.”

Cecily giggles, reaching down to squeeze at his arse. “Do not tempt me. I just might.”