#either almost hidden gentle touch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azullumi · 6 months ago

Text

"it's you hiding in limelight" ; aventurine

requested by anon — “can you do or already done pre-relationship aventurine headcanons? like what is he like before and how he warms up” premise — it takes a lot for him to trust someone. it’s a gentle and steady process; the fire burns slowly between you and him, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him in the end, he lets the warmth seep through the cracks of his soul. content tags and warnings — pairing: gender-neutral reader w/ aventurine | pre-relationship, fluff, a little word vomit, not proofread | wc: 0.7k ; headcanons

note from me — i was so conflicted while writing this,, and it doesn't help that i'm trying to figure out if my cat is pregnant or just fat...

It’s not easy to make AVENTURINE warm up.

He doesn’t trust anyone easily, seeing relationships as superficial, as something that is simply a give-and-take thing, a bet, a deal. He has quite a one-way view on relationships, only seeing it as something that would be beneficial to him—it’s not like he knows how to maintain such relationships either. He thinks that showering them with gifts, no matter how expensive, would make them stay, a key to securing loyalty and affection.

So when he finds himself slowly being drawn to you, being at ease whenever you’re around, as he initiates small talks and silly bets, he wouldn’t know how to break it down from there. You’re just so warm and easy to talk to, it’s comforting (like a gentle breeze). He simply keeps everyone at arm’s length, maintaining a careful distance, and yet, like a living paradox, he can feel intimately close at times to you—it’s his subtle flirting, consistent compliments, and often lingering touches.

He is hesitant in all of his bones, hard to grasp, complex and distant, but if you reach even for a little, he’ll let you hold him in your hands. He’s confusing; the thread of his words and actions are intertwined with each other but you can never find the meaning of it. It’s a heavy needlepoint of embroidery that can never be finished, a small part missing from the piece and you could never figure out what it is that you’re lacking. It’s not easy to tell if he sees you only as a friend or something more than that.

You need to be patient and persistent with him, understanding that he himself struggles with the idea of vulnerability; he fears that opening up to pain and disappointment, leaving him on his own in the end. However, over time, he eventually lowers his guard and allows himself to trust you, finding solace in your presence. When the two of you first met, his shoulders were always tense and he kept his emotions guarded behind a mask, but now, he lets go of what he carries even if it’s just for a bit, as long as it’s you he is with.

You can feel the distance closing in, the fine-drawn line of vulnerability and wariness seaming into one. You can almost touch the vanishing point between you and him, intertwining with each other, and you don’t fail to recognize the subtle shift in his actions, in his gestures, in everything about him and all that you knew.

It may be a small and mundane thing but his tendency to shower his “friends” with expensive gifts and asking to choose among which one that they would like—albeit he also does to you on some occasions—all contrasts with the simplicity of the tokens he gives you. He reserves a different kind of gesture for you, one that is laced with thoughtfulness and sincerity rather than the utter value of the gift itself.

Probably brought a bracelet one time and told you of it, but didn’t mention that it has a pair, a matching one, which he bought for himself (and never wore). He has it hidden in his drawers, amidst his precious items, only to take out from time to time to stare at it. It’s a secret he’ll forever take to his grave.

Your constant reassurance, gentleness, and kindness breaks down his defenses, the mask crumbling into unrecognizable pieces. He didn’t think he would trust someone this much, nor would he ever harbor such soft feelings—velveted affections, sweet sounds of laughter, benign words that buries itself in his chest, finding solitude in one another’s presence, basking in the warmth of it all.

Oh, to have someone see him beyond the walls he built, it scares him in some way—when you have forever listened to the chorus of condemns orchestrated by your mind, you’ll only think that you’re unlovable to anyone, that’s how it was for him, and yet to you, it comes easy as if he’s simply tangled threads that only needs to be unraveled carefully and gently. He didn’t know nor did he ever think that you'd see stars on his scars when he laid himself bare for you to see the marks that dusted his skin.

Aventurine feels like he could drown in the feeling. It’s a gentle tide that crawls to the shore and drags him along with the warm currents (the smell of blood is replaced with the taste of salt on his lips); a tender fire that burns slowly, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him, he’ll let the light in.

GRAH DRUM ROLLS PLEASE IM ANNOUNCING THE PRESENCE OF THE OUTSTANDING AND AMAZING FELI @dr-felitas (sometimes i type in your old user and wonder why it's not popping out and then i just go oh!) anyways, this is for you my fellow dry-talker npc,, i honestly find it cute that we're starting to adopt each other's mannerisms or texting language or pattern cause like i only started saying "right!?" (when i agree on something) because of you (back then i only say real or just nothing at all :D) and i think i began to use some of your vocabulary 😭. and somehow my ability to understand and read through typos are getting better all thanks to you 🔥🔥🔥 the world will end first before you even get to spell that word properly jkjk i love you with all of your typos, incoherent words, stupid autocorrect mwamwamwa (i say as if im im not the same) !! anyways you are a light in my life and you're one of the reasons why i still continue to pick up the pen and write !! you've been of great help and inspiration in my writings <33 without you, i probably wouldn't be able to get through the hell hole of last month, thank you. ily lots mwaa !!

641 notes · View notes

6toru · 2 days ago

Text

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄.

synopsis. gaining the title ‘duke’ not only came with the prestige, but came along the lonely days you spent yearning for your husband as he toggled the new duties and responsibilities he had to face. it was only a matter of time before you decided that you could only have so much patience, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt if you played around a little – watching as your husband who held himself in great temperance and sangfroid fall into pieces the more you attempt to break his composure.

pairing. nanami kento x fem!reader genre. dukedom & arranged marriage au + smut cw. mature content (mdni), breeding kink, rough sex , explicit language + dirty talk

word count. 4.2k

author's note. hehe a repost from an old writing blog of mine ! def one of my favourite pieces + something about someone who's usually so poised losing control of themselves... feral is what i am 😩

NANAMI KENTO, no doubt, was a powerful young man who earned himself the title Duke from the royal king after his contribution and victory in the most recent war. Of course, now that he was given the new title, he was given a whole lot of responsibilities and duties that he’s got to fulfill now that he had plenty more people to protect. Nowadays, the young duke would either be found training his lot of knights, hunting, or cooped up in his grand office busying himself with myriads of documents. Despite being incredibly proud of his achievements, you still couldn’t help but yearn for the affection of your beloved husband.

Many nights were spent alone, staring up at the tall dark ceiling while you silently counted sheep – hoping that once you had reached a hundred, he would arrive and join you in bed (he’d often fall asleep on the sofa in his office). And, many nights were spent with you fending for yourself when you longed for his touch, arching your back when you’d climax on your fingers – however, you never felt fully satisfied. Your fingers could never compare to his larger and thicker fingers, nor his…

You shake your head rapidly, feeling your cheeks growing redder by the lewd thoughts of your husband swimming through your mind. The last time you had intercourse with the male was when you both consummated the marriage, which was almost half a year ago, and then a month after that, the war happened – and two months later, he’d come back with a new title, Duke. Everything else after that was a blur. He was just within your reach — residing in the same manor and all, could almost reach for him but always got farther and farther away. You miss your husband, desperately.

You stroll through the hallways of the manor, taking small strides towards the familiar giant door with a board of your freshly baked bread balanced in your hands. You continue to hum a gentle tune as you got closer and closer to the door. Although, it may appear to other people that his wife was innocently barging into his office thus surprising him with baked goods made with love – However, unknowingly for them, you had other plans hidden up your sleeves.

“Kento,” your voice gentle as you call out his name, “I brought you something that I think you’d love!”

You open the door further, revealing your husband — as per usual — busying himself with his documents. Fatigue was plastered all across his face, though he tried his best to mask it, but the dark circles underneath his hazel eyes were of no help. You could tell that even his muscles had gotten sore from training and staying seated for long periods of time. You placed the bread tray in front of him, and you walked around the desk to stand next to your husband.

“Thank you, honey,” He quickly thanks you, sending you a quick nod of acknowledgement. Your husband was in pure autopilot mode, his hand continuously signing the documents despite him slowly losing focus — desperately trying to keep them open rather than succumbing to slumber.

“You should take a moment to relax, Kento.” You say. Just as he is about to come up with some type of excuse as to why he shouldn’t take a break, you lean in closer to his ear. “Let me help you.”

Your hands travel up to his back, and you applied some pressure on his shoulders while you massaged him. Your husband releases a low groan when you apply even more pressure on a stubborn muscle knot on his shoulders. You smile when he relaxes into your touch, closing his eyes while he leaned closer into you as you massaged into his sore muscles until those pesky knots disappeared. “How do you feel now?”

“I feel much better,” Kento sighs, humming pleasantly, “ Thank you for the bread, too. I’ll make sure to finish it while I continue working.”

“Can’t your break be a little longer?” You probe at him, pouting softly. “I missed you.”

A sudden wave of boldness and confidence overtook your consciousness, and you brought yourself down on his lap, your arms snaking around your husband’s muscular shoulders. Kento looks completely taken aback, and you eat that expression up as if it is candy.

“Kento,” you begin, “can’t you see that your cute and loving wife misses you?”

You press your lips against his ear, before whispering: “I’ve been thinking about you so much, putting a baby inside of me.”

Slowly, you thrust your hips against his thigh, watching your husband in pure amusement as he attempts to keep his composure; his hand tightening on his pen, knuckles white. Almost immediately, you can feel him hardening underneath you, and you grinned almost immediately. Something about his reaction swelled your heart with pride, knowing that despite being busy you still, somewhat, had an effect on him. Even more, Kento was taken aback, completely speechless (and undeniably turned on) from his wife’s bold ministrations.

“B-baby inside..?” His voice came out as a dry rasp, his eyes wide .

Before your husband could process anything else, he felt the weight on his lap disappearing, and he quickly stared up to watch you getting ready to leave. You fixed the wrinkles on the hem of your dress, trying to fight back the grin on your face after having just teased your usually stoic husband. He had always appeared so cool and composed, so watching him try so hard to keep his composure undeniably gave you some type of thrill.

“Y/N?” He called out your name, looking visibly confused. Your eyes traveled down to your husband’s trousers, smiling innocently as you caught sight of the large tent growing between his legs.

“I almost forgot to mention, but the marchioness invited me to her manor for a tea party.” You said, attempting to stifle the giggle bubbling in your throat while your husband appeared flustered. “I won’t be back until tonight.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss on his lips, not before licking his bottom lip as you pull away. You were being far too mean with your husband, but you couldn’t help it — watching him slowly crack beneath your manipulation sent a shock of arousal straight between your legs. “Until then, promise me that you’ll finish the bread and take breaks when you need it, okay?”

Before the man could even muster a single response, you walked out of his office. Only two could play at this game, you thought to yourself as you closed the office door behind you.

Hours had already passed and you finished catching up with the noble ladies, exchanging goodbyes and letters before parting ways. It had truly been a while since you had last caught up with your friends. Nevertheless, the time spent at your friend’s manor was enjoyable, listening to all the spicy gossip while enjoying desserts and tea.

The ride back home in the carriage is silent — the only sound present were the continuous patters from the horses’ steps. You stare outside the window, quietly watching the manor eventually disappearing as the carriage goes further away in distance. It is already a quarter past nine, perhaps the latest you have ever stayed out, and it is safe to assume that your beloved husband is probably resting on the sofa in his office again.

You lean your back against the seat, pressing the side of your head against the window as your eyes begin to grow heavy, the distant sounds of the horses’ steps gradually lulling you into a short slumber.

“My lady, we’ve arrived.”

“Oh my, we’re already here?” You ponder to yourself out loud, groggily opening your eyes. You place your hands atop the coachman’s guiding you down the carriage, and you stare at the tall manor before you. Once you enter inside, you are automatically greeted with your maids ushering you to the bathroom with a change of clothes. Undeniably, you felt a little disappointed, as you believe that your husband had unknowingly proved your point from earlier — you, at least, hoped that he’d stay awake a little longer. You sink lower into the tub, blowing bubbles as you scrunch your brows together, the water hiding pouting lips. The maid had left you alone earlier, telling you that she’d return with a towel soon, but it’s been moments.

You glance around the bathroom, trying to decipher the exact location of your nightgown. Ah, it was on the stool, next to the door. If anyone had walked in on you grabbing your nightgown from the stool, the only thing they’d see is your wet and bare body. It shouldn’t be too bad, though —after all, it’s always been your maids coming in. Slowly, you stand up from the large tub, and you immediately shiver from the wave of cold air rushing to you,, cool beads of water dripping down your body. With careful steps, you make your way across the room, your hand reaching out towards your nightgown.

You suddenly hear a knock on the door, and you instinctively grab the gown to cover the front of your body. It must be the maid, you think to yourself and you try to mimic that of a stern face — however, you can’t bring yourself to be too harsh on a new maid, after all. You watch the door open slowly, and you tap your fingers against your elbows. “Hana, where were you all this… Oh.”

Almost immediately, your face is sent aflame and you scurry away from the door, your failed attempt of a stern persona pathetically crumbling away as the space revealed no one other than your husband standing in front of the doorway with a towel in his hand. Hazel eyes travel up and down your frame, his jaw tensing at the sight of your bunched up nightgown barely covering your body — hell, it didn’t cover anything, he stares longingly at your left breast deciding to slip out of the covers. He steps into the room and closes the door shut immediately, his eyes still locked into your frame and he stays silent.

You press the nightgown against your body even more and you look away from his gaze, as if it could help hide your insecurities that are growing the more he stared and stayed silent. However, all that stops when you glance back at your husband and he gives you a come hither motion with his index finger. “Kento,” you say his name softly, “I thought you were asleep—”

“Come here,” is all he says to you, his voice low and baritone. You easily comply with his words, taking small strides to get closer to the male. “Hand me your nightgown.”

“I thought it was Hana that knocked,” you say quietly as you hand your husband your nightgown, further revealing your naked body. You can hear Kento’s breath hitch for a mere moment before he quickly regains his composure — however, it is already so fragile. He swiftly wraps the towel around your body before pulling you closer to him, his hands resting on your hips while he leans closer to your face with stern eyes. “You’re lucky that it was me, then. What were you thinking about going out of the bath like that? What if it wasn’t Hana or I that walked in?”

“I didn't want to stay in the bath anymore, and I genuinely believed that my maids would be the only ones to walk in. Because of that, I didn’t feel too worried.” You answer your husband softly, squeezing his shoulder ever so slightly. “Despite you giving me a bit of a surprise, I can’t say that I’d rather have Hana come here instead of you.”

“Is that so? That’s a relief, then. I did tell her that I’d take care of the rest and she could rest for the night.” He hummed, before lifting you up in his arms without any warning, immediately eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips.

“W-what are you doing?” You question your husband, stammering as you instinctively place your hand onto his chest.

“You know, after you played your little game earlier, I wasn’t able to do my work properly.” says Kento, opening the bathroom door. “I believe you should bear some sort of responsibility, no?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter under your breath, masking a soft grin as you nuzzle your face into your husband’s neck.

“Putting a baby inside you,” he says, a slight strain present in his baritone voice as he continues walking down the hall with your towel-covered body in his arms. The walk down to your shared bedroom feels like an eternity has passed, the sounds of his footsteps resonating across the quiet hall. You want to question him where the rest of maids and butlers had gone but you relented, your body tense under the man’s carnal gaze.

“If fucking a baby inside of you is what you want, then it’s what you’ll get. It’s what my sweet wife asked for, after all.”

“H-Honey, what are you—?”

With one hand, Kento swiftly opens the bedroom door. You let out a small shriek when he throws you on the soft mattress of your king-sized bed, his large hands pinning your hands above your head. He has this carnal glint in his amber eyes as he stares deeply into yours, it was as if all his self-control was beginning to crumble right before your eyes — you’ve never seen him like this; a cool, composed and reserved man looking so disheveled above you—his dress shirt buttoned loosely, revealing his collarbones and the evident incarnadine flush radiating onto his cheeks. Truly, it is a delicious sight to behold, and the wetness dwelling between your legs only seems to grow the longer you stare at the man.

“What a lewd woman, you are.” He mutters, his grip on your wrists tightening while his other hand trails down your chest, slowly pulling the towel down. “Was my sweet wife having fun playing teatime after leaving me to take care of this?”

Before you can even utter a word, a sudden gasp leaves your lips when Kento grinds his hips against yours; the delightful friction of the erection growing in his trousers rubbing against your clit, your back arching in hopes to get more. “I missed you,” you say between heavy breaths, “I missed you so much—Ah! Y-You’ve been so cooped up in your o-office lately and ngh..”

Your words were cut abruptly by his lips, teeths clashed and tongues intertwined while his rough and calloused fingers trail up your torso, towards your bare chest in a teasingly slow pace. A muffled moan leaves your lips, only to be covered by your husband’s lips, as he teases your already erect nipples.

“Tell me more,” said your husband, his lips leaving yours.

With heavy eyes, you watch Kento’s lips trail to where his hands once rested. His tongue swirls around the mound before sucking on your skin harshly, and you rest your fingers tangled in his blond locks as he continues to elicit those cute sounds coming from your swollen lips.

“You’ve been so busy with your duties as the duke, and—Mhhm..!—I-I’ve been feeling so alone these many nights while I longed for you, so so desperately. I love you so much Kento—Ah!” You mewl out those words in unadulterated wanton, your voice all shakey, it almost sounds embarrassingly pathetic when your husband is doing nothing more than teasing your breasts rather than fucking you relentlessly in the mattress. You can barely care less about how you sound though, because his lips and touch alone are enough to send you into ecstasy. You want him to touch you more. The needy ache between your legs continuously grows more intense the longer he teases you.

“H-Honey, ‘want more. Please.” You beg your husband, your fingers desperately trying to unbutton his wrinkled dress shirt. “I need more of you.”

Kento doesn’t reply back, continuing his little ministrations on your neglected mound. It is adorable seeing him so focused on pleasuring you, but the heat you feel in your pussy feels too overwhelming. You push your husband’s head away from your mound, his lips leaving your skin with a soft ‘pop!’ He glances at you questioningly.

It was a bold and sudden decision that you had made on a whim out of sheer desperation, but his reaction made it all the more worth it. As soon as your fingers leave his half-buttoned dress shirt, you hook your arms underneath your knees and spread your legs open, revealing your cunt drenched in your desperate juices. “Kento, I mean it when I told you that I wanted you to put a baby in me.”

His mouth is left agape at your sudden boldness, his eyes fixated on the juices slowly dripping out of your hole — his breath gets stuck in his throat as he watches your small fingers spread your pussy lips apart. “Kento, touch me. Please.”

“Shit.”

It is almost as if the string has finally snapped inside of him, because before his mind can even start to think properly, his hands are on your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart as he begins the merciless assault on your dripping folds; his tongue lapping at all your wetness as if he was animal thirsty for water. Kento almost groans at the way his finger stretches your pussy, his finger sliding in almost immediately due to your juices. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “you’re so wet for me.”

He slides his index finger in and out before adding a second finger to the mix. He starts off slow, but his pace gradually quickens to that of which is considered merciless. The sounds of your wet cunt getting demolished by his fingers echoes in the grand room, along with your cries of pleasure. Your hips thrash against his fingers, and you can feel the sensation of pressure that was building up in your abdomen intensifying the more that he pleases you with his large fingers. Within less than a second, you cum intensely around his fingers, a loud moan erupting from your throat as your body slumps against Kento.

‘His fingers feel so much better compared to my fingers,’ you think to yourself as you try to recover from your first orgasm.

While you attempt to catch your breath, you glance back to Kento only to watch him undress with your mouth salivating. It’s already a given that your husband would be incredibly fit as he often trains with the knights and hunts (while not forgetting the night you had consummated with him in the dark the past few months ago — you felt every crevice of his muscles) — but now, seeing it up close and so clearly — he is truly a sight to behold. You reach your arm towards his chiseled abdomen, your fingers drawing hearts across his skin, and your eyes travel lower past his abdomen; staring intently at the huge tent growing beneath his underwear. You want to get fucked by this man already, so so bad.

“Kento,” you say his name softly, tracing your fingers along the outline of your husband’s clothed erection before trailing back up to the waistband, tugging it down slightly to expose more of his v-line. He tugs his boxers down completely, and your mouth immediately waters at the exquisite sight. He is a lot bigger than you had remembered.

When he slowly rubs the tip of his dick against your folds, shivers trickle down your spine as you raise your hips to meet his, attempting to get him inside.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He mumbles, his voice hoarse. “Look at you all spread open for me, desperate to get a taste of my cock.”

He slips his tip in, eliciting a sharp breath past your trembling lips, and then he pulls out. You whine out his name in a bated breath, your cheeks flushed in an incarnadine hue. Kento spares you a soft smile, almost as if it was mocking you, before he fills your hole up to the very brim — splitting your pussy open.

“Oh fuck—Kento!” A scream slips past your lips, your eyes scrunched shut as a huge wave of pleasure rushes through your veins, sending goosebumps on your skin. Your husband is relentless with his movements, your legs spread apart by his strong grip. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours along with cries of his name resonates across the bedroom, coupled with the intense squeaking from the mattress. “F-Feels so good—Ahn! Please—Please don’t stop—Oh!”

“You dirty woman,” Kento sneers, “we’ve just started and your pussy’s already so greedy for my cum by how tight you’re squeezing me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get my sweet wife pregnant—filled with all my cum.”

With that, he spreads your legs even wider and leans his torso closer to yours; his face merely centimeters away from yours. “I can feel you getting tighter,” He says, his hot breath fanning against your skin, “you’re getting real close, hm?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to properly reply though, as he trails his one hand down to your clit and rubs rough circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a silent scream—your mouth agape and eyes rolled back as you ride out your orgasm, arching your back against his chest.

You are barely given enough time to recover when Kento returns to work, his lips instantly connecting to yours while he thrusts his cock inside your sopping hole with a stuttering pace. His hands travel up to your breasts and gives them a harsh squeeze, the pace of his thrusts quickening. Your husband looks utterly delectable, his face scrunched up as he focuses on your pleasure, small beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Pleasure fills your veins, and your cries only increase in volume the closer you are to reaching your second orgasm.

Thoughts of you being all plumped up and pregnant play repeatedly in his mind, and it merely ignites his desire to pump all his cum into you. Breaths ragged, he stuffs his head into the crook of your neck, nails gripping into your hips as he continues to plummet into you. “K-Kento—!” You wantonly whine out his name, wrapping your legs tightly around your husband’s hips. “Cum inside me—please. Want your kids so bad.”

How can he not cum? Especially when the sight of his sweet wife being drunk on his dick is right before his eyes. With a groan (combined with a growl) of your name along with a string of curses leaving his lips, he stiffens up inside you; warm ropes of his cum coating your walls white.

Upon pulling out, he watches large beads of white leaking out of your hole and he sticks his finger inside, pushing his cum back inside. You released a soft sigh in pleasure, your legs slightly twitching at your husband’s touch.

“How are you feeling now?” Questions your husband, Kento. You reach your arm out to his face, your thumb tracing light circles on his cheekbones.

“I’m a happy, happy wife,” you reply to him, laughing softly before leaning into his lips, giving him a soft peck. Kento chuckles lightly into the kiss. “Was I too rough with you?” He asks you once more, and you shake your head immediately.

“I think I’ve realized just now how much I enjoy being manhandled by you,” you reply back to him, giggling. “Rather, I enjoy seeing this new side of you.”

Your giggles quickly gets replaced by a slight gasp when your husband suddenly adjusts your position, your face and chest now pressed against the mattress with your husband behind you, his hand lightly rubbing his erect cock. Swiftly, you turn your head to Kento, your mouth agape as you are just about to question him but the sting of his hand on your ass immediately erases all rational thoughts in your mind. Heat immediately rushes to your face once more at the foreign, yet pleasurable sensation.

“K-Kento,” you are able to utter your husband’s name, your arms already feeling weak from holding yourself up from the mattress. A shaky breath leaves your lips when he slowly rubs his cock against you from behind, your ears picking up a hoarse chuckle.

“I never said I was done with you,” Kento tells you, “not until I’m sure that you’ll get pregnant with all my cum."

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated !

#★ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustu kaisen fanfic

401 notes · View notes

etheries1015 · 11 months ago

Note

Because I have favorism towards the fae myself (And I'm sorry this is suggestive)

Remember Malleus' voice line about touching his hornes? Now, reader just touches them whenever they can be reached (like when Malleus is using their lap as a pillow) or stroking his tail whenever it's wrapped around Reader. Without realizing it's doing things to him.

Oh my gosh. Don't apologize for suggestive content, I love that shit. Feed me more of it. Heuheuheuheu.

Feeding a Faes hidden desires

Featuring: Malleus Draconia <3

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

18+ / suggestive content minors please don't interact~

It was difficult for Malleus Draconia to open up to people, he had to be the face of pure perfection for the sake of his kingdom. Every action he took, every word he said, would reflect upon Briar Valley and put his position as a prince in either light of greatness, or foolishness. The former was not an option for Malleus Draconia. He was given the best of the best when it came to his studies and academics, except, unfortunately, sex ed.

He understood the bare minimum of course, for reproduction was important for keeping the bloodline of the Draconias strong. What he was not well versed in, however, was the feeling of lust that came with reproduction. He never knew it could feel so... dirty.

When he had agreed to allow you to touch his horns when you insisted, he had no clue what kind of...desires this would stir up in him without realizing.

You had asked the draconic fae to touch his horns and his tail, and he spent a few times urging you otherwise in fear of harming you in some way. Yet it did not take him very long to feel curious and begin to imagine how your hands would feel upon his horns and extremities, starting out purely out of curiosity and the desire to be closer to you.

The first time you touched his horns was in the comfort of the lounge, he bent over for you to touch and feel them freely before being interrupted by Sebeks outraged cries of blasphemy. Since the moment your soft fingertips pressed against the roughness of his obsidian horns, he felt his body shudder at the contact, and something in him he decided to ignore screamed in his mind that it was perhaps a...dangerous endeavor. He had managed to suppress himself from such thoughts and desires, even allowing you to (on occasion) touch his horns and tail at your request. Never for too long, for when the thoughts returned he made a quick excuse to end the session. He wanted to respect you and your soft touch- not sully the romantic gesture with lustful thoughts.

He was often searching for your touch in many different ways, in hugs, cuddles, gentle kisses, holding hands...yet a few months and almost a year, he could feel himself become far more greedier. Malleus would notice the slight changes in himself when you would reach up to grab hold of something on a shelf, the way your shirt rode up your stomach ever so slightly, the way your hands would draw circles around the title page to get a feel for the book, he almost felt himself envious of the piece of literature. He told himself not to lose control, to hold himself together like a proper gentlefae, allowing you to only touch his draconic features on the rare occasion he felt he could keep himself properly composed.

Yet now there you were, in your room in Ramshackle dorm, sitting upon the lap of your lover gently caressing his smooth black horns absentmindedly. It was a comfortable atmosphere for you, being held lovingly by your tall fae significant other in silence while pouring your love and affection into your little pets upon his horns. You muttered a "beautiful..." before leaning up slightly...

and placing a kiss upon his horns.

Malleus let out a sudden high-pitched "urgh!" of surprise, his tail squeezing your waist slightly. Your eyebrows raised in shock, pulling away to look at your now flushed lover, feeling a bit of...excitement from down below. He suddenly removed his tail from your waist and seemed to want to move away from you, until you pushed your body on top of his own, straddling his waist and feeling his arousal between your thighs.

"I-i'm-" He gulped and let out a low moan, his hands shaking hesitantly mid air, not certain where he should place them, "I'm sorry- this is incredibly unbecoming of a king-" You hushed him with a rushed kiss and shook your head, the kiss lasting only a moment prior to you pulling away face as flushed as his and forehead pressed against his own.

"It's natural," You comforted him, "Do you...like it when I touch your horns, Mal...?" You hesitated your inquiry, his response a simple and slow nod giving you confidence to move your hands back to his horns and begin to rub them intimately. You felt his body twitch below you and his tail wrapped itself around your thigh, voice trembling. You hadn't seen the fae prince so shaken up before, so uncertain, so vulnerable. Only in front of you would he allow himself to lose such control.

"Are you...are you certain? I haven't any...experience," He muttered against the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you tightly as if to console himself.

"It's okay," you murmured, hands removing themselves from his horns much to his whining displeasure of the sudden warmth disappearing from them, before shuddering once more as your attention shifted to his tail. Your finger trailed the scales and you felt him twitch between your thighs through his pants as his excitement stirred with every touch you placed upon his extremities.

"I...want it too," You purred.

Malleus's desire gauge was now at 100%

and you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into.

~~~~

Masterlist

#Twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #malleus #malleus x reader #Malleus draconia #Malleus draconia x reader #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland fanfictions #twst fanfics

3K notes · View notes

deakyjoe · 3 months ago

Text

Tap Out

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Reader (gender neutral)

Category: smut

Summary: You know just how to make Logan feel better after a bad day.

Warnings: 18+, smut, m receiving oral, face fucking, hurt/comfort (??), Logan has a bad day, you cheer him up by sucking his dick, Logan calls reader “bub”, let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: he got to me…

Please consider buying me a coffee :)

Logan had been having a bad day. You could tell by the way he was scowling more than usual. He'd barely brightened up when Rogue had joined the two of you for dinner and didn't seem overly enthused when you'd told him where the hidden stash of liquor was kept.

Which meant he was having a worse day than usual.

Perpetually grumpy, you'd grown used to his ways. It was one of the many things you loved about him, in fact. But this was something else. So once it had gotten to the point when the sun had set, all of the students had gone back to their rooms for the night, the rest of the professors in the mansion had gone off to do their own things for the remainder of the evening, and he was still clearly unhappy, you just tapped him on the shoulder.

He glanced at you with a funny look, frowning down at where your fingers had skated across his skin. "What was that?"

"That's me tapping you out for the day. Let's go to bed." You offered him your hand, palm up.

"It's only nine." Logan responded, taking your hand in his anyway.

You nodded. "Yes. So? You don't want to go to bed with me?"

He scoffed. "You make a compelling argument, bub."

So he let you drag him back to your shared bedroom, where you planned to do everything in your power to make his day better. Even if that improvement was only slight. And you knew exactly what to do.

Your bedroom door was barely locked before you were pushing Logan to stand in the centre of the room and you were sinking down to your knees in front of him. Your hands were unbuckling his belt before he'd even had the chance to realise what was happening.

There was a short pause once his fly was unzipped as you looked up at him to confirm that what you were doing was okay. Luckily for you, Logan was almost always in the mood for this.

"Go ahead." He rasped, tucking a finger under your chin and running a thumb along your bottom lip. "Always so pretty on your knees for me."

Suppressing a giggle, you used the tip of your finger to stroke the length of him through the briefs he was wearing, wanting to tease him a little as well as get him hard before you even really touched him. He twitched through the fabric. You bit the inside of your cheek to hide a smile.

You pressed a little harder with the heel of your hand, feeling him grow hard within the confines of his underwear. Sometimes he was just really easy to rile up and you were glad that this was one of those times.

You wasted no time in pulling his briefs and pants down, just to his mid thighs to give you easy access, and wrapped your hand around the base of him. You smiled widely when he let out a hiss at the contact.

"Go easy on me, bub. Been a long day." He mumbled, smoothing a warm palm over the top of your head.

"Funny..." You chimed, licking a long stripe along the vein that adorned the underside of his cock. "...I was about to tell you that you don't need to be gentle with me tonight."

"Is that right?" He chuckled lowly, groaning when you placed a kiss on the head of him.

"Mhm." You hummed, sucking his tip into your mouth for a moment before letting it go with a quiet pop. "Can go with our usual system, yeah?"

Logan knew what you meant - the rules and boundaries you'd both set out at the beginning of your relationship. There was a set of signals and words you both used to let the other know how you were feeling. It worked well in situations like this, ones where you wouldn't really be able to talk properly.

"Alright." He agreed, grasping either side of your head in preparation to hold you in place while he had his way with you.

You licked the palm of your hand, pumping his cock a few times to give it some lubrication before you got started. "Ready?"

"Always ready for you, bub."

You liked when he said things like that, the rare times he verbalised his affection. Logan tended to be more physical when it came to showing you how he felt. So the few occasions he said something even somewhat meaningful, you made sure to always cling onto it.

You opened your mouth, letting your jaw go slack and your tongue hang out over your lower lip just a little, and gave him the smallest of nods to let him know he was good to go.

Logan didn't let any time go to waste before he was easing his pelvis forward and pushing his cock past your lips and into the warm and wet confines of your mouth. It was always a heavenly feeling and he never bothered holding back the groan that would rumble in his chest in response. He wanted you to know how good it felt.

You let out your own moan at the taste of his cock in your mouth, the skin velvety on your tongue. Blow jobs had never been fun until you'd met Logan. Now it was one of your favourite activities.

His hold on the sides of your head tightened as he started a steady pace of thrusting in and out of your mouth. You made sure to breathe carefully through your nose as he took control of your mouth, saliva building up on the corners of your lips as his cock became more and more slick with it.

Logan was losing himself in the situation. How could such a pretty mouth be ruined so quickly by you taking him so easily? It was sinful. He liked to watch the length of himself disappear in and out of the cavern of your mouth, flicking his eyes upwards to meet yours every few moments. He always found you already watching him, absorbing every minor reaction he gave.

You moaned around him, the vibration reaching his stomach and causing him to rut forward even harder. That had his tip hitting the back of your throat, the squeeze of it around him was delicious. He heard, and felt, you gag slightly as tears built in your eyes. But when you gave no indication of him stopping, he let himself continue with that level of force.

The wet sounds of your lips around his dick, sliding up and down the length of it as he moved in and out of your mouth, rattled around Logan’s brain. His teeth clenched together, muscle ticking in his jaw. The noises were lewd and showcased how unforgiving his thrusts were. He didn’t know how much longer he would last, the weight of a bad day combined with the ecstasy of your mouth would lead to him coming across your tongue a lot quicker than usual.

But just as Logan could feel himself crawling towards that edge, only a few more harsh bucks before the end, he felt a couple of solid taps against his thigh.

He immediately pulled himself out of your mouth and looked down at you. Cupping your cheeks in his large hands, his thumbs swiped over your skin gently. "You okay?"

You grinned up at him, eyes creased in joy and saliva dribbling down your chin. "Yep! Just need a second to breathe."

Logan huffed in amusement at your apparent sheer delight, a string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his dick as you continued to pump him in your hand whilst giving your mouth a break. "You're something else..."

"It's why you love me." You mumbled, giving a tentative lick to his tip as you took deep breaths through your nose.

He stared down at you. It was true. He did love you. But he'd never said it out loud. “One of the reasons.”

You tried not to react too obviously at his acknowledgement of that fact as you looked up at him again with a bright smile. "Wanna keep fucking my throat?"

The sight of your face between his hands, chin glistening wet, and your pupils blown had Logan’s cock twitching in anticipation again. So he didn’t even need to verbally agree as he pushed himself back into your awaiting mouth and got back to work. He was brutal, even more ruthless than he had been previously, but kept a close eye on you to make sure you were okay.

It didn’t take him long before he was hitting that precipice again. And with one last thrust forward that had him burying himself deep in the tightness of your throat, he spilled himself and filled your mouth with his cum. Ropes of it spurted out of him and onto your tongue.

You moaned happily at the taste of it, eyes closing as you gave him a few more gentle sucks to finish him off before pulling away and letting him drop out of your mouth.

Logan stood above you, panting and waiting for you to say something. You only sent him the same luminous smile you had before. He offered a hand to help you up which you gratefully accepted and pulled you in for a searing kiss as soon as you were stood.

You broke away from him briefly to mutter a question against his lips. “Do you want to talk about whatever’s been bothering you?”

He shook his head. “No, because it was nothing a little of you couldn’t fix.”

You hummed at that, glad he was feeling better. “Come on, let’s actually go to bed.”

Logan was only too eager to follow you.

359 notes · View notes

flowersforjude · 5 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐔𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Harwin Strong x Fem Targaryen!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A stolen morning spent with Ser Harwin.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2,036

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Sneaking around, slightly suggestive in some parts?, there’s always gotta be a little angst, but also fluff!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | How has it taken me this long to notice how good this man is? It’s disgraceful really. @criminalamnesia has something similar to this so go check it out!

masterlist

A soft breeze was blowing through the open window of your chambers. Early morning light threaded through the thin curtains billowing in the gentle wind. You shifted slightly in bed, throwing an arm over your face to combat the sunlight. Sleep beckoned you back into its waiting embrace.

The gods were cruel, however. Or, sweet, you really couldn’t decide.

“Good morning.” A languid voice rumbles in greeting. Harwin trailed a hand up your bare shoulder, his delicate touch leaving chills in their wake.

“Hmm,” you returned, willing your eyes to stay closed. If you even cracked them open a bit, there’d be no going back to sleep. You drew closer to his chest, pressing your face into the sheet that covered him. His extra warmth quickly pulled you back to slumber. Almost.

Your lover, however, had different ideas. His hand on your shoulder roamed down your back, sliding under the thick cover you’d hoarded in the night. His touch was still gentle as he took to running his fingers up and down your spine. Hitting the ticklish spot right above your tailbone every time they wander lower.

Face still hidden in his chest, you bit your lip to keep from giggling. He was relentless, though. Dragging his hand down once again, he allowed himself a generous feel of your rear.

“Harwin!” You exclaimed, shooting your head up to meet his grinning face.

“Good morning.” He said again, pulling you closer to him. He nudged your head to tilt up higher so he could press kisses to the underside of your jaw.

Sighing, whether from pleasure or annoyance, no one knows. You tangle your fingers in his dark hair. “It is early.” You grumble as he moves lower to your neck. His lips were heavy against your skin.

“Actually, Princess.” He replied, his hand going to your hair to angle your neck to be more open to him. “It's almost time for me to leave.”

Truthfully, it was like this almost every morning you and Harwin spent together. Quiet spoken words, warm carasses, and sometimes a reenactment of the night before if there was time. The gods were surely used to the sight of you two tangled together in your bed, with the door to your chambers locked. It was moments like this that sustained you, both of you. Stolen from the rest of the kingdom, they were, but precious all the same. Something that was reserved just for the two of you without having to care about the rest of the people around you.

“You don’t have to go.” You said casually, knowing deep down that wasn’t true. He always had to leave. Sneak out in the earliest hours of the morning to protect your secret.

Eyes finally meeting his, you smiled sadly at him. Harwin returned it with a slightly more lighthearted one. He always tried to keep your spirits high in times like this. When the clock was ticking too fast for either of your comforts, racing against you for him to depart.

“I do,” he countered. “I cannot be discovered here, or I’d lose my head. I’d lose you.”

You rolled your eyes at his sentiment, but placed a kiss on his jaw. Telling him you knew, of course you did. He hummed as your lips met his skin. A deep thunder-like sound that never fails to send a thrill of excitement through you. “You’re forgetting the power I hold, my love. I’d talk my father down to a finger, perhaps. Unless he was having a bad day, then you’d be short of a hand.” You beamed up at him.

“I trust your negotiation skills fully, Princess.” His fingers, still tangled in your hair, dug deeper, running his digits through the tresses of silver.

You fought your eyes from dropping shut, his touch soothing your mind back to sleepiness. The cloak of dreams was very much welcome, but that was a disaster that needed to be avoided. You’d go to sleep, and Harwin would follow suit, and you’d be caught. Or you’d fall back asleep, and he’d leave without waking you.

He’d done that only once before. Slipping out of your chambers without rousing you to say goodbye. You had been so angry at him for stealing your chance to see him off, for depriving you of one last kiss that you’d threatened to feed him to your dragon if he did it again. You would never actually do that, but your tongue was talented at running away from you when angry. And Harwin knew that, so you were always worried he’d escape like that again.

One night, while tangled together after blissful pleasure, he’d admitted he tried to lure you back to sleep many times before with the soul intention of leaving once you were. An angry retort had been ready before he continued to say it was because he loathed seeing how crestfallen you looked when he had to part from you. He hated watching your giddy mood dissipate and be replaced by sadness. He would much rather prefer gazing at your peaceful expression as you sleep before leaving.

You were quick to tell him your dark emotions were never aimed for him. Rather, they were reserved for the entire circumstances you both found yourselves in. Being so entirely enamored by each other but forced to hide your affections.

You could not wed until Rhaenyra did. It would look unfavorably upon the heir if her younger sister took a husband before she did. So, while you loved Rhaenyra with your whole heart and would never wish to see her tapped in a marriage she did not want, you wished she would hurry up and choose someone.

“Where are you posted today?” You asked, rolling yourself over so you sat atop him. The blankets pooled around your waist, so your naked chest was on full display for him. You saw him glance and then look away in the same second. Trying to remind himself that there was no time for that this morning.

He cleared his throat before answering you. “I’ll be training new recruits in the yard for most of the day.”

You grinned at him while scratching your nails lightly down his chest. “I suppose I’ll have to wander by the training yard then.” You said coyly. “Many times.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to try harder to remain focused with the beautiful princess passing through so often.” His arm came to loop around your waist, pulling you a little higher on his lap. His fingers smoothed over your hips as he watched you raise your arms above your head, stretching the tiredness from them.

“I should speak with my father about taking you as my sworn sword.” You told him. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time now.”

“You wish to be accompanied by me every day?” He questioned, sitting up while still holding you to him.

Confusion colored your expression. “Do you not wish for it?”

“That is not the issue,” he said. “If the King happens to agree, you will not be able to request a different guard simply because you’re crossed with me.” He flashed a bright smile at you.

“I only did that once,” you protested.

He laughed then, a hearty sound that you’d grown to adore. “Because I forgot the strawberry pastries you requested before I came to your chamber that night.”

“I was looking forward to them.” You grumbled, ducking your head down. “And in any case, I came to regret that decision very quickly. Ser Brune was dreadfully boring.”

Harwin laughed again, and moved your head up to look at him. “Speak with the King, love. If he agrees, then I’d happily spend the rest of my days never leaving your side.”

Before you could say anything in return, he wound his arms around you, pulling you to lay on him as he sank back into the bed. Both his arms stayed wrapped around you, successfully holding you to him. Letting your head fall to the crook of his neck, you sighed contently.

“And if he does not, then we’ll just have to hasten your sister along in her search for a husband.” He spoke, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. “So then we would finally be allowed to wed.”

“Rhyeanra will likely remain unwed for the rest of her days.” You sighed. “I don’t think there will be a match waiting in the wings anytime soon.”

“I’m sure you could…persuade her. You can be quite terrifying when it suits you, Princess.”

Gasping as if offended, you shift to meet his eyes. “You are unbearable.” You accused, leaning down towards his face. Your silver hair concealed you both from the outside world and the bothersome sun.

“Am I now?” He asked with a smirk, brushing his nose along yours.

“Terribly so.” You teased before leaning the rest of the way down and capturing his lips.

Sweetness erupted behind your lips just as it did every time you kissed him. The intoxicating feeling lasted all of a few seconds before an alarming knock came from the door.

The frantic knock was accompanied by your handmaiden’s worried voice. “Princess! Are you awake?” She called from outside.

You quickly sat up, taking the sheets to cover your very naked body, before looking down at Harwin, who was also very naked. In your bed.

“Princess, are you in there?” Your handmaiden spoke again. The concern was raised in her voice. You could only imagine how the situation looked. Your door locked, you not answering, and no guard in sight outside your chambers. She was likely thinking the worst.

You tossed the sheet at Harwin, rushing over to your wardrobe to yank out a nightgown. As you pulled the garment over your head, he rose and began hastily collecting his clothes and armor strewn across the floor from the night before.

“Yes, Seanna!” You called to your handmaiden, helping Harwin haphazardly button his shirt.

“You must go.” You urged while he attempted to place his armor on without fastening anything.

“This damn, I am trying.” He muttered, nearly tripping over his boots, still on the floor in his haste. You cringed as his bracer slid from his arm, almost clattering to the stone floor. He caught it just as it fell, though.

“Princess, are you alright?” Seanna asked, knocking on the door once again.

“Yes, just a moment.” You yelled, trying to mask the nervousness in your voice. You gathered his boots and remaining armor as you herded him to the secret passageway hidden in the wall behind your dressing screen. Jerking the concealed door open, you all but pushed Harwin in.

Shoving his armor and boots into his arms, you noticed the wide smile he was directing at you. “Yes?” You questioned disbelievingly.

“You seem a little nervous, love.”

Pushing his shoulders to urge him on, you rolled your eyes at his audacity. “Just go!” You chastise him with a traitorous laugh sounding behind your words.

He chuckled while surging forward to press a lingering kiss to your lips. With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the passage. You quickly put the door to rights and readjusted the dressing screen. Running a hand through your hair, you finally open your door for your handmaiden.

She all but rushed into the room. “I was starting to think the worst, your Highness.” She got to her duties right away. Going to the wardrobe to retrieve a dress for the day. “Who was meant to be on guard last night, Princess? There was no one outside.”

“There wasn’t?” You asked in mock surprise.

“Yes, Princess.” Seanna looked at you skeptically.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as if you just remembered something. “Ser Harwin was on duty last night. I’m sure they are just doing shift chances early this morning.”

“I’m sure.” Your handmaiden agreed with more skepticism. She was good enough to let the matter drop, though.

Once she is done putting your hair into a braided style, she helps pull your dress over your undergarments. Stringing a necklace around your neck, she smirks at you in the mirror.

“His cloak is under your bed, your Highness.”

Expect a lot more of this man from me. He's on my list now!

#house of the dragon #harwin strong #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong #ser harwin strong x reader #harwin breakbones #hotd #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic #harwin breakbones strong #ser harwin #harwin strong imagine #targaryen reader #princess reader #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

431 notes · View notes

strawchocoberry · 1 month ago

Text

HIDDEN DESIRES

I just wanna be one of your girls tonight

kinktober 2024 — day two

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ featuring. wild card kunigami rensuke x fem reader

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ content warnings. smut, free use, manhandling, handcuffs, face-fucking, throat-fucking, belly bulge, slight nipple play, slight dirty talk, orgasm denial, breeding kink

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ synopsis. confession from the yacht — word count. 1.3k

The idea was to do something crazy. Something you’d never do under any other circumstances. And that’s how you find yourself in the luxurious yacht of one of the Horsemen, waiting in one of the bedrooms. If you were honest, you are feeling kind of nervous. A tiny part of you wants to run away, back the way you came here. But there’s this other side, the one currently winning over in this dilemma, which wants you to experience this. Because when else will you ever have a chance like this?

Your biggest concern is who’s going to come through that door. With whom you’re going to spend the night. A few guys caught your attention earlier while you were boarding the yacht. Especially an orange-haired one. He looked so… lifeless? Like a cyborg. But damn he was so good looking, not to mention his body had you practically creaming your panties. It’d be great if he were to appear in your room, though you’re a bit unsure of how the night would go if that were to happen.

Time’s passing by and your heart is beating so fast, filled with both excitement and anxiety. The lingerie set you were given to wear leaves almost nothing to the imagination. The more time goes by, the more self-conscious you’re feeling.

Yet all these thoughts fly out of the window and into the sea when the door opens. Unconsciously, you’re holding back your breath, watching the orange-haired come inside. Kunigami Rensuke. The cyborg, as many seem to call him these days, probably due to his usual lifeless expression. You can see his eyes scrutinising you, before he starts walking towards you.

Kunigami leans closer to you, placing both hands on either side of your hips on the edge of the bed. “You sure you won’t regret this? This might be your last chance to get out.” There’s a warning in his voice.

One that goes in from one ear and out the other. Because only now that you have him right in front of you, can you see just how much bigger he is compared to you, can smell his masculine scent. All you can think about is getting fucked by the man.

“I won’t,” you say in a confident tone.

For a long second, he just stares at you. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he finally replies.

Kunigami picks you up and throws you further up on the bed, having you lie on your back. He comes up to you, straddling your body between his toned thighs and reaching over to the nightstand, taking out a pair of handcuffs. He cuffs your wrists to the headboard, smirking at the small glimpse of fear gleaming in your eyes.

He grabs your face and leans closer to you, so close, your lips are barely touching. “It’s too late to run now.” Unbuckling his belt, he removes his trousers and boxers and stands right in front of your face, his big fat cock pressing against your cheek. “You look kinda cute right now,” he says, rubbing the crown on your lips, before sliding himself inside your warm mouth. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll be gentle with you.”

Kunigami doesn’t give you another warning before he’s thrusting down your throat viciously, using your little mouth to satisfy his own needs. Your tears make him smirk, his thrusts becoming harder the more you cry on his dick that stretches your mouth. You cannot read his expression, his emotions hidden behind his metal armour.

Very few know what happened to the once so called hero that turned him into this cold and heartless machine he is today. But one thing everybody knows is that tonight all hell’s breaking loose. Because tonight is the only night Kunigami can let off all steam without worrying about the potential repercussions of his actions. You came here willingly, so it’s only fair he uses you to his heart’s content, right?

One last thrust and Kunigami sheaths himself in your mouth, spurting his cum down your throat. You gag, but he doesn’t let you pull away, holding you by the hair against his girth until you’ve swallowed all of his cum down. Only then does he pull out, leaving you coughing and heaving from the intensity of his action.

Even then though, your reprieve lasts barely a few seconds. Before you realise it, you’re flipped on your stomach. His strong hands catch the measly fabric of your panties and tear a hole in them, revealing your sweet pussy to him. He could offer to prep you up a bit, but tonight is not about you; it’s about him. So when Kunigami thrusts his cock inside you, you feel your body getting split in half.

He pulls out almost completely, before slamming himself back inside you, hearing you cry out, as you hold onto the cuffs. His hands grip your waist tightly as he starts forcing your small body against him, repeatedly hitting that one specific spot inside you that makes your mind momentarily go blank. You cannot explain it in words. But even though he’s rough and you’re screaming in pain, you don’t really mind it.

Rather you’re clenching hard around him, meowling and moaning for him. Maybe you’re insane. Or maybe it’s because the sweet love you’ve been getting all this time has left you lukewarmly satisfied. Your body has never had a reaction this strong as it has for this man. He hasn’t been fucking you for that long anyway and your brain has already turned into mush, letting him manhandle you however he wants and pleases.

It’s a surprise for Kunigami too, though. When he first saw you at the dock and even when he walked in here, he was certain you’d start crying and begging him to let you go, because he was “too much”. Consider him pleased when you come undone all over his dick, shamelessly moaning his name for everyone in the yacht to hear. Not that he particularly minds. If anything, it makes him harder.

His movements come to a halt and he runs a hand through his hair. Flipping you over to your back, he uncuffs you and leans close to your face, wiping away a few tears with his thumb. “Look at you, already fucked out,” he sneers, then his voice drops to a whisper. “And I’ve barely started.” Kissing you right now might be the only sign of affection he’s going to give you tonight.

When he starts pounding you again, you cling to him as if your life depends on it. In a sense, it does. Kunigami groans when you dig your nails into his broad shoulders, his cock twitching inside your throbbing walls. Looking down in between your bodies, he can clearly see his bulge poking at your stomach whenever he thrusts inside and it turns him on more than he thought it’ll ever will.

And when he presses down on your stomach, your eyes roll to the back of your skull and you think for a moment you’ll come on the spot, again. Kunigami buries himself in your tits, taking one out of your lacy bra and toying with your nipple, biting and licking it like a lollipop, eliciting more sweet sounds from you. He can’t help but laugh against your tit when you whimper, complaining about him ruining his tempo when you were so so so close to another orgasm.

“I let you cum once. I never said I’d let you cum again.”

#౨ৎ ─ succubus dream #౨ৎ ─ strawchocoberry #౨ৎ ─ strawchocoberry’s kinktober 2024 #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #kunigami rensuke #kunigami rensuke x reader #kunigami rensuke smut

280 notes · View notes

luveline · 10 months ago

Note

hi could you do james maybe massaging reader with persistent back pain? he'd be a total sweetheart about it

fem!reader

James is heavier than he looks.

“I resent that,” he says after you’ve told him so breathlessly, shifting his weight off of your thighs as much as he possibly can.

“No, you’re fine, just don’t press on my back,” you say.

“I have to press on it. A bit.” He leans down, arms either side of you, your face hidden in the blankets beneath. “I’m not going to hurt you, yeah? If I do anything unbearable, all you need to do is tell me.” He smells nice, so close, the after effects of his macadamia oil shampoo.

“I feel like I’m about to have major surgery.”

“Don’t mind the scalpels.”

He begins with very gentle movements, almost like he’s going to turn you around and start kissing you. You laugh as he pushes your shirt up, but can’t find it in you to keep going when his lips press gentle and warm to the centre of your spine. You’ve been in a lot of pain recently and your boyfriend has yet to falter. It was his suggestion that he give you a massage, and his own volition to have researched how to do it.

“I’m gonna use more pressure slowly,” he says, making palm-circles against your skin, “and it might hurt some, but if it’s too much, if it’s even a little over your threshold, I’ll stop.”

“I’m not worried.” You can’t take his entire weight, but some pressure might be nice. “Just no tackles.”

“No promises.”

He gives a very nice, very soft massage for a time, the brunt of his palms pushing into your back and up to the line of your bra. He pushes just under it and murmurs about how cold you are, though his constant touching warms you soon enough. When he begins pressing, the pain twinges funny. It hurts in strange places and James chases into knots and stringy muscle with quiet dedication, the room a quiet sanctuary made of your shared breaths and his occasional kiss.

You could fall asleep. Your eyes closed, arms crossed in front of you, weirdly close to him but not close enough. “Come hug me,” you say tiredly.

“Is this doing anything besides putting you to sleep?”

You’re not totally sure. It feels nice regardless, and you’re glad for it when he ignores your demand to press his palm deep into the base of your spine.

He slides from the small to the top, where he unclips your bra and presses both hands to your shoulders. “Pardon me.”

“Not a gentleman. Didn’t even ask.”

“What’s that?” he asks, working his thumb into a particularly sore muscle and drawing out a staggered sigh. “Oh,” —his joking falls away immediately— “that felt good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, turning your face to the side.

“Want me to do it again?” he asks earnestly.

He massages until you’re sure his wrists are sore and you’ve discovered a new kind of nap, your back thoroughly worked over, aching and relieved at once. He climbs off of you and doesn’t say a thing about how his own back probably hurts from so long bent over you, peeling out of his shirt and nudging you across the bed to make room for him. He scoops you onto his chest, and for the first time in ages your back doesn’t twinge.

“Thanks so much, James,” you say, eyes already heavy, face buried in his neck.

He kisses the tip of your nose. You’re welcome.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

751 notes · View notes

furuu · 21 days ago

Note

hii!! ^^ I really love the way you wrote tiger sukuna and it made me very obsessed ヾ(＾-＾)ノcan I have more tiger sukuna?? I was thinking about tiger sukuna with reader but this time reader is also a hybrid, a lamb (❁´◡`❁) and I was thinking if he found her in the forest or either they're already together (*°∀°)=3

𐔌 . ⋮ The forest had always been Sukuna's domain, a place where even the most dangerous of predators learned to avoid his territory. His hulking form prowled through the dense trees, muscles rippling under his striped fur, red eyes glowing in the dim light of dusk. He wasn’t expecting anything unusual this time, until his sharp senses picked up the faint scent of something unfamiliar, something soft—delicate.

He followed the scent with deliberate steps, his large paws barely making a sound on the forest floor, until he saw it—you. A lamb hybrid, nestled against a tree, your fluffy white ears twitching nervously, your soft, doe-like eyes scanning your surroundings. Your innocence stood in stark contrast to the wild, untamed environment around you, making you look out of place in Sukuna’s dangerous domain.

But Sukuna didn’t move closer right away. He stayed hidden, watching with a predatory curiosity, his four tails flicking with restrained interest. You were unlike anything he had ever encountered before. Fragile, soft, and yet… there was something about you that stirred something deep inside him. Perhaps it was the way your ears twitched in sync with your wide, searching eyes, or the way you carried yourself with an innocence that seemed out of place in a world that Sukuna dominated.

After a long moment of watching, Sukuna finally stepped forward, the forest parting before his presence. You flinched, your body tensing as you saw him emerge from the shadows. His towering form, his four arms, his stripes—everything about him screamed danger, and yet, you didn’t run. You stood there, frozen, but curious. Your big eyes locked onto his, wide with both fear and intrigue.

Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk as he took a slow, deliberate step toward you. “What’s a little thing like you doing in my forest?” His voice was a deep rumble, carrying a hint of amusement as he loomed over you, his gaze traveling over your soft, lamb-like features.

You swallowed hard, unable to form a response right away. Your fluffy tail twitched nervously behind you, and your ears flattened against your head, but still, you held your ground. There was something magnetic about him, something that made it impossible for you to tear your eyes away.

“I… I got lost,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Sukuna chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. “Lost? In my territory?” His voice was low, predatory, but there was a strange softness in the way he looked at you, like you were something precious and fragile that he didn’t want to break… not yet, at least.

You nodded slowly, your hands clutching the hem of your dress, your eyes wide and innocent as you gazed up at him. Despite his intimidating presence, there was something in your gaze that stirred something inside Sukuna. Something protective.

“Cute little lamb,” he muttered, almost to himself. His clawed hand reached out, and for a brief moment, you flinched, expecting him to strike—but he didn’t. Instead, his fingers brushed lightly against the soft fur of your ears, his touch surprisingly gentle.

You blinked, stunned by the unexpected tenderness, and Sukuna’s smirk grew wider, a hint of something darker lurking beneath. “You know,” he continued, his voice lowering, “a lamb like you wouldn’t last long in a place like this. Prey, after all, should know better than to wander too far from safety.”

You trembled slightly at his words, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. But even as your heart raced, there was something about him—something that made you feel oddly safe, despite the danger that radiated from him. “I… I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered, though your voice wavered as you spoke.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, intrigued by your defiance. “No? You should be.” His hand moved lower, tracing the curve of your cheek before he gently cupped your face in his large palm. His claws barely grazed your skin, and yet, it sent shivers down your spine. “Because I could tear you apart, little lamb. But…” His eyes glinted with something unreadable, “I’m not going to. Not yet.”

You swallowed, your soft, lamb-like body trembling slightly under his touch. “Why not?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna chuckled again, low and dangerous, as he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Because,” he purred, “I’m curious about you.” He tilted your chin up so that your eyes met his, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “And I like the idea of keeping you around. For now.”

His words sent a confusing mix of fear and warmth through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if you should be relieved or even more afraid. But when Sukuna pulled back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe, you found yourself relaxing under his gaze—just a little.

The forest seemed to grow quiet around you, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves and the slow, steady beat of your own heart. Sukuna’s eyes never left yours, his predatory curiosity evident in every movement he made. And as he watched you, something shifted—something unspoken passed between you, a silent understanding.

You weren’t just prey. Not to him.

And maybe, just maybe, that meant you’d be safe. For now .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

#ᡣ꒰ᵔ⠀𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓅ℯ𝓈⠀𝒶𝓃𝒹⠀𝒲ℴℴ𝓁⠀.ㅤ ও #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #anime x female!reader #anime x chubby!reader #𐔌 ຼ ͡ ৯ 𝒻𝓁𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ໒꒱#𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃 :¨ ·.· ¨: ..#. . ˚˖𓍢ִ #tiger!sukuna

222 notes · View notes

waywardprintmaker · 1 month ago

Text

I have noticed that a lot of fics make Sebastian the one who falls first, the ones who pines and dreams of something more, but there's something that's so compelling about Ominis, the sickly, traumatised, disabled victorian child imprinting on his first ever friend like a baby duck and never letting go.

Ominis finding out for the first time what playfighting is, playfighting that doesn't leave you scratched and bruised and hurt. He finds Sebastian, a boy brimming with energy and affection and it's Sebastian who introduces Ominis to the concept of playful touch, cheap sweets and games that spit at your expensive robes with smelly liquid - revelations that open up an entirely new world for Ominis.

At first, it’s just puppy love. Ominis thinks it’s normal to be this attached to your best friend, right? But as they grow older, those innocent feelings gradually shift into something much stronger—much stronger. And the thing is, Ominis is totally aware of it. He knows exactly how deep his feelings for Sebastian have become, and that awareness makes everything harder. He’s fully conscious of how he hangs on to every laugh, every touch, every quiet moment between them, and he knows it’s more than friendship. He just can’t stop himself. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

For Ominis, Sebastian isn't just a friend - he's a lifeline, a source of warmth and safety in a world that had previously offered little of either. Every laugh, every gentle touch, every shared moment becomes a treasure that Ominis holds dear.

But the fear of losing the one bright spot in his life keeps those feelings hidden, even as they threaten to overflow. Each time Sebastian draws near or chuckles at one of Ominis' dry jokes, you can almost feel Ominis holding his breath, wondering if he's reading too much into these simple interactions. And Sebastian? Sebastian just laughs, playfully taps him on the shoulder and goes back to boasting about his latest duel victories. Like he's unaware a dam is about to burst right next to him. Ominis keeps the dam strong. Hopes he can keep it strong forever.

Of course he fell first.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #sebinis #Sebinis posts

247 notes · View notes

thegoldencontracts · 7 months ago

Note

Hey! Can I suggest a tired & flustered Azul or Leona? Both are personal favorites

Hihi I gotchuu anon thank you for the requestt <3

also a bit off-topic but im indian-american (not native, like the asian country) and im the same shade as as leona which is why i hate hate hate when people talk about him blushing it'd be vy hard to see and i know its so weird and theyre good writers blah blah blah just a little pet peeve

Leona Kingscholar

You were currently being pulled into the arms of none other than the Prince of Afterglow, Leona Kingscholar. That wasn't particularly new - ever since you two started dating, Leona seemed to have a newfound love of cuddling you. It was pretty cute, actually. He really did act like a big cat sometimes.

Today, though, he seemed especially tired. He was always a bit tired - you knew why, and it wasn't a pretty story, but you had to digress - today, he seemed even more tired than usual.

It made sense. He had to pull an all-nighter yesterday catching up on paperwork for the Spelldrive club, something you still couldn't believe he'd actually done instead of just throwing the job onto Ruggie.

Still, he looked just about ready to collapse. You were getting pretty concerned.

"Wanna go to bed?" You asked, taking the opportunity to card your fingers through his hair. For once, he didn't try to hide the way he leaned into the touch. He pouted, though, and at that moment, you thought your heart was going to explode.

Leona, calm, always composed Leona was pouting at you. He looked almost like a kid right now.

You couldn't help the hearty laugh that escaped you. Leona huffed at you, angling his face in a way that made his dark circles much too prominent.

"Really, though," you said. "Get some sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

Leona mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"Come with me, herbivore," he said, more mumbled, and though it wasn't visible, you could tell he was blushing. The way he couldn't meet your eyes said it all.

He was surprisingly honest today.

He probably took your silence for teasing or the like, because he turned away with a huff.

"You can," he said. "I don't really care either way."

You smiled. It was genuine, not an ounce of teasing. You weren't going to do that, now when it was already so hard for him to be more vulnerable with you. It was overjoying just to know he was being honest.

"I'll take you up on that offer," you said, and that poorly hidden smile made every moment you'd have to spend listening to him snore worth it.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was working this evening. That was fine - he'd literally taken you out on a date so custom-tailored to you it made you wonder how exactly he knew you so well yesterday, you weren't going to complain about his performance as your beloved.

But he seemed tired. No, no, that was an understatement. He seemed like he was about to pass out any moment now. And yet, by some miracle, he was still working.

You had to perform well has his beloved, too. And that meant taking care of him when he was ill - or in this case, so tired he might as well have been.

"Azul?" you called out, and the thirty seconds it took him to process your voice and turn to look at you said it all. "Don't you think you should go to bed?"

After a few seconds, he shook his head blearily.

"'Can't," he mumbled, his words slurred. "Work."

You vaguely understood what he was trying to say. He couldn't sleep, he had work to do.

But it didn't seem like he was going to get much done in his current state other than pass out.

"Sleep, please," you said, and you were honestly shocked at how gentle your voice sounded. Being in love with Azul really did things to you, huh?

"But the money!" he whined, and you couldn't help but laugh. The money? That's what he cared about right now? How much money did he actually think he'd lose from sleeping? "'Want money."

This was the love of your life. This man.

Seeing you laugh, he huffed, cheeks bright red.

"Stop laughing," he said, pouting. "Ugh. 'S why you have no money."

Cold, Azul. Cold. Even in his current state, he had to remind you of your painfully broke reality.

"Then you'll have to help me make some, then." You said, trying to appeal to his love of rambling about finance. "Why don't you teach me? We can go to your room while we're at it, more privacy that way."

He nodded shakily, cheeks still a bit pink.

"I'm very-" he cut himself off, trying to pronounce somthing. "'Nevolent. Be-ne-vo-lent. I'll help you."

"Thank you so much," you said, and he followed you to his room.

You couldn't wait to see how embarrassed he'd get in the morning.

Bonus (Of sorts):

"I said what?"

"Yeah, and your face was so red! You kept slurring over your words, too. You couldn't even say 'benevolent'! Isn't that, like, your signature word?"

"Stop teasing me already!"

#azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #twst x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #leona x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #fluff #twst azul #twst #azul x you #leona x you #leona kingscholar x you #twst leona

444 notes · View notes

etheraltides · 24 days ago

Text

Wind whispers ೄྀ࿐

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summarize: after arriving in Outer Banks without his dad, Rafe goes straight back to the only soft constant in his crazy life.

Warning(s): mention of death and drowning. It’s basically just fluff with a hint of angst

A/N: This is just a little something cause I was bored but Let me know if you’d like a full version of with smut, maybe ;) Feedback is always more than welcome!

The night was warm, the soft rustle of leaves outside mingling with the gentle hum of crickets. You lay beside Rafe in the quietness of your room, the moonlight casting a faint glow through the sheer curtains. His body was still trembling slightly from your shared moment, the air between you thick with something deeper than either of you was ready to admit.

You had always kept things light with Rafe. No strings, no commitments. It was easier that way – especially for him, the guy who had always kept his walls up, the one who never let anyone too close. But tonight, something was different, you could feel it.

He was quieter, his eyes distant, lost in a place you couldn’t reach as he stared at your white ceiling. His dad was dead, you had heard someone around the island say. The weight of it was written in every line of his body, and you could feel the heaviness of it sinking into him. He hadn’t said much since he showed up at your door. Just walked in, kissed you, and let it unfold like it always did. Without any pressure.

Now, though, as you ran your fingers through his shaved hair, something twisted deep inside you. A need, more than just physical. You wanted to reach him, wanted to hold him beyond the fleeting moments of passion. The quiet between you thickened, and you felt your heart race, your chest tightening as you tried to find the words. You didn’t want him to think he was alone now.

“I want you,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence. Rafe’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and unreadable. You took a breath, your hand sliding down his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his abs, feeling the tension beneath his skin. “I want you with me, on me, in me.” The words slipped out, soft but laced with all the intensity you had kept hidden.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you like he was trying to make sense of what you had just said. His brows furrowed, his breathing a little more uneven. You wondered if you had pushed too far, crossed the unspoken boundary that had always existed between you.

But then he moved. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in such a careful tender way, almost as if he was scared to hurt you. His gaze softened, something flickering behind the walls he always kept up. “I’m here,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost vulnerable.

Rafe always feared he’d damage you. Taint your softness with his anger, bring chaos to the peace he always felt coming from you. He was feeling selfish tonight.

You leaned into his touch, your lips brushing against his. It wasn’t just lust this time. It was more, something you both had avoided for too long. And now, in the dim light of your bedroom, with the weight of the world pressing down on him, you were both finally ready to admit it – even if neither of you knew exactly how.

His kiss deepened, slow and languid, as if he was savoring every second. His hands traced your skin, but it wasn’t rushed like usual. It was careful, almost as if he was afraid to lose you in the moment. And maybe, for the first time, he was.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Rafe muttered against your lips, his voice tight with something you hadn’t heard from him before—fear. “I feel like I’m drowning. He’s gone. Everyone’s gone.”

You pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around him. “Then let me hold you up,” you whispered. “I’m here, Rafe. I’ve always been here.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken feelings, but it was enough. For now, this moment was enough.

He wasn’t alone. He had you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Please interact with the story. Your reblogs, likes and comments helps me stay motivated. Your support means the world! ^ྀི 🩵

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron one shot

186 notes · View notes

mamayan · 1 year ago

Note

oof your writing is so good 🙈 if your requests are open, would you be willing to write smth for dabi with a nervous virgin reader? Maybe some fingering and petting, lots of praise and encouragement if you're okay with that!! I also wouldn't mind if theres a little dubcon scattered in there for flavour😳 Thank you!🙏

Fuck it’s his favorite— absolutely I will Nonnie♥️ Dabi is nothing if not the perfect gentlemen… sorta. Am I gonna get sued for changing his words in this manga panel? I got carried away with this lol

Yandere Dabi x Virgin! Darling

tw: NSFW • Fem! Darling • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Implied Mental/Emotional/Physical Abuse • Dubcon • Praise • Virgin! Darling • BDSM • Fingering • Oral • Sex (M)(F) • Denial/Edging • Overstimulation • Dacryphilia • Unprotected Sex • Creampie

The front door slammed loud enough to reverberate around the apartment.

You sat facing the small tv, the screen playing some sort of cartoon with the volume on low, unmoving even as the thuds of his boots against vinyl faux wood flooring became louder. You were curled around your legs, pulled to your chest as your bare feet seemed to absorb the cold around you, icy skin keeping you grounded. Only a thin ratty oversized t-shirt and tiny shorts covering your body, despite the broken thermostat keeping the apartment at almost freezing temperatures.

Dark combat boots entered your field of vision, you numbly let your eyes flick up to take him in. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey, the burning scent making acid bubble up in your stomach to your throat, but you meekly swallowed it down and gave a wobbly smile. “W-welcome home…” it was said with all the enthusiasm of a man walking towards his execution.

He crouches down to face you better, forearms resting on his knees as he levels you with a… soft look.

It has chills shooting down your spine, your stomach rolling and clenching while your chest heaves with anxiety. He’s not a soft man. He’s never been soft, not really, only in strange sporadic moments does he gently do anything to you, but it’s always followed by something sinister. Always.

“Hey pet, you cold?” He’s sadistic and cruel even on a good day. His words immediately making your eyes burn as you try to stop the impending tears. You’re always cold, left freezing locked up until his return, your only source of comfort and warmth him. It was a nasty play, logically you knew it, but logic was what got you hurt so you nodded despite the itch in your heart begging you to hold out a little longer. “M’cold…” you assent, unable to see the defeated dull look in your own eyes, but he could.

“C’mere then,” his smile is so sweet, his staples hardly pulling and his usually vibrant eyes more subdued and gentle. You wanted him to stop whatever game he’s playing now. Whatever sick trick he’s got hidden to make your walls crumble around you. His arms spread open, his knees hitting the floor so he could straighten his spine, and his embrace looking so warm.

Like selling your soul to the devil, you caved. Pathetically nearly falling as you all but threw yourself into him.

The fire wielding psychopath was a lot of things, and sadly running warmer than a normal person was one of them. Just being close to him was like sitting near a furnace, heat radiating off him in waves it seemed. You had all the time in the world to hate yourself when he inevitably left you again to nearly freeze, for now you focused on getting feeling back into your limbs as you pressed yourself as close as possible.

His chuckle is breathy as he wraps you up easily, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on his ass now, your thighs on either side of his to let you be as physically close as possible. Well, almost as physically close as possible, because when you were so desperate for his touch like this, it’s hard not to think about you begging for him to really warm you up.

“Better?” He doesn’t really need to ask, not when you’re fighting to keep your hands from digging under his shirt and getting more body heat from him. Your little sigh of contentment adorable, and while his day was mundane, he did get to release most of his pent up frustration on some lowlife pieces of shit. He was in a good mood, but he’d be in a better one soon.

“Hn” your little affirmation quiet as you rested your cheek against the exposed skin of his collarbone, breathing him in and relaxing as your stiff muscles and joints soaked his warmth up greedily. You didn’t even fight when his hands began to smooth over your skin, up your calves and thighs to your ass where he gave a little squeeze. You put up no resistance, no screaming or fighting tonight it seemed. “You still cold?” His lips are right are by your ear, warm breath blowing over it and sending a shiver of something… different down to your stomach. The stale cigarette scent wasn’t as bothersome to you when he wasn’t being mean it seemed.

You let him pet and stroke your skin, warming you up gradually and shifting you both around until your core was against his stomach and he was flat on his back. He even lifted up his shirt and your own a bit to give more contact, the staples across his chest smoother than you’d initially thought.

This was all wrong and you were without a doubt being soothed into… something. Peace? A sense of safety? Whatever it was, you mentally kept yourself prepared. Even if his touch was soft and careful, you knew what lurked behind those pretty eyes.

“You stopped shakin’…” his observation was more of a statement, but indeed you had warmed up enough not to shiver anymore. He wasn’t usually so nice as to help warm you up like this, usually making you drop to your knees and cling to him while he heckled your behavior.

Your world flipped too quickly to react. Your back now on the cool floor with his body looming over you.

“You’re still cold though, aren’t you pet?” His smile isn’t nice anymore.

“D-Dabi please…”

“What’s wrong, you don’t want me to warm you up anymore?” It was a thinly veiled threat that had you nearly delirious with panic in seconds.

“N-no I do! I do, please don’t stop!” Your pretty eyes filling with tears made him bite down hard on his tongue, tasting blood as he struggles to keep himself calm. It’s you after all. You weren’t some cheap whore he screwed for a quick release. You were his.

That meant something. Whether it was good or bad was debatable and complicated.

“Then let me warm you up, it’ll be faster like this,” he’s not lying. Even as he laughs at the confusion and waring emotions on your face, he really isn’t lying to you this time.

His lips aren’t soft. The kiss nothing like the ones you’d sneakily shared with a crush under the school bleachers, that kiss was a bit too wet and slimy. This one was commanding. His tongue easily slipping into your mouth in your shock, happy to invade and taste you, to share the overwhelming taste of tobacco. Your hands are tangled in his coat, tugging lightly on the fabric as he devours your mouth. He pulls back when you start to struggle, and the sight of your swollen parted lips has his pants uncomfortably tight. His zipper digging into his cock now.

“Dabi—,” your voice is barely even a whisper, almost inaudible but he catches it and pauses as he looks down at you carefully.

The fact that he’s even being careful should be considered as a mercy.

“Please be gentle…” your lips twist into a grimace, the lame line the only thing your muddled mind can conjure. His snort of amusement not helping your wounded pride, but as he shrugs his coat off and looks down at you, his words give you pause.

“I’m going to make you forget everything bad tonight pet.”

He doesn’t elaborate. You don’t need him to. You don’t want this. It doesn’t matter though, because you never wanted any of this. His sanity not even in question, because he’s clearly out of his damn mind and has been for quite a while.

His shirt is next, revealing his chest in the dim light of the tv still playing quietly, the words not even registering as a language you understood. The damaged flesh leathery and colored a dark purple in contrast to his healthy skin. You lay limp and almost defeated beneath him, watch as his hands deftly remove your own shirt, and while it’s not the first time he’s seen you naked… this would be the first he’s touched you so intimately. Your breasts exposed to the cool air harden quickly, his smile predatory as he leans over your chest to flick one with his tongue.

The sensation shoots straight to your pussy.

“Pretty little pet, are you scared?” His question is rhetorical, but you hate how he just seems to know your thoughts and feelings. So much so you wanted to ask if he hide a second quirk. In a last act of defiance, you shake your head. You are scared, terrified of what else there even is to lose because this evil man seems determined to take and have all of you. He’s insatiable for whatever you have, like a vampire taking the life right out of you. Except he won’t kill you, even if sometimes you wished he would. To end this game.

“Pfft, you look so serious,” his face is filled with only hunger and amusement, as he lets his rough palms rest over your breasts, squeezing lightly as he lets himself just take you in. His hands drag over your much softer skin, looking at the odd scar here and there left by his flames during the early days of your readjustment period. He lets one hand rest just over the mound of your pussy, still covered by the thin shorts that hardly covered anything. He’s quiet, and so are you, as you breathe and struggle to stay still for whatever this was. You imagined it to be more violent, less pathetic on your end, as if you’d given up without a fight.

Your tears of frustration finally broke and trailed down your cheeks, your brows furrowed and cheeks puffed as you try to stay silent and uphold whatever amount of dignity you had left. You wouldn’t beg him to stop, it only spurred him on. When his eyes looked back up, the image of you nearly drove him feral as he grinned, giddy with excitement in lieu of you crying. His snicker of approval only making you flinch back as his fingers hook inside the waist band of the shorts and your underwear.

“Keep crying pet. Maybe a hero will come to save you?” His words drip sarcasm as he now roughly yanks your bottoms down and off your body in one swift motion. You’re left completely nude and shivering as the cold seeps back into your body as you lay on the floor. “I don’t think any heroes even patrol this side of town anymore. Too dirty and messy, they can’t be bothered to save people here. So I guess that leaves just you n’me.” He’s not looking at your face, though he’d be elated to see the look of crushed hope painting your features, instead his eyes were trained on your tightly shut thighs. The soft skin a bit distorted from how hard you squeezed them closed. His dark hair falling a bit into his gaze as he easily digs his fingers roughly into your flesh to pry them open.

“Hii!” You cry of pain and shock adorable to his eyes as he gets an eye full in the dim light of your wet pussy.

“Better keep these spread pet, if I gotta open them again for you, I’ll give you a real reason to cry.” His eyes are fierce and foreboding as they meet your gaze, and fear keeps you compliant as you obey and keep your legs open where he left them. He smiles in approval, humming to himself as he begins to undo his belt and open up his pants.

He shifts to one handedly yanking his pants down to free his aching cock, his free hand moving to his open mouth to layer on his own saliva to his fingers. The wet digits brought to your pussy as you whimper, gently spreading your folds and admiring it as he grips his hard cock in his hand. You make the mistake of looking at it.

He’s covered in piercings. His cock long and thick, more so in the middle, with a slight upward curve… but there’s two distinct barbs through his dick on both sides, with the tip sporting one prominent one that had you wanting to disobey and close your legs anyway. It looked frightful and painful if anything else, and you briefly wondered if he did this to ensure his victims were thoroughly tormented at every step.

“Fuck look at you baby, so pretty like this aren’t you?” He’s gently poking and circling your clit, loving each little scared gasp and unsure look you shoot his way. He can tell it feels good for you, but with the uncertainty and fear factor of his looks and his cock, you’re wound tight in apprehension. He thinks it’s a beautiful sight on you. Your little sniffles and pouty lips captivate him into leaning over you again, licking your lips until you open and let him kiss you again. It’s languid and lazy like him, proving how good his mood currently is by how he’s taking his time with you. Your hands stay by your side, gripped tight into fists as you feel a finger begin to push inside of you.

He breaks the kiss the time, looking down to see you take his finger.

“Not so bad is it pet?” He wiggled and pushes it as deep as he can go, loving how your back aches and chest juts out in his face for easy access. He’s nice as he works you open with one finger, lavishing your sore nipples with licks and bites. You keep the moans soft and low, struggling to hate this like you thought you would.

It didn’t hurt at all. It felt good. That was the problem. Dabi never makes you feel good, he torments you like a cat with a mouse. That’s why he calls you pet.

So when he squeezes in a second finger and you moan louder? You nearly knock a tooth out slapping a hand over your lips in embarrassment.

“No you don’t,” his fingers rip free from your tight cunt, both hands gripping your wrists and pinning them with one hand above your head. He grabs his jacket, using the arms to make a makeshift cuff to lock your hands together. “Keep’’em right there,” he orders, and by his stern features you know he means it.

Tired of just testing the waters, Dabi crawls down your body in favor of bringing his face directly before your pussy. “Dabi?” Your head lifted to try and see him as he wraps his arms under your hips to hoist you up higher towards his awaiting mouth. “Been thinkin’ of how this pussy tastes for months,” he grins, letting his pierced tongue run from your dripping hole to your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body as your legs jolt and snap around his head.

You realize quickly and apologize, opening them to avoid any punishment.

“Good girl~” you don’t like how his praise warms you up further, your shaking now less from cold or fear and more from arousal.

He repeats his first few licks, before beginning to truly lavish your pretty cunt with his tongue and skills. Dabi isn’t actually an experienced man, most women fearful or disgusted by him for obvious reasons, but it wasn’t hard for him to figure out your reactions and follow the flow of your pleasure. The way you twitched and moaned, struggled to keep your hands in the spot he ordered you to, to keep your legs spread, he loved all of it. When your moans became high pitched whimpers and whines, and your muscles spasmed, he knew you were close.

“D-Dabi I think I—,” you were so close, core wound so tight you could snap at any second, and for the first time you liked what he was doing to you.

Until he stopped.

“No—!” Your cry was embarrassing, as you shook beneath him in horror of your own reaction. Panting and trying to catch your breath as your pleasure faded by the second, his Cheshire grin soaking up your disappointment eagerly. Of course he would, you felt bitter, even as he returned to licking and sucking your clit. Only when the build up returned did you relax again, moving your hips up a little as you neared the crest once more…

He stopped again.

“Dabi—!” Your indignant tone telling as you huffed, sweat beginning to dot your skin despite the cool temperatures, Dabi’s warmth even removed like this helping.

Your stomach ached with the urge to cum. “Something wrong pet?” His face said he knew what was wrong, but it seemed he wanted you to say it. Instead you stubbornly pressed your lips together, his shrug of nonchalance following as he returned to kissing and sucking, slower and more gradually building you up again.

Even if you mentally prepared for it, he let you get much closer to coming than the previous times, so when he pulled away, your legs clamped tight around his head to stop him. “Fuck, please Dabi,” you hated yourself. Hated how he held so much power over you.

If you didn’t look so cute, he’d probably punish you too for not listening.

“Please what?” You watch as he lets a drop of his salvia drip into your pussy, your trembling legs pushed open again by his hands as he stares up at you.

“P-please…” you didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to give him anymore of yourself but… “—please make me cum.”

He looks like that cat which got the milk. His satisfaction palpable as he laughs. “Well why didn’t you just say so? Since you said please.” His teasing tone muffled again soon by your wet pussy, his aggressive approach now much more intense as he eats you out with the purpose of making you cream his face now.

It doesn’t take long before the string violently snaps inside you, your orgasm intense and nearly painful as you come apart.

“Ah, yes, oh—,” you try to shift away, his tongue still laving your clit as he looks up at you, narrow gaze teasing and telling as you whine. “D-Dabi I-I already—ah please!” You almost bite your tongue when he sucks hard on your clit, your panic building with another orgasm. You moan, your head thrown back as your fingers grip and tug on the binding of his coat, hips shaking as you come again.

His lower face is soaked, but he can’t find it in himself to stop as he licks up all your release and noses your clit. Switching his assault to inside of your quivering hole, letting his wet hot tongue slither in, licking and poking your walls. He moans with you now, relaxing as he lets himself get comfortable, leaning against your thigh he has propped up now with his arm keeping you locked in position. He’s lazily feasting as you come again, this time breaking his rule and trying to push his face away with your hands still bound.

He doesn’t even stop then, just uses his free hand to grip the fabric and anchor your hands to your stomach as he continues to work you into another frenzy.

“S’too much! Stop! Stop Dabi! Please fuck, I can’t, ugh, no more—,” your pleas are ignored as he laughs, eyes crinkling as he watches you twitch and jolt with even the tiniest amount of pressure to your clit now.

“I thought you wanted to cum? Change your mind already?” You can hardly manage a full sentence, gasping for air like he’s choked you or something. He relents though, only because his cock is close to shooting his load even though he hadn’t touched himself while playing with you. Using his coat, he lifts your hands back above your head and scoots forward to let his heated cock slap against your wet folds. His hips automatically jerking a few times as his dick feels the soft wet heat your cunt is soaked in.

“You want my cock pet?” You look delirious and exhausted, sweat making your hair cling to your face as you briefly almost admit to being too warm now. Your both chilled and overheated as your sweat dries. Your blurry vision glances down to his throbbing length peaking at you from below, the heavy rod sliding back and forth through your slick and causing your pussy to twitch as he nudges your clit with it.

“S’not gonna fit…” his lip nearly splits on his smile, the cute admission only making him wanna shove it in you more to prove it will fit.

“You don’t think so?” His eyes look inhumanly blue from the cast of whatever show played on the tv now. One hand stays to keep your own pinned, while the other travels down your soft body to grip his cock and line himself up. “‘Cuz I think it will,” then he’s pushing in. His tip goes in easier as it gets crushed by your tight convulsing cunt, the rest engorged by blood feels painful as you cry, Dabi moaning as your gooey walls try to force him out. “I think,” one sharp thrust sinks a whole inch in, your eyes opening wide as tears spill freely, “I’ll get my entire cock in,” he pulls out only a little before shoving in a little more again. “And you know what else I think?” He’s leering down at you, manic grin frightening with the added shadows cast. You can feel his piercings, tugging and forcing themselves inside as he shifts and pushes, nearly stealing your ability to breathe.

“I think you’re gonna like it.” You can’t talk and he knows it, as his tip kisses your cervix, and then it’s bruising it as he shoves himself to entire way in, gasping in pleasure he sees himself fully sheathed inside you. His groin flush with your ass. Your walls so tight it feels impossible to pull out now. It doesn’t matter to Dabi though, as he grits his teeth and rocks forward and back, creating delicious friction on his cock. You’re left to sniffle and cry, pussy stretched painfully wide and aching deep inside from how his rough entrance.

“Poor little crybaby,” he chuckles, leaning closer to lick the tears off your cheeks as he finally gets himself wet enough to begin a slow pace inside you. “You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, burying his face in your neck for a moment while he ruts into you, quick short thrusts working him close to his orgasm. His hand works between you, thumbing your clit as you cry and writhe beneath him, pussy clenching and relaxing as you’re forced to cum with something thick, hot, and painfully heavy inside your cunt.

“Shitttt,” his teeth sink into your neck, grunting as his balls draw tight and he pumps his boiling load deep into your womb, pushing even deeper as it twitched and spurts. Your legs locking and trembling as you see stars.

He stills for a moment, catching his breath quickly as he lifts up to look at your ruined appearance. Your face covered in tears as you pant, eyes nearly closed as struggle to stay awake. Your pussy even messier, slick and cum coating you both and the floor, a tiny bit of pink mixed too.

The thought that it was him who ruined your innocence, taken your first and last, has him hardening again inside you.

You can only whine, silently pleading for a break, but his answering smile is familiar and devious.

“C’mon pet, we’re just getting started tonight.” He chuckles, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming into you now. The shock woke you up fully, pussy protesting the rough treatment he sets as the room fills with salacious noises, your pussy squelching with each slap of his balls. The piercing on his tip hitting a new angle as he leans back and jerks your hips up off the floor.

“Oh!” Your vision goes black as you cum, and Dabi only laughs and fucks you harder as you pass out, loving the stupid expression on your fucked out face.

“That’s it pet, said I was gonna make you forget!” He’s emptying another load inside you not longer after, his own dick becoming a bit overstimulated but too engrossed fucking you to stop yet. With you half conscious, it’s easy to slip out and flip you to your stomach before sliding back in smoothly. “Fuck, you feel so good baby, taking my cock like you were made for it,” his words are slurred in his pleasure, his hips working against your ass as he drags his slick cock out of your pussy before working it back in. He’s even deeper like this, your belly and hips flat on the floor as he fucks you.

You can’t even remember why you didn’t want this anymore. The pleasure and warmth overwhelming and so perfect.

At least as he fills your pussy again, you don’t feel cold.

#request filled #bnha Dabi #Bnha Dabi smut #mha Dabi #mha Dabi smut #Touya Todoroki smut #Dabi smut #Dabi x reader smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n smut #bnha smut #villain smut #yandere smut #yandere Dabi #yandere dabi smut #yandere dabi x reader smut #fem! reader

2K notes · View notes

cherryheairt · 2 months ago

Text

Dragon Dreamer pt. XIII

cw: Some blood, gore mentions? Wounds.

tags: @beebeechaos @emery-aka-emmy @r-3dlips @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @thelastemzy @pedro-pascal-love @hueanhdang @purple-1995 @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97 @mandeepandee1997 @reyndaisy @saintkittykat @theadharablack @alexandra-001 @itsaslaminak

Cregan spent much time with Daenys in her chambers, standing vigil in her desolate state. When he asked for a bowl of water and a maester, Cregan was surprised to see a young woman walk in with some supplies in her nimble hands.

The woman, who introduced herself as Alys, simply set her belongings on the nightstand next to the bed and took a seat next to Cregan. She wordlessly worked for a few minutes, feeling over Daenys for any breaks, dislocations, burns, and so on.

When the Maester had declared Daenys to be in fine physical health, she stood gracefully from her little stool. Hesitating, she lingered a hand over the burnt sleeve of Daenys' dress before taking her leave.

Cregan almost felt like he should have hidden such things from outsiders, but he deemed Alys to be a secretive and private woman. Hopefully, she would keep such a discovery to herself, if her loyalties truly lied with the Blacks.

Cregan was quick to scoot his chair forward, closer to the bed. Gently, he brushed blood-hardened strands of hair from his bethrothed's face. The color was monochrome in its covering, leaving only peeks of pale skin behind the blood. It left a hot, smokey scent behind on her, similar to the way Morningstar smelled after burning her prey. Except Daenys wasn't prey, she was as much predator as her dragon. Cregan knew this well, she had fought two mighty dragons and lived to tell the tell. She didn't look the part now, curled up on cream sheets, but he knew she was.

The water was still warm when he took the cloth in his hand and wrung it out. With the damp cloth, he carefully wiped at any exposed blood from her skin. Her hair would have to be washed in a bath basin, either by herself or her maid, Cregan couldn't do so in the confines of the bed.

While he worked, he hummed a tune that had become familiar to him over his time with Daenys. Whether she knew it or not, she often hummed the same song that he had caught her singing to her dragon. A High Valyrion song, with words unknown to him, but no less beautiful. On her horse, when she braided her hair, when she checked or set up traps: all were times that she unconsciously droned on to it. Cregan found it stuck in his mind, even when he was meant to be deep in focus. Writing letters, reading over bannermen's ravens, even meeting with the important councilmen and Castle Black's Commander. Every time, he found his mind drifting to the silver woman. The one he found a reason to fight for in.

After minutes passed with only his deep hums in the air and soft strokes of the Warden's gentle touch, he was able to be content with his work. "Daenys," he whispered, sitting the rag down and grabbing her hand. She was not sleeping, hadn't been the whole time judging by her breathing patterns.

"The blood will stain your hair. I'll have the maid draw a bath." He murmured into her ear, kissing her cheek before walking out of the room to summon the girl that had been taking care of the Princess.

Surprisingly, Cregan almost found himself flinching when he opened the doors to see the mousy young girl already standing in front of them. She did flinch, however, at the door's abrupt opening. She perked up, ready for the Lord's instruction.

"Bring some hot water in for a bath, please. She needs some good oils and soaps for her hair, it will be hard to wash out."

The maid nodded, bowing swiftly and scurrying off down the hall to boil water. If it were Winterfell, the process could be done much quicker with their pipes of hot spring water running directly through the walls of the Great Keep. He reminded himself to take her to the hot springs in the Wolfswood someday, where he was sure she would enjoy the scalding hot water more than he ever could.

Turning back to the bed, he sat beside her again as he waited. The maid worked quickly, dumping pales into the copper basin with the speed of a much more experienced laborer. When she left for the last one, Cregan moved to exit the room for the ladies to handle the bath.

A hand tugging at his sleeve prevented him from moving any further. Though the tug was faint, he still felt it enough to know Daenys wanted his attention. Leaning down, Cregan asked, "what is it, my Lady?"

She lifted her head, only enough to face Cregan instead of the pillows and blankets surrounding her. "Stay with me." Daenys muttered out.

Cregan glanced between her and the door, watching the maid come in and pour the last bit of hot water into the tub. She waited, hands clutching the bucket, for the Lord to leave. He shook his head, gesturing for the young woman to leave once more. "I will ensure she is taken care of." He told her.

Confused, the girl shifted on her feet for a moment before hesitantly nodding and walking to the door. "I will prepare a dress for the Princess." She told Cregan, who nodded in response. Finally, he crouched down next to Daenys, who still held his sleeve in a two-finger grasp.

He grabbed her hand in both of his, softly kissing it for a prolonged moment. Violet eyes stared up at him as he did, neither saying a word for a few moments.

"To stay with you, whilst you bathe?" He asked, needed confirmation. She nodded, still unexpressive but now in much better condition than he received her in. He nodded, digging him arms under her and lifting her in a princess-carry. He hesitated a moment, mentally battling between letting her into the basin fully clothed or helping her undress and get into the water. The former meant she would still have to be in her blood-covered burnt dress, while the ladder meant him dishonoring his intended before they wed. His first time seeing her bare was on complete accident. He wished for any time after to be her choice alone.

He shifted her in his arms briefly, allowing her head to rest on the crook of his neck. "Can I help you out of your dress?" He decided, leaving the shift on underneath would be cover for her privacy and relief for the heavier dress. Daenys hummed into his neck.

Carefully, he set her on the bed sitting up. He unlaced the back of her once light blue dress (taking an embarrassingly long time) and slipped it down to her torso, Daenys standing to aid him. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving only the remaining shift on her person. Although she was standing, Cregan took it upon himself to pick her up into his arms again. A soft gasp left Daenys, not expecting to be lifted once more. He stifled a laugh at the sound, elated to see her reacting to her surroundings more.

Slowly, he dipped her into the scalding hot water. She had little response to it, which he dained to be the Targaryen resistance to heat. Perhaps all of her kin shared such a trait. A detail useless to the public, so it was unintentionally a secret.

The white shift floated around her like a cloud as she hugged her knees to her chest. Resting her chin on her knees, she allowed Cregan to pour cups of water over her head, softly guiding any water away from her face as he did. The soaps, which had been quietly brought in along with a new shift on the bed, were scrubbed just as gently into her hair, bringing it to its former state of silkiness. Around her, the hair stuck to her stick and floated on the water, seemingly a lot longer in its wet state than its dry one. When Cregan rinsed out the soap from her hair, he allowed it time to dry before he messaged a scented oil into her scalp and hair tips. He messaged her scalp with a tenderness he was unused to. When it came to his own hair, he had little care and used heavy hands to get the work done with speed and precision. There was little time to spare in the North, when his duties called him at the break of dawn til the late evening. The gentleness came easily with Daenys, however, and Cregan found himself thoughtlessly caring for the Princess every second she was near him.

With a soaped sponge in hand, he was able to scrub any ash and blood left on her. The bath water tinted pink with the remaining blood, though Daenys didn't seem to care. Only able to get whatever skin was left exposed by the shift, his work was done fast.

As soon as he finished, Daenys laid her head back to rest on the basin's rim. She met his eyes, which gleamed in the afternoon's light. A hand reached out to him, beckoning for his own to hold. He obliged, of course, easily. He laced their fingers together, leaning down to kiss the scar on her forearm. The raised bite marks tingled at the delicate touch.

"My grandmother is dead." She managed.

Cregan stilled, furrowing his straight brows. "The Princess Rhaenys?"

Daenys nodded. She looked to the window straight ahead, avoiding his worried gaze. "I saw Cole's army marching on Rook's Rest, last night. I knew a dragon would be sent by my mother to guard Ser Staunton's keep. It was an ambush."

He nodded thoughtfully, sitting up straight in his stool. "Who was sent?"

She scoffed out a bitter laugh. "Who else do they have to send but the kinslayer? Aegon, too, came with Sunfyre. We beat Aegon quickly, it was Vhagar who killed Rhaenys."

"They sent their King to fight in the war?" Cregan asked, bemused at the information. Kings rarely fought battles themselves, only overlooked from the safety of their castles. It was the smart option, to keep the figurehead of a cause alive and well.

"Mayhaps. Or he was drunk and thought himself righteous for teaming up against the Red Queen." She bit out. "Either way, he will not see battle again. His own brother...Aemond burned him and his dragon. I do not know if he is even alive."

For once, she prayed for Aegon's safety. If Aemond were to be named King in stead of his elder brother's death, Seven Hells would reign down on the entire realm.

Cregan wouldn't even fathom burning his own brother, no matter what bad blood got between them. For Aemond to do such a thing—after killing two members of his family already—showed how truly heartless the young man was. Though, undoubtedly the most dangerous enemy the Greens had. With Vhagar's formidability and Aemond's sharp mind for stategy, it would be hard to find weak spots within the false crown.

"I could have saved her." Her words interrupted his thinking, perking up. "I had Meleys in the grasp of Morningstar's claws. I reached out to her—but she wouldn't take my hand." Daenys murmured, still avoiding his eyes.

Cregan took her face gently in his free hand, facing her towards him again. "Daenys, you mustn't blame yourself for that. The Princess lived a long life. She went into that battle knowing she might not return. I'm sure she would be content knowing that her granddaughter is safe."

His words rang true in her heart. Of course, Rhaenys had lived upwards of sixty years during her life. Had children and grandchildren. A husband. Despite the prospect of being Queen being ripped from her unfairly, she still lived a good life. More than most Targaryens did.

"You have seen battle and won. As long as you live, it is a victory for the realm, for your mother. For me." He stated, reassuring her.

"I have seen battle and fled. We have lost our most experienced dragon, as well as the Queen's most loyal and trustworthy advisor. Rhaenys kept the peace in the Black Council. They hardly listen to Rhaenyra, though she is their queen. With Daemon gone, they think themselves worthy to hold the realm in their hands."

Cregan could sympathize greatly with Daenys, having been no stranger to undermining older men. "We will be there for Her Grace. Daemon and Rhaenys might be gone, but we will be there to stand in their place."

She nodded after a second of simply staring into his grey eyes. A million words lie on the tip of her tongue, almost breaching and spewing nonsensical ramblings just to keep his attention on her.

Daenys sighed heavily, bringing their interlocked hands to her face, resting her cheek upon Cregan's large hand. "I am sorry. For not coming to you this morning. I knew that you would have advised me not to, and perhaps I would have listened." The outcome wouldn't have changed whether she did or did not go, it seemed. Morningstar would be uninjured, and Daenys wouldn't have witnessed her grandmother's demise, but simply read about it in a raven's letter.

Cregan was quiet for a few beats, simply studying Daenys' face. He reminded the swell of anger and hurt in his chest that very morning, the same mixed feelings that tormented him for hours while Daenys was missing. He had no way of knowing where she was or if she was alive, only being told by Simon Strong and Davos fucking Blackwood of her asking about Rook's Rest. She had told this strange young man of her destination, but had not even said goodbye to her own bethrothed. He was hurt, and confused. All feelings of bitterness washed away when the sight of Morningstar came into view again, lower in the skies than she should be.

The red staining her scales had been his first cause of panic. It was not often that Cregan Stark lost his cool, as he had to be collected and steadfast in his position as Warden of the North. But this wretched day had caused him a panic like no other. Seeing Daenys, covered in blood, landing right in front of Harrenhall's gates had stirred Cregan to action. She looked dead slumped over the dragon saddle like that, but he knew if she truly was, then Morningstar would not have returned to Harrenhall.

"I will forgive you. If," He paused, sternly meeting her violet eyes. "You promise to leave this purgatory with me on the morrow."

Shocked at his ask, Daenys was lost for words. Was that it?

"We have stayed in this place long enough. We sit idle and vulnerable and out of touch with any recent news. I have entertained our stay here for you, but I cannot any longer." He told her.

Daenys swallowed, almost nervous at his tone. He commanded it like a true Stark, tired of feeling useless in the near-abandoned halls of Harrenhall. In truth, perhaps they were. Daenys had planned on making use of herself in median between Daemon and the Riverland lords, but had not truly done anything of note. Though Daemon was insufferable and inflicted by the torments of his own mind here, he was still getting his buisness done in his own time.

Another good reason to leave was to never see Daemon's face again. Perhaps he would be doomed to these halls, becoming another one of its ghosts. It was a fate unbecoming of him, but one he deserved for his treachery today. Daenys knew that if Caraxes had joined the fight at Rook's Rest, then Vhagar would be beat. Three dragons against one. The histories would call it unfair, but Daenys would call it justice.

Finally, she barely nodded. "We will leave to Dragonstone tomorrow." She promised Cregan.

He nodded firmly. "Good." His expression lightened from its intense conterance as he softly thumbed the apple of Daenys' cheek.

She shifted her position, sitting up in the now cold water. For a moment, her eyes lingered on his pink lips, debating her actions. She leaned in, eyes flickering between his lips and eyes. Cregan sat very still, allowing Daenys to choose what she would do. At the last moment, she turned slightly to place a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth, feeling nerves fluttering in her stomach at the closeness.

The corner of his mouth perked up at the delicate kiss, Cregan using much of his refined willpower to not turn his head ever so slightly and meet her lips with his own. Instead, he allowed her to lean back in the basin, water swishing around her at the movement. They stared at one another for a long moment, basking in the comfort of each other. "Would you stay with me, tonight?" She asked him.

"I would uproot the Heart Tree from mine own Godswood before I refused you, my girl." Cregan said, kissing the spot between her brows briefly.

Daenys grinned, humming thoughtfully. "If that is so, then you wouldn't mind helping me out of this ice bath?"

Cregan felt the water, feeling it had only reached a lukewarm temperature, a pleasant condition for him. Snorting, he nodded at her dramatics and helped her out of the water, the sound of dripping water from her shift echoing across the room. Cregan nodded towards the dress and shift placed on the bed. "I will get you supper while you dress." He said.

It was only a few minutes that he was gone, the maid slipping back into Daenys' chambers to quickly tie her laces of the powder pink dress for her while the room was free. She did not question the view of the Princess in the bath with the honorable Lord Stark right next to her tub, simply hummed along idly as she nimbly tied the corset.

Daenys thanked her just as Cregan stepped in, holding two plates. The maid slipped out behind him, her job done for the day. The sight of Cregan, even still dressed up in his usual attire, bringing meals to her chambers felt awfully domestic to her. She oft took lunch and breakfast in her own chambers at Dragonstone, when she felt like eating or was even present in the castle. Dinners were shared most days between the entire family, a small tradition that she enjoyed because it guaranteed quality time with her loved ones.

Soon, Cregan would be the only one she had living with her in the North. They would share all meals together, or none if he were busy with Lordly duties. Daenys wasn't sure how she would fit into Winterfell's routine, especially since Cregan had been leading as its head completely alone for the past five years. Since he was six and ten years of age, he had led Winterfell with only his council to guide his decisions, and even then rarely leaned on them to show that he was capable. There was rarely a day when he was free of responsibility or worry. Daenys hoped that she could share his burdens at the very least and earn the people of Winterfell's grace at the most.

They sat together at the little table in her chambers, enjoying the hearty meal of potatoes, carrots, and a meat Daenys could not care to place. A warm silence dragged over the afternoon, no conversation needed between the Princess and lord.

When they finished eating, Daenys cleaned her hands in the water basin on her vanity. The rag lying next to it reminded her, "Cregan, how did Morningstar look when she landed?"

Cregan turned to her, wiping his own face down. "Red. I did not pay much attention to anything bit you, but her scales were stained red."

She nodded, biting the skin of her cheek and shifting on her feet. "I can not do anything for her without the dragon keepers, but I can clean Sunfrye's blood from her."

Cregan followed her from the chambers, carrying the basin for her. On the way, she asked for more rags to be brought outside to the entrance for her dragon. And buckets of water, while they were fetching the cloth. Outside, the sun was still high enough for plenty of daylight to work in. Caraxes and Daemon were next to Morningstar, where Daemon was assessing the white dragon. Immediately, Daenys seethed at the sight of her stepfather. How dare he show up now, hours after she needed him? After his aunt has died?

Daemon faced her when he heard the grass shifting behind him. Wrinkles formed on his forehead, brows both raised and furrowed in a mixture of emotions. "What has happened to Morningstar?" He asked, moving his hand off her scales. She was tempted to take Ice from Cregan's shoulder and slice the hand that dared to lie on her dragon.

"Exactly what I told you would happen if we did not fly together to Rook's Rest, Daemon." Daenys told him, clenching her jaw.

He straightened, placing a resting hand on Dark Sister. Realization settled onto his face, guilt overtaking his concern. "You were—What happened at Rook's Rest?" He fixed his words. She knew. She knew that he had thought her to be a mere hallucination, as he had called her when he held that steel sword to her throat.

She walked past him, in front of Morningstar, almost protectively. "You would know if you listened to me."

"Daughter—" He started, but was cut off by a sneer from Daenys.

"You've earned no right to call me that. Leave, like you've grown so adept with doing. You have important Kingly duties to attend to, with the Brackens."

Cregan stepped past the King consort to meet Daenys' side, earning a wayward glance from Daemon. "He is still here. Why has he not gone to Dragonstone yet?" He asked, speaking to Daenys as if Cregan were not in front of him.

"Lord Stark is to be my husband. He stays by my side." Daenys stated firmly. She felt Cregan's heavy stare on her, but willfully ignored it.

"By who's order? Rhaenyra did not send you to the North to bring back a husband, she sent you to bring back an army."

"It is none of your concern whom I return with. It is the Queen's." She turned away, refusing to humor his tantrums any longer. Morningstar rumbled, twisting her neck around to cover Cregan and Daenys from outsider's sight. When Daemon stepped forward, the dragoness gave a sharp warning growl. He paused, knowing that even his rapport with the dragon wouldn't get him any luck when Daenys had closed him off already. Huffed, he strided back to Caraxes, leaving quickly like he had originally intended. It was only another minute before the maid shouted for help at the entrance, refusing to test her own luck going anywhere near the bloodied beast. Cregan took the pail of water and rags from her gratefully, dismissing her afterwards.

Daenys dipped a rag into the pail, not squeezing any of the water out as she dragged it over Morningstar's snout. She earned only a cuff at the cold water, but no complaints as blood was cleaned from her nostrils and around her eyes and ear holes. It took good scrubbing since the blood had dried during the flight and hours since Daenys disappeared into the castle. Finally, Cregan and Daenys worked together to swiftly return Morningstar's face to its usual pristine color. The wound was next, something that Daenys had never dealt with before. It was the dragon keepers' job to feed and heal the dragons, and they had not needed healing for a long time.

Daenys turned to Cregan, "I cannot guarantee that she will not lash out in pain. Wait for me on the stairs." It was an order, though she did not wish it to sound like one. Dragon keepers were not even safe from a hostile dragon's wrath, though they had been trained generationally for the sole job. Cregan hesitated before he nodded.

"I will fetch you a tea while I'm gone." Before he left back inside.

Daenys wrung the new rag out carefully, assessing where the deepest and shallowest scratches were. Around the shallow ones first, she carefully wiped blood from around it. Then, after only receiving a glare from Morningstar, she moved on to the deeper ones. Even the area around it was irritated, the penetrated and lost scales a deep pain for the she-dragon. She whined and growled as Daenys worked around them, earning her soothing coos from the Targaryen.

Once her scales were cleaned, Daenys tipped the rest of the water over the wounds themselves. Morningstar grew restless, almost shaking Daenys away from her and nipping at the air around her. With all adrenaline gone, the dragon could feel all the pain that she had been able to ignore during battle. Once the bucket was empty, Daenys dropped it to her feet and moved to Morningstar's eyeline. She connected her forehead with the area in front of her slitted purple eye, murmuring apologies to her over and over. "Once we fly home, I will get you proper care, sweet Tubis." Morningstar trilled lowly in response, lifting her head once Cregan stopped behind them both.

Daenys turned to him, feeling Morningstar lift herself to stand and find herself a place to rest for the evening. "I brought you a tea. She said it was lavender and chamomile." He said, handing her a cup of darkened warm liquid.

Daenys thanked him, locking arms with him before being guided back inside. Alys waited for them at the top of the steps.

"Alys," Daenys smiled, greeting the witch pleasantly. Aly's striking blue eyes never left her, though a smile all the same graced her fine features.

"I hope you can find rest with the blend I made. It always helps me sleep better after a day like this." The woman told Daenys, holding a little brown owl on her arm. Daenys was surprised to see such an animal obeying her, but supposed that was hypocritical considering she had command of a dragon since birth.

"I think it will find me well. Thank you for making it." Daenys paused before she went past the woman. Alys turned, black hair flowing over her shoulder, an almost expecting look on her face.

"About Daemon," She started. "Have you spoken to him?"

"A few times, yes. When he is in need of council or sleep." Alys nodded.

Daenys hummed thoughtfully. "I see. Perhaps, if you are willing, you might provide some...encouraging words for the King Consort?" She glanced to the cup in her hand and then back to the blue eyes of Alys.

The older woman smirked, huffing a short laugh. "I see no trouble with it, Princess. Consider it done."

Daenys shared an understanding nod with the witchy woman, going on her way towards the chamber hallway with Cregan. She knew not the exact ways of witches, but knew that they always provided. She did not wish to tell Daemon of Rhaenys' death, but for him to experience it for himself. Perhaps then, he would see it reason enough to return to his place at Dragonstone.

"What was that about?" Cregan asked, glancing over his shoulder at the woman.

"Nothing important, just a favor." Daenys reassured, patting Cregan's arm. He nodded slowly, not quite catching on but trusting the Princess' choices.

They discreetly entered Daenys' room, though they had little reason to with Daemon gone and the rest of the residents of Harrenhall being wholely uninterested in risqué affairs. She finished off her tea with a heaviness to her eyelids, making a note to ask Alys of the blend's full recipe before going through her routine. They changed into night gowns quickly, settling down into Daenys' fresh sheets. The sun had set over the horizon, leaving the room only lit by the door's torches. In the dim light, Daenys could only make out Cregan's figure and whatever parts of his face the light touched. Though his back faced the doors, she was able to see most of it.

🗡

Daenys nosed her way to the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent like it was the most comforting thing in the realm. Perhaps it was, in the moment. Cregan set his chin atop of her head, the baby hairs on top tickling his nose briefly before he adjusted. An arm laid firmly around the small of her waist, resting on her back and rubbing in small circles. They both fell asleep fast.

🗡

A whispering stirred her from sleep, lifting her head from Cregan's chest curiously. It was too faint to fully make out, coming from beyond her chamber doors. Slowly, to not wakr Cregan, she lifted the covers and stood from the bed.

"Daenys..." The voice whispered, louder this time. It was a young boy's voice, one that tugged at the back of her memory.

She pressed an ear to the door, hoping for sounds of shuffling feet or breathing. Nothing. Slowly, she creaked open the door to see a disappearing form walk behind the hallway wall. She followed after it despite her gut feeling telling her not to.

Fast walking, her shift flowed around her as if she were the ghost of Harrenhall herself. Only catching glimpses of the boy, she started to run after him. Finally, she met him outside in the Weirwood tree clearing. His back was toward her, and he doned a red tunic and black cape. Brown curls lay on top of his head, unruly and untamable. Stilling, she held her breath. Lucerys.

Lucerys turned to face her, and she flinched at the sight. Almost gagged in distress and horror, the sight unlike anything she had seen before. He was soaking wet, with blood covering nearly his entire body. His eye was missing as if it had been torn out with a jagged and rusted knife. An arm, too, torn from his body and the massive wound reaching toward his shoulder and torso. It was unclear as to which body parts had been taken, under his tunic and cape, but very clear that the boy had suffered great pain.

"Luke." She whispered, choking back a sob.

"You saw me." He said, voice cold and distant. "You saw Vhagar chase me down in the skies, and did not even come for me."

Daenys nodded quickly, admitting fully to her shame. "I know. It is my deepest regret. If I had known it was the truth, I wouldn't have spared a second to reach you, my boy." She stepped forward.

His brow only furrowed, sneering at his sister with a furious look in his brown eye. "He took my eye. Aemond took my eye in Lord Baratheon's hall, and still killed me after I repayed my debt." His voice was taut with both anger and pain.

Tears fell from Daenys' eyes, "I am sorry, Luke."

"You don't get to be sorry." He quipped.

"Did you see how I died?" Lucerys asked.

Daenys could only shake her head, not trusting her voice.

"I did not die immediately, but Arrax did. Vhagar bit his head off and my arm. I was stuck in her mouth—I dont know how long it was. It felt like forever. When she finally spat me out, it was the sea that took me, not her."

She shook her head, mumbling incoherent apologies to her little brother. "I did not mean for this."

He took a step foward, nodding back over his shoulder. Behind him, a few paces back, was Rhaenys and Jaehaerys. Their sight was equally as grusome. Rhaenys held the young Prince in her arms as he held his own head up on his neck. Jaggged cut marks marred his pale neck, and blood dripped down to his nightgown. Rhaenys, covered only in black ash and dragon blood, stood tall with her head held high the same way it did when she fell to her death. Daenys had to force herself to look at the three of them together.

"Maybe not. Maybe you couldn't have reached me." Luke admitted. "But you could have reached them. You were only a minute away from preventing Daemon from speaking to Blood. You held grandmother in Morningstar's claws!"

Daenys fell to her knees, covering her ears and shutting her eyes tight. "I know, I know..." She repeated over and over until her voice was nearly lost, dry and hoarse.

He stood menacingly above her, a complete contrast from the demeanor he held when alive. He was always the sweet child out of all of Rhaenyra's children. Jace was an image of their mother, steady and intelligent. Daenys was withdrawn and in the shadows. Joffrey was always at someone's feet, begging to play or see his dragon Tyraxes. Luke was effortlessly kind and compassionate, though perhaps the most wary of his bastard heritage. He hated eyes on him, much like his sister, and did not take criticism in stride like Jacaerys could.

Sweet, innocent Lucerys who died too young to even discover the world or make a name for himself like any Prince should. Now, the ghost of his soul had come to torment Daenys.

Would he have thought the same things this Lucerys did? Surely, he must. Otherwise, the words would not be said.

Rhaenys and Jaehaerys had stepped forward, circling Daenys in a whirring wind of shouts and cries. The sound of sawing. The sound of a great splat hitting hard floor. The sound of screams being drowned out by water. No matter how hard he hands pressed, Daenys could not prevent the sounds from reaching her ears.

Another voice joined the frey, a deeper and steadier one than the others. It was loud enough to drown them all out. Heavy hands were placed gently on her arm and back, rubbing soothing circles and steadying her to her feet. "It's alright, my girl. 'Tis but another dream."

Daenys dug her nails into her palms, facing Cregan with bleary eyes. "No. Not this time." She said weakly.

Though Cregan was left confused by the vague refusal, he still clutched the girl close to him and petted her hair down from its ruffled state. "Shall we go back to bed? It is chilly out." It was not, but the thought warmed her heart.

"Take me to our room." Far away from this clearing. After tomorrow, she would not return to Harrenhall unless absolutely necessary.

short 'between main events' chapter, I couldn't find any time to write this week was so so busy 🥲

Nonsexual intimacy is the shit

rip Targaryens, you would love purple shampoo

I debated leaving the blood to stain her hair for a cool ombre look, but I feel like I would forget about it and not describe it ever again after this chapter, so she returns to her silver hair 🙂‍↕️

Saw a tiktok comment on an Alys and Daemon edit that the reason Alys was crying randomly was because she knew what would be her fate after Daemon left her alone in Harrenhall. 😭 Don't know how accurate that theory is, but it does make a lot of sense. We must save Alys from Aemond at all costs.

Also, to clarify, Alys did not put anything in her tea it was simply tea. I see the sudden vision that she had, like Daemon had, to be a sleep-aid side effect that made Harrenhall get to her mind easier. Kind of like getting nightmares after taking melatonin or sleep paralysis after taking benedryl. Daemon's felt more targeted, like they were sent to him to guide him on the right path and guilt him for his shitty behavior.

#dragondreamer #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark #hotd #hotd season 2 #targaryen oc

154 notes · View notes

stanpinesdykewife · 2 months ago

Text

you ride stan's thigh on his armchair. enjoy!

thigh riding stan/reader (gender-neutral) (with a vagina) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified smut, 1334 words

“What? What's that face?” Stan asks, looking at you sideways from the armchair. His suit jacket and shirt are undone, his girdle and tie long sacrificed to the corner of the living room. Other than that, he's still dressed—a rarity, considering the late hour. On the other hand, you’re dressed in comfortable sleepwear, sitting on the dinosaur skull beside the chair. Your elbow is propped next to Stan’s on the armrest and your chin is propped in your palm. You shrug, watching the dim light of the TV cast soft shadows across Stan’s face.

“Nothing,” you say casually. Stan glances from the corny whodunit on the TV to you, your blank face, your upper body angled toward him. Then he sees it: Your thighs shift together, just slightly, your sleep shorts riding up half an inch. Stan grins.

“So that's it,” he says slowly, knowing, and you turn your hand so your smile is hidden behind your knuckles. Stan finds the remote and lowers the TV volume, then tosses it somewhere to the side. His grin is smug as he says, “Then why're you sittin’ so far away?”

You're almost embarrassed by how quickly you scramble to stand, a flush already blooming across your face. But you're laughing, giggling really, as Stan holds a hand out and helps you climb onto the chair.

“You need some lovin’, sweetheart?” Stan's voice is low and amused, his hands moving to your waist as you straddle his clothed thigh. You almost feel bad about wrinkling his slacks. But then your hand lands on his chest, broad and sturdy and covered in wiry gray hair, and suddenly you couldn't care less.

“Maybe. You got any to give?” Your hands slide up to Stan's broad shoulders, his suit jacket nice and soft beneath your hands. Stan doesn't answer. Instead, he tilts his head to kiss you. Stan's mouth is warm and soft—and impatient. You barely get to kiss him back before he's licking the seam of your lips, making you gasp. Then he's licking into your mouth, one of his hands slipping beneath your shirt to hold your lower back.

Stan's large hands on your bare skin has the effect it always does. You melt into him, whining into his mouth, as he explores the soft skin of your waist. His hand dips beneath the elastic of your underwear, but doesn't go further than that. Either way, you feel like you wouldn't notice—Stan's tongue is hot against yours, against your teeth, and his other hand comes to glide along your upper thighs. You're dizzy with his touch, your hand lightly scratching down his chest. Stan breaks the kiss just to duck his head, to press his lips to your neck, and your head rolls back so you're facing the ceiling.

“Ah, fuck—” Your breath catches in your throat as Stan plants sloppy kisses beneath your jaw, his stubble rough against your neck. He takes his time, just mouthing at your skin, but then he finds that sensitive spot below your ear that makes your hips twitch forward. “Fuck, Stan.”

“There we go,” he mutters against you, a grin growing on his face. You realize after a moment that your hips are still moving, just a little, gentle rocks back and forth on his thigh. You hesitate, going to say something he'd like—See what you do to me? or You make me feel so good—but Stan beats you to the punch: “That's it. Keep grinding on me, baby.”

What the fuck else are you supposed to do? You grind your hips down, this time with more purpose, and let a breathy moan fall from your lips as heat builds in your cunt. Stan's hands come back over your clothes, onto your hips, and he guides you with gentle pushes and pulls, setting your pace for you. Your head falls, landing gently in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Your hands move to hold the back of his neck and the side of the armchair for support as you grind on him.

“You like that? You like riding me like this?” Stan’s voice is gruff and almost too loud with his mouth right next to your ear. But it's hot, it's so hot, because he's always been the type to get off on you getting off, and the quiet little noises you're making manage to pull a groan from his throat. You nod against his skin, your eyes clenched shut, just focusing on the feeling of Stan's thigh beneath your clothed cunt. “Good. God, look at you. Needed this, huh?”

“Yeah, yes,” you say immediately, breathless. Then, because you know Stan loves to hear it, “Been thinking about it all day.”

“Yeah?” Stan's hands grip you tighter. “You just wanna feel good, huh? You like when I make you feel good?”

You bury your nose against the neckline of Stan's shirt, embarrassed. But you nod, because you do like it. That much is obvious. You're already wet, you can feel it soaking the crotch of your underwear, rubbing oddly against your skin as you grind back and forth. You've only been at it for a few minutes but you're already close, that familiar heat in your abdomen rolling as Stan moves one hand to the side of your thigh. You moan at the touch, at the gentle way Stan caresses you.

“Bein’ so sweet for me,” he mutters, shifting his thigh so it presses further up into you. You moan against his collarbones, and he breathes harshly into your ear as you start to move faster. “Shit—Yeah, sweetheart, just like that. Rub that little pussy on me. Bet you're soaked, huh?”

“Yeah, fuck, that's good.” You're panting, your breath coming out in short, hot exhales punctuated by moans that start high in your throat. Stan’s breathing is getting heavy too, loud and rough in your ear, unashamed, and it's bringing you that much closer to the edge. You dig your fingertips into the fabric of the chair, rocking your hips faster, and faster, and you say, “God, I'm—Stan, fuck, please—”

“Come on, baby, come for me,” Stan groans, his hands gripping tight to your hips, forcing you to keep up, to keep fucking his thigh harder and harder. Just as you wish it was his dick you were riding, you notice the large tent in his slacks, straining against the zipper, and it's so hot you feel like you’ve been punched in the fucking gut. Stan's hips roll upwards once, clumsy and involuntary. His voice is strained. “Fuck, you're gonna be so wet after this—gonna fuck you right here, make you take my dick right after you come.”

Your orgasm is sudden, slamming into you, making your jaw drop. Your breath catches in your throat and you're shaking through it, waves of heat rolling through your whole body as Stan groans into your hair and drags your hips against his thigh.

“That's it, that's—Just like that, sweetheart. So fuckin’ good for me,” Stan says lowly, letting you hump his leg like a fucking animal in heat. You chase the end of your climax without much rhythm, your hips stuttering at each deep roll of your body onto Stan's lap. He groans into your ear, muttering praise, how good you are, how pretty you sound, how he can feel you ruining his good slacks.

Slowly, the waves of your orgasm ebb away. One last, soft moan tumbles from your lips before your body slumps over Stan's chest with a deep sigh. He chuckles, and his arms come up around your waist in a loose hug.

“You alright, sugar?” he murmurs, voice soft. You nod against his shoulder, suddenly exhausted. Stan presses a kiss to the side of your head, sweet and gentle, making you tuck your face closer to his neck.

Then he takes your hand and brings it to his crotch so you can feel his dick through his pants.

“Good,” Stan drawls, a grin in his voice. “My turn.”

#gravity falls #stanley pines x reader #reader insert #smut #my writing

141 notes · View notes