#first breech though

[shhhsecretsideblog]

you were a big shot attorney. You always won your cases and had the highest success rate in your firm. You thought now you could settle early and start a family. but you didn't realize that nine months later, you would be representing the defendant of the biggest case in the county.

Your firm suggested that you should take leave since you were so close to your due date, but you refused. You taken all the notes and documented all the evidence to prove your client's innocence.

As you arrived to the court house, you were feeling twinges in your hips and lower belly but you passed them as practice contractions. Soon as you sit down, you couldn't help but feeling restricted as you felt your belly lower than usual as it planted all over your lap. As the trial goes on, you breathe heavily when you sit but had to cover up the pain as you were questioning other witnesses.

The finishing statements come and you slowly get up, scrunching your face as you felt a small pop go in your pants. You look down at your seat and see your water just broke. Your client sees it too and looks panicked for your state. You give them a look saying you got this and was relieved that your pants were black.

"Your honor, members of the jury, my client has more than enough proof that-" You stopped mid sentence as the worst contraction hits you, making you lose your breath. You hold onto the table for stability, as everyone in the court had all their eyes on you.

"Five witnesses have a record of seeing my client 14 miles away from the crime scene and has no skill or experience of committing the charges against them. May the record show that - mmmmmmmmmm" You bit your lip as you widen your stance, feeling a force coming down your pelvis.

You couldn't notice the commotion around you as the blinding pain forced you to spread your legs as you felt the baby's feet pressing down your pants as you could not control your pushing.

I was winning the case but swiftly losing the battle against my body. Throughout the long drawn out day I’d tried to ignore the cramps, dismissing their rising strength and frequency. I paid no mind to the way my belly hung lower on my aching hips, or the weight that had dropped into my pelvis. It was the final day of the court hearing, the last day to make my case to the jury and implore my client's innocence.

My closing speech was suddenly lost to my uncontrollable groaning, the blinding pain all consuming, and I could distinctively feel something coming out of my body. “Ohhhh god…” I moaned, gripping the desk in front of me and bearing down with the rampant contraction.

I could feel something moving, my eyes widened in panic. It wasn’t coming from inside my womb, this movement was outside between my thighs. My heart jumped to my throat in fear, having seen one too many horror films, and irrationally worried what on earth I was giving birth to… One of my hands left the desk and drifted between my legs and I felt through the fabric a foot sticking out of my vagina. Breech. Oh fuck, my baby is breech.

I had no idea what was happening in the courtroom, where my client was, what the jury were thinking, all I could focus on was the unbearable pressure filling my pelvis. My body was crying out at me to push, to deliver the baby and stop all the pain. I growled, bearing down once more, and I felt myself stretch wider and wider beneath my clothes as the baby descended.

It was coming out… my baby was literally coming out of me right there in the middle of the courtroom and there was nothing I could do to stop it. My underwear was soon filling with the torso of my baby, pulling and stretching the fabric beyond recognition. I wanted to remove my clothing, to hold my baby as it slipped further and further out, but I couldn’t get my body to move. Wider… my hips had to be wider. I curled forward, leaning far over the table on my elbows and pushing my hips backward. “Mnghhhh…. My baby… it’s coming….” I grunted, pushing the shoulders past my sensitive lips, the head of the baby still to be born.

“Fuck…. Hurts… oh god, here comes another contraction…” My fingernails clawed at the wooden desk as I bore down against the large round mass of the head. I pushed and screamed and mooed and grunted… the head painfully slowly inching out. Then the pain stopped, my body sagging with relief as the head slipped out and my baby was completely born into my underwear.

[crow-ooc]

while YOU were sleeping I was busy studying the FUCKING STOCK MARKET

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Beneath a Dragon's Gaze

Summary: With Madame Sylvi indisposed on the evening Prince Aemond comes to visit, he requests someone different | Word Count: 1.7k~ | Warnings: sex work, smut, hair pulling, biting, titty sucking, darkish Aemond

A/N: saw ep 3 and felt silly 😁 not proofread an inch

“The Prince has asked for you.”

She could not help the wide-eyed look and the familiar flipping of her stomach, now feeling entirely different with the words that had come from her fellow woman’s lips. The Prince. Well, it could have meant either of them only weeks before, but no longer. They frequented this establishment quite often, as an upper-class brothel, with only the finest whores and service, it was only natural, and they had the coin to pay for it.

Suddenly, she felt quite cold in the sheer dress she had chosen that evening, doing very little to conceal the flesh that hid beneath, her nipples having formed peaks against the satin. What could she possibly say to that? There was no possibility of refusing. 

“Very well,” she responded, knowing it was not her place to question. There was no question as to which now, it was most certainly the very same who frequented for the warm embrace and soothing voice of Madame Sylvi, who spent hours in her company and paid her a hefty price for it. For secrecy. But she knew just as well that the only reason Aemond had requested her instead, was because on this night, his usual appointment was indisposed. 

Her heart raced as she slalomed through the scantily clad crowd, each step bringing her closer to the corner where the prince awaited. The halls were dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls, alongside those of curved figures, twisted with pleasure. She could hear the muted sounds of such from the other rooms, but they did little to quell the nervousness that gripped her.

When she reached the curtain, she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The Prince. Aemond Targaryen. Known for his fierce demeanour and sharp intellect, he was not a man to be trifled with. Yet, beneath that cold exterior, she had heard whispers of a man burdened by the weight of his family.

Sliding the curtain across, met with the Prince, eyepatch already discarded and down only to his breeches, sat with cup in hand on the plush settee, his lone eye raising to her as she dipped for a curtsy. She felt her throat close at the sight of the sapphire, somewhat mirroring what was happening between her thighs.

"Madame Sylvi sends her apologies, my prince. She is unable to attend to you this evening."

Aemond's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. "I did not call for Sylvi tonight," he said finally, his tone giving nothing away. "I called for you."

Her lips parted to question. But she dare not let the words free. She was not one to ask about his intentions, a mere whore.

“Undress.”

The Prince’s eye never wavered as he watched, flesh revealed as she bared herself to him. He stood as if uncurling himself, finishing what was left in his cup before moving his hands to unlace his breeches, his head gesturing to the settee.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

His commanding tone made those flutters awaken once more. She had been employed at this establishment for so long, of course being naked and bared to an abundance of men was second nature. But there was something about the way he wanted her, the way it seemed not spurred by desire of any kind, but a need, like air, that ignited her nerves that she had not felt since her first few days in this line of work.

Still, bare arsed and exposed to a Prince, was a different matter entirely.

She felt his presence behind her, knowing he was naked as his thighs brushed against hers. He nudged her knees apart and pushed gently on her spine, encouraging her to arch her back. Though she could not see his face, the rippled design of the copper in front of her reflected enough for her to sense the detachment in his actions. So, she remained silent.

Prince Aemond guided himself to her centre, barely wet, and pushed his cockhead inside. He had barely breached her when his hands gripped the flesh of her buttocks, watching intently as his cock slowly slid deeper into her cunt, being swallowed by her body. She closed her eyes, the lack of preparation making the act more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but she hoped that with time, her arousal would ease the discomfort.

As Prince Aemond continued to push himself inside her, she focused on her breathing, trying to relax her body and ease the discomfort. The room was silent except for their breaths, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced on the walls. Each inch he gained felt like a stretch, a challenge to her body's readiness, but she bit her lip, determined to endure.

His hands, firm on her buttocks, began to knead her flesh, his grip alternating between gentle caresses and possessive squeezes. The friction built steadily, her body slowly acclimating to his presence. The initial pain started to fade, replaced by a growing warmth and the stirrings of pleasure.

Aemond moved with a deliberate pace, his thrusts measured and controlled. He seemed intent on watching every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside her, his breathing heavy and laboured. She could feel his intensity, the way he held back his own urges to maintain that slow, torturous rhythm.

Despite the initial discomfort, her arousal began to build. Her body responded to his movements, her inner walls slickening and accommodating his length with increasing ease. Soft moans escaped her lips, unbidden but honest, as pleasure began to mix with the remnants of pain.

Aemond's hands slid from her buttocks to her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, hitting spots inside her that sent jolts of pleasure through her body. Her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her, seeking some anchor as the sensations intensified.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you feel that?" he murmured, his voice husky and edged with restraint. "Do you feel how you take me in?"

"Yes, my prince," she gasped, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "I feel it."

Aemond's pace quickened slightly, his control slipping as his own desire took precedence. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a rhythmic, primal music that spoke of need and release. Her moans grew louder, her body arching and pushing to meet his thrusts, seeking the pleasure that now consumed her.

With a sudden, possessive grip, Aemond's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. His lips found her skin, teeth grazing lightly before he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to claim. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, her body responding with an involuntary clench around his cock.

He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her. "Take me, all of me," he whispered, his voice filled with approval and satisfaction. 

She surrendered to the sensations, her body melting into his as pleasure overwhelmed her. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word from Aemond drove her closer to the edge. The discomfort was a distant memory now, replaced by a wave of ecstasy that built with each passing second. His movements so erratic, his stones clapped against her womanhood with every harsh push, slapping against her bud in a steady, unyielding rhythm.

The sensation pushed her over the edge, her own climax washing over her in a powerful, all-consuming wave. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Finally, with a deep, guttural moan, Aemond drove himself to the hilt inside her once more, his body shuddering and then withdrawing quickly as he found his release and coated her buttocks and thighs with his pearly spend.

They stayed like that for a moment, both catching their breath, their bodies still joined. Slowly, Aemond released his grip on her hair and hips, his hands soothing over the marks he'd left. He pulled out of her velvety walls gently, leaving her feeling both spent and fulfilled.

She expected him to leave, to gather his clothes and slip away into the night, as most men often do with a flick of their coin into her lap. But instead, Aemond surprised her. He curled into her body, his head resting against her chest. His lips found her breast, mouthing at her skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of their earlier encounter. His hand moved to her other breast, caressing it with a gentle, almost reverent touch.

She looked down at him, her fingers threading through his silver, moonlit hair. He seemed to take more pleasure in this simple intimacy than she did, as if seeking comfort rather than mere satisfaction. His eyes were closed, his breathing steadying as he continued to nuzzle her chest.

"I hate it," he murmured after a long silence, his voice muffled against her skin.

She blinked, unsure of his meaning. "Hate what, my prince?"

Aemond shifted slightly, his hand stilling on her breast. "Sometimes, I think Madame Sylvi just says anything to appease me. She tells me what she thinks I want to hear, not what she truly believes."

There was a bitterness in his tone that caught her off guard. "Why do you think that?" she asked softly, her thumb stroking the back of his neck.

Aemond's grip on her breast tightened slightly, and she felt a shiver of unease. His lips brushed against her nipple, then his teeth grazed it, sending a jolt through her body. "Because it's easier for her," he said, his voice lower, more dangerous. "Because I'm a prince, and she fears offending me."

She gasped softly at the sensation, the mix of pleasure and pain reminding her of the precarious balance between comfort and control. "But you deserve honesty, my prince," she managed to say, her voice trembling.

He bit down a little harder, enough to make her wince. "Do I?" he asked, his tone a warning. "Or do I deserve the truth, no matter how it feels?"

Her heart raced, the threat in his words unmistakable. "The truth, my prince," she whispered, trying to maintain her composure. "Always the truth."

Aemond's teeth released her nipple, his tongue soothing the sting. He looked up at her, his eye fierce and unyielding. The sapphire lodged in the other piercing and dark. 

"Good," he said, his voice a soft growl. "Because I have no patience for lies, no matter how pretty they are."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

[vincentbriggs]

so i am newly in a wheelchair which has been a Massive gain in my ability to go out and about. but i realized that i have aprox 0 clothes that look Good while seated. its a completely different silhouette and i am at a loss as to what to do for it. do you have any suggestions for what could look good seated? preferably no skirts or dresses.

Edit: Check the notes for more people's input, including actual wheelchair users who know much more about what works than I could!

Congrats on chair acquisition!!

Since you're sending this to me specifically I am working under the assumption that you mean to do some amount of sewing.

A high waisted silhouette definitely works best for sitting. I make all my pants with the waistband at my natural waist, and a bit of pleating or gathering at the back just like they did on 18th century breeches, and I've never noticed any particular discomfort from sitting in them. (I think high waisted pants are more comfortable in general, and that low rise jeans are evil.)

It's something I've never really thought about before, but sitting is a very legs-forward position, so perhaps a colourful or fancy stripe down the side would work well.

(I made this pair 10 years ago and they didn't fit well and are long gone, but I should do a better version someday...)

Or some other form of side seam decoration, like these fabulous button tabs.

(I don't know what the source for this mid 19th century fashion plate is.)

Cropped jackets would also be good. The first thing that comes to mind for me is the Carmagnole, which was a style worn by French revolutionaries. It's got a pretty similar cut to a regular 1790's coat, just shorter.

(Source)

(Source)

And there are other styles of short jacket, like this one from a few decades later.

I think it might be possible to get a similar effect from cutting down a thrifted corduroy jacket, depending on the pocket placement? It's not something I've done myself though.

A fancy little bolero could be a lot of fun too! I quite like these ones made by Marlowe Lune. Super easy to sew, and could be patterned by cutting down a bigger pattern that fits the torso.

They'd be a good thing to try if you have a smallish piece of fancy fabric, or a small bit trim to use, or want to try a small amount of embroidery.

There are lots of historical styles with sleeves too, and all sorts of decorations.

(Dunno the source for this one either, unfortunately, but the pin says 1880s reception dress. I think a little jacket like that would look good with a puffy shirt and pants.)

Short capes might be practical too, and the late 19th and early 20th century have tons of fancy capelets for inspiration, like this one.

Or this one.

I hope this is somehow helpful! I don't know if you're looking to sew things from scratch or to buy and alter stuff or what, and I have no personal experience using a wheelchair, but these are the best things I can think of for a suitable silhouette. Dramatic sleeve/shoulder puffs would also be shown off to great effect, if that's something you'd like to wear.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

I beg of you to do some good nsfw mean dom sevika doin some brat taming 🤭🤭🤭

nsfw content warning. Spanking, clit stim, rough strap-on sex, harsh words, hairpulling, all that good but consensual stuff!

"Gonna fill this pussy up so good, baby.."

Sevika was treating you real nice, having your body laid across her lap as she just rubbed your clit from behind. Her touch is sensual and she promised to stretch you full (if her cock adjusted on her waist jutting obscenely out isn't enough of a promise already), but the thumb rubbing firmly on your clit isn't enough for you, apparently.

Sevika is starting to notice that over time, you have become more and more impatient. The first few fucks were good. You listened to her, when she would say "cum", you'd cum and thank her. Sevika likes her girls well-behaved. You, she initially thought, are well-behaved.

The previous times she's fucked you has proven her wrong, unfortunately. You went from her sweet girl, on your knees at her beck and call, to what? A greedy whore? It hasn't happened yet, not with her at least meeting you halfway by not teasing your clit, instead keeping the pressure building and firm, but she has a feeling you're going to catch an attitude for more, to get your way. To prove whatever point you wanna make with her. Unfortunately, she's right.

Sevika is so, so close to getting you to where she wants you. She isn't too much of a tease, not tonight. Talking you through it, telling you how pretty your pussy is from the view, all of that good stuff she likes to do. She is just about to pull you off of her, to fuck you just how you like it when her ears catch that little grumble. She hopes that she didn't just hear what she thinks passed through her brain.

"Not fucking me fast enough." Is what she definitely just heard. It's a sly, subtle comment, simply mumbled by you in a whiney tone that she usually wouldn't care too much to check. But Sevika's just not the most patient. You, unknowingly, just fucked yourself harder than any dildo of hers could.

Sevika's flesh palm connects with your ass cheek. You should be grateful that she doesn't use her shimmer arm, but you can't even register it all. You would cry out, if you had the time to process it before she's manhandling you onto your hands and knees, breeching your entrance with the tip of her cock, and not even hesitating to shove every single inch that she can possibly manage.

You said you wanted to be fucked, Sevika is only granting your wish. On her own terms, of course.

You cry out as she bottoms out, your pussy tightening around the shaft so tightly, almost rejecting the suddenness of it all. It's not like the usual fire that you get from her where you feel all gooey and warm inside. This is more like a pain that spreads, but with it the pleasure begins to seep into your body throughout, though it's quite overwhelming.

Sevika sets a steady pace, fucking deep into you, landing smacks on your ass that make you almost collapse onto the bed prone, but her mechanical arm holds you up by your stomach, one of her cold, metallic fingers flicking at your clit tauntingly as you cry out. For mercy, or for more? You don't even know.

"What's wrong? You said I wasn't fucking you fast enough." She teases, angling her hips upwards to take advantage the angle. She is going to ruin your poor g-spot at the pure harshness of it all.

"It's too much, please-" you choke out, and she tugs your hair tightly, forcing you to look back at her. She doesn't look amused besides the subtle twinkle in her eye.

"You're gonna take everything I have to give this pussy. Gonna take it like a greedy whore, cause that's what you are, aren't you?"

You whine, but you can't deny her words.

"Yeah, you are. You can tell me to stop anytime," her voice grows breathless with her thrusts, "but you haven't." And that's entirely true. All of what she's done, you've told her in the past that she has the access to it all. You know your safe word. Why is it that you like so badly to be tamed like some lap dog, not allowed to whine back at her?

Sevika hasn't caught on yet. She's a smart woman, she hasn't thought it out like you have. You began to act up on purpose, whining and complaining during sex, acting inconvenienced just to get her attention. To get on her nerves and finally see her snap, and it is just glorious to witness as she fucks you just like how your pussy's been begging her to fuck you. Deeply, as if she is made for you. Fast and harsh, as if she hates you. Sevika is mean, and you always noticed that when watching her talk to other people. You've wanted it for yourself.

Eventually, Sevika lets you collapse. She doesn't stop, but alternates into deep strokes, now just wanting to see you spill over.

"You love it when I say awful, filthy shit to you. Admit it." Her breath is next to your ear now, her front pressed up against your back. Her stiff nipples brush deliciously against your bare skin.

"I love it. I love when you fuck me 'n be mean to me," you struggle to admit, but there it is. She's got you tamed.

"Yeah, there's my good girl.." she coos praisingly, making your head spin. "Just likes to be a brat for fun?"

You can't answer because she offers one deep, hard thrust, making your pussy cream, even coating a bit of the harness in your juices.

It is all so worth it, cause now she's got her good girl back, and she knows just what you like.

[peachdues]

IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART II

KINKTOBER 2023 ♤ WEREWOLF!SANEMI X RED RIDING HOOD!READER

PART I HERE

A/N: I would apologize for the utter lack of plot, but we all know why you're here. You can have plot later; for now, enjoy some 9.5k words of pure monster porn. 13.4k words total.

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • werewolf fucking x F!Reader • knotting/mating • breeding • tummy bulging • so many creampies • like a concerning amount of cum • Sanemi half-transforms and has fangs/claws • slight blood mention • spit kink • oral sex (F!receiving) • Reader gets fucked stupid tbh • mildly violent/potentially upsetting content at the end but I don’t want to give anything away

You awoke the next morning not upon a bed of pine needles or curled against an overlarge piece of driftwood but cushioned against warm skin and rocky muscle.

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the watery light of morning, having not seen the sun since you’d first entered the Netherwood more than a week earlier. But the clearing by the river Sanemi had led you to the previous night meant fewer trees, and so, the dull gray of morning was visible above your heads where you’d slept curled atop the Huntsman’s broad chest.

You rolled your head against his sternum, peering up at the soundly sleeping Woodsman, admiring the peaceful serenity of his slumbering face.

His chest rose and fell steadily as he dreamed, and you could not stop yourself from allowing your hands to wander, to explore this Wolf who was to be your mate.

Your fingers began at his forehead, brushing his silvery strands back and exposing the cross-crossed scars lanced across his forehead. You traced each one, marveling at the shiny, smooth texture beneath your fingertips.

You danced your fingers over and down the features of his face and to the hollow of this throat. You then ventured lower, grazing over the thick scars rippling across the exposed portion his chest.

With a hard swallow, you allowed your hand to drop lower, teasingly traipsing down the ridges of his abdomen until you came to the waistband of his breeches.

Your eyes lowered to the seam of his pants, breath lodging in your throat at the rigid bulge that had formed at his groin.

You held your breath as your hand graced lower, your curiosity a tug in your gut not capable of being ignored.

Before you could brush your hand against the bulge, a warm hand snagged around your wrist, halting it in mid-air.

“Lamb,” Sanemi’s voice was thick with sleep but full of warning. “May I ask what you’re doing?”

Feeling bold, you threw a leg over Sanemi’s hips, rolling yourself atop him and pressing your groin flush against his, breath hitching as the rigid formation in his pants brushed against the sensitive spot between your legs.

“Wolf,” You mocked his tone, though your breaths were jerky and short. “Touch me again.”

A low growl reverberated from Sanemi’s throat, his fingers digging into the plush of your thigh, though you could not tell whether it was out of his wavering restraint or mounting desire.

When he did not move his hands, you bucked your hips against his, pushing against his groin in impatient demand.

Your name fell from his lips, choked and guttural. “If you keep doing that,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “I will not be able to stop myself.”

You leaned forward, lips grazing the vein protruding in his neck, savoring the way it thrummed under your touch. The blunt tips of Sanemi’s nails bit into your skin as he snarled against your neck.

You only smirked at his fraying restraint. “Then don’t.”

Sanemi gently but reluctantly pushed you off him, though his hands lingered against your waist, his fingers tracing circles.

“Didn’t your grandmother warn you never to provoke a hungry beast?”

“She may have, once,” you conceded with a sly grin, your fingers slipping below the waist of Sanemi’s breeches to tug him forward so that his hips were pressed against yours once more. “But I was never particularly good at listening.”

“A bad habit you’ve carried with you into the Wood, it seems,” the Huntsman agreed. “And you’ve made me quite ravenous, little Lamb.”

You squeaked as Sanemi’s hands braced around your waist and he promptly lifted you off him and plopped you unceremoniously on the pebbled shore beside him.

“But I, unlike you, possess a morsel of self-control.” He shot you a sly grin. “I can wait until we get to my den.”

“You certainly had no compunctions when it came to tasting me last night.” You grumbled.

Sanemi lifted an eyebrow as his lips quirked up in a smirk of his own. “And taste you again I shall,” he purred, sitting up. “But I want you spread out across across the floor of my den — not here, in the open.”

Sanemi rose to his feet and swiftly began gathering your supplies, preparing for the trek ahead.

“How is your wound?” He called conversationally as he fastened his traveling cloak around his shoulders.

You’d not given much thought to the gash Kaigaku had inflicted upon you the day before, and your stomach dipped at the thought of your skin stretching around the tender flesh.

Only, to your slight confusion, you really felt no pain at all; none of that burning, sharp aching you’d felt all the previous night until Sanemi had distracted you with his wicked fingers and even more wicked tongue.

“My leg!” You gasped, your skirts bunched in your hands as you pulled them back, damning propriety as you exposed its bare length to the Huntsman.

To your shock, all that remained of the wound inflicted by Kaigaku’s knife was a thin, reddish scar, as though the injury was several weeks old as opposed to mere hours.

You pressed the tips of your fingers against the thin stripe of skin, testing it. “It does not hurt, either!”

You looked back to Sanemi though he seemed nonplussed in contrast to your wide-eyed bewilderment.

“At least I won’t have to carry you anymore,” the Huntsman’s tone was teasing as he fastened his worn traveling cloak around his shoulders. “You constantly grabbing fistfuls of my fur was starting to get annoying. I thought you were going to leave behind bald patches.”

You gaped at him. “Does it not concern you that my wound magically healed itself overnight without a drop of medicine?”

“Not particularly, no,” Sanemi held out a hand to help bring you to your feet. “Not when it’s my mark you bear upon your skin.” He said with a naughty wink.

You accepted his assistance with a huff, secretly marveling over the calloused, steady warmth of his touch as you righted yourself. “It’s humbling to know that, despite you spending the evening with your head between my legs, you continue to be as vague and elusive as you were when we first began this journey.”

Sanemi, who had turned away to adjust the various knives he kept strapped on his belt and in his pouch whipped back around to you. He frowned at the bemused yet vexed expression you wore.

“I don’t mean to be withholding,” he said after a moment. “I am just — unaccustomed to this,” the Huntsman motioned back and forth between you.

You returned his frown. “Talking?”

“Ye — no,” Sanemi ground his teeth for a moment, struggling for his words. “It is not the conversation part I find difficult. That part has been easy — with you, at least.”

Your cheeks warmed as the Huntsman continued. “It’s the…intimacy of it.” He scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Sharing the details of what I am with someone who does not already know them.”

Your irritation melted into something lighter, as a slow grin spread across your face.

“What?” He snapped.

“How serendipitous,” you said coyly. “You once found yourself irritated by my questions and now it seems you’re in need of them.”

Sanemi shook his head, muttering softly to himself as he secured his satchel around his shoulders and turned back, waiting for you to follow him back into the Wood. “Trust you to find amusement when I try to be serious.”

You only smiled as the pair of you set off, shoulder to shoulder, to begin your trek not towards any human village resting on the other side of the Netherwood, but to Sanemi’s den.

“What is a den anyway?” You kicked a small pebble, sending it skittering off into the brush. “Is it a literal wolf’s den?”

“A cave,” Sanemi’s tone was relaxed even as his eyes remained sharp, his nostrils flaring every so often to scent out any potential threat hidden in the shadows. “I s’ppose it is pretty close to what you think of when you consider wolves’ dens. We use them for mating, or for our heats.”

“You can go into heat without mating?”

“Aye,” he answered. “Our heats don’t happen often — maybe once or twice a year.” Sanemi looked back to you in thought. “I do find it ironic that our paths crossed right before a Blood Moon.”

You frowned. “And what is a Blood Moon?”

“Simply put, it is an eclipse,” Sanemi’s fingers moved to brush your cheek. “One that makes the moon appear crimson. But for wolves — cursed like me and those born — it is a time when our strength is at its peak; but we are also more unstable. Wild.”

You felt an excited chill pass over your skin. “But what does that have to do with your heat?”

The Huntsman only shrugged. “Blood moons can trigger heats behind the usual cycle; they can be stronger. More intense.”

“Which is why,” Sanemi reached over where you walked beside him and flicked your nose. “Your cloak is important, Lamb.”

“Speaking of that, you once warned me about the color of my cloak,” you frowned, pinching the fabric between your fingers. “You said red can symbolize many different things.”

“Aye, it can,” Sanemi held out a hand to help you over a particularly rocky bit of terrain, not letting go until he’d ensured you reached even ground. “I am surprised your Grandmother did not warn you of that.”

You felt slightly defensive of the old woman. “She may not have known. It’s an old cloak. It was an heirloom.”

“I highly doubt she did not know its import,” Sanemi disagreed, casting a sidelong glance your direction. “I told you it was enchanted. It has been acting as a ward against those in the Wood that would do you harm.”

“Cloaks like that are not just made and sold to unsuspecting villagers. Those who desire them, do so for specific reasons.”

You frowned, thumbing the fabric. “And what of the color? You’ve yet to tell me what the red means.”

Sanemi’s cheeks pinkened. “Red is an important color to wolves like me. It is the only color we can see.”

Your head whipped towards him with a soft gasp. “You mean — you cannot see other colors?”

The Huntsman shook his head, his eyes roaming the path before you. “Only the red of your cloak.”

“And its meaning?” You pressed.

Sanemi hesitated. “Red has been understood to be a mating signal. A declaration that one is unmarked but willing.”

You gaped at him. “So that day — the day we met,” you managed, your cheeks warming. “You thought I was — that I was offering myself to you?”

Rather than flush further, Sanemi laughed — a rich, velvety sound that filled you with warmth.

“No Lamb,” he said affectionately. “I didn’t think a scared little thing like you even knew what that cloak meant. Especially when you looked half-ready to pass out when you saw me.”

You crossed your arms self-consciously in front of your chest. “I’d been running for over a day, and the Wood is terrifying.”

The Huntsman’s hand found yours and he laced your fingers with his. “And yet you found me all the same. Perhaps the cloak worked.”

He lifted a hand to your shoulder, where his mark sat below the heavy fabric of the crimson hood. “After all, I am no longer taking you to another human village; I’m taking you somewhere so I can utterly defile you.”

Your thighs clenched together, his words sending excitement, coarse and hot, cascading through your veins. “It is not defilement when I am begging for your touch, Wolf.”

Sanemi tugged on your hand, pulling you against his chest and surprising you with a soft kiss, his thumb stroking your chin.

“Beg you shall, my darling Lamb.” He murmured against your lips. “So let us speed up our step so I can hear those sweet pleas.”

You giggled as Sanemi led you deeper into the Wood by your hand, your cheeks flushed pink and your stomach tittering with excitement at the prospect of what the moonrise would bring.

—-

It was late afternoon when Sanemi slowed to a stop.

You slowed beside him and followed his line of sight, looking down a small valley to see a series of small, interconnected rocky formations peppered throughout the ravine.

You exhaled softly. “Is that—?”

Sanemi nodded. “My den is just over there,” he pointed to a mass of moss-covered rock about halfway down the valley. “Though you  cannot tell from this distance, it’s fairly deep on the inside.” He glanced down at you, eyes softening at the exhilaration upon your face. “We will not be disturbed.”

You tore your eyes away from the peaceful spread of land, the soft slopes of the mountainous terrain appearing so out of place with the murky darkness of the Netherwood. “And this is where you go every time you go into heat?”

“Aye, when wolves are unmated, it’s best for us to be alone,” Sanemi blushed slightly, a hand jumping to rub at the back of his neck. “To weather it alone, that is.”

Your hand found his and squeezed gently. “You won’t have to any longer.”

The Huntsman’s answering smile was warm as he tucked you into his side, kissing your hair.

“Come,” he said. “Let us get set up for the night.”

———

Sanemi had spoken the truth; though the cave had appeared small and unassuming from the outside, once he parted the thick ivy curtain which obscured the entrance from the sight of any wandering passerbys, you could see the mouth of the stone gave way to a comfortably large, rocky alcove.

The wall was set back about twenty feet from the cave’s entry. On one side, you spied a series of unevenly spaced ledges that Sanemi appeared to use as shelves, a cluster of odd-shaped packages wrapped in cloths of various fabrics resting upon the sediment.

Across from the little storage area was a thick pile of animal furs, soft and in pristine condition. Each was piled atop the other, creating a pad several inches thick that would serve as a barrier against the dirt-rock floor of the den.

Your eyes lingered on the pelts before you turned to Sanemi, head cocked in question.

Sanemi’s gaze darkened as it flitted between you and the furs. “A nest,” he explained, his voice turning to gravel. “To make the heat more comfortable.”

He paused for a moment. “Had I known I’d be finding myself a mate, I would have brought more. I was expecting to endure my heat alone —“

“It’s perfect,” you cut him off, hand covering his in assurance. “It’s all perfect.”

Sanemi brushed your hair back, hand caressing your face. He nodded towards the makeshift shelves on the opposite side of the nest. “Provisions,” he said. “I came here just before you found me to stock up on dried meat and fruits — and water.”

He nudged your foot shyly with his own. “And trust when I say you will need your sustenance.”

The suggestion in his tone was enough to make you step into him, heat pooling sensually in the depths of your stomach.

“Sanemi,” you whispered, and the Huntsman’s breath quickened. “Kiss me.”

Soft lips moved softly against your own, but it was not enough. With an eager gasp, you pressed forward, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip in silent request.

Sanemi opened, and your tongues melded together, both of you sighing deeply into the other as you breathed him in.

You walked him back, Sanemi allowing himself to be led to the edge of his nest. You pushed lightly on his chest, and he lowered himself, the Huntsman’s hands sliding down your waist and to your hips, tugging you down with him to straddle his lap.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as you rest against him. As the two of you settled against the soft furs of the den nest, the Huntsman’s hardening length pushing against the sensitive spot between your legs, causing you both to gasp.

The Wolf’s chest rose hard and quick as you pushed your hips down against his once more.

Sanemi was panting against your mouth as you ground down once more against his crotch, mewling at the way his hardening bulge connected with that spot between your legs that made your toes curl.

“You must keep your cloak on,” he managed to whisper against your throat as he nuzzled against your skin.

At the first sound of the whimper building in your throat, Sanemi pushed your hips down against him, rolling his clothed groin up into yours. “I will still remove your dress, little lamb,” He huffed a quiet laugh skimming your jaw with his nose. “But the cloak is for your safety.”

“I do not wish for you to take me safely,” you whined, “I want you to take me as your mate.”

The declaration that you intended to accept the bond made the huntsman groan, his grip on your hips tightening as the fabric of your dress gathered beneath his palms.

“Be careful what you wish for, woman,” he warned, nipping at the tender spot beneath your ear.

“I will mate you, little lamb, but you are human.” Sanemi pulled back to face you, a warm hand coming to rest against your face as he gently, but firmly, forced you to meet his eyes. “And it is the full moon; it will be hard enough to restrain myself from transforming while I take you, even with your cloak on.”

Sanemi’s eyes shut tightly and for a moment, it looked as though he was in pain. “But were I to shift while claiming you right now, I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t harm you. It is a risk I will not take, lamb.”

A warmth spread through your chest at the consideration and care the roughened man continued to show you, even as his heat only continued to heighten, evidenced by the ever-growing swell beneath his trousers.

The flutter in your stomach was tempered as your mind processed his words. “But you will shift while taking me? One day?”

Sanemi hesitated for a moment before nodding, and it was a struggle for you to refrain from clenching your thighs together. The wolf’s eyes were concerned, if not timid, as they searched yours. “Does that frighten you?”

The only thing that frightened you was how excited you felt at the prospect of Sanemi fully transforming into his fearsome, powerful wolf form as he pressed you into the pelts of his bed, but you weren’t about to confess that to him right then.

So you only shook your head, your fingers rising to gently caress the scar jutting across his cheek. “No, my wolf; that does not scare me at all.”

A pale eyebrow quirked up as a small smirk pulled at Sanemi’s lips. “So I am your wolf now, little lamb?”

“If I am to be yours, then you are to be mine, no?” You kissed him again, moaning softly at the soft fullness of his lips as they moved easily against yours. “Doesn’t the mating bond go both ways?”

Sanemi’s eyes were full of wonder as they roamed your face. “It does,” he whispered. “What you feel, I shall also, and likewise.”

“Then that makes you, my wolf.” You answered simply, smiling slyly. You leaned down to kiss him once more, your arms winding around his neck. The Huntsman groaned, his hands roaming the curves of your body, until they came to rest against your chest.

“Allow me,” Sanemi said gently, fingers coming to unlace the stays on your outer corset. “I’d prefer for you to be undressed before the moon rises.”

You grinned. “You just want to see me bare.”

“Aye, that’s true,” the Wolf chuckled, the sound sending goosebumps over your skin as his fingers deftly unwinding the cords keeping the garment secured. “But I also don’t want you trying to skin me for having destroyed your only set of clothing in my haste to have you my way.”

You mocked a pout. “But the cloak must stay?”

“Yes, you seductive little thing; your cloak stays for your protection.”

You groaned, huffing in annoyance as Sanemi finally undid the last lace of your corset and cast it aside. He pushed you back to sit against the pelts, kneeling before you to unlace your boots.

Once he’d set aside the worn leather shoes, the Huntsman focused his attention on the pair of long wool socks that went just over your knees. You tried to keep from squirming as his warm hands brushed against the bare skin above the tops of your socks, but the Wolf seemed intent on teasing you as much as possible. As he worked each sock slowly down your leg, he allowed his fingers to teasingly drag along the sensitive skin of your upper thighs.

You fought the urge to clench them together, your teeth gnashing together as you willed yourself not to shiver beneath his tantalizing touch. But you could not control the rush of arousal which flooded you, and your cheeks turned scarlet at the way Sanemi’s nostrils flared slightly, scenting you, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So eager, little Lamb,” he simpered, allowing his fingers to drop to the space above one of your newly exposed ankle and massaging it. “So enticing.”

You glowered at him. “You know precisely what you’re doing, and I won’t fall for your little game.”

It was a lie, and you knew it as well as he, for all it took was a quick press of his lips against the crease between your shin and knee to have you whimpering, hips involuntarily bucking as you grew desperate for him to continue.

“It would not take much for me to have you begging, Lamb,” Sanemi warned, eliciting a gasp from you as he nipped the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Be grateful I will be in no mood to tease once the moon rises.”

You whined as Sanemi’s hands removed  your skirts one at a time, and then your shift, slowly peeling back each of your layers until you were bare beneath him.

He pulled away once, to remove his cloak and the billowy linen shirt he wore, and then his boots. Left in nothing but his breeches, he knelt before you on the pelts, covering your trembling body with his warm solid form.

Your fingers jumped to the ties on his breeches, but Sanemi jerked his hips out of the way. At your small whine, he chuckled, his lips beginning a descent down your body from your neck.

“I first need to taste you,” he said simply between the soft nips he trailed down your torso, breaking up each prick of his teeth with alternating licks of his warm tongue.

Your small pout was quickly chased away by the electrifying sensation of Sanemi’s lips drifting closer and closer to where you wanted him most and you settled back against the furs, a tiny smile tugging at your mouth.

You spread your legs wider to accommodate his mass, so lean yet so solid, the muscles on his chest looking as though they’d been carved from the finest stone by only the most skilled of masons. Against the flickering light of the small fire he’d lit inside the cave, Sanemi’s hair was reminiscent of starlight, and his eyes, locked steadily with yours, glimmered like two, precious stones.

His mouth trailed lower, sweeping across your hipbones as he drew nearer to your core, Sanemi groaning softly as he scented your arousal where it pooled between your legs.

Your hands drifted to your naked breasts, your fingers pinching and tugging at your soft peaks as you nudged your hips forward, silently begging Sanemi to bestow upon you the same pleasure he’d given you the night before.

The Huntsman did not need a great deal of convincing. Hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you wide open, he surged forward and latched his mouth to your eager cunt.

Sanemi devoured you like a man starved.

He was sloppy; his face was pressed firmly against your center, jaw working furiously as his tongue lapped between your folds before dipping inside of your entrance, savoring the way your tight walls cinched around the wet appendage, before he pulled out and repeated the movement. The sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs could not rest, not between alternating brushes of the tip of his nose and the graze of his teeth as feasted.

Every so often, he would pull back, leaving only the tip of his tongue flicking against your bead, his face shiny with your slick, as he watched your face, the way your eyebrows knit and how your lips parted to let loose your breathy, desperate whimpers and pleas for more. But that brief moment of respite as he observed you rarely lasted more than a few thunderous beats of your heart before the Huntsman swooped down upon you once more, thrusting his tongue deep into your entrance and curling up, brushing against a spot within you that had you screaming his name.

One hand gripped your thigh harshly, his nails digging into the soft inner skin as he pulled you harder against his mouth, groaning between lewd slurps and smacks against your cunt. The other made its way towards your entrance, his fingers dragging lightly over the soft, fatty underside of your backside before settling at your opening, teasingly circling it.

“I can see you clenching,” he muttered between harsh sucks at your pearl. “Do you long to be filled, Lamb?”

Speech was difficult, but you managed to nod desperately your throat remembered how to make sound. “Y-yes!” You could hardly hear yourself over the roar in your ears as you chased that ascendant feeling building steadily in your gut. “P-please, Sanemi — I feel so…s-so empty —“

The Wolf seemed to be in a charitable mood, for he swiftly plunged two of his fingers into your core, burying them right down to the joint. Half a beat later, and Sanemi crooked those thick, calloused digits, fingertips massaging your inner walls until your thighs vibrated around his head, and his name left your mouth in a small shriek.

The Huntsman’s lips latched around your sensitive nub, alternating between sucking and licking, making you writhe against the furred pelts of the nest. The thumb of the hand working steadily at your entrance stretched up the length of your cunt, pressing firmly against your pearl and rotating in small circles, so he could continue to stimulate you even during those brief few seconds when his mouth would pull away from you so that he could swallow your juices like it was the finest nectar.

Your cries bounced off the walls of the cave den, the coil in your cut winding tight, your entire body shaking beneath the furious ministrations of Sanemi’s mouth against your cunt.

Sanemi’s head dipped down to plunge his tongue into your opening, right alongside his fingers and you came undone, the soft pelts beneath you disappearing as your body ascended high through the clouds of your pleasure.

Sanemi moaned as he drank from you, his free hand moving from your thigh to your hips to help you grind against his face, his eyes rolling back slightly as he savored your sweet taste.

Your dizzying high gradually guttered out, letting you drift softly back down against the pelts, your skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

The Huntsman imparted two, final licks against your hyper-sensitive folds before drawing back, his tongue running over his lips to collect the last traces of your juices that still lingered around his mouth.

“When we get home,” Sanemi’s voice was husky, as he brought the fingers he’d hand inside you to his mouth, his tongue carefully cleaning your essence from his digits. “You are to spend an entire day sitting upon my face while I feast. You will not move until I’ve had my fill.”

His vow made your stomach flutter and your mouth go dry. “You mean that was not enough?”

Sanemi’s answering grin was wolfish. “Not in the slightest, Lamb. You provoke a hunger in me that I fear cannot be sated.”

He leaned down over you, hand firmly cupping your jaw to part your lips as he slotted his mouth over you. His tongue slid into your mouth to caress yours, and you moaned at the musky, sweet taste of yourself still on his lips.

He broke the kiss with a wet smack. “So we shall start with a day and see how well you please me. If I am still unhappy, then you shall have to remain there until I am otherwise satisfied.”

“And what of my satisfaction, Wolf?” Sanemi’s grin only widened at your challenge. “So far, I’ve heard talk of only yours.”

The Huntsman’s fingers grazed your dampened slit, still so sensitive from what he’d done with his mouth that you hissed lightly, as he covered your body with his own.

“Have I not pleased you enough, sweetling? My sincerest apologies.” He mocked, rolling his clothed groin against your bare one. He dipped his head low, sucking one of your breasts into his mouth before kissing his way up your neck to your chin, stopping to let his lips just hover above yours. “We shall see if you’re still feeling so cheated once my cock is buried inside you, hm?”

The reminder of what was about to transpire in a matter of minutes as the sun dipped lower and lower below the horizon outside the cave stilled you, momentarily breaking through the lusty haze in your mind.

“Sanemi,” the seriousness in your tone drew the Huntsman to a halt, his eyes flicking to yours, his hands stilling.

You gulped. “It will hurt, will it not?”

Sanemi’s eyes softened, and his fingers began rubbing soothing circles into your skin, his touch gentle. “It will at first, yes.”

You nodded. “Do you think — can we start before moonrise?” Your hands found his and squeezed, pleadingly. “If it is going to hurt, I would prefer to do it before your heat sets in.”

Sanemi’s hand pulled away from your grasp to hold the side of your face, tilting your head until you had to meet his gaze.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sanemi’s fingers were delicate as they caressed the curve of your cheek. “You do not owe me anything; I would not dream of asking you to do anything you did not want.”

You parroted his touch by stroking a thumb softly over the scar that crossed his cheek. “I am certain that I want you, Wolf.” You leaned in and pressed your lips gently against his before pulling back. “I ask only because I want that moment to belong to you. Not as my mate, but as the man I’ve chosen to spend my days beside.”

“So please,” you entreated, pressing yourself closer against your Huntsman, your other hand toying with the faint trail of silver hair that spread across his bared pectorals. “Before you claim me as your mate, make me yours, Sanemi.”

The Huntsman’s breath was ragged. “All right, then,” one warm hand wrapped around your waist, its heat somehow burning through the layers of your skirts and shifts. “As you wish, Y/N.”

There was a beat as Sanemi nuzzled your nose with his. “But the cloak stays on.”

He chuckled at your small harrumph, quieting you with the sweetest of kisses, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Nice try,” he murmured against your lips, before rolling you beneath him.

Sanemi kissed his way down your body, a low growl vibrating in his chest as he neared your waiting core, but he held back, pulling off you to raise up on his feet, his hands coming to rest against the front laces of his breeches.

The Huntsman held your heated gaze as he slowly unlaced the leather cord securing his breeches. Without breaking the connection, Sanemi leisurely worked the soft deer hide down his hips and over his thighs, unveiling his toned lower abdominals and strong, muscular thighs.

Your eyes traced over every ridge and dip of the Huntsman’s nude body, cheeks growing hotter and hotter as your gaze dipped down lower.

There was that faint, silvery trail of hair that began just below his navel that had first made you view the Huntsman in a different light, all those days ago. That trail led down past his hips, right where the evidence of his desire stood proud, and waiting.

Sanemi’s manhood was thick and long, its tip level with his navel. It was a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, the head a pinkish color that seemed to grow deeper the longer you stared, as though sensing the events about to unfold and eager to move them along.

You’d seen him nude before, but this time was different. For now, Sanemi’s nakedness was about to belong to you as much as yours was to belong to him.

Sanemi turned slightly to the side to discard his breeches, placing them atop the many layers of your skirts and shift. From that angle, you spied a faint hump near the base of his length, almost imperceptible in the orange, flickering light of the cave, that you nearly mistook it for a trick of the shadows.

“Is that —?” Your voice faltered with your blush.

Sanemi’s answering smirk set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Though you’d seen him in a far more compromising position between your thighs, his beauty still had a habit of catching you off guard.

“Aye,” his voice was both silky and rough as he drew closer to you. “That will be my knot, once it fully forms.”

The Huntsman knelt down beside you on the soft pelts covering the den nest, lowering himself to graze his lips against yours. “But don’t worry about that right now, sweetling.” Sanemi then shifted so that he was hovering over you, a knee wedging between yours to help guide your legs open as he settled into the cradle of your thighs.

His lips ghosted against the side of your neck. “Just focus on me.”

You nodded, breath catching in your throat as his warm weight settled against you. You hissed at the feeling of the tip of his manhood brushing against your slick folds, a spark of pleasure jolting through you like a lightening bolt.

Above you, Sanemi ground his teeth, a tendon popping in his neck as he exhaled sharply. “Christ,” he ground out, repeating the sliding movement of his velvety head against your core. “I pray your cloak is enough, sweet girl. Because I don’t know how I’m going to hold back when you already feel this good.”

The mark on your neck pulsed with a simmering heat that only sent another gush of fluid between your legs. You mewled for him, fingers tugging lightly at his silver locks as you bucked your hips upwards, your body nearly thrumming with your need to be filled by the thick, searing length tracing up and down your folds.

Sanemi moaned. “Alright,” he said, exasperated but his voice shook. “Needy little thing.”

One hand skirted down the length of your thigh, gripping behind your knee to wrap your leg around his hips. The Huntsman’s other hand moved to grip the base of his manhood, lining it up with your entrance. Sanemi’s eyes lifted once to yours in silent question, and anticipation fluttered in your gut.

“Please,” was all you could say, breathy and desperate. “Please.”

As the head of his cock pushed into you, Sanemi rattled out a gasp, his eyes screwing tightly shut as he panted hard above you.

“L-lamb,” he stuttered even as he continued to breach your walls. “You’re so soft…so warm.”

You cried out at the way pleasure and a faint discomfort blended together into a pinching pressure as the Huntsman worked himself into you, his muscles trembling.  The thick, blunt tip of his cock pushed against an inner barrier within you, and your belly clenched in anticipation as Sanemi paused the sinking of his hips into yours. His head dipped to the crook of your neck, right where he’d seared his claim into you, and he began to brush his lips against it, caressing the raised skin with his tongue.

The stimulation of your mark sent a flood of warmth trickling through you, relaxing your tensed limbs and allowing your body to open up to him — this Wolf, who was committed to making you his for good.

Your cry of discomfort melted into a deep moan of desire as your head tilted to the side, exposing more of your neck to the Wolf’s feverish mouth. With a growl of approval, Sanemi surged his hips forward and finally pushed past that thin, inner barrier, embedding himself to the hilt within your spasming walls. The flash of pain from his breach caused you to tense for a breath, your core pulsing at the intrusion. But then Sanemi’s fingers were there, working the nub between your legs to chase away any lingering discomfort as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your neck, murmuring soft praises.

Pleasure bloomed beneath Sanemi’s skillful touch as the last of the burning subsided. Your breath eased as you relaxed in his embrace, shyly rolling your hips against his to signal you were ready for more.

He pulled back, eyes searching yours. “Are you alright, sweetling?”

Your hands clawed at his back, trying to press the Huntsman closer to you, despite the way your bodies were pressed flush together. “Y-yes,” you managed, your breath stuttering as Sanemi shifted above you, the movement stimulating a spark of heat between your legs.

“M-more, Sanemi,” you moaned, fingers digging into the grooves of the muscles of his shoulders. “Please, more.”

He nodded with a groan, an arm shifting to wrap around your waist to hold you up against him. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, Sanemi began to move, his hips rolling into yours and pushing his manhood deeper and deeper into you.

“Lie back, sweet Lamb,” he murmured in your ear as he rolled into you once more. “Let me make you feel good.”

You couldn’t imagine how much better the Wolf was capable of making you feel than he was at that moment, with every lurid push of his length into your tight heat, but you weren’t about to question his abilities. With a quiet moan, you fell back away from him and against the soft pelts of the den nest, your arms dropping from his shoulders and coming to rest above you, against the furs.

“Fuck, just like that,” Sanemi’s gaze darkened as he beheld the way your position arched your lower back slightly, raising your peaked breasts higher up, your nipples stiff and desperate for stimulation. “You’re so good, little Lamb. So good for me.”

The Huntsman’s gentle praises made your thighs clench and warmth pool in your lower belly. Sanemi leaned forward with a sigh, running a hand up the length of your arm to grip one of your wrists to press it down into the nest. The other returned to your hip, angling you slightly in a way that allowed him to sink even deeper into your syrupy heat.

He lowered his head to wrap his lips around one of the sensitive buds of your breast, tugging it lightly between his teeth. “Gods, Lamb, you’ve no idea what you do to me,” he groaned. “It’s taking — fuck — everything in me not to tear this cloak off you and rut into you like the beast I am.”

You nearly whined at that, drawing upon every ounce of self control within you to not admit that was exactly what you wanted — Sanemi, unrestrained and utterly wild. You locked your ankles against his backside and used all the strength in your legs to push him into you, bucking your hips in tandem with his. “Sanemi, please, I need more —“

He answered with a pointed thrust of his hips, choking you off with a gasp.

“Is that so?” Sanemi’s breath was hot against your ear, and a shiver jolted down your spine at the faint growl that tinged his words. He shifted your legs so that they were wrapped higher around his hips, the fat of your backside resting against his sturdy thighs. “Then you better hold on tight, little Lamb.”

The Huntsman locked a muscled arm around your waist and moved his hand to grip both your wrists, pinning them above your head.

His lips crashed down against yours as Sanemi began to thrust into you with a steady rhythm, each push of his length into your spasming core as precise and fluid as the Huntsman had proved himself to be in the Wood. Only now, he was not faced with an opponent, but with something far more tantalizing — something he desired far more to dominate.

You.

And you were only happy to give into him, what with the way his cock charted previously unexplored places deep inside you, repeatedly brushing against spots that had your mouth falling open and stars appearing in the corners of your eyes.

Sanemi’s tongue slid into your mouth as his hands moved to arch your back further, your legs rising higher on his waist until they were locked just under his ribcage, the Huntsman bearing more of his weight down upon you and pressing you harder into his nest.

You pulled away from his lips, your breath ragged. “I - I f-feel,” you tried to babble, though your mouth struggled to form coherent words against the symphony of moans and whimpers that each push of Sanemi’s length into you dragged out.

Sanemi’s lips moved down your neck and danced across your throat. “How do you feel, Lamb?” He cooed, the tip of his incisor brushing against the hollow of your throat, his pace only increasing with every deep plunge of his length into your silken cavern.

Your eyes fluttered shut even as your eyebrows knit together, the knowledge of how to properly speak nothing more than a distant memory.

“F-full,” you managed to pant after a moment. “So — ah — full, Sanemi.”

Amidst the sounds of your breathy moans and Sanemi’s rugged pants and snarls, a pointed, wet schlick began to echo off the walls of the cave den as Sanemi continued to build his rhythm, his cock nearly pulling all the way out of your honeyed heat before he plunged it right back in, hitting you so deep, you wondered whether he might be able to touch your very soul.

Your moans grew louder as that familiar coil began to tighten behind your navel, just above where you felt the tip of Sanemi’s length begin to twitch within you.

Sanemi stuttered out a broken groan of your name. “My sweet, sweet girl —“

“I love you!” you gasped, the thick, pleasured fog in your head unable to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth. “Ngh — I love you — fuck, Sanemi!”

The Huntsman only growled in response, his hands digging into your hips to pull you to meet his thrusts, his hips snapping faster against you.

Just outside the mouth of the den, the clouds parted and the moon’s silvery rays filtered through the small cracks in the earthen wall of the cave.

Sanemi’s thrusts stuttered as his body suddenly seized. His head was thrown back, the tendons and muscles in his neck rigid with strain, while his chest heaved, struggling to take a breath.

The fingers digging into your hips tightened and you cried out at the sharp prick of nails sinking into your soft flesh. At the sound of your voice, Sanemi’s hands pulled away to reveal fingers now with long, curved nails.

His claws.

A choked, strangled noise that was somewhere between a groan and a howl ripped from Sanemi’s throat as he shuddered violently above you. The tremors sent faint vibrations right to where the two of you were connected, sparking new yet short-lived waves of pleasure rippling through your core. you mewled at the loss of stimulation as the huntsman stilled once more, desperately wanting him to start moving again to ease the burgeoning friction between your legs.

Your hips involuntarily twitched up against his and Sanemi’s head snapped down, his attention now wholly focused on you, writhing below him.

The first thing you noticed were his eyes.

No longer did they reflect the soft lilac that you’d come to find comfort in; that regarded you with a curious gentleness that often contrasted with Sanemi’s gruff and scarred countenance.

Now, the eyes that watched you from above had faded to a startling silver that glowed nearly as bright as the fat moon which hung just outside the mouth of the den.

But his eyes were nothing compared to the fangs that had formed on both his upper and bottom rows of teeth.

Sanemi’s incisors had lengthened, the upper pair extending nearly to his lower lip. The teeth tapered out to sharp points, glistening in the moonlight with a promise of violence to anyone who might find themselves at their mercy.

He had warned you that it would be difficult to keep himself from shifting while he mated you, but you’d assumed that the presence of your cloak would keep him in his human form. It seemed, however, that the magical protection afforded by the Ruby red wool draped around your shoulders, still could not fully temper the beast within.

Especially when that beast was in the thick of his heat and claiming you as his mate.

Still embedded deep within your heat, apparently oblivious to the growing friction that caused you to squirm, Sanemi’s nostrils flared and his eyes dropped to the sides of your hips. His pupils contracted, a deadly glint igniting within his silver pools, as he beheld the thin rivulets of blood which had gathered and crested beneath the marks left behind by his claws.

A growl, low and dangerous built in his throat at the sight of the crimson, but the arm wrapped around your waist tightened in silent apology.

His free hand rose to cup your jaw and he squeezed, forcing your mouth to fall open. Sanemi leaned over you, his tongue falling out of his mouth where you could see he’d gathered some of his saliva, and he let it drip past your parted lips. You accepted the fluid, warm and slightly sweet, as it pooled in your mouth until all that connected his lips with yours was a single, clear string of saliva that broke as Sanemi spoke once more.

“Swallow,” his voice was gruff and tinged with an animalistic snarl.

You obeyed, and Sanemi huffed in approval, his eyes lowering once more to your sides, waiting.

The skin around the marks left behind by Sanemi’s claws grew warm and then tingled before the sensation quickly faded away.  Curious, your hand fluttered to the outer curve of your right hip, fingers seeking out the tender, bleeding skin. With a soft gasp, you realized all that remained on your flesh were drying flakes of your blood.

Your eyes flew to Sanemi’s in surprise, and the wolf nodded.

His half-shifted form was apparently only able to speak a single word at a time. “Healed,” he confirmed, tongue darting out from between his lips to lick alongside your neck. “Healed.”

 The huntsman’s nose moved to press flush against the soft spot beneath your ear, inhaling deeply. Your breath hitched at the sudden, light graze of his fangs against the curve of your collar bone, accompanied by a distinct wetness that pooled just beneath it.

Sanemi breathed into you again, his corresponding groan deep and possessive, and it occurred to you that in this half-shifted form, he was scenting you, needing to confirm that you were the one he’d marked; the one who was accepting his mating bond.

And your scent was making him drool.

“Mate,” he growled, dragging his nose down your neck to the hollow of your throat where your pulse thrummed. Your breath caught in your throat as the tip of one of his fangs grazed the delicate skin, and you realized it would take no effort for the wolf above you to pierce your neck and claim your life.

It would’ve frightened you, had you not realized that Sanemi was continuing to hold still above you. He remained that way, even though it was likely every instinct he had was screaming at him to move, to mark to, to claim you, especially when he was already sheathed deep within the sanctity of your walls. His restraint was palpable, given how he trembled, even as you felt his cock twitch within you, desperately seeking to fill and breed.

“Mate?” Came his snarl once more tinged by the faintest uncertainty as he awaited your response.

If you wanted him to stop, you had no doubt his will would overcome his base instincts, and he would pull away.

But you didn’t, and so you merely breathed, “Yes, wolf. I am your mate.”

A dark hum of approval rippled from Sanemi’s chest and he answered with a deep push of his hips. You gasped, hitching your legs higher on his waist and you swore it felt as though his cock had somehow grown hotter, thicker, as he began his rut.

But Sanemi in heat did not want your legs wrapped around him; he wanted you submissive, utterly at his mercy as he claimed you as his mate, and so, he flipped you to your hands and knees with a supernatural dexterity that left you breathless.

Clawed hands came to rest on your hips and dragged you back to him, carefully folding the hem of your cloak up and back to expose your rear end to the Wolf’s hungry gaze. One hand left to push against your upper back, pressing you into the soft pelts of the mating nest, while the other tilted your hips until your backside was in the air.

Your stomach clenched at the hot exhale of air that blew against your cunt, thighs squeezing together at the sound of Sanemi scenting you with a deep intake of breath.

“Pretty,” Sanemi marveled, the calloused pad of his index finger swiping along the slick folds of your core, causing your muscles to clench, desperate to be filled once more.

His voice took on a darker edge. “Mine.” He growled, and your head fell forward with a throaty moan as Sanemi’s tongue flattened against your folds for a strong lick.

His mouth only caused your essence to gush once more, and this pleased him, given the contented humming that sent vibrations rocking through you, loosening a desperate cry from your throat.

The sound of your desperation seemed to spark something in the wolf at your back, for Sanemi suddenly tore his mouth away from you and rose to his knees. You were about to turn to beg him to touch you again, when you felt the hot, leaking tip of his cock press into your entrance, slipping past that first ring of muscle before stilling.

Sanemi left his clawed hands on your hips and shifted his weight to let his knees knock your thighs together. Tilting your hips even more, Sanemi then rose up, the head of his cock still tucked safely inside you, and planted one foot on either side of your knees, coming to a squat.

And then, Sanemi began to fuck you once more.

Your thighs trembled beneath you as Sanemi’s cock stretched and filled you, reducing you to no more than a quivering puddle of your own arousal and desperate need to be claimed.

With every relentless push of his cock, with every pointed slap of his groin against your backside, you were reminded that at the end of this, there would be no part of you that remained wholly yours. Sanemi fucked himself into every crevice, every nerve that made up you, his cock chasing away anything that could not be marked by him.

You did not exist for yourself; you existed only for his pleasure and to take his knot.

“Mine,” Sanemi growled, over and over, with every bruising thrust into you, as the swelling base of his cock pressed closer and closer to your entrance.

He was too fast; Sanemi fucked into you at a pace so brutal, it was all you could do to continue holding your hips up, fingers desperately digging into the soft pelted blankets for purchase as every drive of the wolf’s hips made you bounce.

“Mine, mine, mine,” Sanemi chanted, each reminder punctuated by the possessive thrust of his cock into your drooling cunt, so forceful that you struggled to take a breath.

It felt like heaven.

“Yes,” you half-groaned, half-screamed into the fur below you. “Y-yours! Your mate!”

Your words only seemed to make him grow more feral and desperate, his hips snapping even harder against you as his engorged cock threatened to tear you apart from the inside, out.

One of his hands left your hip and you nearly whined, needing to feel him everywhere you couldn’t touch. You chanced a glance over your shoulder, just in time to see Sanemi raise his thumb to his mouth to bite the long, thick curved tip of his claw clean off. His thumb now resembling that of an ordinary man’s, Sanemi brought it right between your legs, pressing down against the series of nerves at the apex of your thighs that made you howl.

Even in the thick of his heat, your pleasure was his priority.

“Oh gods, oh gods,” your voice trembled in time with your body as the pressure in your navel built, much faster than it had before, the walls of your cunt fluttering harder around the thick, bulbous length of the wolf bent over your back. “Sanemi!”

The wolf’s thumb swirled around your bud more insistently, his cock throbbing as he shoved it deeper and deeper into you. From your position on your knees, chest firmly smushed against the pelts of the den nest, you began to feel the soft furs lightly graze against the skin of your stomach, though the lower half of your body was largely still suspended above the ground.

Not even your mind-numbing pleasure could stymie your curiosity as your hand drifted down your abdomen until it met a hard, bulging lump that throbbed just below your navel.

A lump that pulsed in time with every vicious thrust of the wolf’s hips against your backside. With a strangled gasp you pressed down, palm cupping around the thick, protruding head of Sanemi’s cock from the outside as it battered you from within.

The pressure made Sanemi tip his head back, a pleasured snarl rumbling from deep within his chest. His hips stuttered once, causing his heavy, full balls to slap right against your swollen bead and you came undone.

The walls of your core seized around the Wolf’s cock with a dizzying force, your limbs locking up as a euphoric scream tore your throat raw, and tears sprang into your eyes. Your cunt pulsed around his length, a gush of your sticky pleasure surging forth to cost him and his groin, the scent mixing with the heady, thick musk that permeated the air of the den.

Your eyes strained as they rolled deeply back into your head, your brain only vaguely registering the way Sanemi inhaled deeply behind you, a cross between a whine and a groan falling from his lips.

Sanemi’s hips gave one final, mighty push of his cock deep into your womb before you felt a sudden explosion of hot, sticky warmth flood you as Sanemi’s own climax ruptured.

You felt his seed fill you, a stray bead just managing to eke out from where the two of you were joined to trickle teasingly down your inner thigh. You wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but Sanemi growled lowly at it, as though the single drop of his milky pleasure managing to evade capture within your tight warmth was something to mourn.

Several moments passed, and yet Sanemi’s length remained rigid and spurting inside you, only prolonging your own release. As he spilled, Sanemi’s hips lurched forward once more, somehow pushing his cock deeper into your core as it spasmed around him with the last fading waves of your pleasure. But that pleasure was quickly replaced by a burning stretch as something hot and hard and thick bumped up against your entrance.

With a grunt, Sanemi nudged it forward and the hardened gland slipped into your hole, eliciting a mix between a scream and a moan from you that was only muffled by the fur against which you’d buried your face.

His knot, you realized, as your walls tried to rebel against the intrusion and push it out. Your swollen, aching cunt, however, was no match against the heavy, bulbous weight of the plug determined to keep every bit of the hot seed still spurting from Sanemi’s cock locked deep within you.

Several more moments passed as you remained pinned beneath the Wolf, his knot locked snugly within your cunt as he sighed and mewled above you, his lips grazing the back of your neck and shoulders. As your womb began to feel slightly bloated from the volume of hot, viscous seed with which Sanemi filled you, you began to finally feel his cock soften, and the burning stretch of your walls around his knot started to lessen as it slowly shrunk.

As his knot finally ebbed, Sanemi’s cock slipped out, only a small trail of his seed behind it, trickling lightly down your thigh.

His chest pressed harder into your back and you both fell forward, collapsing against the soft pelts cushioning the floor of his den, panting.

Your cheeks were flushed a bright red and your eyes were glassy, every inch of you trembling from the intensity of your joining. To quiet the thunderous beat of your heart against your sternum, you concentrated on on the feeling of his seed, thick and heavy, as it sloshed within your womb.

Soft lips grazed your still-burning mating mark before they moved softly down your spine as Sanemi’s weight lifted from your back. Warm, gentle hands gripped your hips and eased you flat against the nest before turning you over, your body boneless beneath his touch.

Sanemi’s fingers brushed your hair from your face, his eyes full of concern as his hand caressed your cheek. “Are you okay, my lamb?”

It took a surprising amount of effort to remember how to nod your head, and enough time passed that Sanemi lurched over you, his eyes wide as a worried call of your name echoed over the roar in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you managed after a moment, your voice a faint warble as your hands searched for him, needing the warmth of his skin to bring you back down to earth. “I promise I’m okay.”

You took a deep breath and allowed your eyes to slide shut, your face turning to nuzzle deeper into his palm as it rest against your temple. Sanemi’s fingers continued to brush your hairline, over and over, in an effort to soothe you.

When you opened your eyes again, you felt steadier; more grounded. You finally met his worried gaze, his irises having faded back to that delicate lilac hue you loved rather than the glowing silver they’d been during your rut.

But as you shifted beneath him, you felt another gush of his seed leak out of you, and the way it trickled down the curve of your ass before pooling on the fur beneath you made your core pulse once more.

Sanemi’s eyes flickered silver as the embers of your arousal caught once more, and your thighs clenched in anticipation.

Your hand found the back of his neck and gripped it firm, tugging his head back down towards you until your lips nearly touched. Sanemi’s breath was warm and sweet as it fanned over your face. Slowly, your other hand trailed down his chest, savoring the way his muscles rippled and tensed beneath your soft caress.

Your fingers found his still-stiffened member and they closed around it, giving him one, strong pump.

“Again.” You ordered, and your thighs fell open, the full scent of your arousal mixed with the muskiness of his seed making Sanemi’s nostrils flare, his pupils narrowing to slits as he growled in reply.

—————

Hours passed, and the sun had long since risen and begun its descent in the west, but Sanemi’s heat had still not subsided.

The periods of Sanemi’s lucidity gradually grew in length with every small break between his knot finally subsiding and his heat reigniting. The last break had lasted long enough for Sanemi to bring you several strips of dried meat and a handful of dried fruit, along with a skien of water that he had to help hold to your lips as you slurped greedy mouthfuls of the cool, spring water. You hadn’t had much of an appetite, given the way your stomach seemed to bulge slightly from the amount of seed he’d already given you, but the Hunstman insisted, lecturing you briefly about the need to keep your energy — and stamina — at a consistent level.

You’d begrudgingly accepted his offerings, less so out of hunger and more so because of the way he’d pulled you against the sweat-slicked skin of his chest while you ate, his fingers tracing delicately up and down your spine as his lips peppered your forehead in gentle, reverent kisses.

But that had been at least two hours prior, and you were right back where you started: head thrown back and nonsensical babbling lilting from your mouth as Sanemi impaled you on his monstrous length, over and over, until you could not remember where you ended and he began.

To his credit, even Sanemi in heat tried to feed you his knot in new positions, still committed to ensuring that you got as much pleasure from the experience as he. The current position was the most toe-curling one yet, one that had Sanemi resting on his haunches, his back straight as he kept you perched atop his cock like a throne.

One clawed hand was splayed across your lower back, keeping you upright as the other stretched across your lower abdomen, hand pressing down against your navel so you could feel the bulbous head of his engorged cock rub against that spot at the front of your wall that made you forget your own name, even if you could not seem to forget his.

This position also allowed him to guide you up and down his length in time with his lurid, frenzied thrusts, which you supposed was a good thing, considering your legs had long since been reduced to jelly and were utterly useless.

You felt yourself growing more and more lightheaded the harder Sanemi continued to fuck himself into you, the pleasure wrought by each frantic, deep stroke of the Wolf’s thick length in and out threatening to overtake you entirely.

His seed was steadily squelching out of you with each impassioned thrust, running down your thighs and dampening the furs below you. you’d lost count of how many times he’d already given you his knot. Truthfully, you’d stopped counting around the third or fourth time, your body too concentrated on trying to simply keep up with the Huntsman’s insatiable stamina. Still, despite the exhaustion, your mouth managed to form only a single, coherent plea for more, a command the Wolf was only too happy to oblige

You were getting closer to that pinnacle again, a slew of whimpers falling from your mouth in time with each harsh drive of the wolf’s cock into your cunt. But despite the number of times Sanemi had brought you over the edge since this dance had begun, you felt as though this time, it would be different; more extreme. How could you not, given the way your own juices slid down your thighs, mixing with his essence as he fucked it both into and out of you?

Sanemi’s length was hardly pulling out of your sopping heat, so you felt the swelling at his base steadily growing larger and larger, and you knew  his release was imminent. You tried to tighten your arms around his neck, a high-pitched whine keening from your throat as your head fell back.

The Wolf bent low and sucked one of your aching breasts into his mouth, his teeth adding new reddish-purple marks to the fatty flesh that his tongue worked to quickly soothe. A graze of his fangs against your nipple sent another gush of fluid rushing from your core, followed by a wanton moan as you arced your back, pressing your breasts harder into his face.

You felt your walls begin to tighten around his rocky length once more, and your pearl brushed against the swollen hub of the enlarged gland at the base of his cock.

With a final jolt of his hips upwards, Sanemi’s knot pressed flush against the apex of your thighs and sent you catapulting into the burning fire of your climax once more, your body seizing as your vision faded white. There was only a faint ringing in your ears as you felt yourself floating along clouds that matched the precise hue of your Huntsman’s hair, and you let yourself be utterly lost among the pleasure that was Sanemi.

You were content to remain amidst that departed bliss, your body weightless and your mind empty, but the Wolf still embedded deep within your cunt was not.

Your rapture was disrupted by a faint pressure between your thighs, just against that nub Sanemi had shown you was sacred to him. That pressure grew, your limbs no longer floating but stiffening, tensing as something warm and calloused pinched more insistently at your pearl.

With a keening cry, you plummeted out of the clouds of mindless bliss you’d ascended to and right back down to earth, to that cave den where Sanemi had you draped over his thighs, one clawed hand supporting the middle of your back to keep you upright as the other furiously worked between your legs.

Tears of pleasure so intense leaked from the corners of your eyes as you deduced that the Wolf rutting into you had forced you back to consciousness with yet another climax, this one just as powerful as the previous. Though, now, instead of your vision fading to white, a rush of your own fluids surged forth and coated the Huntsman’s groin, wetting down the coarse, silvery hairs that surrounded his cock.

Sanemi’s nostrils flared at the scent of your pleasure as it soaked him. With something more akin to a roar than a groan or a shout, Sanemi’s cock erupted within you, his hot seed shooting so deep, you swore you could taste it — him — at the back of your throat.

Had you been capable of speech, you would have tried to tell him you could not possibly be expected to hold anymore of his pleasure — not when you’d already taken more loads of it than you could count, not when it felt as though his seed had replaced every trace of blood within your body, so coating everything inside that made you you to instead make his. But you weren’t; not when your tongue was half-lolled out of your mouth, not when your eyes had rolled so far back into your skull, you’d wondered whether they might become stuck there.

And even if you could have spoken, it wouldn’t have mattered. For the moment Sanemi’s cock ceased twitching inside you once more, you felt felt his hips surge up and in, felt that hard, bulbous knot slip right into your core with far more ease than it had earlier in the night, ensuring that not a single drop of Sanemi’s pleasure could leak out of where he’d just unloaded it within you once more.

Not that you would want it to be anywhere else, anyways; not when it was so warm, so comforting as it sloshed around inside your womb, making you feel a fullness not even the most decadent of meals could impart.

Somehow, still, you wanted more; needed it. Needed him.

You continued to float as you took the Wolf’s knot twice more, your brain little more than liquid and your senses too dull to perceive anything that wasn’t him. Distantly, you felt him tense and heard his soft groan, quieter than any noise he’d made since first claiming you all those hours ago, and his dwindling knot lodged into your entrance one final time.

The two of you breathed heavily for a moment, you folded half against the cave wall, sandwiched between cool rock and Sanemi’s solid warmth. Dazedly, you realized Sanemi had called your name, his voice barely a hoarse whisper.

Blinking, your eyes blearily opened to meet a pair of lilac — not silver — irises hovering above your own.

Sanemi’s face was flushed, but his human features had returned, with not a trace of those elongated fangs or pointed ears left.

A sheen of sweat coated his skin, dampening the ends of his snowy hair to a dark silver. Sanemi kept himself braced above you, his muscles rippling in the dim, fading light of the small fire feebly flickering within the cave. From your spot below him on the pelts, your eyes traced a bead of sweat that rolled down his neck and over one of his scarred pectorals.

“You cannot possibly take anything more from me.” He panted, and to your amusement, he almost looked alarmed as his eyes roamed your equally flushed and  sweaty form spread out below him.

You smiled serenely up at the Huntsman — your mate.

“I can take whatever it is you want to  give me, Wolf.”

Sanemi groaned loudly as he pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the loss of warmth.

“I have nothing left to give you, woman. My heat has ended,” his eyebrows raised. “Even if yours, apparently, hasn’t.”

Between your legs felt sticky and gooey with the remnants of Sanemi’s heat slowly leaking forth and mixing with the fluid drying on your thighs.  But despite the slightly uncomfortable sensation of the Huntsman’s copious seed beginning to dry where it crusted on your skin, you smirked at him nonetheless as he laid out beside you with a heavy sigh.

“So I am a Wolf, then? If you think I am in heat, that is.”

“I think you are the most insatiable devil ever to grace the Wood,” Sanemi countered exasperatedly. “And I think you may be the death of me.”

You giggled as the Huntsman helped ease you down from where he’d pinned you against the wall, his hands gently guiding you to your side against him as the two of you laid down upon the furs.

Your head nestled into the crevice in the middle of his chest, your cheek pressed flush against his sternum, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby that threatened to bring sleep fast and soon.

“You said something earlier,” Sanemi said gently. “Just before I —“

Your eyes flew open, a faint blush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you recalled your words, cried out just before the moon had triggered Sanemi’s partial transformation.

I love you!

“Where are you going?” Warm fingers caught you beneath your chin, preventing you from burying your face against his chest in your effort to hide away.

Your head was turned up, and your eyes  met that warm, lilac gaze. “Don’t hide from me, my Lamb.”

“Pretend I said nothing,” you squeaked, eyes dropping. “It does not have to mean anything.”

Sanemi’s other hand dropped to the mark branded into the juncture of your neck. At the first brush of his gentle yet strong fingers against the mark’s curvature, a warmth flooded through you, your teeth sinking into your lip to prevent you from purring at the contact.

“I did mark you, you know,” he smiled softly. “Bound myself to you for life, even if you decided to reject me.”

His smile faded slightly, his eyes earnest. “I would not have done that if I didn’t care for you — deeply.”

Sanemi’s lips pursed in thought. “If I did not love you, too.”

And though you had just spent the last day and a half allowing him to bend and twist you into positions that had you sobbing for him, the Huntsman’s words made your heart flutter like a bird.

“From this day forward,” you whispered, taking Sanemi’s hand in yours and pressing the tips of his fingers against your lips. “Wherever you go, I wish to follow.”

“You say that as though there was a chance you wouldn’t; as though you’d ever willingly leave me in peace.” He brushed a kiss against the top of your nose and his voice quieted. “As though I’d have it any other way.”

You answered his soft smile with one of your own, leaning up to slant your mouth over his. Sanemi’s lips parted easily for yours, your tongue sliding into his mouth to languidly dance with his, your hand snaking up his chest to hold the side of his neck.

The Huntsman growled softly into your kiss, an arm tightening around your waist as he pressed your nude body flush against his own.

“My heat may be over,” he said huskily against your mouth as he broke away to catch his breath. “But the fire you’ve lit within me still rages hot, little Lamb.”

You mewled as you traced your lips down, gliding over a scarred pectoral to take his pert little nipple into your mouth, your tongue swirling softly around it as Sanemi moaned.

“You’ve taken me as a wolf, Hunstman,” you purred, your hand sliding down his chiseled torso to where his cock had begun to stir once more. “Now I want you to take me as a man.”

With a low growl, Sanemi’s hands seized around your waist and flipped you over, laying you out on your back atop him, body pressed flush against his.

“Who am I to deny my mate?” His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, and one hand snaked around to your front to gently squeeze the sides of your throat.

“But since I’m taking you as a man, then I suppose you are no longer a Lamb, which means you no longer need this.” Sanemi’s fingers dropped to the collar of your cloak where it was still draped around your shoulders.

“And as fond as I am of your little red riding hood, I’m no longer concerned with being held back, sweetling.”

He flung the ruby cloak into a far corner of the cave before sliding his hand under you to position his cock between your legs, his tip already leaking as it pressed against your entrance.

His other arm looped through yours, pulling them back and pinning them against his chest, before he gave a great thrust up, sheathing himself to the hilt within your ready and eager walls.

You moaned, loud and unrestrained as Sanemi nipped at the side of your neck, your thighs spreading wider to accommodate his thrusts up from below.

“Let’s see how much more of me you can take now, little Red.”

—

SOMEWHERE IN THE NETHERWOOD

The silent, still trees of the Netherwood were helpless against the icy mist that rolled in from the foothills of the tiny, isolated village at its borders.

Though the forest had always been a void where sound and sunlight went to die, the mist heralded forth an unnerving stillness, so that not even a brave little songbird risked fluttering its wings. Even the shadows seemed to recoil as the source of the mist slunk through the ancient Wood, the most fearsome of its residents cowering away from the sinister intruder.

A figure emerged from the icy fog. Though the sun had long since set, the traveler needed no lantern or torch; his eyes, an unsettling kaleidoscope of colors, saw easily through the dark, the Wood unable to keep its secrets hidden from his hungry gaze.

It was quite a lovely night, the figure mused. A cool, late autumn evening with air so crisp it could only mean snow was imminent.

And snow made it much easier to track his prey.

Not that he was having much difficulty to begin with; after all, the girl’s noble attempt to muddy her own scent only made the chase that much more fun for the creature prowling through the Netherwood. Especially since the girl’s actions would lead him to a far bigger — far tastier, prize.

He smiled fondly to himself. He hadn’t imagined that the scrappy village girl would have ever made this game of his so interesting, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to be capable of serving him the feast he now tracked through the Wood.

He would still dispose of her the same way as the others, just as he planned. It did not matter to him that she’d already tainted herself by allowing a Wolf to mate her. In fact, the figure mused as he licked the remaining blood from his last his meal from his fingers, he hoped that the Wolf’s attempt to breed the succulent little human had been successful.

Mortal women and girls were far more satisfying than any other prey, with the way their bodies stored fat and held onto nutrients in preparation for child bearing. But a human woman carrying a Wolf’s pups? His mouth watered at the thought as he shuddered with delight.

But even if she was not carrying the fruits of the Wolf’s seed, it wouldn’t matter; she would still sate both his appetites.

And then there was the Wolf himself.

For the Wolf was the creature’s true target; the fat goose he hadn’t expected to find when he broke into the hen’s house in search for a new bride to claim.

The creature suppressed the primal, longing growl that bubbled up in his chest as he imagined how it would feel to sink his teeth into the furred flesh of the cursed Wolf, and how it would feel to swallow his mouthfuls of power and boundless strength.

His stomach growled at the thought, though he’d just feasted on a little girl he’d snatched from her parents’ bed as he’d waded into the Netherwood. She’d been bony and small, likely barely pubescent, but he’d been in need of nourishment before embarking on the long journey ahead. And, she’d been unbroken, and while he was not someone to care as much about such trivial matters, he couldn’t deny that it did feel so much better when they were untouched and untainted.

But she would do for now, as she rested in his belly. She could hold him over until he decided it was time to set his plan in motion, and his daring, rebellious little Y/N led him straight to the wolves’ den.

And Lord Douma knew how to be patient. And so, he would wait.

[gguk-n]

Hello!! I was wondering if you could please write a redbull driver with multiple wdc x platonic grid

But the older drivers like max Charles Lewis lando etc get jealous of her constantly being with the younger ones like franco kimi and Ollie all fluff n funny n fans going crazy bout their jealousy

Thank you

Rivals of the Track

{Reader's POV}

It was the Azerbaijan GP, Kevin wouldn't be racing so Ollie had replaced him for the race. He was this tall lanky British teen who rightfully corrected me saying that he was an adult now, he was funny. Ollie was with his best friend Kimi, who had come to support him for the race. I found their friendship endearing and reminded me of my best friend who would try to come to as many races as she could. The other drivers would argue about who my best friend was, but I knew who my best friend was and it was Y/BFF/N.

"Y/N, did you colour your hair?" Kimi asked. "You can tell?" I asked slightly shocked, "I just went for a lighter shade of burgundy than the last time" I elaborated. "Yeah, you look prettier" Ollie chimed. "Thank you. You boys are so sweet, unlike some people I know" I said looking at the other drivers who were stood a few feet away who were very confused when I asked them if anything was different about me. "You're always pretty" Franco added. "Okay, okay, flattery will only get you so far" I laughed. "We're being honest. Having some one as talented and beautiful on the grid that we can learn from is an honour" Kimi said solemnly. "Okay, is there a body you boys wanna hide?" I asked laughing. They laughed back.

"Can you introduce us to Lewis?" Franco whispered while we were stood there waiting for the media interviews. "Sure" I said. "He's so cool and we aren't sure if he'll talk to us" The other two boys added. "Oh, no, my babies, he's a sweetheart. You could just walk up to him and start talking. I was scared of him when I first joined too but we're pretty good friends" I explained. The 3 boys smiled at me, nodding in agreement.

Every time I would be talking to these 3, trying to make them feel at home like all the times the others did, I could feel eyes on me. I wasn't sure why they were all glaring at me.

I was doing my post quali media after qualifying P4. "So, what a race? Are you expecting a win or a podium?" The interviewer asked. "Obviously going to go for the win, podium isn't too far away either, let's see, I have a Ferrari and a McLaren to fight off though" I laughed. "We've seen you hanging around with the younger drivers, do they remind you of your rookie days?" she asked. "Yes, they are so nervous and scared but full of energy. They are fun to hang out with too" I said. "Does this mean you find the older drivers boring?" she prodded. "Never said that" I tsked. "I'm just trying to make them feel at home" I said. "Well, the fans are eating your interactions up. They find it so cute, you're like the mother duck and they are your ducklings" she said. "I wouldn't say that they are wrong" I chuckled. "I interviewed your teammate Max a while back and he didn't seem too pleased with your blossoming friendship. Why is that so?" the interviewer pointed out. "We're all competitive. I guess they are competitive about friends too" I shrugged. "It was nice talking to you, can't wait to watch you on the podium" she stated. I smiled and talked away.

I met the others in my drivers room. "I think this is a confidentiality breech to have all the other teams here" I laughed. "We're staging an intervention" Max stated. "For what? I don't have an addiction" I pointed out. "Since we're losing our bestie" Lando said. I couldn't help but laugh, "Who?" I asked. "You, you dumbass" Charles said. I sat on the chair that was unoccupied. "What's up my fellow drivers?" I asked. "We aren't only your fellow drivers, we're best friends" Lewis said. "Arguable but okay" I shrugged. "Are we not best friends?" Daniel fake cried. "My best friend is Y/BFF/n. You guys, I tolerate at best" I laughed. I could see all them visibly pout. "We don't like it" they said in unison. "What do you not like?" I asked. "You hanging out with the younger drivers or that we aren't best friends. Are we too old for you?" Carlos asked. "I'm as old as you guys. They just remind me of my siblings, they are like my ducklings and I'm their mother duck" I chuckled reminded of the analogy. "So, you aren't replacing us?" Oscar quipped. "Obviously not, they are my children. You guys are my friends" I said face palming myself. "Group hug?" Yuki asked and then we all huddled together. "What about us being best friends?" Max asked. "Still Y/BFF/N. I don't feel like a girl when I'm around you guys, she reminds me. We all have something special, we're competitors and friends" I said. They all seemed to nod in agreement.

After an abysmal race, I was laying in my hotel room going through twitter when I saw people talking about how I had taken the younger drivers under my wing and how they would follow me around like lost puppies while you could see the others stare daggers at them. At some point in the weekend, Max did almost carry me away from them, out of jealousy it seems and the gif was circulating all over the internet. I laughed at the tweets, my friends can get jealous, they would be jealous when I hang out with Y/BFF/N but I do need a get away from all the testosterone, but they are nice people, just bad at communicating.

[thewritetofreespeech]

kinktober: frottage

tags: frottage, making out, secret relationship, targaryen incest [aemond/rhaenyra's daughter], immense pinning by aemond

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

“Where is Aemond?”

“I do not know your grace,” Larys replied. Remaining calm in the Queens frustration. She had been hunting for her middle son for hours, and he was no where to be found. “I have checked with the guards and sentries, and no one has seen him leave by Vahgar or horse.”

“So, he must still be in the city.” Alicent deduced. Hoping he was still in the castle as well. “The conclave starts soon, and we need…a united front for the court.” The plan to weave her family’s place to the crown was to start today. First, but claiming Driftmark back from Rhaenyra's brood. Then, with them illegitimized, start making the case that Aegon should be king. “He knows how important today is. How could he do this to me?!”

“The prince is nothing but a servant to duty.” Larys assured her. He may not see eye-to-eye with the prince, at least with the one he had left, but the Lord did respect that he seemed committed to his family and their goal. “I’m sure he will come out of hiding eventually.”

In a further, deeper part of the castle, indeed hidden away from all those who had not truly explored it, Aemond laid sequestered with his maiden. Marveling at her beauty in the low light between kisses. Beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck from the warmth of the candles in the small space and their hot, panting breath. Bucking against each other with soft gasps & grunts in the nest he had built for them

“We have to go.” His lady insisted. For the umpteenth time, yet neither one of them had made a legitimate effort to move.

“No, no. Not yet.”

Aemond didn’t want to go back to the ‘real world’. A world where his family and hers were fighting. Where the rift between them seemed to grow every day. Separating them. Lines in the sand now a chasm that seemed impossible to overcome.

He also knew what was to happen today to Rhaenyra's bastards, and that she might not forgive him for his part in the plot of disinheriting her brothers. Aemond wanted to stay here a little longer, where she wouldn’t be mad at him.

“People will be looking for us.” She told him as he moved to her neck, which was freely given.

“They’ll never find us.” It had taken him years to find this place and even then it had been difficult to remember where the opening was until he had committed it to memory.

“Oh yes. Because you’re so clever. Ow!” His lady yipped but then moaned when he bit at her neck. A true Targaryen. Wanting a little pain with her pleasure.

“We should just leave and never come back.”

He’d made the offer before. To take their dragons and ride until they reach new land. Conquer it like their ancestors. Build a new kingdom, instead of being stuck in this conflicting one.

Yet, every time, she just laughed it off as a joke like she did now. Not realizing the seriousness of how much he wanted to leave, and never come back, and just be the two of them in the world. “You would miss the tarts too much if we left. Come on. Let’s get going.”

Aemond finally let her go, though disappointed about it, and let her right herself.

In the right light, her mused hair and clothes looked like she had been riding. No one would think where Rhaenyra's Targaryen jewel had truly been. In the arms of her scorned, much less beloved uncle. His cock throbbed in his breeches. Desperate to make her truly his, but he would not take such liberties. Aemond would not tarnish their jewel nor besmirch her honor. He loved her too much for that. That’s why he wanted her to run away with him, so they could be together. Growing up in a world beloved & adored, she does not see that her parents will never allow them to marry. Never allow them to be happy. Their jewel will be given to someone politically inclined to help secure her mother’s place on the throne, and Aemond would be unhappy & unfulfilled.

He would join the Watch before he call anyone but her wife.

Righted and upright, Aemond tucked a lock of silver behind her ear. Marveling at the affection reflected in her eyes. “Will you see me later? After the conclave?”

“Of course.” She told him. Her earnest something he wanted to hold on to. “Here, or somewhere else before dinner?”

“Here.” Where he could pretend. And if he spoke his words sweet enough maybe she would take him up on his offer to finally run away.

They exit their nook and depart. Her back to her family and Aemond to his. His mother found him readily enough, given how frantically at this point she had been looking for him, and asked where he had been.

“Day dreaming.” Was all he told her. It was a peculiarly enough answer that it halted all further questions from his mother and left him to get ready for the meeting.

After today, his daydreams where all he might have left. Let him keep them for a little while longer at least.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

flynn rider aemond being tied up with rupanzels hair and he gets hard abt it lol

Innocent rupanzel has never seen a man so she starts to experiment around him

First was spot the difference, what constitutes as a man and woman, only to find his half hard cock and this makes her wet

and she takes all her frustrations out on his dick

Is This…Hair?! -Yandere!Aemond T

Important A/n:Must Read (Dark)

Okay so this one is DEFINITELY DARK. Y/n is the epitome of innocence, she’s lived in the tower her whole life, only ever read the books that her “Mother” got for her and she didn’t have any clue that men even existed.

She is clueless because when she asks her “Mother” questions she gets beaten, she learned very young to just do as she was told.

The first thing Aemond realized as he woke up was that he was unable to move, opening his eye he saw a circular room, but it had everything a house needed. A small kitchen, living space, too few bookshelves for his taste, then there were stairs leading up to what he assumed was a bedroom. Just as he looked down to try and free himself there was a voice that came from…above him?

‘Don’t try to escape, you’ll never get out!’ A girls voice spoke and Aemond looked up, seeing what looked like a girl hiding behind one of the beams near the ceiling.

‘Look, I’m sorry I just broke into your house but I was in a bit of trouble. I won’t hurt you Darling, please won’t you let me out of…Is this…Hair?!’ He was stunned as he finally figured out what the soft texture of the “rope” was.

All at once the girl leapt down to the floor, controlling her descent with it, not harming herself a bit it seemed. ‘Have you come for my hair?! Mother always said someone would! I didn’t believe her but…She was right to lock me away up here.’

Aemond instantly found himself thinking about how gorgeous this girl was, she was absolute perfection made into human form, not one single blemish aside from the bruise on the side of her face that looked like someone had slapped her pretty hard. His thought then trailed to the idea that she had been up here her entire life with no one to talk to, never able to leave…what kind of a mother would do that to her child?

Then again, who is Aemond to judge? He’s not a good man, never has been and never will be. Hell, he’s tied to a chair with a hot girl inspecting him and he is unable to control his own cock as it swells in his breeches.

‘Have you been up here your entire life?’ He wondered as she stepped a bit closer, now about 5 feet away.

‘Of course! The outside world is dangerous, mother says there are monsters everywhere!’ He could see how scared she was a he felt for her a bit. She had never experienced anything that is good in the world, just kept inside and naive, too innocent for the world around her. Aemond had never been innocent, as long as he can remember he was alone, having run away from the orphanage he grew up in when he was 11 he fended for himself fairly well.

‘Honestly you are describing almost every guy I’ve ever met, though they’re not all bad. I’m not a bad guy, I don’t want to hurt you. I only came here to hide.’

‘What is a “guy”?’ She asked and Aemond felt his jaw drop. What had this girls mother done to her?!

‘You…you don’t know what a guy is?’ She shook her head. ‘A guy is a boy, it’s the opposite of a girl, you are a girl, I am a boy or you could say that you are a woman and I am a man. You know the old stories of a man and a woman falling in love and living happily ever after?’ She shook her head.

‘What is love?’ Once again he was stunned by her naïveté but he half expected this one. However this one gave him an idea…Aemond loved her innocence, craved it and here it was for the taking. If he took his time, he was confident he could own this girls soul if he wanted to.

And he Desperately wanted to.

‘Come closer and look at me, I won’t try to move, I promise. Just see our differences and you’ll understand.’ She cautiously crept closer until she stood before him. ‘Touch me, you know what you look and feel like, now feel me. It’s okay, go on.’ She hesitated, unsure about this stranger. ‘Hey, what’s your name, hmm?’

‘R-Rapunzel.’

‘Wow, that’s a beautiful name. My name is Aemond, okay? We know each others names so we’re friends now, no reason to be nervous sweet girl. Now, come sit on my lap and look at me.’ Rapunzel must have thought his explanation to be a sound one because a moment later she plopped herself into his lap and reached up to touch his face.

‘Your face is scratchy.’ She giggled, rubbing over the stubble.

‘There’s a reason for that. When a man and a women love each other they play games together just for them, the rough stubble on my face will make my future wife happy.’ She looked to be considering that but didn’t ask before touching the eyepatch and looking curious.

‘Did someone hurt you Aemond?’ He nodded and she took the eyepatch off to see a large sapphire where his eye should be. ‘You’re so pretty.’ She stated, touching over his scar gently before running her hands down his jaw to his neck and over his chest which was flat and hard unlike hers. ‘That’s different…’ she admitted, looking down at her chest to see where it is much bigger than his.

‘You can look if you’d like, men have hard, flat chests, usually with defined muscles. Women have breasts-‘

‘Why?’ She questioned as she began unbuttoning his shirt, though she was unable to pull it off with her hair in the way.

‘They’re for whatever man she falls in love with to touch and suck on, they’re also for feeding whatever babies a man and woman have together…you can untie me if you’d like. I promise, I won’t move a muscle until you want me to. I want to help you understand this, it’s an important life lesson that your mother is wrong for not telling you about.’ Rapunzel considered this, he hadn’t been fighting against her despite him being able to hurt her in his lap so, why not?

She hopped up and began untying Aemond from her hair but once she did, he did not move at all other than to gesture her back onto him.

‘No, try the other way. Put one knee on either side of my legs, you’ll be able to see me better.’

‘Oh…that’s smart!’ She smiled and Aemond wanted to see that smile on her face everyday for the rest of his life, he wanted to see her smile up at him while his cock is buried into her virgin tight cunt for the rest of his days on this Earth.

He couldn’t hold in the groan as she began rubbing his chest so delicately, he was in heaven already and he still knew he could take so much more. ‘Do you need help untying your dress? So that you can compare better, of course.’ She thought for a moment before nodding her head and allowing Aemond to untie the back of her dress and pull it down her arms and all the way to her waist. Her breasts weren’t overly big, they were petite and cute, perfect in Aemond’s eyes, though his cock twitched when he considered what they would look like swollen with milk atop her belly swollen with his child. He was no longer half hard, he was fully erect and leaking against his breeches. ‘Can I show you something?’ She didn’t hesitate to nod this time as her breathing was becoming a bit faster, she was getting excited and that is exactly what Aemond needs, now he just needs to make sure that she’s as wet as she can be.

He leans forward and kisses her chest between her breasts before pressing his jaw to her skin and hearing her gasp at the scratchy sensation against her sensitive skin which was instantly made stronger as he moved over her nipple. ‘Oh God! Do-D-Do that again! Please?!’ She whined and Aemond chuckled, doing as she asked and as he did her hips moved against her will making her feel something against her Kitty. She was going to ask what it was but all thought flew from her brain as Aemond wrapped his lips around her other nipple and suckled gently. ‘Ah-Oh! Aemond that feels…it-‘ her hips were grinding down on him once again but she didn’t care anymore, the sensation rising in her belly felt too good to stop. ‘Don’t stop! Please?! I-I need…’ Aemond wrapped one of his arms around her waist, adjusting his hips and began helping her grind down on his length harder as he licked over her sensitive nipple, sucking even harder and twisting the other between his fingers roughly. She threw her head back as she came, her body shaking at the intense orgasm but Aemond kept up his attentions on her until she came back down.

‘That felt good, didn’t it?’ She nodded, face now in his neck as she breathed heavily. ‘It made you feel good right down here.’ He stated, cupping her pussy and making her whimper at his attention. ‘This is your cunt, or your pussy, and it is so special…do you know why?’ She shook her head as she sat back again to look at him. ‘It’s special because it can make you and the man you love feel so amazingly good.’

‘How do I know if I love a man, Aemond?’ He smirked, unable to help feeling successful at this moment.

‘That really good feeling I just gave you?’ She nodded. ‘That means I love you, it means you are the only girl in the world for me. Now if you can make me feel like that too then that means you love me. It would mean that we are meant to be together…does that make sense?’

‘Yes…what should I do to make you feel good?’ She asked him and he took hold of her legs and lifted her against him, moving them both over to the couch and laying her down.

‘I just moved you here so that it will be more comfortable for you, I don’t want my Princess in unnecessary pain, do I?’ Her eyes widened and she smiled before shaking her head. ‘I’m going to show you the biggest difference between a man and women, alright?’ He sat back on his knees between her legs and unhooked his belt before pulling his pants down enough for his cock to slap against his stomach and he saw her eyes widen as she looked at it. ‘You can touch it if you want to, just be gentle.’ She sat up a bit and reached out to wrap her hand around it making his head fall back as he groaned. ‘This is my cock, and it’s very sensitive. You can make it feel so good for me just like I made you feel.’

‘Show me how! I wanna make you feel good too Aemond.’

‘Such a sweet girl you are, fuck! You can make it feel good just stroking it if you want, or you can put it in your mouth and suck on it, that feels incredible.’ He stopped her from moving to put her mouth on him making her pout which he found adorable. ‘The thing that makes a man’s cock feel best though, is when it’s inside a tight little pussy like yours.’ Her eyes widened in surprise before looking back at his cock.

‘I don’t think that will fit Aemond…’

‘Of course it will pretty girl.’ He promised, laying her back and kissing her cheek gently. ‘I love you, and you love me, I already know it. Now I’m gonna make the both of us feel really good, okay? Do you trust me?’ She hesitated a moment before realizing that she does which prompted her to nod her head. ‘That’s my good girl. Now this is going to be uncomfortable for a moment, maybe even a tad bit painful but I promise it will pass quickly, alright? Then you will feel nothing but pleasure.’

‘Okay…I trust you.’ There’s a small part of his brain that feels a bit bad taking advantage of her like this but if he didn’t then someone else would and they would probably be 10x worse than him. He’s going to make her feel good for the rest of her life, and she’s going to give him all the pleasure and babies he could ever want. It’s worth it any way you look at it.

‘Just relax for me.’ He instructed as he pulled her panties down and tossed them aside, pressing his cock against her hole and pushing into her gently. He didn’t stop until he bottomed out before he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly and taking her mind off of the discomfort. She kissed back happily, following his lead and eventually he felt her relax. ‘There you are pretty girl.’ He pulled his hips back, pushing into her again slowly which made her whine as it clearly felt good. ‘Such a good girl, letting me fuck your little pussy. So fucking good Princess!’ He moaned as he rocked back and forth, picking up the pace a bit at a time before she was a panting, mewling mess as he drilled his cock in and out of her as hard as he could. ‘You feel so good for me baby, making my cock feel so fucking good! Such a good girl!’

‘Don’t stop, please? Feels-ah! Never want you to stop…’ she whined, pulling his head down to kiss her again which he happily did.

‘Gonna fuck you like this all the time Princess. All day every day, this pussy was made for me! Your body was made for me, made to take my cock! Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum! Gonna fill you up so good baby!’

‘C-cum?’ She mumbled and he just grunted as he buried his face into her neck.

‘Cum, remember how good you felt before? That was cumming. Gonna cum inside you, fill you up so deep! You’ll never want to be empty again, and I’ll never leave you without my cum.’ He could feel her pussy squeezing around him suddenly as she cried out and he fucked her through it before thrusting harder and making her look up at him. ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘I want you to cum…want you to cum in me and feel so good!’

‘Tell me…tell me you want me to put a baby in you!’ He grunted, so close and desperate to hear her say it, knowing she would do anything he said at this point.

‘Yes! Fill me up! Put a baby in me, please? Want your babies!’

‘Oh Fuck! FuckFuckFuck!’ He pushed his cock as deep into her cunt as he could physically get before he came, shooting everything he had up into her womb. ‘Good girl, gonna have my babies. God, I love you Princess-fuck!’

‘I love you too Aemond…you feel so good…’

‘That’s right Princess. You’re all mine now, all fucking mine.’

Aemond “Tangled” Moodboard

Aemond T. Masterlist

[targaryen-dynasty]

YOU‘RE THE ONLY THING I PRAY FOR. (1/3)

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT — MINORS DNI; NON/DUB-CON, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle & niece), blasphemy, taking of virginity, female reader

WORDS: 4.6 K

NOTES: Part 1 is here! At the anon that has requested it: thank you so much for this. I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Daylight has first appeared when you break your fast, completely dressed and ready to start the day by paying a visit to the Grand Sept. It’s one of the rare days the queen does not accompany you for your morning prayer as her queenly duties have called for her even before the first light. But you bask in the rare solitude her absence grants, looking forward to the time you get to spend all by yourself. 

A carriage waits for you as you walk down the steps of the Red Keep leading into the courtyard, the door already opened and a servant anticipating for you to get in. 

“And where might you be going so quickly?” You know the voice that pierces through the silence of the morning, and are not surprised when you turn around to spot your uncle approaching. He’s clad in a white tunic and black breeches, looking as though he has just gotten out of bed.

Bobbing a small curtsy, the slight bow of your head does little to hide the surge of warmth that spreads to your cheeks, trying to suppress the nervous smile his presence always coaxes from you. 

It could be mere happenstance that you two meet right when you’re about to leave the keep, but something deep inside of you tells you he’s more than familiar with your morning routine. 

“I was just heading to the sept to pray, uncle,” you reply, your eyes locking with his as he creeps closer. 

The smirk that grazes his features at your words sends a shiver down your spine because it doesn’t mean any good; it never means any good. “And what is it that you pray for exactly, sweet niece?” he asks in a playful tone, raising a brow. His head cocks to the side, and he sizes you up briefly. “Does a princess such as you pray for love? Pray for a husband?” 

Despite the rush of embarrassment you feel when he makes his comments, you can’t deny the truth in them. “I pray for many things…” you trail off, pressing your lips into a thin line and contemplating if you should elaborate further. But the ultimate act of piety is to be honest, genuine, and you know it’ll surprise him more than a snappish remark. “I pray for the love of my family, as well as my own. Though I must admit that what I pray for most is to be married one day, and provide my husband with a healthy heir.” 

He must have noticed the way your eyes trail up and down his tall frame throughout your little lecture, despite you having your neck craned to meet his gaze, because his brow doesn’t seem to lower at all, staying in its exact position as he’s seemingly impressed by your words and your honesty. However, there’s also a pregnant pause following them, and you brace yourself for whatever taunting or derogatory comment might follow. 

“Might I join you?” 

The question catches you off guard, and causes you to tilt your head sideways. 

Pious isn’t a term you would use to describe your uncle. If he believed in anything, he’d merely worship the Gods of Old Valyria and would not follow the Faith of the Seven. Nevertheless, you’re thrilled he even considers accompanying you to the Grand Sept, because you’re certain he’s never seen it from inside. 

“I would be honored by you joining me, uncle,” you say, smiling softly. “I would not have to pray alone.”

“It would please me greatly, niece.” His eyes run over your form, lingering a little longer on your middle, clearly taking in your curves and attire. The dress you wear is completely different to the ones your younger sister usually wears, and comes closer to the gowns the queen dons nowadays. It’s modest and covers you completely, basically from head to toe. 

Mayhaps that’s where he sees the challenge. 

You briefly nod your head, and take his hand as he offers to help you into the carriage, climbing the steps before sitting down on one of the upholstered seats. You make note of how warm and unexpectedly smooth his hand is when you let go of it, having expected it to be calloused and somewhat rough from all the riding on dragon back and training with the sword he does. 

Daemon takes his seat next to you, and it’s evident you have all of his attention with him not tearing his eyes off of you once. What you don’t know is that he’s always found a liking in you. You’re sweet and innocent, demure even, and the complete opposite to Rhaenyra. 

More oft than not you make your uncle feel as though you really do not deserve an unvirtuous man such as himself, just as your father has told him back when Daemon had asked him to grant him your hand in marriage. You’re a girl that has never taken a man’s touch before, innocent in both mind and body – a vision obviously tantalizing to many men of court.

He looks over you once more. You feel his gaze burning into your skin regardless of how badly you focus on what you see passing on the outside of the wheelhouse, and you can’t deny that you would love nothing more than to learn of what’s occupying his mind. 

The ride to the sept isn’t too long, and shared in silence thick with tension. When the carriage comes to a stop and a servant opens the door, you rise from your seat and climb down the steps. Your hands are clasped in front of your body on the way into the Grand Sept, closely followed by the looming presence of your uncle. 

And you immediately feel at peace when you walk through the heavy doors held open by several guards, breathing in the scent of incense and relishing in the quiet it brings. Though there is no reason for you to feel flustered with the company of your uncle, having grown up around him, your heart still feels as though it beats too fast, pounding against the confines of your ribcage. 

The truth is, you have not prayed for any husband – you have prayed for him to become your husband. And every single one of your prayers resolved around the wish for him to join you some day. The Grand Sept is your home port, giving you a sense of safety and being the place you always return to. And what could be better than sharing this feeling with the person your heart and body long for?

You nod subtly toward the few septas and novices that cross your path on the way to the large stone altar in the center of the sept, attempting to not draw too much attention to you and the prince that trails closely behind. 

Rolling one of the thin vestas between your index finger and thumb, you carefully set it alight with a candle that’s already lit before you proceed to light your own. The small piece of wood is extinguished with a soft blow of air, and you brush your fingers over the sheet of wax that covers the gray marble beneath, watching the sea of lights in front of you. 

“Have you been in the sept before, uncle?” you ask, innocently. It might seem like a witless question, but is completely fair considering you have never really seen him pray before. 

You are not oblivious to just how different you are from your own kin, for neither your father, uncle nor sister frequent the sept, let alone pray before they break their fast or eat their supper. 

When they’d ask you, you’d say that the contrast between you and Daemon is the most blatant, closely followed by the differences you and Aemond have. Though your younger half-brother, more oft than not, resolves to praying, you know it’s just to please his devout mother. 

If anything, you most resemble Alicent, despite not sharing the same blood with her. She has taken you under her wing as your mother died birthing your late brother, strengthening your very being with her own faith. 

Daemon chuckles at your question, following after you to the stone altar. It’s an easy game for him to pretend to be pious, having resorted to colder measures many times before. “I will admit that I do not frequent the sept as much as you. It’s just…,” he trails off, looking around the room and taking in the architecture. “... not exactly to my liking. I much prefer the worship of the Old Gods of Valyria.” 

Just like you have thought. It’s tempting to worship and follow the customs your very ancestors have set up and believed in, bringing you closer to what ties you to the family whose love you always pray for. But where were these Gods when you needed them most?

“But doesn’t everyone in King’s Landing worship the Seven? Do you not think them worthy of your devotion?” you ask, cocking a brow as you slowly sink to your knees. You still look up at him, but already fold your hands to prepare for the prayer. 

Daemon watches you carefully, no, he blatantly stares at you, taking you in and watching you on your knees from his level of height. It’s exciting, to say the least. “Oh, I do not consider them unworthy, they have been worshipped in Westeros for centuries, but you can not expect me to deny my heritage, niece.”

It’s your heritage as well, and it includes the customs that would allow for you to wed the man you have always longed for. That is, if you were not betrothed already. 

The marriage to Jason Lannister, like your father has requested, is the most fitting option, you know. It’s no match made out of love but rather a political arrangement, and doesn’t heed your own wishes. 

He’s no more a man that deserves you than your uncle, though the prospect and thoughts of marrying Daemon do excite you more. Perhaps this excitement stems from the suppressed desire of wanting the opposite of your pious nature, something that would make you feel alive as much as riding Silverwing does. 

But your uncle isn’t interested in taking you to wife. His late wife died a few moons ago, and if someone has always had his attention and favor, it’s your younger sister, Rhaenyra. 

Flashing you a tight-lipped smile, he approaches one of the pews close to the altar and sits down. You focus on the candles in front of you and fix the flames of them to watch them dance, calming you down and bringing you back to the matter at hand; your morning prayer. 

But under the intensity of his stare, you find it incredibly difficult to focus on your wishes and steady your thoughts, and you rely on the Seven for their guidance. The direction in which your thoughts stray is improper and silently proscribed by the people of the realm, and you haven’t spent all of these mornings in the sept to let it all go to waste with the foolish wish to follow your House's customs. 

Lowering your head, you quietly speak your prayers and plead for the Seven to see you in good favor before them despite the sins that may come upon you in the future. 

Your uncle, on the other hand, only now realizes that this is the best time he could wish for to get you alone, all by yourself with no one to interrupt. And as the wait for you to finish your prayers doesn’t stop to pass agonizingly slowly, he’s overtaken by his urges and begins to quietly approach you. 

You’re in the midst of your prayer when you feel a sudden presence in your space. Opening your eyes, you spot him sinking down on his knees right next to you, his broad shoulder brushing yours in the process, pressing against your frame. 

He’s so close to you that you feel the warmth emanating from him despite the layers of clothing. “You have been so faithful to the Seven,” he whispers with a rasp, keeping his eyes neatly trained on you. “It is only right that they finally grant you something in return…”

There are goosebumps prickling on your skin at his words, the sensation even raising the hairs on the back of your neck. 

Despite growing up around him, you have never shared such close proximity with him before, at least not since you can remember. It feels so intimate, and the way in which he speaks makes it more than obvious that it’s plain profanity. 

Daemon is clearly taking advantage of your piety, and twists your words and beliefs into something much more impure. 

But it seems that your body renders what your mind doesn't. It knows what he is up to even before you can grasp it, and you suddenly notice the uncomfortable way your smallclothes cling to the apex of your legs, a cold moisture making the linen sticky. 

You can’t speak, far too absorbed in his presence, and barely notice that he’s slowly inching towards you, until the tips of your noses brush against each other. 

Daemon is not moving closer, basking you in a sense of feigned superiority that gives you the impression that you’re the one in control. If you’re about to kiss, it’s because you want to do so, at least he’s making you think that. But by the Seven, how badly you want to kiss him. 

You’re the one to close the gap between you and press your lips firmly to his. You feel the warmth of them against yours, and are overtaken by a haze. You have never expected this to be the result of your joint visit to the Grand Sept, and you feel as though you're melting with a jolt of heat – until a cloud of panic washes over you. 

Pulling back with a gasp, you topple over on your arse, grateful for the space it puts between the two of you. You bring your fingers to your lips, touching them as if you mean to prolong the feeling of his lips on yours. 

“I-I do not wish to be a prude, but…” you try to deny his advances. You don’t know where to look, eyes frantically flickering to the ground, the ceiling, and even checking if anyone is around to see what has happened. 

Daemon licks his lips with a sigh, and you see him contemplating his next moves, the silence making your heart pound in your ears. “You’re a pious woman,” he raps, or rather just states the obvious. 

And then he slowly stalks closer again, only to bury a large hand in the hair at the back of your head, using the grip to bring you closer to him again. “Why have the Gods made me love a pious woman?” 

You’re holding onto his shoulders, not sure if you want to draw him impossibly closer or push him away. Your wide eyes carefully study his features, before he leans in and starts to press kisses to the side of your face that leave you whimpering and mewling.

Daemon has his strong arms wrapped around your frame to pull you flush against his chest now, and you’re squirming and panting, trying to get away from him while his hands make quick work of pulling and tearing at the skirts of your dress already. 

“Un-Uncle… not here, please,” you try to protest. 

He brings a hand to your cheek, turning your face so it’s easier for him to capture your lips in a heated kiss again. It takes all the strength you can muster to pull away from him, not just physically, but mentally. The long suppressed part in you is at an all time high, aching for nothing else than him. 

“We-We can’t,” you stammer, completely out of breath. “Not here.”

“I do not see why not, niece,” he all but growls. “Do you not want the Seven to witness how I worship you?”

The words make your face grow hot. The thought of the Seven watching over you is taboo and wrong, but it also makes it a lot more exciting. It has been an idea you have long desired, and to hear it spoken out loud from his own lips makes a thrill of excitement course through your veins. 

“B-But I-I have never–” your voice is reduced to a whimper, the despair audible.

Daemon paws at your hips, and brings his face closer to press open mouthed kisses to the side of your neck. “I will worship you in a way they have never experienced, I can promise you that,” his husky voice is muffled by your skin, and all you can do is blush in return. 

He backs you against the column of the altar behind you, trapping you so he can use both his hands to snake beneath your gown and tear at the linen undergarments you wear, reducing the barrier that stands between him and his most prized possession. 

“Uncle, Daemon, please… the sept is not the right place for this.”

“I'll decide where I take you,” he growls once again. It’s the first time your name slips past his lips today, spoken in such a condescending manner that immediately makes you bow to his will. “And if I wanted to take your maidenhead right in front of your father, then so be it.”

You push at his chest, but at the same time melt against his sturdy frame when his lips claim yours. The fabric of his tunic is pinched so tightly between your fingers that your knuckles start to blanch from the force, acting as the means to an end to distract you from the shame you feel at giving into him so easily. 

Daemon bows his head forwards to nuzzle his nose along your cheek, his breath hot as he speaks. “You’re such a dutiful woman, always praying for a husband and a life filled with children. Why not pray for me? Would that not be the most honorable of outcomes?”

You can’t think for yourself, swept up by his words, his charms and his possessiveness. He’s brought you to the edge, and you can’t find yourself able to resist. 

“Uncle, I–”  

“Be quiet,” he cuts you off. 

So lost in his overwhelming presence, you hardly register him undoing the laces in the front of his breeches, only just lowering them enough for him to free his hard cock. Once that’s done, he lays you onto the cold floor, and positions himself between your legs, which brings you close enough to his cock to feel it prodding against your cunt. 

You can’t breathe, not when you’re basically smothered by his weight, pinning you down to the ground and not allowing you to move. There’s no chance for you to meet his gaze, for he’s far too distracted to keep his eyes locked on one position only. 

“You’re a dragon, sweet niece,” he grunts. “That cunt of a Lannister would not know how to handle it… let me take care of you.”

You release a shuddered breath when the tip of his cock meets the resistance of your tightness, forcing your body to go rigid. But despite that, Daemon is able to ease himself inside of you. It takes him a few seconds to fill you to the brim, taking his sweet time to allow you to adjust to each other. 

And you sure do. 

He pushes inside at an agonizingly slow pace, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. When his hips are still, your tight walls slowly accommodate his impressive size. But even then Daemon already knows he can’t keep this up for long, for your cunt is squeezing him so tightly, he is sure he’ll spend himself too quickly for his own liking. 

It takes you a moment, but as you feel him twitching, briefly brushing the sensitive spot inside of you, your stiff muscles seem to thaw. You arch your back against him, melting into the warmth that radiates off him. 

A quiet whine leaves your lips that prompts him to meet your gaze. “That’s it,” Daemon coos softly, a slight strain in his husky voice. He brings a hand behind your head to support it and make it a bit more comfortable for you, lifting it off the hard ground. 

Bowing his head forwards, he captures your lips in a gentle kiss. It is languid, tender even, but doesn’t lack any passion. There’s a burning inside of you, and you feel completely filled to the brim, yet it’s not as uncomfortable as the first few seconds have been. 

Perhaps it’s the possibility of being caught by your own kin or other nobles, or being defiled by him so openly, but you can’t seem to get enough. No, you don’t even mind if anyone sees you, not when all you’ve prayed for finally comes true. 

“I thought you were a pious maiden,” he rasps, immediately giving in to the pleasure and his urges, “not one that enjoys sin as much as this.” 

Though your face is contorted in both pleasure and slight discomfort, you keep your eyes open and locked with his, carefully studying his face. “I–I think the Seven would want me to be happy… would they not?” you don’t state it, you ask, silently needing his reassurance and asking for guidance. 

As he notices the hidden meaning behind your words, he flashes you a sly grin, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I believe as much.” 

Daemon starts to thrust into you, coaxing one whiny moan after the other from your parted lips. The pace is slow, and you can tell by the way he has his jaw set that it takes a whole lot of restraint for him to keep it that way. You know he’s an experienced man, having heard lots of stories about him and his conquests, and you appreciate him practicing patience with you. 

“Fuck, I-... you were made for me,” he groans against the side of your face, merely propped up on his forearms to not put too much weight on you. The feeling of his breath fanning over your skin, and the sounds he makes vibrating against it, ignite a fire in your veins you haven’t felt before. 

“You were always meant to be mine, but your father is too dull to see it.” Light kisses trail over your jaw and the side of your neck, meaning he can’t see the color his words bring to your cheeks. 

Entangling your fingers in his short, silver strands, you just rest your hand there to keep yourself grounded, until one particular thrust that seems a bit rougher than the others has you eventually tugging on the tresses not-so-gently. The action pulls his head back and exposes his throat to you, and it’s far too enticing to not to lean in and press your lips to the bump in the front of it. Daemon groans at that, and, in response to his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you, your walls clench around him. 

You haven’t been touched by a man before, even rarely by yourself, and thus you’re not quite familiar with the pressure that builds inside of your body. It has the grip of your legs around his waist tightening and your toes curling, but other than that you’re not quite sure what to expect. 

“Good girl, taking me so well,” he grunts, spurred on by the way your walls squeeze and choke his cock, clearly knowing you’re close to your peak. His praise goes straight to your head, and you whimper in return, stammering a ‘th-thank you, uncle.’

“Wet my cock, little niece, make a mess for me,” he all but commands, a dominant edge to his voice that has you shivering. 

Far too lost in the pleasure his body grants you, you hardly notice him driving his hips into yours with more fervor and determination, an approving ‘mhhh’ and stutters of his name escaping your lips. 

It probably is a vague guess, but Daemon’s mouth claims yours with newfound hunger as your peak washes over you in an ambush, effectively drinking down every wanton moan and whimper that has threatened to leave them. 

Something akin to fire spreads through your veins which prompts your leg to tremble uncontrollably, locking around his waist. Your walls flutter and convulse all over him, and white, hot pleasure clouds your vision. 

Only when the tremors slowly subside does your uncle tilt his head back. He watches you in awe, studying the drowsy expression on your face though the pistoning of his hips hasn’t stopped. And he won’t stop, not even when you��re no more than a quivering and whimpering mess beneath him, and you’re very close to turning into one. 

He cups your chin, pinning your head to the ground as he increases the pace of his thrusts again, using your relaxed state to chase his own peak. 

It feels overwhelming, a different kind of aching suddenly burning between your legs, and you try to squirm away, but his grip on you is as adamant as he’s relentless. 

“I shall spill myself inside of you,” he grunts, “would you like that? Do you want my seed in your belly?” 

All you can whimper are incoherent words, but are still aware enough to not be too loud. Daemon takes the benefit of the doubt and settles on a whiny yes, far too enticed by the thought of you going round with his child. 

He can’t hold himself back any longer with the repercussions of your peak driving him to his own, practically bursting as he spills his seed. His hips falter as he topples over the edge, his twitching member spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls. 

But there’s not really any time for you two to dwell in the bliss, not when Daemon gathers himself so quickly to get back on his feet. He fixes his attire, straightening his tunic and redoing the laces of his breeches before he helps you up.

You perturbedly look around, breathing heavily, and smooth out the skirts of your dress. Being unsteady on your feet, you shift your weight from one leg to the other and grimace at the wetness that spreads between your thighs at the lack of smallclothes to gather it. His seed seeps from your swollen cunt down your flushed skin and makes you overly aware of the claim he has asserted over you.  

You’re too stunned to speak, your mouth opening and closing without any words leaving your lips. Knowing he was a rogue, you would have never thought of your uncle doing such things, even less of yourself. 

“I-I–” 

“We will keep this between us,” Daemon interrupts, figuring what’s plaguing your mind. 

The act of sin between you two has been so improper, and you’re certain your father would force you to become a Silent Sister if the word of your act would spread around court. So, it’s slightly calming to know you can rely on your uncle to protect your reputation and care for your safety. 

You nod and swallow thickly. “I-I hope so?” 

The silence between you in the carriage on your way back to the Red Keep is thick with tension, and though Daemon helps you climb down the steps before he leaves to attend his princely duties, something does not sit right with you. 

And only when you hear a knock on your chamber’s door around the Hour of the Owl do you figure that the feeling was right. Maester Mellos stands opposite of you, a goblet whose content is unknown in his hand. He hands it over, and you feel your blood run cold at his words. 

“A tea, princess. From the king. It will rid you of any unwanted consequences.”

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[fraugwinska]

all of these requests have been great! could i suggest Human Alastor/Unruly Reader? they have a little age gap where he’s in his thirties while they are in their early twenties. he puts them in their place by spanking them with his belt then fucking them? the daddy issues in me needs him to reprimand! 💛💛💛💛

Here you go, Anon ;> I hope you'll like your little #SlutSnack, as will all the Human!Alastor fans ;>

Lessons in Leather

"Say it again, sweetling."

He didn't give her time to get the words out, his leather belt whirring through the air with a whipping sizzle before it struck her already red cheeks again. The impact produced two sounds. The first one was a hard, sharp smack like a cracking whip as the leather hit her supple ass. The second noise came from the girl bent over his study as she cried out, mewling with pain and moaning from the pleasure alike at the force of the strike.

"I'm waiting, darling."

"I..", she whimpered, squirming as he looped the leather strap in between his hands, "I won't make a scene in front of your home ever again." She stayed obediently on the study desk, ass naked and wiggling. With his free left hand, he steadied her thighs and dug his strong fingers around her supple flesh. He spread her buttcheeks so that the tiny little entrance was spread open to his gaze, pink and tender with barely-used, delicate little muscles stretched into a virgin ring around that opening.

"And you will come only when I summon you. I will not be inconvenienced by a bratty child, will I?" He ran a finger, very carefully, along her rosebud. The skin there was hot, flushed and even damp with arousal and perspiration. It fluttered with need beneath his thumb, as if it was anxious, and his own cock throbbed within the confines of his breeches. A long time had passed since last he'd taken his pleasure so completely.

"I'm n-not...not a child."

He smiled darkly, at both the petulant tone of her voice as well as the fact that she had purposefully said it like that to provoke him. It was objectively on the borderline to outrageous, their little affair, Alastor knew it. She knew it too. But his sweet darling, more than ten years younger than him, had been persistent from the moment she met him in the little café where he always got his morning coffee. A new hire, a quick-witted, bratty little thing, with a sharp tongue and long, batting lashes. The younger fellas were all over her, but she only had eyes for him. And what started as a harmless flirt for the fresher batch of coffee soon became a dangerous game when she started appearing at his work and on his way home. Alastor was torn - she matched his own insanity in a beautifully twisted way, and even though he threaded dangerous ground when his eye was drawn by someone who proved to be this intrusive, given his nightly endeavors, he just didn't seem able to resist her.

"Running your mouth with attitude, my pretty, only means you need a harder spanking to get the message across, doesn't it? Very well then. No more little love-taps."

She swallowed as he let his belt slip onto the ground, his palm instead caressing her silken, creamy flesh, scattered with hot red streaks, and with an efficient little motion, he kicked her feet apart and pressed his hand on the arch of her back as he pulled his trousers open and released his painfully hard cock.

"You know the rules, sweetling. Good girls get fucked like good girls. And bad girls..." His voice was thick, deep and filled with lust as he rubbed his thumb against her unexplored hole until she was gasping and whimpering. "Bad girls get fucked here, darling."

His cock slid in between her cheeks and the moan that followed at the sheer vulgarity was long and loud and utterly delicious. His girl had been a virgin, and while he didn't take her the traditional way for a long time, he finally broke her in after the memorable tantrum she threw when she first came to his workplace. It was only fitting that her recent misbehavior, breaking the only other set boundary she unnervingly had pushed until today - following him to his home and disrupting his private space, including his nosey landlord - was treated the same way. Her little bottom was still untouched however, and the thought of the sensation of her tight, silken channel clenching and fluttering around his cock, squeezing him deliciously as he fucked her little asshole, was enough to drive him out of his mind with devious glee.

"Ala-Alastor!"

Slowly, teasingly he prodded her, working the tip of his cock into her tight, virgin entrance, lubricated nicely by both his thick precum and her dripping arousal. The puckered little rosebud resisted him for only a moment before her hole spread hesitantly to allow him entrance. He could see the strain as her ass was slowly but surely stretched around his girth, and he paused halfway in, enjoying the sensation of being buried inside of her, and the sight of her, shivering in embarrassment and lust.

"I've got you, sweetling." He murmured soothingly, stroking a hand up her back to grasp the long fall of her hair, pulling on it just enough that her back arched in the most delightful way. "Just relax, now. Show me you can be my good girl, just relax and take it, sweetheart."

His movements were slow and careful as he thrusted, and her little body shivered and jerked as he slowly began to fuck her in earnest. The girl was a wanton and cunning vixen hiding behind the facade of a naive bimbo of a girl, and she loved being fucked by him. Her brattish words failed her as her body betrayed her every time, responding so nicely to his lectures and punishments. Even now, her body was quick to adjust to the stretch and the friction of his cock as he took her ass, her hips moving and pushing back against him, greedy and almost demanding.

"That's it, pretty girl." Alastor rasped. "Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl. And good girls get to cum, don't they?"

"Y-yesss..." she moaned, his thrusts growing longer and deeper, and his cock swelling with the neediness and impatience in her tone. Alastor smiled wickedly, the fingers of his free hand reaching around her waist to dip into her swollen cunt, finding her wet and slick with her own juices, overripe, ready and waiting for his touch. He knew he'd make her cum soon enough, and the thought made his cock twitch in her ass as he started to circle her clit with strategic pressure, her breath coming out in stuttering gasps of his name as he worked her towards the precipice of her climax. But he also knew that just once wouldn't do. Alastor was nothing but a thorough teacher, and his little sweetling still had some lessons to learn.

[vhagarys]

forgive me

aemond x wife!reader

summary: his lady wife summons him to the throne room. the last thing he expected was you sat atop the iron throne.

warnings: as this is a fic written by yours truly, SMUT, oral, masturbation, defiling of iron throne, exhibitionism

MDNI

“well, what do we have here, hm?” aemond couldn’t believe the sight before him.

his deep green riding jacket smothered your small figure. he knew you had on only your sheer, beige night slip underneath. but no, it’s where you sat that directed his attention.

your luscious silver curls and soft features were a stark contrast to the menacing, iron chair you seated yourself.

his wife possessed a teasing nature. it’s one of the reasons he adored you. he always indulged in your jests, delighting in your efforts to provoke a laugh from him.

though, you’d certainly outdone yourself on this night.

the act of anyone besides the king sitting on the throne was highly inappropriate, borderline treasonous.

following his brothers tragic accident, aemond had accepted role as prince regent. he was quite taken with his newfound role as ruler of the realm. the power, the authority he so desperately craved was now in the palm of his hand.

though, such authority didn’t seem to extend to his lady wife.

“warming my seat for me, are you ābrazȳrys?,” (wife) he teased, a smile etched on his face as he admired you from the bottom of the steps.

“pay mind to how you address me, my lord,” your eyes filled with mischief.

you felt his eyes drink in your appearance and you briefly felt a bit sheepish under his scrutiny.

suddenly feeling too exposed, you attempted to subtely adjust his jacket to cover your legs, the action not going unnoticed by your lord husband.

“forgive me, your grace,” he played along, bowing his head as he stood at the foot of the iron throne.

you cleared your throat, determined to maintain your regal persona. “i required your presence immediately. you have committed grave offenses this evening which cannot go unpunished.”

the feeling of sitting atop the icy chair sent a chill up your spine. the heady sensation of claiming yourself on the most coveted seat in the realm clouded your mind.

i can see why he enjoys this, you mused to yourself.

“may I ask which crime I am to answer for, your holiness?” aemond cocked his head, barely containing his smirk.

his bold little wife never failed to keep him on his toes.

“you arrived quite tardy to supper. even more so, you failed to greet me with a proper kiss upon your arrival. tsk, I believe I could have your head for this my lord.”

you felt yourself become more submerged in your role, any trepidations for your actions long gone.

with a bolt of confidence, you held his gaze while you slowly uncrossed your legs, revealing your bare center to him.

his eyes darkened at the sight of you, he could practically smell your arousal from where he stood.

so this is how we’re playing tonight, aemond felt himself stiffen in his breeches as he ascended a step toward you.

you may have started this game, but you both knew he would finish it.

“i’m deeply sorry, your grace. allow me to beg forgiveness for my wrong doings. anything you require.” his mind swirled with thoughts of taking you, perching you on his lap and filling your womb with seed on the throne.

you reveled in the predatory, lustful gaze of your husband. the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms at your mercy. or so you thought.

“i suppose there is a way to repent your crimes,” you reached for the first button and began to slowly release them one by one, revealing your hardened buds poking through your slip.

you might have been worried of someone else entering, but the euphoria of witnessing the effect you had on your husband clouded your better judgement.

unfastening the remaining button, you stood gracefully and let the fabric pool at your feet.

you were no targaryen. however aemond knew the fiery blood of the dragon coursed through your veins. no other lady of the court would play this dangerous game, would speak to him with such boldness.

he craved to taste you. he craved to grab at your soft flesh and indulge in the nectar between your legs.

the coolness of the metal seeped though your thin nightgown as you reclaimed your spot on the throne. your legs spread just wide enough you knew he could see the wetness seeping from your core.

daringly, your fingers floated down to your center. you began to rub circles on your clit, your lips parted as arousal fueled your fingers to continue.

he knew what you wanted, and was more than happy to oblige.

slowly and methodically, aemond approached you. meeting his lustful gaze, you watched as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“may I, your grace?” he whispered, you could do nothing but nod as his fingers slowly ran up your exposed leg. his touch searing into your skin, you unconsciously spread your legs wider.

large hands roughly gripped the back of your knees, a low growl was all you heard before he dragged his warm, wet muscle through your dripping folds.

“gods,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt more arousal drip from your center and onto his devilish tongue.

“fuck you taste heavenly,” he drawled, suckling at your entrance, you gasped.

he set an unforgiving rhythm devouring your cunt.

lost in the throes of pleasure, your hands found purchase in his silver strands, tugging desperately whenever he applied pressure to your pearl.

if you weren’t disoriented by the assault on your cunny, you may have reddened at how quickly you could feel the coil in your belly about to snap.

“p-please my love. i’m close,” you begged, long forgetting the domineering facade you fabricated earlier.

fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg, his member hardened painfully watching your eyes fill with tears.

only sparing a moment away from your cunt, he commanded, “such a good girl for asking. go on, make a mess for me.”

with a final flick of his tongue, you cried out as you came undone. your body spasmed as the waves of your peak flowed through you.

soon, your body went limp and were close to falling back onto the swords behind you before you were scooped up by your husband.

draping his jacket over your frame, he quickly brought you to your shared chambers, making sure no eyes were present in the corridors.

lowering your body onto the bed, you were instantly met with fluffy blankets and you sighed in content.

expecting your husband to join you, you opened your eyes only to find him completely bare, looming over the bed. seeing him in all of his glory always seemed to stir something within you.

“i hope I am forgiven for my misdeeds from earlier?” you nodded.

he grinned and looked down to trace the patterns on the bed sheet, “do you think we are through, little wife? you didn’t think I would punish you for that little stunt you pulled?”

he grabbed your ankle and swiftly dragged you to the foot of the bed.

stunned by his sudden roughness, words escaped you as he grasped you by the chin and whispered “va ry izula, sir.”

(on all fours,now)

another mind dump of aemond, surprise surprise ;)

- alice

[1425fivefive]

Omg a medieval au landoscar would go so hard !

anon, this ask plus thinking about lando taking off oscar's armor plus this incredible art of oscar did inspire me to write a little landoscar medieval au drabble (1.8k words, nsfw below the cut)

Lando’s gaze was fixed on where his fingers were working to free the buckle connecting Oscar’s breast plane to the pauldron covering his shoulder. Lando’s brow furrowed as he tugged the leather through the clasp, little pink tongue just poking between his lips. Every move was careful, methodical, like Oscar was a horse who might spook if Lando moved too quickly.

It was always strange, those first few moments after Oscar returned from the battlefield to the manor house where they’d set up camp, the bedroom full of furs and velvet and flickering candles. Remembering how to let himself be touched softly, handled gently. How to let someone get close to him without anticipating a dagger to the gut.

Lando managed to get the plates covering Oscar’s right arm off, before moving automatically to Oscar’s other side. He skimmed a thumb over Oscar’s jaw as he went, just the hint of a touch. He knew not to push too quickly. That Oscar needed time to remember how to be soft.

Months ago, when the first skirmishes had broken out, Oscar had thought he needed it hard and fast. He’d ride back from the field, leap off his horse mid-stride, toss the reins to a squire without a backward glance. By the time he reached Lando’s rooms he’d already be halfway out of his armor, pieces scattered behind him along the hall. 

Lando would be hunched over his desk, studying miniatures, pouring over battle plans, the slim golden crown Lando wore in public tossed carelessly onto a chair. Oscar had thought about asking Lando to wear it while Oscar bedded him. Watch the crown prince fall apart for him.

But Oscar preferred when Lando was stripped free of it all, naked and honest and wanting. When Oscar could pretend that they were nothing more than two men taking pleasure in one another. That they had no titles other than their names.

In those first few weeks of war, though, Oscar felt like he’d forgotten how to be anything other than his title. He’d shove Lando over the table and fuck him rough and fast, fingers digging into Lando’s slim hips, sucking and biting at Lando’s skin.

It never felt good, exactly. He felt no better than an animal, mounting and thrusting until he came, but Oscar had thought that maybe it was what he deserved. On the battlefield he felt more animal than man, driven only by fear and desperation and the primal, all-consuming need to survive. He felt like something base and beastly. Something made purely for fighting and fucking. 

But one evening, as Oscar struggled to tug Lando’s breeches over his arse, Lando had twisted around to face him, resting a palm on the center of Oscar’s chest, and whispered, “Let me.”

Oscar had let Lando steer him to the bed, using nothing more than the soft press of his palm against Oscar’s chest. Let Lando push him back against the velvet bedding. Let Lando ride him, slow and steady and careful. Let Lando press kisses to each of Oscar’s fingers, his neck, his lips.

Oscar felt like he was remembering himself during it. Remembering that he was something capable of gentleness.

Eventually, he’d remembered himself enough to slide a hand into Lando’s curls, marveling at the way Lando leaned into his touch, and didn't shy away. Like he knew Oscar would never hurt him. Oscar wrapped his other hand around Lando’s cock and Lando shivered above him, letting out a breathless Oscar. 

Oscar drank in every slow roll of Lando’s hips, Lando’s quiet gasps and breathy pants as Oscar stroked over Lando’s cock. When Lando came with a hitched moan, spilling hotly over Oscar’s stomach, Oscar tugged Lando down into a desperate kiss. Lando was still shuddering above him, unable to do anything more than pant into Oscar’s mouth as he rode out his orgasm. But Oscar didn’t care, couldn’t think of anything other than how good it felt to remember his body could bring someone pleasure instead of pain. He’d come moments later with a strained cry of Lando’s name.

Ever since, Oscar had let Lando lead. Let Lando teach him how to be tender again.

As Lando pulled the plate coverings off Oscar’s left arm, unbuckled the straps holding Oscar’s breast plate, tugging it free, Oscar felt like an oyster being shucked from its shell, revealing something pink and fleshy and new.

Lando always struggled with the chain mail, slightly too short to pull it over Oscar’s head. Oscar leaned forward to make it easier.

“Thank you,” Lando murmured.

Lando draped the chain mail over a chair. It reminded Oscar of the shedded skin of a snake he’d seen in the woods once, fluttering over a branch. The echo of something dangerous.

Lando made quick work of the rest of Oscar’s clothes. Oscar tried not to notice the guilt on Lando’s face as he took in the fresh bruises littering Oscar’s skin. 

But Lando brought a finger up to trace over what Oscar was certain was a particularly nasty one on his rib cage from when he’d been knocked from his horse with the flat of a sword.

After Oscar could barely stand it, he caught Lando’s hand and tugged it up to his lips. “Enough,” Oscar murmured, pressing a kiss to Lando’s knuckles.

Lando opened his mouth as if to say something, but he said nothing in the end. Simply let Oscar unlace his jacket and breeches, push them to the floor as if they were worth nothing.

They stood there in the flickering candlelight, free from their airs, their titles. Holding each other’s gaze as if they were equals.

Oscar brought a tentative hand to Lando’s face, stroking over the soft skin of Lando’s cheek.

Lando’s eyes fluttered and he turned his head to the side, pressing a warm kiss to the center of Oscar’s palm. The same way he did before battles, pulling Oscar’s hand to his lips, kissing the rough skin of Oscar’s palm and whispering, “Remember.”

Oscar had never asked what he was meant to remember—Lando, himself, that touch could be gentle. All of it, Oscar thought.

Oscar knew, then, what he needed from Lando. Knew how Lando could help him remember.

“Can you—” Oscar trailed off. He wanted it more than anything but he struggled to ask for it. Couldn’t stop imagining how the other knights would react if they knew Oscar spread his legs for the crown prince. 

The knights already knew Oscar spent most nights in Lando’s chambers. But Oscar had been careful to keep up the illusion that Lando was the only one on his back. There was something powerful in bedding the crown prince, something almost enviable in fucking the man who sent them to war. But to let the crown prince fuck him? Oscar’s stomach twisted at the thought.

But he didn’t shy away as Lando slid his hand to cup Oscar’s arse. When Lando ghosted his fingers over Oscar’s hole, Oscar couldn’t hold back a whine.

“God,” Lando breathed. “This is what you want?” He pressed one of his thick fingers against Oscar, the barest hint of a stretch. 

Oscar shuddered at the feeling. “Please,” Oscar whispered.

Lando groaned, finger pressing more firmly, and muttered, “Christ, you’re—”

But Oscar never found out what he was because Lando was already tugging him toward the bed, pushing Oscar back against the pillows and settling between Oscar’s legs.

They didn’t do it this way often but Lando moved confidently, coating his fingers in oil and watching Oscar closely as he opened him up, pressing soft kisses to Oscar’s chest, his nipples, his stomach.

Oscar couldn’t help the desperate noises pulled out of him by Lando’s fingers, his cock pink and dripping against his stomach.

“Perfect,” Lando breathed, bright eyes dragging over Oscar’s shuddering form. “Fucking perfect for me, Osc.”

Oscar let out a wounded noise, clenching around Lando’s fingers. He was perfect, in a sense. Fighting Lando’s wars and rolling over for him, after. It made Oscar want to shove Lando off, pin him to the bedspread.

But Lando was looking at him with open adoration, his eyes bright, lips parted, fingers huge and perfect inside Oscar. And even in the dim light, Oscar could see the bags under Lando’s eyes. Oscar knew that it killed Lando every time he had to stand and watch Oscar ride out, knowing Oscar might never return. It was one thing to be the one leaving. It was another to be the one being left.

Oscar hooked a heel behind Lando’s thigh, pulling Lando closer, rocking back against Lando’s fingers, desperately trying to take him deeper.

“Please,” Oscar begged.

Lando leaned down to press a kiss to Oscar’s chest, the skin already flushed a bright pink. The movement pushed Lando’s fingers deeper and Oscar let out a frantic moan. He had to shoot a hand down to grab his cock and squeeze, desperately trying not to come.

“Please,” Oscar repeated, squirming underneath Lando. “Please, I just—” He reached a hand up to Lando’s curls, tugging him down into a kiss. 

Lando moaned into the kiss but pulled back after a few moments. “What do you need?” he whispered, voice ragged.

His cock pressed against Oscar’s thigh and Oscar felt like he was shaking out of his own skin at the thought of Lando pushing in, filling him up completely. Making Oscar forget about anything other than the press of Lando inside him. 

“Help me,” Oscar begged, grinding back against Lando’s fingers. “Help me remember myself.”

“Fuck, Oscar,” Lando groaned, bending to press a kiss to Oscar’s neck. “Always.”

“Thank you,” Oscar breathed, relaxing against the mattress, relief flooding through him. “Fuck, I—thank you.”

Lando slid his fingers free and lined himself up, the steady press of his cock overwhelming enough to have Oscar tossing his head to the side and tightening around Lando, letting out a needy moan.

Lando whined, clearly trying not to come, but he smoothed a hand over Oscar’s hair and whispered, “So good, sweetheart, there you go.”

They were the precise words Oscar said to Lando sometimes as he pushed inside, when he could tell Lando was fighting it, his body desperate for it but not willing to cede control. It was enough to have Oscar relaxing slightly, just enough to let Lando slide home.

Lando stayed there for a moment, letting Oscar adjust, letting Oscar feel it. Oscar couldn’t stop whimpering, soft, tiny noises, but he pulled Lando in for another kiss, letting Lando swallow his sounds.

In Lando’s bed, Oscar felt as though he’d never existed anywhere else. He forgot about everything other than the feel of Lando inside him, the warm heat of Lando’s body against his, and the wet slide of Lando’s lips against his. 

He remembered, finally, how to be soft.

[darkficlord69]

Fire & Ice

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Jacaerys Velaryon

Warning: tastefully depicted smut (18+)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When fire meets ice, the very walls of Winterfell seem to tremble. But is the wolf a worthy match for the dragon?

Jacaerys Velaryon sat beneath the sprawling canopy of the godswood, a single white flower caught between his slender fingers. He plucked its petals one by one, watching them drift down to the withered grass like fallen snow. A sigh escaped his lips, soft as the summer breeze, and his fingers, adorned with silver rings fashioned in the shape of dragons' scaly tails, stilled when a bee landed upon his pink nipple. He dared not move, resembling a statue of marble, all sharp curves and delicate lines, carved by a true master’s hand. He held his breath until the bee took flight, then allowed a small smile to break across his face as he prepared to rise.

But then, a shadow fell over him, long and imposing, blotting out the sun. Jacaerys looked up, squinting against the sudden darkness.

"Good day, my prince," came a husky voice, roughened by the chill of the North.

"You too, Cregan," Jacaerys replied mildly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he feared to break the stillness of the godswood.

"The lords of the war council request your presence in the solar," Cregan Stark said. "I had hoped you would care to join us."

Jacaerys let his gaze wander over Stark’s solid frame, taking in the man’s sturdy build. Those legs, long and strong beneath plain woolen breeches; that broad heavy chest hidden beneath layers of soft furs and leather; his hair, brown as autumn leaves, and his hard eyes, grey as winter’s ice—eyes that could thaw even the heart of a dragonlord.

He was lost in girlish thoughts, caught up in the rugged beauty of the Stark, when a soft throaty cough brought him back to himself. Cregan extended a gloved hand.

"Of course, my lord," Jacaerys said, taking the offered hand and letting Cregan pull him to his feet. "Anything you need."

***

The great hall of Winterfell rang with voices of discontent. Lord Umber’s booming shout rose above the rest, his face as red as his hair. “Straining our armies will only increase the risk of wildling attacks!” The room responded with a chorus of grunts and murmurs of approval. “Southron skirmishes are no concern of ours, I say!”

Lord Manderly, heavyset and lounging in his chair, responded in a bored drawl. “The South is as much a part of the Seven Kingdoms as the North. Sooner or later, one king or queen will force us to choose a side.”

“The Iron Throne will not look kindly upon our allegiance to Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Lord Hornwood intoned. Cregan Stark, seated at the head of the long oak table, had listened to enough prattle to make his head throb in annoyance. With a resounding thud, he slammed his large hands on the oak table, sending goblets rattling and silencing his bannermen. A sombre heaviness fell over the room, thick as the northern snows. The Warden of the North took a breath, his grey eyes hard and unyielding.

“We pledged our support to King Viserys’s heir long ago,” he said, his voice stern. “Never has a Stark broken his word, and I do not intend to be the first. Remember where your loyalties lie, my lords.”

With those words, dark and final as the grave, Cregan rose from the table, his wolfskin cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. Jacaerys Velaryon followed, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Once they were alone in the dim corridor of the Great Keep, Jacaerys’s mask of composure slipped, revealing the warmth beneath. “Cregan,” he said softly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude, “thank you.” The support of the North meant that his mother would be one step closer to claiming her birthright.

Cregan gave a curt nod, intent on heading to his chambers. But before he could take another step, he felt a firm yet gentle push, his back pressing against the cold stone of a column.

“Now let me show you how a dragon expresses his gratitude,” the prince murmured, a teasing grin curling his full, pouty lips. The words hung in the cold, still air, filled with a heat that made Cregan's blood pulse faster. Jacaerys moved with a lithe grace, every step a promise, every movement a dance of seduction.

Slowly, Jacaerys knelt before the Stark lord, his hands gliding up Cregan’s strong thighs. His touch was featherlight, just a whisper of fingers trailing over thick wool and leather, but it was enough to make Cregan’s breath catch in his throat. The prince’s eyes were dark, glimmering with mischief and desire, his expression one of pure intent as he let his fingers dance along the inside of Cregan's legs, feeling the muscles tense under his touch.

Cregan’s heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, insistent rhythm that matched the stirring in his loins. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling into fists as he fought the urge to pull Jacaerys up, to crush their mouths together in a desperate kiss. But he held back, held still, mesmerized by the sight of the prince at his knees, those nimble hands tracing patterns on his skin.

Jacaerys’s fingers found the edge of Cregan’s tunic, slipping beneath it, brushing against warm hair-covered flesh. The touch sent a shiver up Cregan’s spine, his breath hissing out between his teeth. Jacaerys looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted slightly, his breath warm against Cregan’s thigh.

The prince leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Cregan’s leg, just above the knee. Cregan’s muscles tensed beneath the tender touch, his fingers twitching with the need to reach out, to bury them in the dark waves of Jacaerys’s hair. He watched, entranced, as Jacaerys continued his slow, torturous journey, his lips brushing lightly up the inside of Cregan’s thigh, each kiss a spark, each touch a flame.

The wolf stirred within Cregan, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he felt the heat of Jacaerys’s mouth moving higher. His desire, coiled tight like a spring, grew with every brush of those lips, every teasing touch. He felt himself harden, the ache of want becoming almost unbearable.

Jacaerys’s smirk widened as he felt the evidence of Cregan’s arousal beneath his hands. He looked up again, his eyes meeting Cregan’s, holding his gaze as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just below Cregan’s hip. Cregan’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, his control slipping, his need overtaking him.

With a growl, Cregan reached down, his hands tangling in Jacaerys’s hair, pulling the prince up with a rough urgency. Their lips crashed together, the kiss fierce and desperate, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in a frantic dance. It was a kiss that spoke of hunger, of a desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long, finally unleashed.

Jacaerys responded with equal fervor, his hands gripping Cregan’s shoulders, pulling him closer, their bodies pressing together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle. The prince’s lips were soft but insistent, demanding and giving all at once. Cregan could taste the heat of him, could feel the fire that burned beneath his skin, and he met it with his own cold fury, his own wild, untamed desire.

Their mouths moved together, each kiss deeper, more intense than the last, as if they were trying to consume each other, to fuse together through sheer will. Cregan’s hands moved down, grasping Jacaerys’s waist, pulling him closer still, until there was no space between them, until they were one, bound together by the force of their need.

His lips left Cregan’s mouth, trailing down his jaw, his neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of his throat. Cregan tipped his head back, a groan rumbling in his chest as Jacaerys found a sensitive spot, sucking gently, teeth grazing over skin.

The prince’s hands moved lower, finding hard planes of muscle, scars that marked his furry skin. He traced them with his fingertips, memorizing the shape of them, the feel of them, each one a testament to the man before him, to the strength and the honor that he embodied.

Cregan’s hands moved to Jacaerys’s waist, fingers digging into the prince’s hips as he pulled him impossibly closer, grinding against him, feeling the heat of his arousal through the layers of fabric. Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back, his eyes fluttering closed as pleasure coursed through him, his body arching into Cregan’s touch.

They moved together, lips meeting again in a fierce kiss, hands exploring, claiming, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The wolf and the dragon, fire and ice, together in the dark, bound by a passion that neither could deny. And in that moment, they were lost to the world, to the weight of their titles and the burdens of their duties, lost to everything but each other.Jacaerys gasped, his fingers tangling in Cregan’s thick, dark hair as he pressed ever closer, his body melting against the northerner’s like ice before a flame. Cregan’s lips moved to Jacaerys’s neck, finding the pulse there and biting down just hard enough to make the prince hiss in pleasure.

“More,” Jacaerys demanded, his voice breathless, his eyes half-lidded with desire. “Show me how fierce the wolf can be.”

Cregan needed no further invitation. He lifted Jacaerys effortlessly, the prince’s legs wrapping around his waist as it was Cregan’s turn to press him against the wall. The cold stone was a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, but neither of them noticed. Their world had narrowed to this moment, to the taste of each other’s mouths and the feel of their skin.

They were fire and ice, light and shadow, opposites drawn together by a force neither of them could fully understand but neither wanted to fight. Here, in the shadows of the keep, they were free of the burdens of their titles and the weight of their responsibilities. Here, they were just two dandy men, lost in the madness of each other.

Cregan’s hands found the laces of Jacaerys’s lacy smallclothes and pulled, the fabric sliding down the prince’s hips and pooling at his feet. Jacaerys shivered at the sensation, his hands gripping Cregan’s shoulders as the northern lord knelt before him.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Cregan looked up, his eyes meeting Jacaerys’s, asking a question without words. Jacaerys nodded, a silent answer, a trust given and accepted.

“Stay still now, woman,” Stark commanded and Jace whimpered at the order.

Then, Cregan’s lips were on him, hot and wet and hungry, and Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back against the stone. The world narrowed to that single point of contact, to the heat of Cregan’s mouth and the rough scrape of his beard against sensitive skin.

Jacaerys’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hands fisting in Cregan’s hair as pleasure coursed through him, building and building until he thought he might shatter from it. And then, with a cry that echoed off the walls of Winterfell, he did, his body tensing, his back arching, and then collapsing against the stone, boneless and sated.

Cregan rose, his lips curved in a small, satisfied smile as he pulled Jace into his arms, holding him close as the prince caught his breath. They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other, the only sound their breathing, the only warmth the heat of their bodies.

Finally, Jacaerys pulled back, his eyes bright, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “Well, Lord Stark,” he murmured, “I must say, your loyalty has its rewards.”

Cregan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a thrill through Jacaerys’s already sated body. “And you, Prince Jacaerys, are a demanding wench.”

Jacaerys leaned in, his lips brushing against Cregan’s ear as he whispered, “Only because I know you can handle me, oh Wolf of Winterfell.”

Cregan’s grin widened, his eyes darkening with promise. “Then you’ll have to show me again, you feisty dragonling,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Jacaerys laughed, a bright, clear sound that filled the corridor. “Oh, I intend to, Cregan Stark. Many times over.”

And with that, they slipped away into the shadows, leaving only the faint echo of their laughter and the lingering warmth of their passion behind them.

End.

Hi! Hope you liked it 🥰 Any form of feedback is greatly appreciated! 🫶

[humanpurposes]

Hello! I’ve once again been wiped out by tonsillitis and the last few days I’ve literally been too tired to look at a screen, rip. But I’m slowly getting back into action and I’m working on something I’m very excited about :)))) So I thought it would be fun to share a lil teaser.

Nightblooms, Teaser

Warnings: 18+, smut, references to underage and non-con, angst, mentions of war and violence, sex work.

A/n: This fic will contain references to underage and non-con, though not explicitly depicted.

Men are all the same. They strut into the establishment like peacocks, with an ego that outweighs their purse. They flash a few coins and ask for wine rather than ale, a symptom of refined taste. They run their hands over her body, her waist, her hips and her rear as though she should be grateful for their attention. They tell her uninteresting stories while they drink themselves into a stupor. They convince themselves that it is their charm and decent looks that have her leading them to a bed in a quiet corner of the pleasure house, or falling to her knees and undoing the laces on their breeches. The truth is that she will do what is asked of her, so long as they have gold. It is only motions of the body, and afterwards she can wash it all away. 

Until the next night… and then the next… and then the next…

Madam Sylvi has promised her to a Lannister tonight, a man of Lord Tyland’s household, no doubt paid well by the family he serves. He is supposed to be waiting for her but first she must pretty herself for him. She wears a gown of blood red that bares her back and her arms, that will easily fall away with the undoing of a clasp at her neck. She lets her hair fall freely and tints her lips and cheeks with rosewater. Finally she dabs her perfume into her wrists, her neck, on the insides of her ankles, a scent she has worn for years, sweet, rich and floral.

She descends the stairs by the door. At the darkest time of night the pleasure house is alive. Music hums over the laughter, the moans, the cries. The air is thick with the sourness of alcohol and the smell of sweat and sex.

A man with silver hair stands in the entrance hall, Sylvi beside him. They speak with their heads close together, as familiars? As lovers? Sylvi strokes his arm affectionately, with a look glinting in her eye that means she intends to bleed this Targaryen of all the gold he has.

It does not sink in until he looks up, his single eye meetings hers. He wears an eyepatch over his left eye, dark leather obstructing his hair and pale skin.

The eyepatch… it cannot be…

Sylvi had always said men come here to take their pleasure on their own terms. This had not seemed to be the case when last she laid eyes upon Prince Aemond. She had seen them enter, the young Princes, one taller, merrier, with purple wine stains in the corners of his mouth. The other was solemn faced and unsure, ushered into the arms of the madam before she led him upstairs. Sylvi had other patrons to attend to once the deed was done, leaving the burden of caring for the young Prince on her equally young shoulders.

She still remembers him hunched over himself and shivering, the distant look in his eye, as if he was frozen in a single moment of time.

The most she had been offered after her first time was a cup of moon tea and an order to change the sheets for the next patron.

He will not recognise her, surely?

“Her,” the Prince says, “I will have her.”

I've kinda given up on taglists, sorry <3

[misseviehyde]

SHADOWS

My ex-boyfriend James is sooooo fucking weak and pathetic. I hate and despise him with every part of my soul. He is everything that is wrong with men these days. Indecisive, overly sensitive, small and pathetic. What a fucking loser.

His twin brother Jason by comparison is a God. He is the man I now desire. Once I despised and hated Jason, but now he is everything I seek in a man. Tall, strong, rich, dominant... he makes me so fucking wet. My new boyfriend is a total Alpha. The longer I stay around him the more feminine I feel. I love what he does to me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain how this all started...

Once I was the nerdiest girl at school. It seems insane to say it now, given how popular I am, but there was a time when I couldn't name six fashion designers or contour my makeup or suck off three boys at once in the cheerleaders locker room. I was a fucking loser.

Terrible skin, flat chested, nerdy glasses and goofy teeth. No. I was once plain little Melanie. I even had ginger hair. No wonder everyone bullied me. Popular rich bitch Madison didn't even exist. I was a fucking nobody.

My life consisted of science fairs, anime and role-playing games. Not the fun role playing games where you dress as a sexy school girl and get railed by a hot guy... no... the loser ones where you pretend to be an elf.

To my shame I was even into LARPIng. Live action role play. Each Friday night, me, James, Jason and our other buddies would go into the local woods to play.

We would run around the woods pretending to be on adventures. Fuckkkk it was so pathetic, I feel a major ick just thinking about it.

Jason wasn't the God he would later become at this point. He and James basically looked the same. I don't know why I had chosen James as my boyfriend. I guess he was slightly more confident and had asked me out first. He and Jason basically looked and acted the same though. Many people couldn't even tell them apart. Even me sometimes.

Then Jason found the shadow and everything changed.

As part of our role playing experience we sometimes brought props along and Jason had found this creepy looking glass bottle in a charity shop. It was opaque and stoppered with a wax cork. Perhaps it held a liquid of some kind? Sometimes it looked like there was something dark swirling inside, but it was kind of hard to tell.

We needed a prop to represent an evil demon that was trapped in a bottle so Jason had brought out the bottle.

As usual the group had split up. It was dark now and I was on my own. I had on my favourite druid costume (ughhh so fucking fugly) and I was creeping through the woods under the moonlight.

Suddenly I saw Jason through a gap in the trees. He was on his own too and carrying the bottle. I headed towards him, he hadn't seen me... in fact he wasn't really paying proper attention to his surroundings, which is maybe why he suddenly tripped over a tree root.

The bottle span from his hands and smashed against the ground with a musical tinkle.

I had a perfect view of everything. Jason was lit by the moonlight, his scrawny body shivering and his eyes wide with fear as a rolling mass of black shadows erupted from the smashed bottle and flowed towards him.

I wanted to scream but my voice had left me and I could only put my hands to my mouth like a parody of some dumb anime girl as the shadows flowed into Jason. Black smoke forced its way down his throat, into his nose. It wrapped and enveloped him, melting and merging into his body.

Then it was gone.

But the scene was not over.

Jason let out a cry, or maybe it was a moan. I watched in horrified fascination (and now I'm happy to admit a little bit or arousal) as I watched him change. Jason... my God... was being born.

Muscles rippled and swelled under his skin, causing his shirt to rip and his fantasy style breeches to bulge. He tore his top off to reveal a rippling six back and toned muscles as his skin flowed like wax and he changed and transformed. He grew taller and bigger, more handsome too as his face became more masculine and his hair cut more stylish.

Grunting and grinning Jason ripped off his pathetic role playing costume and stretched confidently. He was entirely naked now and I gasped in arousal as I saw his magnificent ass and his perfect cock. As I watched it was growing. Ten inches of thick white meat now hung between his huge thighs and I almost salivated as I beheld his perfect manly body.

Jason confidently stretched his body, clearly enjoying how it felt. He grinned perfect white teeth and his eyes, once mild and nerdy shone with ambition and dark desire. He clicked his fingers and there was a wisp of smoke as a stylish black shirt and designer jeans encased his new perfect body. He now looked like a male super model and he strode off through the woods chuckling, leaving me breathing heavily and wondering if I was losing my mind.

***

I ran through the woods. Back then I was ungainly and lacking athletic ability. Whereas now I hit the gym daily and can bend into nearly any position (especially when fucking) I was a fucking loser, so I made quite the noise as I crashed through the trees.

James and the others soon found me and I garbled what I'd seen, but they all thought I was still role playing.

"Babe, it's a cool story, but one detail that doesn't work. My stuck up bullying brother doesn't play with us. He thinks we're losers."

I gawped at James. I thought he was joking at first, but as we spoke it became clear he was serious. The shadow had changed Jason, but it also seemed to have changed everyone's memories of him.

I had no idea why I hadn't been affected. perhaps because I had witnessed his transformation directly or something.

James and the others couldn't understand why I was so upset and worried. The shadow had looked evil and I was worried my boyfriends brother was now under the control of something wicked. I decided I'd have to confront Jason directly and see if I could aid him, so I told the others I felt sick and left to go immediately to James and Jason's house.

James started after me, but I quickly lost him in the woods. I didn't want him to see what had happened to his brother. I was sure I could find a way to save Jason.

Haha, what a fucking idealistic moron I used to be.

***

I arrived at Jason's to find the house had changed. There was now a pickup parked at the front and the house was larger and clearly more expensive. Entering the house I found it was better decorated and I nearly had a heart attack as I entered the kitchen to find Jame's Mom and Dad.

Michael, the Dad was now a handsome looking business man wearing an expensive suit. Linda, James Mom had transformed from a homesy kind Mom into a haughty and beautiful MILF. She looked stunning!

Neither of them paid me much attention, they clearly recognised me as James girlfriend. The sneer and look of disgust Linda gave me left me cold. I can't blame her. Linda is now a major icon to me and we are the BEST of friends. She loves me like a daughter and I've learned so much about manipulating and using men from her. But back then I was a dork dating her loser son James.

But that was soon about to change.

I found Jason in a room I'd never seen before. A personal gym.

He was stripped to the waist, his muscles rippling as he pumped iron. He turned and grinned at me as I entered.

"Well well well. My brothers dork girlfriend? What the hell do you want Melanie?"

"I saw everything Jason. I saw that weird shadow enter you. We have to get it out of you. What have you done to your Mom and Dad? This isn't right."

Jason grinned. "Ahhhh. So you saw it? So you remember the old me? Haha you have no idea Melanie. No idea how good this feels. The shadow within me hungers for power and pleasure. It serves no other purpose but to give me what I want. It can change things, people too. Anything that falls under my shadow can be twisted to serve my whim. I am a fucking God now."

I watched nervously as black shadows seemed to spread around Jason as he spoke. The air rippled with potential and a cold numb feeling spread through my body and my soul. Jason grinned as the light seemed to be sucked out of the room and I was drowning in darkness.

"You could be so much more Melanie. You're such a fucking dork, just like my pathetic brother. I always wanted you to be MY girlfriend and now I have this power you can join me. I won't force you, I want you to join me willingly. A taste of this power and I think you'll want more."

I gasped falling to my knees as the shadows surrounded me. All the warmth and kindness and love inside me was suddenly numbed. It was like the shadow was feeding on my positive emotions... perhaps it was.

The dark shadows enveloped and wrapped my nerdy body. Tempting whispers invaded my mind and I felt Jason's presence beating down on me and willing me to give in. The shadow wanted to change and corrupt me, but it would only do so if I wanted it to. Jason hadn't lied.

I don't know if you've ever been offered something so fucking delicious and perfect that even if it came at the cost of your soul you'd jump at the chance... but when that moment finally arrives, it's pretty hard not to succumb.

I'd seen what the shadow had done to Jason. It had turned him into the perfect example of masculine perfection. It could probably do the same for me, but make me the ultimate girl. All I had to do was let it in and surrender to the darkness.

I'd seen girls in magazines, on TV, on teenage drama programs. I'd always wondered how it would feel to be a Queen Bee... a head cheerleader type. What must it be like to be so pretty you can get whatever you want? How would it feel to be a bitch?

"Yes... change me," I groaned. "But only a little... I just want to be a little prettier."

I gasped as my body suddenly ached and I felt the shadows begin to change me. I ripped my dorky glasses off and felt my brace snap as I spat out the metal to leave perfect white teeth. My red hair turned a sexy black and my pale spotty skin tanned as my body toned.

It felt so fucking good.

"Don't you want more Melanie? Don't you want to become a real fucking bitch? If it feels this good to go a little of the way, why not let the shadows take you all the way?"

Jason had a point. The more I transformed the more I wanted to transform. As I felt myself become more popular and beautiful, the further I found I wanted to go.

"Yessss mmmmore," I gasped feeling the shadows pour down my throat and into my body. I could feel Jason in my mind now, his fingers manipulating my pleasure receptors and his thoughts becoming my own.

"That's right Melanie. You don't want to be a dweeb anymore. You want to go all the way. You want to be a fucking bitch. Say it."

I shuddered as delicious throbs of pleasure pulsed through my body. "I... mmmmmh, ohhh yes, I want to be a bitch."

"That's right Melanie. Let's picture a girl. Let's call her Madison. She's everything you want to be isn't she? Thin, pretty, bratty and spoiled. She's the kind of girl that has a new outfit every day, that all the other girls bow down to. I want you imagine how hot she looks. Nice tits, a toned body, ultra-feminine body language. So different to the dork you are. Are you picturing her?"

I was picturing her. I was thinking of every mean bad girl and bitch I had ever know in real life or in the movies. I was picturing Madison and boy was she fucking hot.

"Now say it. Say you want to be Madison. You want to be the bullying popular Alpha girl."

My pussy was wet, my already partially transformed body felt so good. I needed more... I needed the shadows to corrupt me completely.

"Yessss I want to be Madison."

I screamed and orgasmed as I said it, feeling the shadows flowing into me and destroying Melanie forever. All the kind gentle nice parts of me were consumed and the shadows pumped me full of evil, mean bratty thoughts.

Melanie died in that instant and I... Madison... took control.

Long bitchy nails shot out from my fingers. My face became meaner and even prettier, soft pouty lips curving into a bratty grin. My clothing became designer, my handbag expensive and my personality became that of a spoiled rich bitch.

Reality rippled and changed. Only Jason and I would remember the old me. It was as if Melanie had never existed and only I had been born.

The shadows withdrew, but they left their mark. I was a fucking evil bitch now, devoid of mercy. I only cared about myself... oh and Jason of course.

"How do you feel baby?" he grinned, towering over me in his Adonis body.

"I feel amazing baby," I grinned. "In fact I want to thank you for being the best boyfriend ever."

I giggled and sank eagerly to my knees. My long nails looked so hawt as I unzipped Jason's fly and his huge ten inch dick flopped out.

Moaning I began to pump and suck his cock. This was who and what I worshipped now. Jason had taken me from that loser James.

"Yesssss, good girl," grunted Jason as he put his hands gently on my head and pushed me deeper onto his cock. "You're my slutty bitch now and I have everything I ever wanted."

I just gagged and gargled happily, I fucking loved my man's big cock.

I couldn't wait for him to cum. I needed to taste it...

***

And so that is how I ascended from being a fucking pathetic loser into a Goddess myself. Jason is the Master of the Shadow and so long as he holds that power I am his willing accomplice.

Soon after the transformation James came home. He no longer remembered I had ever been his girl, but that didn't stop me and Jason fucking loudly next door and laughing about the little simp jerking off in his room next door.

I felt so evil and perfect. Being Madison was like a perpetual state of orgasm. The meaner and nastier I was, the better it all felt.

Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if James had smashed that bottle instead of Jason? Perhaps he would be the Alpha stud with the delicious bitchy girlfriend.

But it was just idle speculation. The shadows answered to Jason...

And I answered only to the shadows now.

THE END