#have not properly drawn him in so long

[sesamenom]

realized the @blumineck pose was perfect for celegorm so here he is!

[somegrumpynerd]

Cross has trouble getting to sleep alone in his room and goes looking for a distraction, but ends up finding a solution for both of them

[wolverineheight]

unburied verse bruce eddie and babs! something something filled homestuck quadrants something something

[sysig]

The most fun you can have, barring the pain and torture (Patreon)

[dandyshucks]

one of the kiddos really loves rabbits and we're not able to really do much for Easter related activities irl so I thought I'd draw them with their favourite rabbit 'mon ... perhaps a gift from Guz,,,,,

[arolesbianism]

Sier? I haven’t even met her! Laugh.

[tonycries]

PONY

Synopsis. Ride it, his pony!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, ríding JJK men, creampíes, bondáge, GOJO’S POWERS, true form!Sukuna, dp, spítting, bréeding, pússydrúnk men, exhibitíonism (Toji and Geto), overstím, spánking, mentions of kids (Nanami), cócky Gojo, making Sukuna whíne, overspíll, heínous things, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hehehe have a lovely week with no leaks <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Do it, then.

Toji felt so dizzy right now, so full of nothing but sheer want and those raspy, stuttering grunts ripping from his chest. With a low keen, he’s sliding one of his rough hands down your bowed spine, mouth watering at that delicious curve all for him. “Arch jus’ a hah- bit more f’me, pretty doll. Lemme see.”

“I-I already am, Toji-” And despite all your huffing and puffing, he purposely takes his sweet, sloppy time tearing his darkened eyes away from how well you were milking him to meet your pouty glare. “Can’t hngh- anymore-”

Smack!

All five of his thick fingers leave a swift spank on your ass, “Now now, sayin’ ya can’t when you were sooo smug about ridin’ me, princess?” He’s rolling his eyes, and you simply get a quick, jagged buck of his hips. Toji’s holding back a high-pitched gasp, as if he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Better listen or m’ah- never cumming before Sh-Shiu gets here. Unless…” His hot breath puffs against your ear, and his even hotter, fat tip glides just across your g-spot. “-you want him to see?”

This earns him the cutest, drawn-out mewl from your glossed lips, your head throwing back for him to latch on from behind. 

“Oh, ya jus’ got wetter-” he breathes, and from where you were riding him in reverse cowgirl, you could practically hear the awe in his words. Feel that sultry shiver wracking down his muscled body. Toji’s ravenous hands dip down from your hips, two pads of his fingers spreading your puffy pussy lips wide open for him. “So drenched. Ya really like that, h-huh?”

And oh how much you did - your greedy pussy was practically slobbering down his swollen length. Coating him in a glistening coat of all your sweet sweet juices until it gleamed in the dim-lighting. Bulging with all of his long inches, he was so fucking massive that every thorough ram of your hips downwards made this thick base just thwack against your cunt.

Fuck, this was Toji’s favorite position for a reason - he could count every dredge and bead of slick running down his thumping veins with each of your harsh gyrations. And he did. 

“M’m- doin’ what you asked.” you’re whining, batting away the big, fat tears in your lashes. “But you’re not- ngh- h-helping!”

Toji thinks he could laugh right now, he thinks he could tease your needy self until you begged him to fuck you properly. But maybe it was the fact that he had to leave for a job soon, or maybe it was the way you looked so pretty on top of him - he’s feeling just a bit merciful right now. Just a bit.

“Awww, you poor thing–” he’s drawling out with a husky drone. Smiling slyly at the irritated furrow in your brows, the way you mewl when his large hand wraps around your throat. “My needy baby needs help?”

You can only nod half-deliriously, and he places a drippingly wet peck on your lips. Tasting that sinful scar and the syrupy sweet taste of his tongue. Dragging hotly across your lower lip, “Need s-so badly to have me cum in this oh- cute cunt?”

“Y-yes.” you mumble, your gasps turning into heaves when his rock-hard cock only expands inside you. Pumping upwards to grow even girthier, it’s like he wasn’t even trying when the curved divot on his weepy head kisses your sensitive spots. When he’s drawing sodden glides across your gummy walls, stuffing you split open until you were just molded to his very shape. “Yes yes please- jus’ wanna- hngh-” Reaching to tug on his dark black tresses, making him hiss. “-jus’ wanna have you c-cum in me before you leave ah-”

Smack! 

But this time, Toji doesn’t soothe over the sting - he doesn’t whisper pretty praises in your ear. Only planting rude spank after spank on your jiggling ass, adding to the bruising way his sharp hip bones rutted against your tender flesh. 

“Well I didn’t say slow down, did I?” you feel him purr dangerously against your ear. All the warning you get before the hand around your neck just tightens, all big beefy muscles on his arm flexing. “Wha’s the problem- said you were g-gonna oh what was it-” And Toji’s craning his head easily to smirk at you, nipping at your lower lip. “-’ride me until I lose my mind?’”

It’s said in such a mockingly higher pitch than Toji’s usual baritone, making your velvety walls just squeeze. Jostling his fat cock inside you until your toes curled, legs weakening. 

Smack! “Faster.”

Your ever-faltering hips have absolutely no choice but to speed up and you moan at the slap! of skin-on-skin. Leaning backwards into his hunched-over figure, his tongue was so smooth. Licking and biting down gently all over your skin when you fucked your hips back just a bit too hard. Just a bit too cockdrunk. Babbling out a drooling ah! ah! ah! as you roll your cunt, trying to suck out something delicious from the ends of his leaky cock. 

“Do it, then. Do it f’me.” he shudders out, and for all the biting tone in Toji’s words he sounded so utterly ruined. Like he was holding back the hitch in his chest, the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Fighting for the life of him to not push you down onto all fours and pound you into these silken sheets right now. “Ride me until I lose my ahh– fuckin’ mind, doll.”

You can’t answer - can’t do anything else but ache for more more more. And his every ridge and bump down his reddened shaft swiveled around you sweetly. 

“Oh.” Soon enough, you hear him titter out a laugh of disbelief, heavy, cum-filled balls tightening. “N’ you better hah- hurry up-” Smack! The possessive hand curling around your throat just drags your bleary gaze to yours and Toji’s bedroom door. Slightly ajar. Moving. “-unless yer beggin’ for double the amount of work.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - DESTRESSER

“Shh shhh…” Nanami’s quieting down your tiny whimpers with a slow, sultry glide of his fat tip down your sopping wet slit. Back and forth. Voice so hoarse and strained when he whispers little praises in your ear, “You got this- hah- you got it, my love. Ride me.”

Shit, those words are hitting straight to your cunt, clenching and sinking down, down, down his swollen cock. Your husband was so big, reaching so deeply inside sweetened spots you didn’t even realize existed. 

“Does it f-feel good, Ken?” you’re mewling. Wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, careful to not tip over his chair, “S’it relaxing?”

This was always Nanami’s favorite little remedy - whenever you waltzed into his office room with that too-short skirt and that too-tight silken top that drove him wild. Rambling about how he was being too overworked lately - how you have a solution.

Dragging his soft palm down your spine, Nanami grits back his teeth when you’re moving your hips in slow, shallow little grinds and gyrations. His thick head swirling slowly around your g-spot, thick base spreading your swollen folds gapingly open. 

Ah, this was heaven.

And he says so - a little over a million times into the crook of your neck. Throat shot already, “So pretty- so perfect, my wife-” he’s sighing out. Wrenching away to fixate his eyes on your sweat-sheened figure, the beginnings of that fucked-out expression of yours already on your features. “Y’know…seeing you like this- always makes me wonder what a great mama you’ll be.”

It’s so sudden that your hips are faltering, stuttering down sloppily to thwack! against Nanami’s tight balls. They’re almost bruising against the curve of your ass, and you’re whining into his mouth.

“S’true.” One of Nanami’s hands drapes down to your hips roughly, all five fingers splayed-out and just emblazoning itself when he’s guiding you through each slippery squelch. The other - his right - cradles one of your tits. “I see these- oh-” You watch as he’s attaching his lips around one hardened nipple, so hot. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, ”N’ I wonder how- ngh- s-sweet you’d taste when I fuck a kid into ya, darling.”

“And here-” His tongue skims past with a final kiss on both your tantalizing tits, moving down to where Nanami knew his cock was indenting into the very bottom of your pretty pussy. Where he knew that little nudge- 

“Ah!” Your entire body just jolts when he presses one greedy hand down on exactly where he was hitting at your cervix with almost-scary accuracy, teasing out your cutest keens. “K-Ken not there-”

“Yes there.” he’s cutting you off. “Here is where m’gonna fill ya ahh- all up-”

Just the very thought has his stern cheekbones coloring with red, and you’re so hypnotized by the sight that your hips are accelerating mindlessly. Legs burning, hips aching - but you’re still leaning forward to grind repetitive circular turns, rocking him inside in a way that made sure every inch of your melty walls were being massaged. 

Were being fucked. 

“Mhm- f-fuck-” he’s groaning, head throwing back to nip your lips, until it was all just smeared with Nanami’s saliva. “Ya like that, dontcha? Wan’ me to ohh– give my pretty wife a kid?” Words slurring together with each babbling second, he’s gently taking a hand to your scalp. Massaging your roots while you ride him to fucking insanity, “Answer me, my love.”

“Yes!” you spread your legs even further, knees clacking against the hard plastic of his chair. Blinking away the bleary, cockdrunken tears welled up in your eyes. “Wan’ it- want hngh! Wan’ you to breed me, Ken.”

He can’t stop himself from grazing a sweet, sweet kiss right on your moaning lips - followed very shortly by a mean smack! on your clit. Your shuddering cunt glossing the very tips of his fingers down to his wristwatch in a dripping, hot coat of your honeyed juices. 

And more. 

So much more.

“Wait- Ken that’s gonna- oh-” 

Maybe it was the way that cool wedding band on his left hand burned so starkly against your steamingly hot cunt, maybe it was that forceful push of the very curve of his raw cock into your g-spot - or maybe it was how Nanami just looked at you. Hazel eyes half-lidded, pupils blown, mouth slacking ever-so-slightly agape with your sloshing swivels. Because your orgasm slams into you immediately after, knocking every breath and sentence out of your delirious mouth. 

And he crashes his lips into yours, chuckling at the messy way your pussy was gushing all around him. You feel him drool with every sodden splatter of your juices, squirting until you saw stars. 

When you’re finally pulling away - delicate strings of spit snapping, Nanami chasing hazily after your mouth - all you can peer down is at the way his strict uniform was so soaked now. 

Neat slacks about ten shades darker than usual, and your cunt still wasn’t done - drooling all across in a lewd pool underneath, spreading every time you fucked your self down on his weepy cock. Hell, if you were in a better state of mind you’d have noticed that some of it got on his button-up, too. 

“Squirtin’ all over me, how cute-” Nanami simpers, low and slow. His mouth greedily salivates at the sight, “Can’t believe this-” You’re gifted with another sudden spank on your clit, and he lazily soothes over with a roll of his thumb. “-cute cunt s’gonna have me conceiving our f-first kid in the hngh- office.”

You pant hopefully, still being wrung through the peaks of your high. “Y-you were serious about that–?”

“I’ve never been more serious about a damn thing, my wife.” And he loved how the words tasted on his tongue - almost as much as he loved the taste of his fingers in his mouth, savoring you. Sucking. Eyes twinkling, “So ya better get ready. S’gonna get real relaxing soon.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “So gorgeous…”

It’s just about all that Geto can breathe out right now, all that he can think. Dark eyes half-lidded and boring right into yours, smug mouth sagging open, falling to let out such a loud moan. 

“Ohh-” his brows scrunch together. Jostling around your ravenous body where you were sitting so prettily on his lap, he’s leaning backwards greedily taking in every single inch of you he could see. Purring, “Ya look so fuckin’ pretty like th-this, dontcha?”

All you can do is keen in response, your trembly fingers taking a hold of the back of Geto’s chair to just slam your stinging hips downwards. 

“Feels too- ngh- good Sugu- Could do this forever.” you’re mewling, and he feels you weigh your entire body on top of him. Resting atop those tediously sculpted muscles of his to angle your hips just the way you liked. 

He felt so used right now, and shit - he’s never been harder about it. 

You could feel the way each stuttering ram down Geto’s reddened length left him growing even girthier, stretching out your snug channel even more impossibly open. His rock-hard cock was reaching deeply, kissing sweet, lingering kisses pointedly on the bullseye of your g-spot. Again. And again. And again and again-

“Heh-” his snicker ruffles your hair, dancing two large hands down to your waist. Spreading open those jittering globes of your ass until your ravaged pussy lips were spread so shamefully. And fuck, that heavenly sight was enough to make him gulp. To have his voice pitching a few octaves higher than usual when he hums, “Am I the one g-gettin’ fucked or hngh-” Leaving a trail of syrupy-sweet kisses down your tear-stricken face, “-are you?”

“S-so mean…” you’re jutting your lower lip out in a pout. The very action makes him lick his lips dangerously. “I should j-jus’ hngh- leave you here- to handle the meeting all alone-”

Truly, it’s become something of a little tradition - Geto loved to call it his “good luck charm” - how you milked the fucking soul out of him before every single cult meeting he led. And shit, has it been good luck alright.

“Awww, but you won’t will, ya honey?” His chest rumbles with vibrations, one hand jerking your face upwards to tug on your spit-glossed lips. He’s nodding along to your drunken babbles, drifting your hasty bounces further and further into lazy grinds with his words. “Because you’re my gorgeous lil’ cockslut, aren’t ya?” His words ring headily across your head - across the meeting hall.

Gasping when Geto suddenly shifts his body so that your ass smacked against his muscular thighs with each saturated drag, bruising against his milky muscles. 

“N’ you-” he whispers lowly against your ear, suckling softly on the sensitive spots at your throat. And you feel like such a fucking ragdoll when he abruptly bounces his thigh upwards - and you right along with it. “-are the only fuckin’ reason I stay sane during these f-fucking meetings.”

It’s a hoarse, breathed-out little admission that you barely even hear over those drippingly wet squelches from down below. Geto was fucking up into you unapologetically, eyes revered downwards at how cockdrunken you were moving right now. Sloppy. Depraved.

Burbling out, “Th-then you should really be- hngh!” You swivel your bratty hips down harshly against his heavy, cum-filled balls. They twitch and squeeze with each movement, yearning to just fill you up already. “-nicer to- me-”

Your words are so rudely interrupted by one of Geto’s impatient ruts, which he barely even acknowledges before you tug on his inky hair. 

“Ahh fucking fine.” he’s hissing out, leaky tip just as needy as he was becoming right now. Shit, Geto knew that he was losing control. Becoming irregular. Hasty. “Fine- fine fuck!” 

His long, slender fingers wrap delicately around your throat, nudging your lips in a wet, coquettish graze against his snarl. “Tell me what you want, then.”

Geto feels the way your gummy walls clench around him delightedly, how heated your pussy becomes as you get even more sluttily drenched. Just by this? Shit, he might have to play nice with you more often. And that smile on your face - oh, how gorgeous it was. Making him ram his thighs once more in a powerfully pressurized thrust. “I wan’ a kiss, Sugu.”

“A kiss?” he chokes back a gasp, eyes growing wider. The way you only nod has his high cheekbones flushing pink, humming, “I’ll do you one better.”

It takes only a few more swashing crashes of his weepy tip against your sweet spots before he’s pursing his lips - ready. Only to spit out a thick wad of saliva right onto the middle of your lolling tastebuds. So much - because Geto’s mouth was already watering at each one of your cute whines before this. 

And then it’s not long before you cum. Fuck, honestly you think you’re cumming as soon as that hot stream hit your tongue.

Toes curling, languid hips stuttering, you could only let out moan after moan of Geto’s name. You felt like you were in heaven, his thick cock sinking in and out of you to drag out every bit of your high. Squeezing him so tight-

“Fuck…fuck-” he’s grunting, each one ragged and rough like they were being ripped from his throat. “M’gonna-”

And then you’re feeling so fucking full, whatever snug space your cunt was being stretched out into was all of a sudden being filled out by thick ropes of Geto’s hot, potent cum. It was swelteringly hot filling you up, and trickling in a velvety sheen down the innards of your thighs. 

With a loud groan, Geto fucks it back up until his seed was knocking at your very womb. “Now we can start the meeting.” Mouth attacking yours into a sopping mess of a kiss, barely-open eyes flitting to the bowed group of cult members that sat silently behind you. Waiting. “Dontcha think, everyone?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - One more

“Baby- oh p-please.” You were his girl, his pretty baby - and ah were you driving him crazy right about now. The slow, sultry swirl of your hips around his sensitive cock making stars burst behind Choso’s teary eyes, every languid drag of your cunt down his shaft making it only sob sweltering hot streams of precum. “One more- just one more–”

It was his first time finally having you ride him - or, well, it was a few hours ago. The one thing you hadn’t anticipated was just how heavily addicted your pretty boyfriend would get on it.

“Are you sure, Cho?” you’re humming, but your hips show absolutely zero sights of stopping. And it wrenches out the most broken of whines from him. “If you wanna stop we can-”

“No!” And Choso’s body is moving before his mind, those rosy pink lips of his babbling pussydrunkenly a mile a minute. The soft pads of his fingers dig into the curve of your ass, leaving neat little crescent patterns for him to admire later. 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting, snarling into a messy kiss against your lips. Teeth clacking, drool trailing. Nodding as he just slams your slobbering pussy down his hefty cock. Recklessly. “-need it. Need it so badly, my p-pretty girl– don’t think I ah- got ‘nough yet.”

Yeah, addicted. 

And it’s like he’s just raring to go all over again no matter what his poor, overused cock says. Angrily reddish tip thumping in a low throb! throb! throb! against your spongy cervix, glossing all over your snug channel in milky streams. Spreading in a silken puddle underneath the two of you, it was so wet. 

All it took was the tiniest inch of your cunt swallowing his greedy inches, and that was more than enough to make his twitchy balls just ache to cum all over again. 

Your fingers tangle in his sweat-damped hair, scratching lightly against Choso’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. His sculpted abs ripple when his spine curves deliciously upwards. 

“Are you sure?” you tease, with a light giggle. “Sure you can hngh- c-cum f’me again?”

His mouth waters, dewy eyes flitting down towards the widely-stretched entrance of your cunt. Grazing his fingers lightly across your glistening folds, toying a thick thumb over your neglected clit. He grits out in a raspy, breathy tone, “P-promise- Promise I’ll fill ya up- hngh- I promise, baby just please-” Boring right into your eyes, “-ride me.”

And he was so perfectly fucked when your hips start gyrating back and forth in determined grinds, head thrown with each hug of your melty walls around him. So tight. So harsh that you occasionally revel in the lazy drag of your pulsing clit against those tufts of black at his toned pelvis. 

Your jittery legs tighten around his slender waist, and he’s whining contentedly when you tug and haul his hair as leverage to maneuver your bounces. Using him. 

“Y-yeah-” he’s rambling onwards, thumb slicking with a wet sheen of your slick when his fingers draw lewd, unsteady patterns on your clit. “J-jus’ like that. Fuck- m’gonna cum so early- ah think I might jus’ c-cum dry f’you, baby–”

Another sudden clench of pussy makes him smile - it’s humorless, drunken. And you feel it grow even wider when Choso’s craning his head to kiss at the corner of your mouth. 

“Mhm, wan’ you to ngh- cum f’me, please-” Even your moans are dipping into broken territory at this point. The sheer stretch of Choso’s heavy cock making your head spin, your hips stutter, feeling every and any nook and cranny stretched out when he drills his large, rotund head up into you. “Wan’ you t-to cum in me ah- again.”

Choso’s biting down on his lower lip hard enough that you’re almost concerned it might get bloodied. One of his hands reaching up to curl deftly around the headboard, trying for the life of him to not cum already. The other growing feverish on your clit, stroking calculatedly in slow circles that have you gasping. 

“Sh-shit-” you’re leaning downwards so that he can bury his face in the crook of your neck. “Hngh- oh, k-keep up like that, baby, n’ m’g-gonna-”

“Please.” he’s begging out in wet gurgles, tears now streaming down his innocently blushed cheeks. Still so painfully overstimulated from not too long ago, but so hypnotized. Addicted. Mumbling cutely into your ear, “Cum all over my cock.”

And he felt it - fuck, he couldn’t feel anything but it. 

The way your gooey walls hugged around him so tightly - it almost made it difficult for you to slam your hips downwards. But what sort of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t help, right?

So he’s grabbing roughly onto a handful of your ass, just rutting mindlessly upwards like he was out of control. Every surge of Choso’s dick sent white-hot waves of pleasure up your spine, and you could feel the way he throbbed at each smashing nudge into your g-spot. Over and over and-

“Choso–” The way his name sounded on your lips made him just whimper, eyes scrunching shut he grinds his teeth when he bounces his thighs upwards. You cup your hands around his face, forcing him to sneak his eyes open at you. Smiling, “You’re cumming, baby.”

And that makes him gasp, droopingly half-lidded eyes immediately snapping downwards at those milky swashes of seed. The ribbons upon ribbons of cum that overspilled from each sides of your sopping slit. Painting your insides in a sticky white that creams at the thick base of his dick

Just oozing outwards, and Choso thinks he’s cumming blanks at this point. Angry cock streaming out thick loads of nothing, balls clenching so painfully. 

The thought alone makes his jaw sag open, tears staining his taste buds. He’s bawling out, “Fuck- oh fuck, please-” Gulping heavy, heaving exhales, Choso murmurs against your lips. “One more.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Pretty pink ribbons

“You are s-so–” Ryomen Sukuna manages to grit out through his clenched canines, snapping them at you ferally when you only smirk. And he only scoffs, “-gettin’ it.”

You have to bite your lip to hold back that little giggle you knew would only make the king of curses more infuriated - because he looked so unfairly sexy like this. All splayed out on the velvety royal sheets, abs rippling and twitching with each of your tiniest movements, all four hands pinned to the towering bedposts by those pretty pink ribbons he’d bought for you just today.

So many thick, massive inches of his matchingly swollen cocks sunken into your sodden cunt - barely even. And no matter how many times you took him, no matter the fact that you were riding him, he was always too large.

Too stuffed snugly into your tight cunt, until your puffed-up pussy lips were just bulging around his shafts. Drooling a translucent ring down his hardened dicks with each short grind of pressure. 

“Getting what, Kuna?” you moan, with a slight hint of smugness in your honeyed tone. The sultry swivels of your hips slowing down ever-so-slightly until you could feel his needy throbs. The way his weepy heads coated your insides in swelteringly hot precum in angry response. 

And fuck did he love the way our hands slid down his hulking body, hands kneading at his plush pecs. You hear the way that Sukuna hisses under his rasping breath when your nails dig in to his muscles.

“You fuckin’ know it.” he snarls up at you, biting down on one of your nipples jiggling tantalizingly in his face. He sucks and glides his tongue in lazy sucks, eyes drooping up at you. “Tyin’ up the king of curses. I should have ya e-executed for this shit, brat.”

He wasn’t the least bit convincing and both of you knew it. 

Grumbling, he’s leaning backwards, cheeks still hollowed out on your perky tits. Using all those long, long years of battle to just fuck up into your drippingly wet cunt.

Oh, he could get off to just the squelch that follows, the royal chamber just echoing with that sticky staccato of skin-on-skin. Sukuna breathes out a hot puff of air through his nose, teeth pricking at your tender skin. “F-fuck yeah, yer really payin’ for it when I ngh- g-get out of this.”

That maddening jostle of his achy cocks inside you made your head spin. You moan when they bump into one another, thumping veins grazing and massaging against your stretched-out walls. It’s like he was molding you into the very shape of his cocks - one leaky head swiping at your g-spot, the other pressed up so stubbornly into your springy cervix with Sukuna’s change in angle. 

It takes you a few sloppy seconds to catch your heaving breath enough to whine out, “Th-that’s if you ngh! get out.”

And he grins - oh, Sukuna grins that very same grin you’ve seen him bare at those lowly curses he vaporizes in a second - chuckling darkly, “Silly girl.” And then the very bottom of your poor pussy is stamped with a hard push of his hips, branding that circular divot of one of his fat cocks. Then the other. “You think this- ohh fuck- this is enough to restrain me? How cute–”

Then your musing pace is being met with a few of his powerful, pressurized ruts upwards. Obscenely using that stacked position of his erections to drag your puffy clit along his pelvis. Leaving a glistening trail down, down, down to where your cunt was being stuffed gapingly full, stuttering your bounces through.

“Oh fuck-” you’re mewling, tears springing to your eyes at the twin stimulation. Fingers tangling in his innocently pink locks, “Right there, Kuna.”

“Shit- easy on the hair, woman.” he’s rolling his eyes. “N’ didn’t you say you had it a-all under hngh- control? Even fuckin’-” You feel that angry clench of his heavily smacking balls against your ass, the way the headboard ricketed when he tugs on those ribbons once more. “-tied me up for it.”

Only after a few sudden snaps! of Sukuna’s hips do you manage to finally babble out the words, “M’sorry didn’t- hngh-” Your hips are getting so messy now, strained so tightly that you feel like you’ll implode. You’re leaning down to rest your head in the crook of his neck, and he kisses away wetly at your cheek. Huffing out a slight snicker when you reach your hand towards his tied wrists. “I-I’ll untie-”

“No.” he’s cutting you off. “Leave them, I have a ah- another way you can make it up t’me.” 

Even though he trails off, your cockdrunken mind can already piece together what your dear king wants. Sucking in deep inhales when he forces his hips painfully still, forcing you to grind down on him with a disappointed whine. Sultry, slow turns of your hips that have him coated in all your gooey wetness, swirling around those ever-thickening shafts inside until they were kissing your sweetest spots. It makes him tease, breath hot against your ear lobe, “Cum f’me.”

It’s almost embarrassing how on cue you are - stars sparking behind your eyes when you finally cum all over Sukuna’s cock. Your mewls turning into moans, grinds turning into urgent bounces of your drooling pussy down his length. Clenching. Milking him. Over and over through your high - using him. 

Suddenly, two rough hands clasp around your waist, another rolling his thumb ruthlessly to fuck you through your orgasm, and the last just hauling your lips onto Sukuna’s. 

Rosy lips sucking on your tongue is what it takes for you to snap your eyes open and realize - those pink ribbons on the floor, Sukuna’s pink hair tickling against yours, his pink tip poking just enough out of your gummy cunt. As dangerously needy as his smile, words a whimper. “Now, what were ya sayin’ about m-making it up t’me?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Shut up!

Gojo Satoru knew he was cocky, he knew that no one - no one - stood a chance against the strongest. He knew that he was decidedly not about to break just as soon as you pinned him down to his navy blue sheets, drawing a dripping drag of your drooling cunt on his throbbing cock.

And he knew that last bit was a fucking lie.

“Heh, y-you think this will be enough to ah- what was that-” he’s rolling his pretty cerulean eyes, fighting for the life of him to keep them agonizingly open when your hot cunt glissades across his rock-hard shaft in a slow, saturated slide. “-‘absolutely ruined’? Well, love to see the confidence, sweetheart, but-”

His leaky head is peaking just through your glistening pussy lips, barely even an inch being milked up into your plushy walls. 

But then oh, Gojo’s eyes are rolling back to the very depths of his head, breath hitching in an embarrassingly high pitch in his throat. Losing any and all control when his greedy hands drop in a split-second to your waist, helping you ram your taunting hips to sheath his swelteringly hot cock. 

“That-” he’s gasping, eyes narrowing down at your smug smirk. “That was fuckin’ cheating, girl n’ you ah- k-know that.”

“If you say so.” you hum, with a pointed roll of your eyes. 

Gojo feels you gyrate your hips in such a hypnotizing way, a lazy circular roll that has his toned body arching upwards into a perfect bow. All ten fingernails digging into the curve of your hips when you rock against him harder. Rougher. Using him. 

He was so big that even the tiniest of grinds had the rounded end of Gojo’s thickened head crashing into the very bottom of your pussy. Smearing a steamingly hot ribbon of precum across your spongy cervix, he just smiles at the bit of recoil it has. 

So pretty. 

“F-fuck–” Gojo’s hiccuping out, pearly white teeth sinking down onto his bottom lip to stop those whimpers from falling out. “S’that all you ah- g-got? Need help?” Chortling out the most cockiest of laughs that only deepen that cute furrow in your brow, Gojo makes a smug display of strength matching your own cadence. Barely breaking a sweat to rut up into you. “Honestly, pretty, you’ve got to-”

Then you clench - you squeeze. 

Your gummy walls hugging him so tightly - difficult, considering Gojo’s jaw-dropping girth. And after that every bounce of your hips downwards felt like you were sucking the fucking soul out of him. Stretching out the very deepest of your insides to make him pathetically speechless.

Gojo lets out a husky fuck! fuck! fuck! with each of your calculated movements, and it just leaves his dick aching. Groaning, “You’ve g-got to- hah-” It was too much - he was at the end of his fucking rope - and it’s all that Gojo can do to wrangle your hips into his rough grasp, pinning down your ravenous pace until you slow down your riding ever-so-slightly. “You’ve got to stop- hngh- c-cutting me off sweetheart!” he’s bawling out.

Big, twinkling tears clinging onto his lashes, they flutter with each of your merciless swivels. The curve of your ass massaging his achy balls, your clit leaving his white tufts of hair drenched in syrupy sweet slick. 

It makes you grin. “Well who told you to get ngh- c-cut off, Toru?”

Oh, in that moment Gojo is shoving every long inch of his slender fingers into your mouth, bullying between your bruised lips to swirl around your mean tongue.

“Sh-shut up- Maybe you should take fuck! notes–” He clenches his teeth in a feral smile, and he’s never felt fucking weaker. Not even with a desperate grip on your hips, not even with jujutsu thrumming at his fingertips, at his eyes. Overspilling with each leaky bead of precum being thrusted into your gooey depths. “Sweetheart–”

“Toru-”

At this moment, you’re sure that Gojo’s taking advantage of his inhuman reflexes - because in mere seconds, he pounds his cock upwards with a pained grunt. Fully overtaking your own rhythm to fuck up into you again. And again. And again and again and-

Shit, he could stop. He didn’t want to stop. 

The only thing crackling through his mind being the slight spark of jujutsu drawn out with his poor, overworked cock, and the feeling of you. How badly he wanted more more more-

“Cum f’me-” Gojo’s words come out in an almost-unintelligible puff of feverish breath. Drool dripping from the side of his rosy red lips as you only rode him harder, “Cum while you ride me- please- fuck fuck fuck- I surrender I tell you- hngh! Please c-cum f’me.”

Except he’s the one cumming first, spurting out thick, ribbony ropes of seed - there was so much. And Gojo throws his head back with a dragged-out yelp, choking out broken pants of your name while he cums and cums so hard he thinks he can’t fucking feel his cock.

Can’t tell when the lights burst out, when the tiny tingles from his hands send bolts of electricity down your body - making you crash headfirst into your orgasm, as well. 

That’s when your hips get sloppy, letting Gojo’s seed dribble down in milky swashes. So thick, that you almost think you could count every dredge, sticking your sopping wet slit to the thick base of his cock with each stutter up and down up and down up and down-

You moan around Gojo’s slender fingers - flashes of pleasure making your head spin - and that’s what finally snaps him out of his pussydrunk reverie. 

Blinking his eyes back open, it takes him a few seconds to adjust to the new darkness in the heady room. And only a few more to start up another slight movement of his hips - slow, sensitive - hissing at the burn. Lips wobbling, voice teary when he continues, “Best out of three- or eight?”

“...”

“Five?”

A/N. No, Gojo, not five, you can have me five BILLION times actually. More, even, if society allows me. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[ervotica]

please don’t go, i love you so

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: a lil toxic!coriolanus, he’s rough with r, possessive talk, quite tame in this but imma tamp it up soon, a bit of making out and being lovey

note: i do not careee about who likes this character or who doesn’t okay i am writing about him because he is literally one of the hottest men i’ve ever seen, kay? i’m not here for moral dilemmas thank u, enjoy (yes i will follow up w smut and my young!coriolanus snow reqs are OPEN!) please please remember to comment and rb, it helps me so much!

hunger games masterlist

Coriolanus is possessive.

It sickens him to his very core, sends nausea rolling like a wave through his chest; he’s not a child. Yet, the mere sight - thought - of you engaging with any other man, even innocently, is enough to have him seeing red: white-knuckled, muscles drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to eliminate any and all threat standing between him and his girl.

It's the way those boys look at you. As if you're a piece of meat, a toy to play with that they're just begging, aching to sink their teeth into, to leave a permanent mark on. The boys in this district are barbaric- that's what Coryo thinks anyway. It's disgusting, the things that he knows they think about you.

It's been a long day in District Twelve. Coriolanus' grey jumpsuit rubs and itches and his skin crawls with an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach. It's a warm day, his skin sticky as he peels the top half of the jumpsuit from his slender arms and ties it neatly around his waist. The grass by the lake is damp with the leftover dew from the morning.

He catches sight of you amongst the trees, weaving and bobbing through the undergrowth as you do, your lithe fingers brushing against leaves. Your head dips and then raises as his tall figure creeps into your peripheral vision. A smile graces your features, real and earnest with all your teeth.

There’s a slight waver in your countenance when you catch Coriolanus’ own expression; his brows are knit, pushing his forehead into a crease, lips pushed together tersely.

You walk straight into his arms, balancing yourself on one leg and pushing your shoulder underneath his armpit. You needle your way in, your forehead rested against his chin, so close you can feel his breath against your face.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you murmur. You reach up to push out the ridge in his brow and your thumb traces the bridge of his nose in a way that couldn’t be perceived as anything other than unbridled affection. “Something wrong?”

His slender fingers settle against your waist. You shiver at the contact when he spins and pushes you back into a tree. The bark digs into your back as you shuffle to meet his eyes— his eyes that have suddenly clouded with something dark and possessive.

“What is it?” you ask again; your voice is becoming more strained the longer he stays quiet, your own hands snaking up his arms like vines and squeezing.

He shakes his head and drops his face to look at you properly.

“Nothing. I have you.”

“Okay.” You click your tongue, tilting your head at him. His face gravitates towards yours, breath hot and mixing with your own. “You gonna kiss me or what, handsome?”

He doesn’t need any encouragement, surging forward to catch your lips between his own; his hands are rough, kneading the soft flesh of your hip. His other makes its way up to your jaw, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure he’s branding you. You’ve never been kissed like this, with such fervour and passion and need. You gasp into his mouth and your arm wraps around his neck to pull him further into you.

“Coryo,” you pant.

“Shh,” he forces out, his fingers suddenly an iron grip around your neck; the hollow of your throat is bared to him and bobs under his cruel touch.

“Coriolanus, that hurts,” you say, strangled. His eyes are alight with a fire, a blazing inferno roaring in his head as he squeezes your throat and laughs.

You wheeze, clutching at his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. He obliges you, running a thumb over the indents he’s left in your soft skin to smooth them away.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he asks. His head drops to the juncture of your neck, arms hooking loosely around your middle as he relaxes into you. “I just wanted to feel you. To know you’re mine.”

The incident is forgotten as soon as it ends. He has a charm in that sort of way; you don’t see his faults even when he shows them to you clear as day. You’ll never see what’s right in front of you even if he wants you to.

“Of course I’m yours, Coryo. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The way they all look at you here…” He falters. “Like they all want you. Like they want to take you away from me. You’re mine- they have to understand that.”

“No one could take me away from you,” you giggle, your temple resting against the tip of his shoulder so you can duck your head to meet his eyes. “I know where I belong. And that’s right here with you.”

“Good.” He mouths at your neck like a man starved, arms coming right up until they’re hooked just underneath your own. He pulls away heaving for breath.

“Wanna show me just where you belong?”

[ssweetleaf]

babies.

husband!steve harrington x wife!reader

summary: you finally tell steve that you’re ready for a baby.

includes: SMUT 18+, breeding kink, not really a daddy kink but he refers to himself as daddy lol, mating press, creampie, unprotected p in v

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Hang on— what did you say?”

Steve felt as if he was dreaming, completely delirious, struggling to stay on his feet when his knees started to buckle.

He clutched a quivering palm to his chest, as if in attempt to quell his heart, but nothing could sate the thick thumping that barrelled through his rib cage.

You smiled at him, a small, impish one that made his eyelids flutter and you stepped closer, smoothing your hands along his shoulders before resting upon the thickness of both biceps, squeezing only slightly— just for your benefit, of course.

You knew it was something he’d desperately wanted to hear for a long while, so you spoke slowly, hoping the few words you spoke would register properly.

Because this was real. Such a big step, something that Steve had always dreamt of, but you not quite. It took a good few years for you to succumb to the idea of raising kids; a pretty house and a small wedding— even a few cats roamed around your home, so you knew that something was missing, something you now wanted desperately in your life.

“I want to try for a baby, Steve.” You spoke, watching his doe eyes grow even rounder, little tears threatening to ebb while he felt all melty and gooey, moving forward to shakily cup your cheeks and bring you closer towards him.

Steve nuzzled his nose against yours, sighing out a big breath and sponging a sweet, chaste little kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t know what to say, honey, I’m—” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, his thumbs lazily circling the apples of your cheeks. “I’m so fucking happy.”

—

So, the two of you fucked like rabbits— for hours and hours, multiple times a day, the mere feeling of his raw length inside you had you creaming around him in minutes, and it was much akin for Steve, the soft, gummy walls of your cunt squeezing around him with no barrier between the two of you.

It felt like heaven.

Steve had insisted that you both have sex as regular as you could, the need to have you pregnant, to make it stick, needed to be quenched, and you nodded along like the doting little wife you were.

“My pretty honey,” he cooed, pressing your knees firmly against your heaving chest, holding you in a mating press whilst he fucked his thick cock into your spasming pussy.

Sweat beaded along his hairline, breathless from his hard thrusts— he had already came inside of you three times that same day, however you knew he wouldn’t let up until he saw those two red lines that told him what he’d wanted to hear.

“Gotta give you my babies, don’t I, hon?” He uttered, moaning breathily into the stuffy air— his full, round balls smacking against your ass with every inward thrust, so full of cum and ready to breed. “Gotta be thorough now, baby— want you nice ‘n’ round.”

He was babbling, words slurring into something almost nonsensical— his pretty lips sponged at any piece of skin he could find, mouthing and suckling with a desperation that shone in his honeyed eyes.

Your pussy practically sucked him in, letting his ruddy tip nudge at the spot so deep inside you, that had you clenching and fluttering.

“Fuck, jus’ wanna be a daddy so bad,” he whined, “and once we have our first, we’ll have another, and another, and another— oh fuck.”

He was fisting the pillow underneath your head, muscles drawn tight, trying so hard to keep his eyes open and not let them flutter closed— trying hard to keep his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, honey baby,” he sighed with a smile, still thrusting as deep as he could, his thumb moving to rub at your clit. “You’ll still be daddy’s best girl— daddy’s favourite, I’ll make sure of it.”

You whined. He was so filthy, so crude, as soon as his big dick would slip inside of you he’d be gone, so stupid, completely pussy drunk. Silly boy.

“You ready for it, hon?” He cooed, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, “ready for my cum, pretty girl?”

You nodded, uttering a small ‘yes, Stevie’ through a moan and a sigh, clenching hard and quivering around him, ready to cum yourself.

The sheer need to be filled had you delirious.

“Yeah, gonna fill you up— gonna put a sweet baby in that pretty tummy of yours,” he hummed, “that sound good?”

“Sounds s’good, Stevie,” you whined, struggling to keep hold of your legs, your limbs shaky when you tried to keep your knees pressed against you. “Wan’ it so bad, want your cum— want your babies.”

He nodded fervently, hair whipping in every which way, dick throbbing in you hotly, the taut veins pulsing with every inward thrust— so, so close and ready to burst.

“I know ya do, hon— you ready to take it? You ready to take another load, baby?” He whined, squeezing his eyes shut, thrusts turning sloppy and erratic, “I know you’re so full, can barely fit anymore cum inside this poor pussy, huh?”

“Can take it, Stevie,” you spoke, fluttering your lashes, your lips all pouty and pink, “promise.”

And with one, two, three thrusts, he stilled inside of you, so deep, tip kissing your cervix before shooting his thick, pearly ropes of cum inside you, hoping to fill you with his Harrington prodigy, to make all the babies he could wish for.

Steve kept your legs raised, pulling them from your chest to place above his shoulders, keeping your back arched.

“Gotta make sure it takes,” he whispered, stroking at your calf before pressing a little kiss to your ankle. “think this is the one, honey.”

[xhyjin]

thinking about nanami kento! (when am i not) with a s/o that is socially awkward/shy

he knew from the start that you were distant. during work parties, you never showed up, only clocking in to work and leaving once your duties were done, never lingering to chat or mingle. the rare times you did attend, you stayed in the corners, quietly observing with wide, nervous eyes and a faint blush coloring your cheeks. he couldn’t help but be intrigued, and one day, curiosity got the better of him. he approached you. your words stuttered, your face burned red, but there was something about the way you responded that made him instantly drawn to you. from that moment, you became his reason to look forward to work every day.

he began to notice the little things about you. how you stayed tucked away in your cubicle, only speaking to coworkers when necessary. how you spent your lunch breaks alone, either watching a show on your phone or quietly eating, lost in your own thoughts. and how, at the end of the day, he’d sometimes catch you smiling to yourself in the elevator, as though you’d found happiness in the smallest of things. it fascinated him how content you seemed in your own world, and after weeks of silently admiring you, he finally decided to approach you properly.

but he was careful—patient. he knew you were shy and reserved, so he didn’t want to overwhelm you. he started small, spending lunch breaks with you. at first, the silence between you both was awkward, though not unwelcome. you blushed furiously at the attention but didn’t push him away. instead, you quietly shared bits of your lunch with him, a subtle gesture that said, i’m glad you’re here. he knew you struggled with words, so he didn’t press. instead, he let his presence speak for itself, slowly building a bridge of comfort between the two of you.

when kento finally worked up the courage to ask you out, making it clear that this wasn’t just work-related but a date; you could hardly believe it. your eyes widened, and then you nodded eagerly, your happiness shining through. his heart swelled at your reaction. he had planned a simple outing, maybe a cafe, but seeing your excitement, he wanted to make it special. he made reservations at a nice restaurant, ensuring you’d have a secluded spot to enjoy your time without pressure.

the date started just as he expected. you were quiet, your voice barely above a whisper when you responded to him, sticking mostly to “yes” or “no” answers. but kento was nothing if not patient. he asked small, simple questions, easing you into a conversation, and when he mentioned something you loved, your entire demeanor changed. your eyes lit up, your voice grew stronger, and you started talking more, rambling on about your interests. you didn’t even realize how much you’d been speaking until the waitress interrupted to take your order. your face turned crimson as you sulked in embarrassment, worried you’d talked too much. but when you glanced at kento, his gaze was soft, a gentle smile on his lips, he looked utterly captivated.

ordering was its own challenge. you felt embarrassed, too shy to tell the waitress what you wanted. kento noticed your hesitation and, with a subtle nudge of his foot under the table, gave you something to focus on. you nudged him back, and it was enough to calm your nerves, allowing you to place your order. he was thoughtful like that, always finding quiet ways to make you feel at ease.

by the end of the date, you’d grown comfortable enough to start asking him questions. the two of you talked for so long that you didn’t notice the restaurant had emptied. when you finally left, the night felt far from over. kento drove you to the beach, where the two of you walked hand in hand along the shore. the sound of the waves filled the comfortable silence between you, and when you stopped to look at the moonlight reflecting on the water, he turned to you and asked, “may i kiss you?”

your heart raced, but you nodded, and when he kissed you, it was as if you were something fragile, precious. he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable, but under the glow of the moon, he couldn’t resist the beauty of the moment—or of you.

after that, the two of you continued to grow closer, going on more dates and eventually making it official. over time, you began to come out of your shell, though you still retained your social awkwardness. kento loved every part of you, from the way you stumbled over your words to the way you blushed under his gaze. to him, you were perfect exactly as you were, and he made sure you always knew it.

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 8 - Cockwarming

Ghost x Soap x F!Reader - 1.6k

summary: Ghost keeps you on his lap while he watches a soccer game. (You POV)

cw: dom!ghost, subby soap & reader, cock warming, cunnilingus, overstimulation

“Simon,” you whine, sweat-slick back arching against his front as you strain for any sensation at all. “Please.”

“Hush,” he scolds, tweaking a stiff nipple and taking a swig of his beer. “‘M tryin’ to watch the game.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to take a deep breath, only to hiccup through the exhale when the cock impaling you shifts as Ghost spreads his thighs. 

You’ve been here for what feels like hours, but you know it’s only been about forty minutes, the steadily ticking clock at the top of the TV screen tells you just how slowly time passes when Simon holds you on his lap like this. 

Only five more minutes, you tell yourself, hopeful that he’ll fuck you at the halftime break, or at the very least let you have an orgasm. 

You feel more than hear him grunt behind you when you clench your inner walls around his length, your own eyes rolling back in your head at the overwhelming fullness. 

There’s a low whine from only a few feet away, and your eyes are unconsciously drawn over to where Johnny is kneeling beside the coffee table, naked and damp with sweat despite the fact that he’s been holding himself still just as long as you have, only without the cock inside of him.

Simon huffs, hooking his chin over your shoulder and leaning forward enough to see Johnny and – you assume, from the way Johnny shrinks a bit – glare him into further submission. “Quiet,” he stresses, irritated. “You’re distractin’ me.”

“But sir,” Johnny pushes, leaning closer with his hands clenched tight on his knees, knuckles white from pressure. “She looks so pretty, I need her so bad, please–”

Ghost doesn’t bother using his words, only grunts a harsh sound that has Johnny settling back onto his heels, looking properly chastised even as his flushed cock kicks against his stomach. You can’t help but moan as Ghost settles back again, every shift of him inside of you agonizing. 

One large hand rests against your stomach for the next few minutes, the callouses on Simon’s fingertips rough against your hypersensitive skin. He kneads your tummy mindlessly, pushing and pulling as he sips from his beer and grunts disapprovingly at the way his team plays. The repetitive motion calms you just enough that you can get a deep breath in, but nothing can distract you from the throbbing in your clit. 

It feels like another eternity has passed when the players all file off the field, the camera cutting away to commercial as the halftime break starts. You try to temper your enthusiasm as much as you can, but your heart races when you hear the sound of Simon setting his bottle on the coaster. 

“Alright,” he finally says, and it’s all you can do to keep from wriggling on his lap as he shifts to hold you more firmly in place. “Here, pup.”

Johnny practically throws himself forward, knees thudding loudly on the hardwood floor as he shoves himself between Ghost’s thighs, hands resting on your knees where they’re spread by Simon’s. 

Simon is quick to wrap his fingers in Johnny’s mohawk, holding him back from shoving himself face-first into the slick dripping steadily from you, and ignoring the heartbroken whine that ensues. 

“You gonna settle if I let you have a taste of the girl?” He grunts, shaking Johnny just a bit by the hair. You’re mesmerized by the way Johnny’s eyes cross, lashes damp and cheeks flushed as he pants beneath you. “Gonna start behavin’?”

“Yes, yes,” Johnny insists, nodding as much as he can. “Promise, sir, I can be good.”

Ghost snorts and scratches across Soap’s scalp, clearly disbelieving. “You better hope you can, otherwise you’re not gettin’ that pathetic thing between your legs anywhere near the girl until you prove you can behave yourself.”

You can’t tell if Johnny’s moan is heartbroken or horny when you nearly drown him out with your own cry at the cruel words. 

“I’ll be good,” Johnny insists, grip so tight on your knees that you’d worry he’d yank you out of your position if you were being held by anyone but Ghost. “Please, Lt, let me be good?”

“Hmm.” Ghost strokes over your belly and Soap’s hair at the same pace, careful to keep a firm enough grip that Johnny can’t move much more than he’s allowed. “Alright. You have ‘til the game’s back on.”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Johnny’s mouth is pressed against your cunt.

You cry out at the sharp burst of pleasure, at the relief of finally having something touching where you’re most sensitive, only to quickly melt into nothing but mewls and moans as you become overwhelmed. 

Johnny sucks your clit so hard that it’s almost painful, driving you to dig your nails into his scalp as you hold on for dear life. Simon wraps his arm fully around your waist, left hand holding your right hip tightly and his right hand keeping you open for Johnny no matter how much you struggle.

Your gasps are ripped from your chest as Johnny messily licks your cunt, Ghost’s chest rumbling against your back as he’s stroked by Soap’s tongue too. The sheer amount of sensation after so long with nothing almost blinds you, your entire world shrunk down to what can fit inside of you and what can rub against your clit in just the right way.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you gasp at a particularly rough suck of your clit. If you weren’t so mindless with pleasure you’d worry about just how hard your nails are scratching along his scalp, but the way he moans into your body wipes any hope of worry from your mind. “Johnny!”

“He treatin’ you well?” Ghost rumbles, pressing against your stomach. Any words you’d want to give him are stolen by the way he makes himself feel just that much larger inside of you, your hole so wet that you’re sure there’ll be a stain when you’re finally allowed to stand. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you hum, the only answer you can manage when Soap has taken to seemingly trying to suck the base of Ghost’s cock, only managing to lick around your hole instead. “So good,” you slur. 

“Sounds like it,” Ghost says, his patronizing amusement flying over your head as Johnny gives up on Simon’s cock and returns his full attention to your clit.

Your moans are driven higher and higher as you’re pushed closer to your long-awaited orgasm, your voice cracking as your feet kick helplessly against the couch, held firmly by Ghost. You couldn’t open your eyes if you tried, fingers digging deep gouges into Johnny’s hair and Simon’s forearm as you’re shoved towards your peak at a ruthless pace. 

You practically scream when Johnny just barely presses his teeth to your bundle of nerves, tongue lashing against you and throwing you off the cliff of release you’d been waiting on for so long. 

Ghost moans in sync with you as you milk his cock, squeezing him so tightly that it almost hurts you, hole stinging around his girth despite the juices coating all three of you. He doesn’t come, but the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you as your body does its best to coax cum from his nearly sends you spinning into a second orgasm. 

Johnny’s mouth doesn’t let up, even as your hold on him relaxes and your body goes limp against Simon. He only continues to lick at your clit, then around your pussy and trying to suck your lips into his mouth, licking you with a fervor that feels almost manic. 

“Johnny!” You gasp when he gives you just a momentary break, only to bite your thigh sharply enough that you jerk a few inches off of Ghost’s cock. 

“Down,” Simon snaps, shoving Johnny away from you with enough force to nearly send him sprawling. Johnny catches himself on the couch though, looking up at both of you with tears in his eyes and a cock that looks like it could cut diamond.

You coo a little, hand shaky as you reach out to cup the cheek Simon shoved. Ghost only scoffs over your shoulder, yanking you firmly back down so he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and nearly purring at your yelp. 

“Watch the teeth, mutt,” Ghost scolds as Johnny settles back between your thighs, pressing kisses to your soft skin as an apology. “Unless you want me to muzzle you again.”

“No!” Johnny yelps, wrapping an arm around your thigh and pressing himself as close as possible. “‘M sorry, sir, I didnae mean it, promise. I willnae do it again, swear.”

Ghost makes a low sound in his chest that sounds suspicious, but doesn’t push Johnny away or tell him off again. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he finally says, pushing a strand of hair back into place on Soap’s forehead. “Game’s not back for another ten minutes, you want to keep having fun with the girl or go back to your corner?”

“Wait–” you try to protest, but your voice is cut off when Johnny latches himself to your clit once again, sucking the oversensitive bundle like you aren’t still shaking from your last orgasm. You squeal at the pleasure-pain, body tense like a bowstring. “Please!”

“There you go,” Ghost purrs, resting his chin on your shoulder and squeezing your hip as your cunt spasms around him. “Attaboy, Johnny.”

Your brain practically melts out of your ears before you can string together enough words to beg for even a five minute break, but you can’t find it in yourself to be upset as Johnny practically catapults you towards another orgasm. 

[hopelessbren]

just know leon would be obsessed with his s/o.

whenever he’s out at work, or not around you, he’s thinking about coming home. walking through the door, finding you cuddled up in bed, sliding in behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist. he would be content to just lay there for the rest of his life with you in his arms.

don’t even get me started on how he’d fuck you. with behind obsessed with you, he always wants to make you feel good. your needs always come first. wether it’s fingering you while you’re sitting on his lap, or lapping at your pussy for extended periods, he’s always going to do it. finding an excuse to feel you up, have you on his lap or just anywhere close to you.

when you’re seated on his lap, either finishing up work, or watching something on tv, you’ll feel leon’s hand on your stomach. first it lays flat, casually bringing you closer to his chest, then it starts to move down. fingers dancing against your skin, leaving goosebumps to litter you. he wouldn’t be to eager, not wanting to dive into your pants all at once, so he goes slow. properly teasing the waistband of your pants, then your panties, till he finally gets to the prize. middle finger running up your glossy folds, finding your clit at the top, rubbing slow tantalizing circles. you start to get a little squirmy on your lap, your body begging for what you need from him. leon’s other hand would grab your hip, keeping you still, “you gotta stay still, baby. gotta let me have my fun.” dipping his fingers deep in your cunt, making you gasp. curling up at the perfect spot that he’s memorized would get the most moans from you.

when he’s eating you out, he’s eating like it’s his last meal. tongue flat against your folds, trying to lick your arousal up as his mouth latches onto your clit. sucking on the bud and running his tongue over it. his main focus is always your clit, because he knows it makes you sing like an angel. but he knows it takes you longer that way, so he’ll slide his fingers inside your hole. eyes locked onto yours, watching as you gasp at the sudden smaller stretch. that’s when it doesn’t take you long, fingers curling, pumping, and scissoring you. “you gonna cum for me, baby? yeah?” his tone almost teasing. as soon as you hit your orgasm, he’s sucking hard on your clit, not giving you a moment off.

when he’d finally actually fuck you, he’s rock hard. having you laying on his bed as he’s overtop of you, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer. depending on the mood, he’ll either be gentle and slow, making love. or he’ll be hard and fast, fucking you senseless. “fuck baby, feel so good.” leon moans into your ear, stubble grazing your cheek as he presses kisses to your jaw. his hips never stopping for a second, keeping their fast and rough pace. his lengthy cock hitting the perfect spot with every thrust, he’s memorized your body. leon’s hand moves down your body, moving the hood back, and pressing down on your clit. tight circles drawn on your bud, trying you get you to orgasm for him. “c’mon baby, that’s it, you can do it. come for me.”

everything’s about, you, you, you.

um yeah anyways, i need leon to be obsessed with me !!

[lay-z]

❄️ Day 7 – Make do

Synopsis: Stuck in a safe house on a mission in the middle of nowhere on Christmas Eve, you and your alpha teammates are in dire need of some comfort.

Pairing: alpha!TF-141 x fem!omega!Reader Warnings/Info: No smut. | Omegaverse; military!Reader; a/b/o dynamics; emotional support (dog) omega; fluff; suggestive content; flirting; teammates to lovers/mates; eventual poly!relationship; eventual romance; typical omega/alpha behaviour

Word count: 2.5k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Location: [Redacted]

EST. remng. time until exfil: 8 hrs. 4 min. 37 sec.

The wind is howling outside the shabby safe house, whistling through the creaks and cracks of withered floorboards while the rain keeps pouring down in ice buckets, fat drops pounding against the leaky windows.

You fear the seemingly ancient hut might cave in like an unstable card house with each violent gust of wind.

It’s definitely not cosy and anything but how you’d imagine to spend your holidays this year, but alas – you’re in the military, freshly recruited by a secret special ops task force just a handful of weeks ago, and neither war nor terrorism take a break, so you won’t, either. And you’re still trying to proof yourself to them, to those rugged, dominant and battle-hardened alpha soldiers.

Still, you’ve been away from a proper nest for nearly a month now and it’s starting to make you terribly anxious. You cannot possibly be of any use for your assigned alphas like this, not if you can’t even take care of yourself properly, and it’s showing.

Sometimes, the novelty of this arrangement catches up to you, makes you question your whole being and purpose. Especially, when you struggle to approach certain members of the squad to even offer your help and do your job. However, Captain Price had informed you in the beginning that you’re their first assigned emotional support omega, that some of his soldiers have never even been in close proximity to one before. He never told you who, but you already have a good hunch.

You don’t want them to know about your inner turmoil, though; don’t want them to think of you as some spoiled, prissy omega when you’re definitely still a soldier, as capable of the same war atrocities as they are – even if your nature gets in the way sometimes.

So, you do what you do best, grit your teeth, keep your demeanour neutral and make your usual rounds, seeing if anyone is in need of your support, though you’re ready for their usual declination – which is something that stings even worse than your own unmet need for comfort.

Nuzzling the cold tip of your nose into the thick collar of your winter combat jacket, you peel yourself away from the raggedy cot in the guest bedroom, boot-clad feet dragging along the creaking floorboards as you square your shoulders despite your own discomfort and walk down the short hallway into the dimly lit, sparsely furnished open living room.

And your nose immediately wrinkles at the concoction of sour, agitated alpha scents, cigar smoke, gun oil and musty wood. It’s bad enough to make your eyes water, but you swiftly blink away the gloss in your eyes, determined not to let them know how bad this is.

“Gentlemen,” you speak your greeting into the room, clearing your dry throat awkwardly as you assess the situation while the men barely seem to acknowledge you.

Captain Price is standing by a cracked window, puffing on a stubby cigar while staring outside into the semi-darkness, watching the storm, his broad shoulders tense and spine rigid.

Gaz is reading a worn softback book, sitting in the corner of the shabby couch where the old standard lamp flickers every couple of seconds, his dark brows drawn together in concentration, though his eyes barely move.

Soap is slumped in the only upholstered armchair, the battered cushions looking like they’ve seen better days; long legs stretched out in front of him, his bulky arms resting on each armrest while his head is tilted back, eyes flickering behind closed eyelids.

And the Lieutenant, Ghost, is sitting at the wobbly table on an equally wobbly chair in the darkest corner of the room, sharpening and cleaning his ballistic knives, the heavy scent of restlessness accumulated in his spot, though, as usual, his expression is hidden behind his skull mask, an air of indifference carefully crafted around his self while his own nature betrays him.

Their behaviour is making your stomach twist into knots and you swallow down a soft whine as your inner omega starts trembling with anxiety.

Then, Soap speaks up, his gruff, roguish voice breaking the tense silence, “Ye busy, sweetheart?”

You blink dumbly, eyes flickering around the room, unsure if he’s truly talking to you or–

But Soap lifts his head then, a boyish grin on his lips as his bright cerulean eyes lock with your, nearly making you squeak in surprise.

“C’mere, Corporal.” He says, lifting his bare right hand and curling his index finger, beckoning you over playfully before patting his thick thighs. It’s not an order, but the sudden interaction between you and the Sergeant has the other alphas perk up one way or another.

Price glances over his shoulder, blowing out a thick plume of smoke around the cigar between his lips. Gaz looks up from the pages of his book, one eyebrow raised curiously, his warm brown eyes flickering between Price, Soap and you while Ghost stops polishing one of his knives briefly before proceeding again.

It’s the first time one of them has made the conscious decision to ask for your presence, disregarding the brief and rare sniffs all of them have taken of your comforting omega scent in between action and battles.

Almost unconsciously, you give a stiff nod before approaching him while he sits up straighter in the armchair, moving his legs and angling his knees to give you more space.

“How–uhm–How do you… want me, Sergeant?” You ask tentatively, oblivious to the double-meaning of your innocent question, struggling to keep up your professionalism as you rock back and forth on your heels, heart pounding in your throat.

Soap’s formerly tired, half-lidded eyes light up with mirth as he drinks in your uncertainty, and deep down, he feels so bad for himself for denying himself and you this comfort  that you and the rest of the squad so desperately need – all on orders from Price; the admonition from several weeks ago still ringing in the young Sergeant’s ears.

“Don’t overwhelm her, lads. She’s precious tha’ one, a bloody fine soldier, and we wanna keep her around with us.”

But the Captain forgot that this is literally your job, that this is why you’re here with them in the first place, and gods damn, Soap needs a whiff of your scent, of something else but his or his pack mates acrid stench – something more like candied apples, cinnamon and fresh wildflowers – something more like you, sweet, sweet omega.

Soap holds his right hand out to you and waits for you to reach out as well, before he grasps your smaller, cold hand swiftly, pulling you onto his lap while he keeps you steady with his left, manhandling you until you’re sitting perched up oh so prettily on his broad lap.

Your lashes flitter briskly, bright doe-eyes flickering nervously as you drink in his features this up close and Soap is preening internally at the reaction you’re showing him, so surprised and almost innocent despite your occupation.

“Ye like sitting here with me, aye, sweetheart? Not too much for ye, innit?” He queries nicely, loud enough for the others, especially Price, to hear, while the corners of his eyes crinkle with giddiness.

You scan the room discreetly, vigilant eyes moving left and right, like prey looking out for predators, unsure if this might be some kind of test perhaps, to see if you’re a good omega, able to do what you’re supposed to. Looking back into Soap’s pretty eyes, you give a slow nod, “Yes and no, sir.”

“Aye… thought so.” Soap chuckles gruffly, pulling you closer against his buff chest, eager to have your warmth and scent seep through his clothes, mark his skin and calm his restless soul.

Gaz can’t take it anymore, can’t even continue pretending to be preoccupied with this stupid book in his hands. Not when you’re sitting on Soap’s lap like that, whispering and giggling with him like you’ve never done anything else before. It had already been hard enough, acting as if you weren’t there since you joined the team, when all Gaz wants to do is bury his face in your neck, nuzzle your soft skin, cuddle you close and have your soothing purrs reverberate against his chest.

He didn’t have a chance to hear them yet, but he’s sure you would make the cutest sounds and noises.

His jaw ticks when a whiff of your saccharine scent wafts over to him while he’s still seated on the shabby couch, just a few metres away from you. Perhaps, he could just snatch you right out of Soap’s hold–

The low rumble of Price’s chiding alpha growl makes Gaz bristle, eyes widening imperceptibly as he ducks his head slightly, because how did the old geezer even sense that he was becoming jealous… and possessive.

Suddenly, Soap calls out, “Oi, Garrick? Ye want a turn?”

Gaz perks up; closing the book at once, though he looks over at the Captain for guidance and permission, because he sure as hell won’t disobey a direct order like Soap did when the latter had asked for your comfort.

Meanwhile, Price’s annoyance is still simmering below the surface, vein throbbing rhythmically in his neck as he listens and watches how the Scottish Sergeant is acting with you, all gentle and playful, practically putty in your presence.

The room reeks less of agitation and discomfort now, their aggressive alpha pheromones now dulled and whitewashed by your strong, syrupy omega scent, melodic giggles and dainty demeanour, and Price has to admit, Soap does seem to be in higher spirits now.

So, he meets Gaz’ pleading eyes with a firm nod, and watches the younger alpha scramble to his feet, opening his arms invitingly, while Price keeps his distance, chewing on the glimmering cigar stump to ease his own restlessness.

“Hand her over, MacTavish,” Gaz huffs, long fingers wiggling in anticipation, “You wanna stay with me a bit, hm, sunshine? Aye, ‘course you do–” He coos at you, leaning in a little and getting a first real nose full of your intoxicating scent at this proximity. His pupils dilate at once, making Soap chuckle as he loosens his arms around you reluctantly.

You answer with equal eagerness, eyes twinkling happily as you slip into Gaz’ strong arms, chirping, “Yes, sure!”

You end up sandwiched between Soap and Gaz on the small couch, cooped up in two different pairs of strong, bulky arms while both young alphas gush over you, courting for your attention as they nuzzle, kiss and lick your neck, your hair, any patch of exposed skin they can reach. You don’t mind them scent marking you for the first time, don’t mind the way they’re getting excited as you feel their big bulges strain against the rough fabric of their combat trousers whenever you’re switched back and forth in their embraces.

Just once do you need to correct Soap’s behaviour by pinching the nape of his neck, when he bucks his hips up against your clothed core, rubbing his growing arousal against you briefly. But Gaz chides him, too, and that’s that before you continue coddling them as much as they do you.

Ghost is usually great at blending out his surroundings while simultaneously being hyper-aware of them, but you’re slowly and surely starting to get under his scarred, pale skin, carefully chipping away at his resolve with each tentative offer of your assistance to him and his packmates, always looking mighty eager to please and serve.

Fucking hell.

It's sickening, really, how your enticing omega scent seeps even through the barrier of black cloth covering his nose.

He’s never allowed himself to smell something so sweet, let alone be in close proximity with someone like you.

When Price had submitted the application for an emotional support omega for the 141 to the brass, Ghost had nearly lost it and, in a semblance of panic, threatened with both resignation and applying to transfer to another task force, anything that would put space between himself and any omega, not trusting himself to be around something precious and fragile like that.

And then you showed up one day, pretty as a peach, ripe as one, too, and Ghost reluctantly accepted your presence with a grumble, enforcing Price’s order not to get too close to you, though, that’s easier said than done, he’d learned fairly quickly.

Now, Ghost can barely keep himself from staring at the couch, where both Soap and Gaz are seemingly having the time of their lives – basking in the attention of their own little omega. He’s never seen the two alpha Sergeant’s act so bloody… corny.

And yet, the Lieutenant can’t help and wonder how it must feel like to hold you, to feel your weight on his lap and feel your hair tickle his nose when he leans in to–

“I know what I said about her,” Price clasps his heavy hand on Ghost’s shoulder, bringing him back to reality, “– but perhaps you shouldn’t keep restraining yourself like that, Simon,” The Captain mutters, “It ain’t healthy.”

“An’ what about you, sir?” Ghost counters, not looking up as he finishes up polishing his last knife for the third time.

Price huffs in amusement, fishing another cigar from one of his breast pockets.

“Don’t ya worry about me, lad.”

When Soap pulls back from your kiss-swollen lips at once, you whine softly, chasing after his pretty mouth, already utterly spoiled bit the little bit of attention you’d gotten from the young Sergeants, until the expression on his handsome face makes you pause and snap out of your contented daze.

“Ye ready for a turn, Lt.? Think ye can handle it?” Soap snickers while Gaz scoots to the other end of the couch, clearing his throat loudly, looking at anything but the behemoth of an alpha in his black combat uniform, now standing in front of the couch.

Your eyes go comically big as you tilt your head back against Soap’s broad shoulder to gaze up at the stoic Lieutenant; the cloth of his skull mask now tucked up to the bridge of his crooked nose, revealing dirty blonde stubble and several thick silvery scars along his exposed neck and the lower half of his face while his onyx eyes stare down at you with unmatched intensity.

“I dunno, Johnny,” Ghost gruffs out, tongue darting out to lick his chapped bottom lip, “Think yer pretty bird can handle me?”

[aceyalonso]

our little secret - DANIEL RICCIARDO

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary : y/n had never been one to take risks, especially those that could put any relationships on the line, but maybe daniel can convince her to take a risk while keeping it a secret, just this once (or twice)

warnings/notes : text written like this = flashback, swearing, drinking, 9 year age gap - reader is 25/26, smut, oral (both!receiving), hair pulling (?), fingering, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, thigh riding, praise kink, use of "sweetheart" and "pretty/good girl", implied unprotected sex (please use a condom guys!!!), gagging (in a sense?), finger sucking, begging, clothed sex, nipple play

word count : 9.4k

a/n : sorry if i havent been posting much, im really busy :,)

main masterlist | 1k masterlist | taglist form

2024 - Monday, 10:58 PM

Y/n walked into the dimly lit bar, the smell of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke filling her nostrils. She scanned the room, taking in the various patrons drowning their sorrows or celebrating the night away. As she made her way to the bar, her eyes landed on a familiar face - Daniel, her best friend's older brother.

It had been years since she last saw him, and a part of her couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the unexpected reunion. She approached him, a friendly smile on her face. "Daniel? Is that really you?"

He turned, his eyes widening in recognition. "Y/n! Wow, it's been ages. How have you been?" He pulled her into a warm hug, the scent of his cologne filling her senses.

She settled onto the barstool beside Daniel, signaling the bartender for a drink. "I've been good, just busy with work and life, you know how it goes. How about you? Still living in the area?"

He nodded, taking a swig of his beer. "Yep, never left. Business has been stable, bought a new house, the whole nine yards. It's been... quiet, I guess. Nothing too exciting." His eyes lingered on her face, taking in the changes time had brought.

As they caught up, the drinks flowed freely, and inhibitions began to lower. Y/n found herself leaning closer, drawn to Daniel's easy charm and the familiarity of his presence. They laughed and reminisced about old times, the alcohol loosening their tongues and emboldening their words.

Daniel's brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait, I thought you were coming into town on Thursday? My sister mentioned something about you staying over on Friday."

She blinked, momentarily taken aback by the realization. "Oh, right. I completely forgot about that. I decided to come a few days earlier, have some time to myself." She laughed, shaking her head. "I'll be in town for two weeks, actually. Just... don't want to make my presence known yet, I guess."

A mischievous glint entered Daniel's eye. "Well, since you're here now, why don't we make the most of it? We could grab dinner, catch up properly. It's been too long since we last hung out."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, the idea both thrilling and daunting. But the alcohol coursing through her veins bolstered her courage, and she found herself nodding in agreement. "Sure, why not? It'll be fun to reconnect."

Her inhibitions continued to fade. Y/n found herself laughing more easily, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with mirth. Daniel watched her, amused and intrigued by the change in her demeanor.

"You know," Y/n said, leaning in close and lowering her voice conspiratorially, "I had the biggest crush on you in my last year of high school."

Daniel's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I had no idea."

Y/n nodded, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Oh yeah. I used to fantasize about you all the time. You were so cool and mature, and I was just a silly little girl."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I'm flattered. I had no idea you felt that way."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter now. That was years ago, and we're both different people now."

Daniel leaned back, a curious expression on his face. "So why didn't you ever pursue it? I mean, if you had such a big crush on me."

Y/n let out a loud, drunken laugh, nearly spilling her drink in the process. "Come on, Daniel! It was a given rule - never go for your best friend's brother. That's like, the ultimate taboo."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "And yet, here we are. Both single, both adults. What's stopping us now?"

Y/n's eyes widened, a mix of shock and excitement coursing through her. She hadn't expected him to take it seriously, to actually consider the possibility. But there was something in his gaze, a heat that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I... I don't know," she stammered, her mind racing. "It just feels wrong, somehow. Like we're crossing a line."

Daniel leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. "Wow, okay. You certainly didn't seem to mind crossing lines when I caught you and my cousin making out at that barbecue a few years back."

Y/n's eyes widened in shock, her face flushing a deep crimson. "Oh my god, I can't believe you remembered that!" She buried her face in her hands, mortified.

He chuckled, reaching out to gently tilt her chin up. "Hey, no need to be embarrassed. We were all young and stupid at one point."

She met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. There was a new intensity in his eyes, a hunger that made her breath catch in her throat. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered.

Daniel's thumb brushed lightly over thumb, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. "How about we get out of here?" he suggested, his voice husky. "Go somewhere more private, where we can... talk more comfortably."

Y/n bit her lip, considering his suggestion. The alcohol had lowered her inhibitions, and the prospect of being alone with Daniel was both thrilling and terrifying. "Hm, why not?" she finally said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Your place?"

Daniel nodded, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Sounds perfect." He tossed some cash on the bar and took her hand, leading her out into the cool night air.

They stumbled slightly as they made their way to his car, giggling like teenagers. Daniel opened the passenger door for her, his hand lingering on the small of her back as she slid into the seat.

As Daniel slid into the driver's seat, Y/n couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat that was building in her core.

The drive to Daniel's place was long and winding, the streets deserted at this late hour. They passed by darkened houses and closed businesses, the only sound the low hum of the engine and their own breathing.

The cool night air rushed in through the open window, as Y/n felt a sudden burst of reckless energy. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned out the window, letting the wind whip through her hair.

Daniel glanced over at her, a swirl of amusement and shock on his face. “What are you doing? You’re going to fall out!”

She laughed, the sound carried away in the wind. “I won’t! I’m just having fun!” She pushed herself further out of the window, her upper body completely exposed to elements.

He shook his head, but couldn’t help but smile at her carefree antics. Daniel pressed down on the accelerator, the car speeding up as they flew down the empty streets.

Y/n's laughter echoed through the night as the wind whipped around her, her dress billowing and hiking up her thighs. She felt alive, exhilarated by the rush of speed and the freedom of the open road.

Daniel's eyes flicked over to her, taking in the sight of her exposed legs and the way her dress clung to her curves. He swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he tried to focus on the road ahead.

"You're crazy, you know that?" he called out over the roar of the wind and engine.

She just laughed harder, the sound filled with pure joy and reckless abandon. She felt invincible like nothing could touch her in this moment.

Y/n's laughter turned into a shout, her voice carried away in the wind. "I'm on top of the world!" she cried out, her arms spread wide as if embracing the night sky.

Daniel's mind flashed back to a night years ago, when he had picked up Y/n and his sister from a bar. Even then, Y/n had been reckless when she was drunk, always pushing boundaries and seeking out new thrills.

2015 - 1:36 AM

Daniel sat at his desk, hunched over his laptop as he worked late into the night. The glow of the screen illuminated his face, casting shadows across his features. Suddenly, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced at the screen and saw his sister's name flash across it.

He answered the call, putting it on speaker. "Hey, what's up?"

His sister's voice came through, slurred and giggly. "Dannyyyy, pick me and Y/n upppppp, we can't driveeee."

Daniel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Where are you?"

"The bar on Main Street. Pleeeease, I don't want to leave my car here overnight," she whined.

Daniel glanced at the clock, debating whether to go or not. But he knew he couldn't leave his sister stranded. "Fine, I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't go anywhere."

He hung up the phone and grabbed his keys, heading out into the night to rescue his drunken sister and her equally inebriated friend.

Not long after, Daniel pulled up to the bar, spotting his sister and Y/n stumbling out of the entrance. His sister was in tears, her mascara running down her face as she clung to Y/n for support.

"There you are!" she cried out as Daniel rolled down the window. "I'm so glad you're here."

Daniel sighed, getting out of the car to help them inside. "Come on, let's get you home."

As they climbed into the car, his sister immediately moved to the backseat. "I want to sit in the back," she insisted, her words slightly slurred.

Y/n, who was still giggling from the earlier excitement, plopped herself down in the front passenger seat. "I'll keep your brother company," she said with a wink, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Daniel shook his head, amused by their antics despite the late hour. He got back into the driver's seat and started the car, ready to take them home and tuck them into bed like the responsible adult he was.

His sister's head lolled back against the seat, as the car pulled away from the sidewalk, her eyes fluttering closed as she drifted off to sleep. In the front seat, Y/n turned to face him, a coy smile on her lips.

"Thanks for coming to get us," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "I don't know what we would have done without you."

Daniel glanced over at her, taking in the way her dress had ridden up her thighs and the way her hair was tousled from the wind. He felt a stirring of desire, but quickly pushed it aside. "It's no problem. I'm just glad you're both okay."

Y/n continued to make flirty comments and innuendos, as they drove, her words becoming more brazen with each passing mile. "You know, Daniel," she said, her hand resting on his thigh, "I've always thought you were so handsome. And now that I'm older, I can really appreciate it."

Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on the road ahead. "Y/n, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

She laughed, a throaty sound that sent shivers down his spine. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm saying. I'm saying that I want you, Daniel. I've always wanted you."

Y/n leaned in closer, her lips mere inches from his. "You want to kiss me, don't you?" she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.

Daniel's heart pounded in his chest, his resolve weakening by the second. He leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed as he prepared to capture her lips with his own.

But just as he was about to make contact, Y/n pulled away, a wicked grin on her face. "Not tonight," she giggled, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of the car.

Y/n stumbled slightly as she stepped out of the car, but Daniel was there to catch her, his strong hands gripping her waist. She leaned into him for a moment, savoring the warmth of his touch.

"Do you have any wine?" she asked, her words slightly slurred.

Daniel nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I've got some. Do you want some?"

Y/n nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yes, please. I need something to take the edge off."

Daniel led her inside, his hand resting on the small of her back. The house was dark and quiet, the only sound their footsteps on the hardwood floor.

He guided her into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of red wine. "This okay?" he asked, holding it up for her to see.

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the bottle. "Perfect."

Daniel grabbed two glasses and poured them each a generous serving. He handed one to Y/n, their fingers brushing as she took it from him.

Y/n took a few sips of the wine, savoring the rich, velvety texture on her tongue. "Mmm, that's some good red wine," she purred, her eyes half-lidded as she looked up at Daniel.

He smiled, taking a sip of his own drink. "Thank you. It was a gift from a friend of mine."

Y/n nodded, her gaze roaming over his face, taking in the strong lines of his jaw and the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light. "You have good taste," she said, her voice low and husky.

"Do you want to sit in the living room?" Daniel asked, his voice low and smooth.

She nodded, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Sure, lead the way."

He took her hand, intertwining their fingers as he led her out of the kitchen and into the living room. The space was cozy and inviting, with plush couches and soft lighting.

Daniel gestured for her to sit, and she sank down onto the couch, crossing her legs and leaning back against the cushions. He sat down beside her, close enough that their thighs were almost touching.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his eyes roaming over her face.

Y/n smiled, taking another sip of her wine. "Very. This is nice."

Daniel smiled, his hand resting on the arm of the couch, just inches from her own. "I'm glad you think so."

She took another sip of her wine, trying to ease the tension that had settled in her chest. She started making small talk, asking Daniel about his job and his life in the years since they had last seen each other.

Daniel listened intently, laughing at her jokes and responding with his own anecdotes. "You don't need to feel awkward," he said, his hand coming to rest on her knee. "We're just two old friends catching up."

Y/n nodded, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this than just a friendly reunion. The way Daniel was looking at her, the way his hand felt on her skin... it was all so intense, so charged with possibility.

She took another sip of her wine, trying to calm her racing heart. "I'm glad we ran into each other tonight," she said, her voice soft. "It's been too long."

Daniel nodded, his eyes softening at her words. "I didn't realize I missed seeing you until now, honestly."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the air between them crackling with tension. Y/n's heart was pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Unable to resist any longer, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss. She set her wine glass down on the coffee table, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair as she deepened the kiss.

Daniel responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer. He kissed her back with a hunger that took her breath away, his tongue delving into her mouth to tangle with her own.

Y/n moaned softly, pressing herself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against her soft curves. She had never wanted anything so badly in her life.

Daniel pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "God, if I had known you were such a good kisser, I would have stopped you from leaving the car to kiss you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

Y/n blinked, confusion crossing her face. "What are you talking about?"

Daniel chuckled, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Remember that night I picked you and my sister up from the bar? You were being all flirty and reckless, and I was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of you."

Her eyes widened as the memory came flooding back. "Holy shit, that wasn't a dream?" she exclaimed, her face flushing a deep crimson.

Y/n buried her face in Daniel's neck, mortified by the memory. "That just turned me off so bad," she mumbled, her words muffled against his skin. "That was so cringe, Danny."

Daniel laughed, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek. "I know, I know. I looked like such a nerd back then."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his. "But you were still hot," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Even if you were a little too noble for your own good."

Daniel laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Can we just stay like this instead? I mean, we don't need to have sex."

Y/n grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sure, we can have sex in the morning," she said, her voice teasing.

"Mhm," Daniel agreed, pulling her down to lay on the couch with him.

Y/n started giggling uncontrollably, her body shaking with laughter. "Oh my god, can you imagine? Waking up and being like, 'Hey, remember that thing we said about having sex this morning? Let's do it!'"

Daniel chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "I think we'd be too hungover to actually follow through."

Y/n snorted, burying her face in his chest. "Probably. But it's a funny thought."

They lay there for a while, just holding each other and enjoying the closeness. The wine and the late hour made everything feel soft and hazy, like they were suspended in a bubble of their own making.

2024 - Tuesday, 9:21 AM

Y/n slowly blinked open her eyes, her head pounding and her mouth feeling like cotton. She groaned softly, her body slightly sore from the awkward way they had slept on the couch.

Daniel stirred beside her, his arm tightening around her waist as he mumbled something incoherent. Y/n smiled, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his scent.

"Morning," she whispered, her voice hoarse from sleep.

Daniel's eyes fluttered open, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Morning," he replied, his voice equally rough. "How are you feeling?"

Y/n stretched, wincing slightly as her muscles protested. "Like I got hit by a truck," she admitted. "But in a good way."

Daniel laughed, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I'm glad you're here," he said, his eyes soft and warm. "Even if we are both feeling like death."

She leaned into his touch, her heart fluttering in her chest. "Me too," she murmured. "Me too."

He sat up, stretching his arms above his head. "Do you want breakfast?" Daniel asked, his stomach grumbling loudly.

Y/n nodded, her own stomach rumbling in response. "Yeah, that sounds amazing."

"Okay," Daniel said, standing up and offering her a hand. "You can take a bath in my bedroom if you want. There's a shirt in the top drawer of my dresser that you can wear. I bet that dress wasn't very comfortable to sleep in."

Y/n took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "Thanks," she said, smiling up at him. "You're too good to me."

Daniel chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Go on, I'll start on breakfast."

She nodded and made her way up the stairs, grabbing a shirt from his dresser and heading to the bathroom. She stripped off her dress and climbed into the shower, sighing in relief as the hot water soothed her aching muscles.

As the hot water cascaded over her body, Y/n found herself staring at the various bottles of soap and shampoo lined up on the shower shelf. Her mind drifted back to the events of the previous night, replaying the moment when she had kissed Daniel over and over again.

She couldn't believe she had been so bold, so reckless. But in that moment, it had felt so right, so inevitable. The way his lips had moved against hers, the way his hands had felt on her skin... it was intoxicating.

Y/n bit her lip, a shiver running through her as she remembered the heat of his body pressed against hers. She had wanted him so badly, had ached for his touch. And now, here she was, in his bathroom, wearing his shirt.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She couldn't let herself get carried away, couldn't let her feelings for Daniel cloud her judgment. They were just two old friends, catching up after years apart. Nothing more, nothing less.

Y/n stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself as she padded into the bedroom. She pulled on Daniel's shirt, the fabric soft and worn from years of use. It was a bit big on her, hanging loosely off her shoulders and brushing the tops of her thighs.

She rummaged through his dresser, looking for something to wear underneath. Her eyes landed on a pair of boxer shorts, and she grinned to herself. "Hey Danny," she imagined herself saying, "I took some boxer shorts from your dresser because I'm pretty sure it's not okay to be wearing only panties in your best friend's older brother's house."

Y/n pulled on the boxers, the waistband sitting low on her hips. She looked at herself in the mirror, a mischievous glint in her eye. She couldn't wait to see the look on Daniel's face when he saw her.

Y/n made her way downstairs, her bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floors. She could hear the sound of the coffee machine gurgling in the kitchen, and the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air.

She crept up behind Daniel, who was leaning against the counter, his eyes half-closed as he waited for the coffee to finish. Y/n couldn't resist the urge to tease him, and before he could react, she reached out and tickled his armpits.

Daniel yelped, jumping up and spinning around. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise.

Y/n dissolved into giggles, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself," she said, still laughing. "You looked so zoned out, I thought I'd wake you up."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're lucky I didn't drop the coffee pot," he said, his voice gruff.

She giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope you don't mind," she said, "I borrowed your boxers. I didn't think it was appropriate to be wearing lace panties around my best friend's brother."

Daniel lifted the hem of his shirt slightly, his eyes roaming over the waistband of the boxers peeking out. "Ehh, I think I'd prefer seeing the lace over my boxers," he said, his voice low and teasing.

Y/n rolled her eyes, playfully swatting at his arm. "You're such a perv," she said, but there was no real heat behind her words.

Daniel just grinned, pouring two cups of coffee and handing one to her. "Breakfast is almost ready," he said, gesturing to the stove where a pan of scrambled eggs and bacon sizzled.

She hopped up onto the kitchen counter, her feet dangling off the edge as she watched Daniel finish cooking. The scent of bacon and eggs filled the air, making her stomach growl.

"Ooh, okay," she said, eyeing the plate of food hungrily.

Daniel set the plate down in the center of the island, then turned to face her. He stepped between her legs, his hands coming to rest on her thighs.

"I meant what I said, by the way," he murmured, his eyes locked on hers. "I'd prefer seeing you in lace panties."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his closeness. "Is that so?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel's lips found the sensitive skin of Y/n's neck, his kisses sending shivers down her spine. "Yeah," he murmured against her skin, his hands tugging at the waistband of the boxers. "So can I take these off, sweetheart?"

Y/n's head fell back, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the feeling of his lips on her neck. "Please," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel's fingers hooked into the waistband of the boxers, slowly pulling them down her legs. Y/n lifted her hips, allowing him to slide them off completely.

"There," he said, his voice husky. "Much better."

Y/n opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. She could see the desire burning in their depths, and it made her heart race. "Daniel," she whispered, her hand coming up to cup his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving hers. "Y/n," he breathed, his lips brushing against hers.

Y/n's breath hitched as Daniel's fingers played with her through the lace of her panties. "Please," she whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. "I need you."

Daniel smiled, his eyes dark with desire. "Look at you, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers pushing the lace aside to reveal her wetness. "So wet for me. You'd think I already fucked you."

Y/n moaned, her head falling back as he teased her sensitive flesh. But just as she was getting lost in the sensation, Daniel stopped, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties.

"Off," he commanded, pulling them down her legs and tossing them carelessly onto the floor.

Y/n whimpered at the loss of his touch, but her need was quickly replaced by pleasure as Daniel's tongue licked a hot stripe along her slit. His nose brushed against her clit, and she cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet for me, sweetheart," Daniel murmured, his words vibrating against her sensitive flesh. "I could have you like this all day."

He buried his face between her thighs, his tongue delving deep into her heat as he lapped at her juices. Y/n's back arched off the counter, her fingers gripping the edge tightly as he worked her over with his mouth.

Every so often, he would pull back just enough to make eye contact with her, his gaze smoldering as his nose brushed against her clit. Y/n's breath hitched, her hips bucking against his face as he teased her mercilessly.

"Danny," she gasped, her voice high and breathy. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Daniel just grinned, his eyes dark with lust as he dove back in, determined to make her come undone.

Y/n's body shook and trembled as her orgasm ripped through her, her legs going limp as the intense pleasure overwhelmed her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, her voice ragged and breathless.

Daniel held her legs up, his strong hands keeping her steady as he continued to lap at her sensitive flesh, prolonging her pleasure. He could feel her inner walls fluttering around his fingers, and it made his cock twitch in his pants.

Slowly, he eased her down from her high, his tongue gentling as he licked up every last drop of her release. Y/n collapsed back against the counter, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

Daniel stood up, his lips glistening with her juices. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a deep, filthy kiss. Y/n could taste herself on his tongue, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through her.

Y/n moaned into the kiss, her body still thrumming with need. "I want more," she breathed, her hands fisting in his shirt.

Daniel laughed, a low, sexy sound. "Really? So needy," he teased, his fingers trailing down her side. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart."

"I want to cum again," Y/n said, her voice trembling with desperation. "I don't care how, I just want to do it again."

Chuckling, Daniel took her hand and led her to the living room. He sat down on the couch, spreading his legs wide. "Suck my cock and I'll let you cum, okay?" he said, his voice rough with desire.

Y/n nodded eagerly, dropping to her knees between his legs. She reached for his belt, her fingers fumbling with the buckle in her haste to get to him.

Daniel laughed, his head falling back against the couch as Y/n's soft lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. She placed a gentle kiss there, her tongue darting out to lick a slow, teasing strip along the side.

"Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Y/n hummed in response, her hand still stroking his length as she licked and kissed her way down to his balls. She took one into her mouth, sucking gently as her tongue swirled around it.

Daniel's hips twitched, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Y/n," he warned, his voice strained. "If you keep that up, I'm gonna cum."

She just smiled around his ball, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she released it with a soft pop. "Would that be so bad?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"A bit," Daniel admitted, his voice strained as Y/n continued to tease the tip of his cock with her tongue. "It makes me seem like a teenager fucking for the first time."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent as she batted her lashes. "Fuck like that, sweetheart," she purred, her hand stroking his shaft in time with her tongue.

Daniel groaned, his hips bucking up into her touch. He took a fistful of her hair, gently gathering it into a makeshift ponytail. "I need to see my pretty girl while she sucks my cock," he said, his voice rough with desire.

Y/n smiled, her lips parting as she took him into her mouth, inch by inch. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down his length.

Y/n kept sucking him, her head bobbing up and down his length as she took him deeper into her mouth with each pass. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive head, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked from the tip.

Daniel's grip on her hair tightened, his hips thrusting up to meet her mouth. "Fuck, just like that," he groaned, his eyes locked on the erotic sight of her lips stretched around his cock.

Y/n moaned around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. She could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release.

"Y/n, I'm gonna cum," Daniel warned, his voice strained. "If you don't want it in your mouth, you better pull off."

But Y/n just doubled her efforts, sucking harder and faster, determined to make him fall apart.

Daniel's hips jerked as he came, his cock pulsing in Y/n's mouth as he filled it with his release. She moaned around him, the vibrations prolonging his orgasm as he emptied himself down her throat.

Her mouth was full of his cum, and she had a bit of a hard time swallowing it all. But she was determined to take every last drop, her throat working as she gulped it down.

"Such a good girl," Daniel praised, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Sit on my thigh, you deserve to cum."

Y/n climbed up onto the couch, straddling his thigh as she faced him. She could feel his spent cock twitching against her skin, and it made her even wetter.

"How do you want me to cum, Danny?" she asked, her voice breathy with need. "Tell me what to do."

"Hump my thigh, sweetheart," Daniel instructed, his hand coming up to cup her breast through his shirt. "I'll take care of you."

Y/n nodded, grinding her hips against his muscular thigh. She gasped as his fingers found her nipple, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud through the fabric.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his other hand sliding down to rub her through her soaked panties. "Get yourself off for me."

She whimpered, her hips moving faster as she chased her pleasure. She could feel his cock hardening again against her thigh, and it only spurred her on.

"Danny," she moaned, her head falling back as she rode his thigh. "Feels so good."

Y/n's humping became more desperate, her hips grinding frantically against Daniel's thigh as she chased her release. Whimpers and needy little moans spilled from her lips, her fingers digging into his shoulders for support.

The wetness of her cunt began to seep, leaving a damp spot on his pants as she rode him. Daniel's hand rubbed her faster through the drenched fabric, his fingers pressing against her clit.

"You're doing so well, baby," he praised, his voice low and encouraging. "Keep going for me. Cum when you want to."

Y/n's breath came in short, sharp gasps, her body tensing as she neared the edge. "Danny," she whimpered, her hips stuttering. "I'm gonna cum."

"Do it," he growled, his fingers pushing her panties aside to stroke her directly. "Cum for me, Y/n."

Y/n's body seized up as her orgasm crashed over her, her inner walls clenching and fluttering around nothing. She cried out, her hands wrapping around Daniel's neck as she rode out the intense waves of pleasure.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Daniel's strong arms held her close, one hand stroking her hair gently as the other rubbed soothing circles on her lower back.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, pressing soft kisses to her temple. "You did so good. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n nuzzled into his neck, basking in the afterglow. "Mmm, Danny," she sighed, her voice content and sated. "That was amazing."

Daniel chuckled, his fingers trailing down Y/n's spine. "Really, sweetheart?" he teased, his voice low and husky. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

Y/n lifted her head, her eyes wide with feigned annoyance. "Oh god," she groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. "You're insatiable."

But there was no real heat behind her words, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She could feel his cock hardening against her thigh once again, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through her.

Y/n lay curled up beside Daniel, her head resting on his chest as she traced lazy patterns on his skin. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets.

"We did it," she murmured, her voice soft and sleepy. "We actually followed through on our little bet."

Daniel chuckled, his fingers carding through her hair. "We sure did," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And I'd say it was a success."

Y/n giggled, her body still tingling from their marathon "Mmm, I'd say so," she purred, nuzzling closer to him. "You wore me out, Danny."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he teased, his arm tightening around her waist. "Though I think we both could use a nap after that."

Y/n yawned, her eyes drifting closed. "Definitely," she mumbled, her breathing already evening out as she slipped into a contented slumber, safe and warm in Daniel's embrace.

Just as Y/n was about to drift off to sleep, Daniel's phone chimed with an incoming call. He glanced at the screen and smirked, seeing his sister's name.

"Hey sis," he answered, putting the call on speaker. "What's up?"

"Hey Dan," his sister replied, her voice chipper. "So I'm buying something for Y/n right now - you know, as a welcome back gift. But I can't decide between a necklace or a lipstick. Any thoughts?"

Y/n's eyes flew open at the mention of her name. She leaned in close to Daniel, whispering in his ear. "I'd prefer a necklace."

Daniel grinned, his hand sliding down to rest on Y/n's hip. "I think a necklace would be a good idea," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "Y/n loves jewelry."

His sister laughed. "Okay, necklace it is then. Thanks for the help, Dan."

"No problem," Daniel said, chuckling. "Now please end the call, I wanna go back to bed."

"Oh, of course!" his sister replied, oblivious to Y/n's presence. "Thanks for the help, Dan. Talk to you later!"

"Later, sis," Daniel said, ending the call. He turned to Y/n with a mischievous grin. "Where were we?"

Y/n laughed, playfully swatting at his chest. "Danny, no," she giggled. "Let me sleep."

Daniel pouted, but he didn't push it. Instead, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her hair. "Fine, fine," he murmured. "But I'm not letting you go just yet."

Y/n sighed contentedly, snuggling into his embrace as she drifted off to sleep, safe and warm in Daniel's arms.

The next few days passed in a blur of passion and excitement for Y/n and Daniel. They spent every waking moment together, their bodies entwined as they explored each other in every way possible. The sex was endless, the feeling of happiness and adrenaline coursing through their veins as they pushed the boundaries of what they could get away with.

One particularly memorable moment came when they were in the middle of a heated session on Daniel's bed, Y/n's moans echoing off the walls, when suddenly there was a loud knock at the front door.

"Daniel? Are you home?" his sister's voice called out. "I need help with my car!"

Y/n's eyes widened in panic, her heart racing as she scrambled to gather her clothes. "Shit, shit, shit," she hissed, frantically trying to pull her panties up her legs.

Daniel quickly grabbed a shirt and threw it on, his eyes darting around the room for a place to hide Y/n. "Closet," he mouthed, pointing to the large walk-in closet. "Now!"

After a few minutes of frantic whispering and hurried explanations, Daniel managed to convince his sister that he knew just what was wrong with her car. He promised to come down and take a look, buying them some time.

As soon as he heard the front door close, Daniel rushed back up the stairs and into his bedroom. He flung open the closet door, finding Y/n curled up on the floor, giggling uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry about that," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I had no idea she was going to show up."

Y/n just laughed, shaking her head. "It's okay," she said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "That was actually kind of exciting."

Y/n and Daniel collapsed onto the bed, their laughter echoing off the walls as they clung to each other. The adrenaline of almost getting caught mixed with the sheer joy of their connection, leaving them breathless and giddy.

As their laughter began to subside, Daniel's eyes darkened with desire. He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/n. "You know," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "I never did get to finish what I started."

Y/n's breath hitched, her body already responding to the heat in his gaze. "Oh?" she asked, her voice breathy. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

Daniel grinned, his hand sliding down her side to rest on her hip. "I think you know," he purred, leaning in close. "I'm going to make you scream my name until you forget all about my sister's unexpected visit."

Y/n shivered, her legs falling open in invitation. "Then what are you waiting for?" she challenged, her eyes glinting with mischief.

2024 - Friday, 3:26 PM

Y/n stood on the doorstep of Daniel's family home, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. She had been looking forward to this weekend for weeks, but now that the moment was here, she couldn't help but feel a little anxious.

She raised her hand and knocked on the door, smoothing down her dress nervously as she waited. After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Daniel's sister with a bright smile.

"Y/n!" she exclaimed, pulling her into a warm hug. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

Y/n returned the hug, feeling some of her nerves melt away. "Thank you so much for having me," she said, stepping inside. "I'm really excited to spend some time with all of you."

Daniel's sister led her into the living room, where the rest of the family was gathered. Y/n's eyes immediately sought out Daniel, who was sitting on the couch with his parents. He caught her gaze and winked, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Daniel's sister turned to Y/n, her brow furrowed with concern. "Sorry for not being able to pick you up," she said, apologetic. "My car was acting weird, and I didn't want to risk breaking down on the way."

Y/n glanced at Daniel, pretending not to know anything about the car trouble. She offered his sister a reassuring smile. "It's alright," she said, her voice warm and sincere. "I completely understand. I'm just happy to be here with all of you."

Daniel's sister relaxed, her smile returning. "Thanks, Y/n," she said, giving her a quick hug. "I'm glad you're here. It's been too long since we've all gotten together like this."

Y/n nodded, her eyes drifting back to Daniel. He was watching her intently, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity of his gaze.

Y/n made her way around the room, greeting Daniel's parents and other family members with warm hugs and friendly smiles. She chatted with them briefly, asking about their week and catching up on any news.

When she finally made her way to Daniel, she acted as if they were just casual acquaintances, rather than the lovers who had spent the past few days tangled in each other's arms.

"Hi Daniel," she said, offering him a polite smile. "It's good to see you."

Daniel's eyes sparkled with mischief as he stood up to greet her. "Y/n," he said, his voice low and warm. "I'm so glad you could make it."

He leaned in to hug her, his body pressing close for just a moment longer than was necessary. Y/n suppressed a shiver, remembering the feel of his skin against hers.

As they pulled apart, Daniel's mother called out from across the room. "Daniel, dear, could you help your father bring in the food from the grill? Y/n, why don't you come sit with me and catch up?"

"I'll be staying her for a couple of weeks, unless something happens at work," Y/n jokes. The older woman could only laugh, understanding how work can ruin a vacation.

Daniel's mother nodded, her eyes twinkling with approval. "That's wonderful," she said. "We're so glad you'll be here for a while. It's always a pleasure to have you around."

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "And who knows? Maybe you'll even find a nice young man to settle down with while you're here."

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up at the implication, her mind immediately flashing to her secret trysts with Daniel. "Oh, I don't know about that," she said, trying to keep her voice light and casual. "I'm not really looking for anything serious right now."

Daniel's mother waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense," she said. "You're young and beautiful, you should be out there enjoying life and meeting new people."

Y/n just smiled and nodded, not wanting to reveal the truth about her relationship with Daniel. She knew it would only complicate things, and she wasn't ready to deal with the potential fallout.

Y/n and Daniel's sister were down in the basement, the sound of the pool balls clicking and clacking filling the air. They had been catching up for hours, laughing and reminiscing about old times.

"Remember that time we snuck out to go to that concert?" Daniel's sister asked, lining up her shot. "Your parents were so mad when they found out."

Y/n giggled, taking her own shot and sinking the 8-ball. "They grounded me for a month," she said, grinning. "But it was totally worth it. That show was amazing."

His sister nodded, racking up the balls for another game. "Those were the days," she said, a wistful smile on her face. "I miss being young and carefree like that."

Daniel's sister suddenly snapped her fingers, a light bulb going off in her head. "Oh! I almost forgot," she said, rummaging through her purse. "I have a gift for you."

She pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped box and handed it to Y/n. "Here," she said, grinning. "Consider it a welcome home present."

Y/n's eyes widened as she took the box from Daniel's sister, her mind racing with the memory of that phone call. She had completely forgotten about the conversation between Daniel and his sister, and the fact that she had chosen the necklace without even realizing it.

"Oh wow," she said, carefully opening the box. Inside was a beautiful gold necklace with a delicate pendant in the shape of a butterfly. "It's gorgeous," she breathed, running her fingers over the cool metal.

Daniel's sister beamed, clearly pleased with Y/n's reaction. "I'm so glad you like it," she said. "Daniel said you'd prefer this over lipstick, so I thought it was the perfect choice."

Y/n carefully removed the necklace from the box, her fingers trembling slightly as she fastened the clasp at the back of her neck. The cool metal felt smooth against her skin.

"Thank you so much," she said, turning to face Daniel's sister with a bright smile. "It's absolutely beautiful. I love it."

Daniel's sister grinned, clearly pleased with Y/n's reaction. "I'm so glad you like it," she said, giving Y/n a quick hug. "And I have to say, it looks perfect on you."

Y/n's hand instinctively went to the pendant, her fingers tracing the delicate wings of the butterfly.

Daniel's sister yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "I think I'm going to head up to bed," she said, gathering her things. "It's been a long day."

Y/n nodded, understanding. "Of course, I'll be up in a bit," she said. "I just want to finish this game first."

Daniel's sister smiled, giving Y/n a quick hug before heading up the stairs. As soon as she was gone, Y/n turned back to the pool table, lining up her shot.

She had always been a bit competitive, and she couldn't resist the challenge of sinking all the remaining balls. She took her time, focusing on each shot, the click of the balls, and the thwack of the cue against the felt the only sounds in the basement.

As Y/n lined up her shot, ready to sink the last of the three remaining balls, she heard a clap from the top of the stairs. She turned to see Daniel standing there, a smile on his face.

"Impressive," he said, his voice low and appreciative. "I didn't know you were so good at pool."

She grinned, setting her cue down on the table. "I've been practicing," she said, walking towards him. "But I think you already knew that, didn't you?"

Daniel's eyes darkened as she approached, his gaze trailing over her body. "I knew you were good at a lot of things," he murmured, his voice husky.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her body responding to the heat in his gaze. She stopped just in front of him, looking up at him through her lashes. "Is that so?" she asked, her voice breathy.

Daniel closed the distance between them, his hands sliding around her waist as he lifted her up onto the pool table. Y/n gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he stepped between them.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing kiss. "I think you know exactly what I mean," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

Y/n's hands slid up his chest, tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. "Show me," she whispered, her lips hovering just inches from his.

Daniel groaned, his mouth crashing against hers in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed over her body, slipping under her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her back.

Y/n moaned into the kiss, her hips grinding against his. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, and it sent a shiver of desire coursing through her.

"Daniel," she gasped, breaking the kiss to look up at him. "We can't... not here..."

His hands slid down to cup Y/n's face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. "Shh," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "It's okay. Everyone's asleep. We can..."

He trailed off, his gaze dropping to her lips. "Fuck, you're so pretty," he breathed, his eyes dark with desire.

Y/n's heart raced, her body aching with need. She knew they shouldn't be doing this, not here, not with his family just upstairs. But the way Daniel was looking at her, the way his hands felt on her skin... she couldn't resist.

"Daniel," she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation. "Please..."

Daniel's eyes blazed with desire as he looked down at Y/n, his hands still cupping her face. "Please what, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "What do you want?"

Y/n's breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as she gazed up at him. "I want you," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. "I want you to touch me, to kiss me, to make me yours."

Daniel groaned, his head dipping to nuzzle into her neck. "Fuck, Y/n," he breathed, his lips brushing against her skin. "You have no idea how badly I want that too."

His hands slid down her body, slipping under her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her stomach. Y/n shivered, her hips arching up to press against him.

"Please, Daniel," she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair. "I need you."

His lips crashed against Y/n's in a passionate kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to tangle with hers. Y/n moaned, her fingers tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

As they kissed, their hands roamed over each other's bodies, exploring and teasing. Y/n's fingers slipped under the waistband of Daniel's shorts, her nails raking over the sensitive skin of his lower back.

"I need you so bad," she gasped, breaking the kiss to look up at him with hooded eyes. "Please, Daniel, I can't wait anymore."

Daniel chuckled, his fingers tangling in her hair. "Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Now suck."

He brought his fingers to her lips, his meaning clear. Y/n's eyes widened, but she didn't hesitate. She parted her lips, taking his fingers into her mouth and sucking them deep.

After a moment, Daniel pulled his fingers from Y/n's mouth, a low groan escaping his lips at the sensation. "Let go," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Y/n released his fingers, her eyes dark and needy as she watched him. Daniel's free hand moved to her shorts, his fingers deftly pushing the fabric and her panties to the side.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he breathed, his fingers brushing against her slick folds. Y/n gasped, her hips bucking up to meet his touch.

Slowly, Daniel pushed his spit-covered fingers into her tight heat, his thumb circling her clit as he did. Y/n cried out, her head falling back against the pool table as pleasure coursed through her.

Daniel's fingers pumped in and out of Y/n's wet heat, his thumb circling her clit in tight, teasing circles. "That feels good, doesn't it?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Just like all the times I've fucked you this week. On the couch, on the kitchen counter, in the bathtub…"

Y/n moaned, her hips rocking against his hand. "Yes," she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "God, yes. It feels so good."

Daniel grinned, his eyes dark with lust. "I love seeing you like this," he growled, his fingers curling inside her, hitting that spot that made her see stars. "I love knowing that I'm the only one who can make you feel this way."

Y/n's breath came in short, sharp gasps, her body tensing as she neared the edge. "Daniel," she whimpered, her nails raking down his back. "Please, I need more."

Y/n whined in protest as Daniel suddenly pulled his fingers from her sopping cunt, leaving her empty and aching for more. But her whine quickly turned into a gasp as she felt the head of his cock pressing against her sensitive clit.

"Daniel," she breathed, her hips bucking up to meet his touch. "Please, I need you inside me."

Daniel chuckled, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at her. "Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "I'm going to take my time with you."

He rocked his hips, the tip of his cock sliding through her wet folds, teasing her entrance but not quite pushing inside. Y/n moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," Daniel groaned, his hips circling, spreading her arousal around her clit. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He finally pushed forward, his thick cock sliding into Y/n's tight heat in one smooth stroke. Y/n's mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure, her eyes rolling back as he filled her completely.

Daniel covered her mouth with his hand, his fingers pressing against her lips. "Shh," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "We can't have anyone hearing you, can we?"

Y/n shook her head, her lips brushing against his fingers as she nodded. She bit down on his hand, muffling her moans as Daniel began to move, his hips rocking against hers in a steady rhythm.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his free hand gripping her hip tightly. "So tight and wet and perfect."

Y/n's nails raked down his back, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts. The pool table creaked beneath them, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the basement.

Y/n rocked her hips against Daniel's, her clit rubbing against his pelvis with each thrust. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body.

"Oh god, Daniel," she gasped, her voice muffled against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Daniel's grip on her hip tightened, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his hips snapping against hers. "You're so fucking tight. I'm not going to last much longer."

Y/n could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing as she neared the edge. "Me neither," she whimpered, her nails digging into his back. "I'm so close, Daniel. Please, make me cum."

Daniel's hand slid from her mouth to her breast, his fingers pinching and rolling her nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt. "Cum for me, Y/n," he growled, his hips pounding into her. "Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are."

Daniel's thrusts became erratic, his body tensing as he neared his own release. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his hips slamming into hers. "I'm going to cum."

Y/n's orgasm hit her like a freight train, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. "Daniel!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the basement.

Daniel thrust deep one last time, his cock pulsing as he spilled his seed inside her. He rocked his hips, pushing his cum deeper, his fingers digging into her hips.

Y/n's walls fluttered around him, milking him for every last drop. She could feel his hot cum filling her, the sensation prolonging her own orgasm.

As Daniel's orgasm subsided, he began to pull out of Y/n, his softening cock slipping from her sensitive heat. But before he could fully withdraw, a voice rang out from the top of the stairs. "What the actual fuck?"

Daniel and Y/n both froze, their eyes widening as they looked up to see Daniel's sister standing at the bottom of the stairs, her mouth hanging open in shock.

taglist:

@nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

@lilorose25 @anamiad00msday @carlossainzapologist @widow-cevans

[humanpurposes]

Nightblooms

It was a single night, such a trivial moment, two children sharing lemon cakes in a brothel, but she has not forgotten it. He will not recognise her, surely? // Main Masterlist

Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, sex work, unresolved childhood trauma, implied underage and non-con (not explicitly depicted), mentions of war, violence and death

Words: 9.7k (she's a bit of a monster)

A/n: my humble offering of another Aemond brothel fic. I hope you like :) You can also read this on AO3 if you feel so inclined.

He remembers the bed, the thin curtain draped around it, the slight breeze that drifted in on the night air and made it flutter. The throw was richly decorated, red, black and brown, and he picked at the thin threads of embroidery with his fingertips until his skin was red and white. 

The heat in the room was unbearable, the stench of wine, incense, his own sweat clinging to his bare skin. He was weary to breathe the air in, to tarnish himself any further than had already been done. 

He flinched as the door opened. The madam was back, now wearing a gown and all her gold jewellery. A silhouette stood behind her, he couldn’t see them properly, concealed in shadows. 

“You are shivering, my Prince,” she said. 

He could feel it, his knees brought up to his chest and his arms clinging around his legs. His clothes were neatly folded in a corner, his eyepatch atop the pile, he just hadn’t managed to reach for them yet.

“Have some wine if you like,” the madam said. 

The silhouette stepped into the flickering candlelight. In years to come her face would fade from his memory, but she was young, perhaps as young as him. She was dressed like the other whores, in a loose gown of blue silk that exposed glimpses of her skin, her shoulder, her thigh through a slit in the skirt. She held a pitcher of wine and a cup in her hands.

“She is undertaking her own education,” the madam said, noting how long Aemond’s eye had lingered on the girl. “She’ll help you bathe and dress.”

He made no sound of protest. The madam took the pitcher. He could smell the sour scent of the wine as she poured it. Already a few cups deep, the numbness of alcohol was starting to wear off and a pulsing pain was blooming in the back of his head. The madam placed the cup on a table and then she left.

The girl took a single step towards the bed. She lifted her arm, holding out her hand to him, as if he were some street dog to be tamed.

He scowled. His left eyelids were sewn shut back then, his wound mostly healed after three years, but still hideous enough that people would stare in shock at the sight of him, the ailing King’s maimed son. The Lords and Ladies of the Red Keep averted their eyes when they saw him. His mother looked at him with tears in her eyes. His father… the last time his father must have looked him in the eye was on Driftmark.

But this girl looked at him unabashedly.

If he had his wits about him he might have scorned her. Smallfolk like her should know their place, they should revere their Princes. He shouldn’t inspire pity, he should inspire fear and awe.

His stomach was turning. Anger coursed through his blood. His eyes were hot and stinging but he would not allow any tears to fall. And he was restless. It was all familiar to him, the frustration, the humiliation. He couldn’t bear to sit on the bed anymore, cowering like a child.

“I have a bath drawn,” the girl said. 

He had heard her, but he could not find the will to move, not for a few moments at least, moments which felt like hours.

“I have some cake as well. I find it helps me regain my strength… afterwards.”

He felt his head nod.

“It’s lemon, do you like lemon cake?”

“Yes,” he muttered into his knees.

He watched her fetch a robe from the back of a settee by the fireplace, draping it over her arm. “We only have to go to the next room, not far at all.”

He blinked as he looked at her. He felt the dampness on his cheeks, the stinging cold left in the trail of his tears as another breeze swept into the room. 

All the faces around him this night were unnerving. Aegon had been far too delighted with his so-called “gift”. He’d entered Aemond’s chambers with a snarling smile before he’d gripped him by his shoulders and dragged him through the stairways used by servants to stay out of sight. “You are a man now, Aemond. Time to get it wet.”

The madam had a calm gaze, soft lips and small eyes which considered him intently once she had taken the purse of coins from Aegon. The scent of her perfume was sharp and he could still smell it in his nostrils. His stomach lurched again. 

“Come,” the girl said.

Hers was the only face he found any ease in, and he could not explain why that was.

She held out the robe for him and asked before she secured the tie at his waist. She went to a small door in the corner of the room which he had not even noticed until then. It led into another chamber where the air was hot and humid but not as suffocating.

A basin stood in the middle of the room. She took out two small brown bottles and let a few drops of oil fall into the water, filling the room with a gentle, fresh scent. “Lavender,” she explained, “and rosemary. They are meant to be calming.”

He stepped into the water, glad to find it just below scolding. 

The girl kneeled by the basin, gently pouring cups of water over his hair, running it through with a sweeter smelling oil. She took his hand and allowed him to settle, scrubbing his skin with sugar, cleansing it with an amber soap.

When it was done she rested her chin in her hands at the edge. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

He’d stopped crying now, his limbs felt steadier, more his own. He nodded.

“I don’t feel myself until I’ve washed it all off. It makes me feel as though my skin is truly mine again,” she said.

He felt his hands over his arms, the sweat and the fluids rinsed away, the dead skin scrubbed smooth.

“Thank you,” he said. His voice was thick, unnatural in his own throat.

“Do not thank me yet,” she said with a small smile, and suddenly jumped up to her feet. She walked out of his sight, past his blind spot, but she soon returned with a small wooden box. She kneeled beside the basin and opened the lid to reveal three small cakes, dusted with sugar and topped with thin slices of candied lemons. “Take one then,” she said.

He bit down on the inside of his lip to hide his amusement at her impertinence. He did as she told him and ate half of one cake in a single bite. A pleasant sourness burst on his tongue, not like the wine, sweeter, zestier. She was right, his mind was starting to feel a little less numb, the life flooding back into him with every breath he took, lavender, rosemary and lemon.

“You have one too,” he said.

“I’m not meant to,” she said, “they’re for the patrons.”

Aemond lowered his chin to look at her. “Take one.” Now it was his turn to deliver the orders.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes darting between him and the cakes.

“If anyone reprimands you I’ll feed them to my dragon.”

Her expression ignited. “Alright,” she said with a sly smile.

They devoured the rest of their cakes and shared the remaining one. She insisted that he should have the other candied lemon.

“Do you really feed people to your dragon?” she asked, wiping the crumbs from her mouth.

Aemond licked the sugar from his fingers. “I’ve not done it yet.”

She seemed stunned at his answer, then she giggled. “Yours is the big one, isn’t it?”

“Vhagar. She was Queen Visenya’s mount during the Conquest.”

“I see her sometimes, flying over the city.”

“She is too large for the Dragon Pit,” Aemond explained, “she nests along the shore of the bay.”

“And roams where she pleases?”

“Never too far from me.”

“No,” she said, her voice wilting, “of course.”

He suddenly wondered what this sad, sweet girl kneeling beside him would do if she had a dragon. He could picture her on Dreamfyre, the mount of his sister. Helaena adored flying and would often guide her dragon to glide above the waters of Blackwater Bay and the hills surrounding King’s Landing. This girl would take her dragon further, he thought, she would soar up above the clouds. Perhaps she would take her dragon over the seas, to Essos, to the Summer Isles, to the far corners of the world.

He did not flinch from her when she offered him a towel and patted his skin dry. She fetched his clothes from the other room, the awful room where he could not breathe, buttoning his shirt with swift fingers, doing up the buckles on his jerkin.

She was not much shorter than he was. She stood close enough that he could smell the lemon cake on her fingers, and there was something sweeter and richer underneath. It made him think of fresh fruit and vanilla, rose petals and nightblooms.

Her eyes drew slowly up from his collar to his face, to the wound slicing through the space where his eye once was.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

He was no stranger to pain. It had persisted since the incident itself, stinging and shooting through his skull. It once made him cower like a child, but of late it had lulled into more of a passing irritation. Had the extent of the pain subsided, or was he simply used to it now? “Sometimes,” he said. 

“How did it happen?”

The years had passed quickly since then. He remembered the joy he felt flying before the moon and the stars over Driftmark on Vhagar, the faces of his nephews and cousins in the dark. He spat cruelties at them. They shoved him, punched him, kicked him. He remembers the taste of his own blood, the crack of Lucerys’ nose under his knuckles, the dust in his eye and then a pain like fire piercing through to his brain.

Three years and he still felt clumsy in his movements. He would often lose his balance or misjudge his steps. He would miss objects as he went to reach for them, and he was still not quite used to turning his head so that he could see past his blind side.

He’d never had to say it out loud before, not all of it. It had been enough for Lord Commander Westerling to find his face covered in blood and the remains of his eye. He had told his father he had been attacked, but it went unheard to the pleas of innocence by the bastards and their mother. The maesters studied his wound. Cole told him he could regain his strength if he worked for it. Everyone else tended to avert their eyes altogether.

She was looking at it, trailing her fingertips over the edges of his scar and the twisted flesh of his eyelids. 

“It was the night I claimed Vhagar. I was returning to Hightide and they came at me, Jace, Luke, Laena’s daughters–” he suddenly realised these names meant nothing to her, but she did not seem discouraged.

“Go on,”

“Rhaena, well, Vhagar was her mother’s dragon. She wanted her, but I claimed her first. I was not afraid of them. Baela struck me first. Then Jace and Luke came at me, and Jace had a knife.”

She breathed a small gasp.

“Luke took up the knife. It all happened very quickly.”

“They did that to you, over a dragon?” She said, trailing her touch lower, over his cheek. 

He remembered the cool surface of the rock in his hand, hovered over Jace’s head. One of the girls shook her head, begging him to stop. And he did—  or he was going to stop…

That’s when Luke had slashed the blade at him.

“I was weak,” he said, brushing her hand away from his face. “It’ll never happen again.”

She tilted her head at him. Her eyes were glassy, like she might cry. Guilt tugged in his chest. He had not wished to upset her.

Then she took a quick breath and went to take up his cloak and his eyepatch. He placed them both on, covering his silver hair with his hood.

She beckoned him to follow with her fingers. They weaved through the close corridors and the few women and men they passed, some fully dressed, some wearing nothing at all. It felt ridiculous and somewhat unbelievable to see how unashamed they all were, women with their breasts out, men with their cocks hanging between their legs. 

His stomach turned again.

He reached for the girl’s hand. Her head whipped around and she held onto him, firmly. He didn’t want to lose sight of her, he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone in this place.

Neither of them let go when they reached the doors. People were passing though so they kept close to the wall, face-to-face. 

“Can you find your way back to the Keep from here?” she said, only having to whisper.

Aegon had long since disappeared. Aemond had rarely been out into the city, save to accompany his mother to the Sept, or his siblings to the Dragon Pit. He was alone now, no guards, no wheelhouse, but the Red Keep with its turrets, battlements and flickering lights in the windows would not be difficult to locate. He nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“What for?” 

“For what happened to you.”

His stomach turned again, less nauseating, more unsettling, uncertain. He supposed this would be the last time he saw her.

“Will you be alright, here?” he said.

She took in a sharp breath and she frowned as though she were in pain. “Yes. The madam is good to me. She keeps me fed and clean.”

But the things they must make her do…

“Go, return to your royal castle and your servants,” she said with a grin. “Far better that I am here and not starving in some gutter.”

So he did. He slipped through the door, his last memory of her being obscured by shadows, perhaps that’s why he could not recall the details of her face. 

Walking through the streets of King’s Landing, he had never felt so aware of his body, his skin under his clothes, shifting over his bones. His limbs felt slightly numb, his feet moving of their own will while his mind… was clouded. His head felt heavy and the noises around him were distant. No one paid any mind to the boy trudging over the dirt and cobbles, but he felt the eyes of the gods on him and it made him shiver. They had seen his sins. What if his mother knew where he had been, the things he had done? He imagined her brown eyes, filled with disgust rather than grief.

He could not look at Aegon for weeks afterwards. He shied away from his mother’s touch, especially on his legs, his knees. In the Sept he begged the gods to forgive him. He begged to forget it.

Years went by. Some nights when he felt a certain tension in his stomach and a stirring in his breeches, he’d think of it, the heat and sweat and incense. And after there was no relief, just an emptiness in his chest.

He could wash it all away, with drops of lavender and rosemary oil in his bath, with sugar scrubbed into his skin.

If there was one thing he wished to remember of that night, it was her. He still thought of that girl, a face obscured in shadow, when the servants brought out lemon cakes after supper, when Helaena insisted on walking through the gardens at sunset and the air was sweet with nightblooms. She pointed them out to him, the silvery white flowers growing in the leafy green bushes lining the path, their petals like little moons in the foliage. 

“How curious are these,” Helaena had said one evening, “they retract in sunlight, but in darkness they flourish.”

Daylight dies with a golden sunset and night blooms with a sky of red and indigo clouds. 

The King’s body is now ash. Sunfyre had the honour of being the dragon to do it. It was a hasty affair, in the hours after Aegon’s coronation, when the chaos at the Dragon Pit still had their family and the Small Council stunned to silence. Aegon wore the steel crown as they stood on a cliff over the bay, waiting for him to give the order. The heads of his mother and his sister hung heavy, but Aemond did not avert his gaze from the flames. He felt the heat on his face, seeping through his skin. 

At long last, his father is gone. Aemond has not wept for him, nor does he feel a desire to. His father was once a young man, well loved, so he is told, but to Aemond he was always a frail old man. Save for the few times he ever proved his strength, and even then his strength was only ever resolved for his dearest child. 

Rhaenys will have made it to Dragonstone within a matter of hours, and Aegon’s ascension will not come without consequence. 

On the morrow he will fly for Storm’s End and secure the allegiance of Lord Borros Baratheon. His mother has assured him this will be a simple enough feat, swords for a marriage pact with one of the Baratheon girls, but a crucial one. His brother will not hold the throne long without Lords to uphold his claim and men to fight for it. 

He wonders if the Stormlands will live up to their name; how dull the entire affair will be if it only amounts to flying Vhagar through a downpour of rain. This is the war his mother and grandsire wish to fight, with letters and diplomacy. He is sure the dragons will become restless soon enough. Rhaenyra has been steadfastly sure of her own importance her entire life, and with Daemon at her side, she will not bend the knee without a challenge.

And what of Aegon, is he ready to fight for his crown?

When Viserys breathed his last and the pieces were all finally in play, Aegon had not been where he needed to be. Not in his rooms, not within the walls of the castle. He was squandering his duties, evading the position he was born to, as he always has done. Aemond himself was the one to drag him from the streets of King’s Landing to the Red Keep. Cole had spent hours with him, convincing him to take up the crown rather than fleeing on a ship across the Narrow Sea, to Pentos, to Yi Ti, some far corner of the world where the burden of being their father’s son would not weigh so heavily on his shoulders. 

The first place Aemond had thought to look for his brother proved to be a fruitless endeavour. The establishment was a familiar one, and with every step he took along the Street of Silk his memories phased into reality. The knocker on the door was the same. The madam was the same, the same long, auburn hair, the same gold jewellery, the same knowing smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes. 

“The Prince is not here,” she had said. “His tastes are known to be less discriminating.” Of course. Aegon could pay for the most expensive, sweetly perfumed whores in all of King’s Landing, but instead he sullies himself with the scum of Fleabottom, rolling around in the dirt like a pig.

The madam’s gaze then turned to Aemond. She remarked how he had grown. It felt an obvious thing to say. He was no longer the child he was when Aegon first brought him there.

While he and Cole wandered the city in search of his wastrel of a brother, a thought passed through his mind. He thought of a face in the shadows of the brothel, steam rising, gentle hands, the scent of lavender, rosemary, rose, nightblooms…

She could have been there, on the other side of the door, within the walls of the establishment. She would be a woman just as he was now a man. Or she might have left years ago, to a better life, or perhaps a worser fate. Are the lives of the smallfolk not meant to be brutish and short? 

A hollowness settles in his chest, restless and hungry, like it’s writhing under his skin. He paces his chambers, reads until the hearth has died and the sky beyond the windows is black, but sleep will not come to him.

In the hour of the wolf, he dons a cloak and retraces his steps.

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, 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.

It was a single night, such a trivial moment, two children sharing lemon cakes in a brothel, but she has not forgotten it. He will not recognise her, surely?

“Her,” the Prince says, “I will have her.”

Her heart drops. She has reached the end of the steps and freezes, looking to Sylvi for instruction. Anticipation stirs in her gut, somewhere between terror and curiosity.

“I’m afraid she has been spoken for tonight, but I would be glad to–”

“I will pay double what any other man has promised,” Aemond says with an air of finality. This is an offer that cannot be refused. Perhaps the minor Lord will be disgruntled, but he will be compensated generously. Defying a Prince is treason. 

While Sylvi has gone to deal with the outbidded Lord, her legs carry her down the last few steps until she is face to face with Prince Aemond.

He is taller for a start, at least a head above her. His hair is longer, his face is slimmer and sharper, his lips are settled into a slight pout. He carries himself differently, proudly. Her eyes move over his leathers under his cloak. She is not meant to admire the men who seek her services. She is meant to take their coin and fulfil their desires.

“Some wine, my Prince?” she asks, nodding towards the inner chamber, the heart of the pleasure house where the musicians play and bodies mingle out in the open or behind drawn curtains. 

He offers her a cryptic “hmm,” and follows her inside.

One of the other girls stands in a corner, carrying a tray of full cups. She passes one to Aemond, his fingertips brushing over her skin as he takes it. 

The Prince studies his surroundings like a hunter looking for quarry, lips quirked, jaw tight, somewhat amused but silent. Something tells her he has not returned to the pleasure house in the years since his first visit. This is all unfamiliar to him. He sips his wine and takes a slow breath. No doubt he will prefer somewhere a little more secluded.

She takes his hand and weaves through the room, to one of the adjacent chambers lit by candlelight, large enough to fit a bed and little else.

With the curtains drawn the other sounds fade into nothing. She takes Aemond’s wine and sets it aside, coming to stand before him.

She keeps waiting for him to lean into her, to grab greedily at some part of her flesh, to claim her lips with his. Instead he stands stoically, his chest rising and falling from underneath the thick leather of his tunic.

“Are you not awfully warm, my Prince?” she says in a honeyed voice, one she has practised for years that usually feeds the lie she actually wants what’s about to happen. She trails her fingertips over the shiny silver buckles that conceal him from her, his body stiffening under her touch.

She takes a breath to steady the erratic beat of her heart and the wanting stirring in her belly. It is not often that her own forwardness seems out of place. 

She remembers the boy with silver hair. She remembers the scowl on his face, how it melted into confusion and fear. He had needed patience then and she was happy to give it. Because she was ordered to. Because she pitied him. Perhaps because she recognised something in his expression and the way he seemed unsure in his own skin.

She places a hand on his shoulder, testing the waters of how close she can get to him. He does not protest. His nose twitches as he inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Perhaps we should make ourselves more comfortable?” she says.

He places his hand over hers, guiding it to the top buckle at his collar. His expression is stern, his face bathed in golden candlelight and the shadows caught in the angles of his face. His eye is somehow soft but intent.

Undressing him is not to be rushed. She takes her time with every buckle on his jerkin and pushes it slowly from his shoulders. She untucks his undershirt from his breeches and he pulls it over his head. His skin is smooth, mostly unmarred, save for a small scar in the crook of his elbow that had not been there the last time they met. He is all muscle, lean and lithe. She places her palms at his chest and lets them drag down his abdomen, to the waist of his breeches.

He holds her wrists to stop her.

She looks to his eye, terrified that she might have overstepped.

Instead he kisses her. It’s gentle and chaste, his hand against the bare skin of her back, pulling her against his body. When she teases his tongue with hers he chases it, only for the kiss to become messy and clumsy. She cannot bring herself to dislike his inexperience.

“Wait,” she says, pulling away, putting her hands on either side of his jaw. “Follow my lead,” she whispers, leaning in to capture his lower lip between hers. They find a rhythm then. She shows him to move slowly, to be firmer. As their kiss deepens she allows herself to melt into his arms. Her hips are rocking against his, his hand trailing over her skin until he finds the clasp of her dress. The material falls away as simply as it should, leaving her bare before him.

He studies her the same way he studied the room. How many men have laid eyes on her since she came to this place? Too many to count, insignificant men, who have no names or faces in her memory. She has no shame in her nakedness, but there has never been any doubt in her mind that those men found her desirable. Being under Aemond’s scrutiny makes her tremble. She wonders if the sight of her pleases him. He has enough gold and enough pride to be selective. 

He had asked for her though. Why?

He’s staring at her. “They crowned my brother today,” he says.

It is not what she was expecting to hear. “I saw.”

“You were there?”

“No.” The gold cloaks did not empty the whorehouses when they were ordered to fill the Dragonpit with witnesses for the King’s coronation.

Aemond’s attention is on her body now. He reaches for her arm, tracing circles over her skin with his thumb.

She had not seen the King himself but she had seen the crowds flocking. She had heard the tremendous noise of crumbling stone, people screaming, a dragon’s screech. “I saw the dragon. People say it is an omen.”

Aemond’s face darkens but his attention is still on his own hand, now at her waist. With the other he pulls the eyepatch from his head and tosses it towards his discarded shirt. She does not get much of a chance to refresh her memory of his maimed eye before he leans into her again. His lips are at her shoulder, then her neck and it leaves her utterly weightless. 

“Your perfume is the same,” he mutters into her skin.

He remembers.

Aemond seems content enough following her lead. He lets her slip his breeches past his hips and take him into her mouth. He lets her sit atop him and grind her core against his hardened cock until her peak washes over her, blissful and warm.

When he starts to buck his hips and dig his fingertips into her hips she decides to give him respite. She sinks herself onto him with a soft sigh. It is a rare opportunity to chase a feeling rather than letting herself go through a rehearsed set of motions. 

His eye moves between her face and the space where their bodies meet, as if he cannot decide which is more fascinating. She is pleasantly surprised when he places his thumb at her pearl and circles over her sensitive flesh.

She loses herself in it, how deep he reaches, pleasure rising and tightening until it releases suddenly, violently. She falls forwards on her hands to steady herself. 

Before long Aemond lifts her off his cock, finishing himself with a stuttering groan and his seed dripping through the folds of her cunt.

He holds her close, caging her in his arms and bringing her into his chest. There’s a numbness that follows pleasure and she cannot bring herself to care that he is crushing her ribs. It doesn’t matter. She basks in the heat of his skin and the smell of him. 

He makes good on his promise of payment. The purse of coins he leaves on the bed before he leaves is worth ten nights with any other patron. 

There is less pretence the next time he visits her.

It is only a day later. He comes in the middle of the night, his hair, coat and leather gloves soaked, but there is no rain in King’s Landing. They tear at each other’s clothes and kiss like starved dogs devouring scraps. Aemond holds her by her jaw and her neck. When she draws his teeth over his lip he grins.

Once he is bare she realises his skin is cold and he is shivering.

“You should sit before a fire and warm up properly–”

“No,” he insists, “I just want you.”

She chases her pleasure once more, Aemond’s hands bruising into her hips as he thrusts up to meet her, the coldness of his palms seeping through her skin. This newfound urgency is thrilling and she finds herself curling over her body as her peaks tears through her.

Aemond is not finished with her yet. He positions her beneath him, spreading her legs apart with two wide palms before fucks her with a brutal precision, and he does not stop until he has reached his own end, painting her belly and the tops of her thighs.

After, he takes her into his arms, positioning them both so that he lies under her arm with his head nestled on her chest, between her breasts. She strokes her fingertips through his damp hair, over his skin, all the places where lovers touch each other, his cheek, his neck, underneath his ear, his shoulder. With his arm draped over her stomach he clings to her like he may never know such intimacy again. His skin is still cold and yet she holds him close, determined that she will draw some warmth from him.

Hours pass. Days could pass and she’d be content to lie with him.

“The dragon was an omen, you said,” he mutters.

It takes her a moment to rouse herself. Her eyes had closed, her mind half asleep. “That’s what people are saying. A coronation marred by death must surely only lead to more death.”

She feels his arm tighten over her stomach.

“You’re cold,” she says.

“I was instructed to fly to the Stormlands.”

“Why?”

“To secure the support of Lord Baratheon. He has pledged his banners to my brother’s cause and in return I am to wed his daughter.”

His state suggests to her that he has not yet returned to the Red Keep.

“Is there to be a war?” she says. 

He remains frozen for a few moments.

“I believe war may now be inevitable,” he says. She feels his lips brushing over her skin.

“How so?” she says on a quiet breath.

“A boy is dead because of me.”

The coldness of Aemond’s body has decidedly taken root within her, like a fist closing over her heart and throat.

“Lucerys was there, at Storm’s End. Lord Borros shunned him from the hall but I… it wasn’t enough. I pursued him on Vhagar. His dragon is nothing to her, they didn’t stand a chance.”

She is not sure she wishes to hear of this, but a new kind of stillness has settled over her. She is too afraid to move, to disturb him. 

“He is the one who took your eye,” she says.

Aemond hums. “He never paid for what he did to me. My father was more concerned with the slanders against my sister than he was with me, with my blood spilled by my own kin.”

She closes her eyes, imagining the little boy from all those years ago is curled up in her arms. She runs her fingers through his hair, undoing the knots and tangles. She cradles his head in her arms so he knows he is not alone.

“His debt is paid now, I suppose,” Aemond says.

It is in the early hours of the morning when he finally leaves, the first glimpses of sunrise chasing night from the sky. She helps him dress and fastens his eyepatch over his head. He leaves another purse in her palm, a more than generous amount. 

He comes to her nightly. He is an unhurried lover and fucks her slowly, hovering his lips above hers so that they share the same air, keeping their bodies pressed tightly together as if he wishes to smother her, or else crawl under her skin. She’d let him do it.

It is not simply her body he wants. When they are done he wants to be held, and then his thoughts slip from between his lips. 

He had not expected to return to the Red Keep a hero for slaying his nephew, but now he says his mother can hardly look at him. His grandsire, the Hand of the King scorns him for his recklessness, for his impulse for violence that now means the false Queen may strike at any moment. Vhagar circles the city during the day, she sees the dragon when she goes to the market. Aemond insists that his dragon could make short work of destroying any other who would seek to oppose her, but Rhaenyra has dragons to spare. He sits in meetings of the Small Council and watches in despair as the Hand and the Dowager Queen advocate for patience and diplomacy. 

“We should be marching,” he says one night, tracing his fingertips over her stomach. “We should secure the support of the Crownlands, adding their numbers to our host. Rhaenyra is isolated enough on Dragonstone, but we could cut her off from her allies completely.”

“And none would stand against you and Vhagar,” she says. Assuring him has become a learned skill these last few weeks.

“Alicent wishes for me to remain here, to deter an attack on the city.”

“That is sound logic,” she says. “The people of King’s Landing will be grateful for your protection.”

Aemond hums irritatedly.

“I for one would despair at the loss of our Prince,” she adds, ghosting her lips over his cheek, where his scar cuts through his skin.

For a little while he entertains her, turning his head to kiss her properly. She slips her hand between their bodies, taking hold of his hardening cock. He melts into her, chasing his pleasure as she strokes him.

“I am ready for more,” he says breathlessly. “I’m ready to fight.”

“As you have proved,” she says, coming to kiss his throat. 

In a single breath he is above her, pinning her hands by her head. He positions himself against her, rocking his hips so his leaking tip pushes against her pearl. He knows this about her now, how to draw her pleasure from her body. “Storm’s End was no battle,” he hisses into her ear. “Luke was a child. I want fire and blood.”

“Your time will come,” she says, her voice catching in her throat as he quickens his pace.

“The war must be inevitable,” he pants, “the realm will realise it soon enough. Aegon is the King and yet he is hostage to those with weaker wills.”

“You are his brother,” she sighs as Aemond slips lower to her entrance. “You can convince him to act–”

“Not now,” Aemond says, pushing into her with one sudden thrust. “Just take it, that’s it…”

He fucks her slowly, deeply, with his face buried into her neck. His desperation fuels her own desire, his hot breath against her ear, his pants and his groans. When he is finished he does not leave her wanting, trailing his lips and tongue down her body, her chest, her stomach, driving her towards her own peak with his lips and tongue.

“My grandfather takes my aspirations as insolence,” Aemond mutters to himself as he dresses. “He thinks me weak. He thinks I am still a child.”

“Then he is a fool,” she says, still buried beneath the throw on the bed.

“My mother and grandfather seized the throne, now they will not do what needs to be done to hold it.”

“Perhaps they fear what a war might bring.”

Aemond tuts. “The first blood has been drawn.”

“Do you not…” she pauses when he looks at her, his eye wide, anticipating something he will not wish to hear. “What if Rhaenyra comes for you? What if she seeks vengeance for her son?”

Aemond smiles like he has a secret and stalks slowly towards the bed, her stomach tightening in anticipation. 

In some ways, Aemond terrifies her. He has a presence of danger and bloodlust which fades away when she peels away the layers of his leathers. Without his eyepatch, in the warmth of the candlelight, he is the picture of Valyrian beauty, a man who belongs in histories and legends, not the living, breathing realm she exists in. 

He leans into her, taking her chin between his fingers to kiss her. She relishes it for as long as she can, knowing it won’t be enough to charm him back into the bed.

He pulls away, reaching into his pocket for a purse of coins. “Let her try,” he says as he places it beside her, “but I will not be easily ended.”

The girls all share chambers, bedrooms and a washroom with basins and baths. She rises early in the morning to bathe, to drop her lavender and rosemary oils into the tub and scrub away the remnants of last night. Before, she would not allow herself to fall asleep until she was clean. Lately she finds an odd sense of comfort in the reminders of her royal patron. Her skin is littered with love bites and bruises, her neck, her collar, her breasts. It shouldn’t be like this. Usually she does what she can to forget the men she has been with.

They share their duties. This morning she is to help wash the bed linens, and find cheap grain and cuts of meat from the markets.   

The clothes she wears are modest, covering her arms and her neck, unflattering to her figure. Some people still eye her with disgust, with hatred. You can always spot a whore. What can strangers know of her? Can they see through her skin and see her sins as the gods judge them all from the seven heavens? It was not as if she had chosen this path for herself out of an endless number of possibilities. 

Sometimes she remembers the life she had before, a woman’s laugh, a particular taste on her tongue, a tune humming in the back of her mind she can’t quite piece together. She used to think the gods had forsaken her, but now she thinks they do not concern themselves with the lives of people like her. So she finds little point in looking to the past, of imagining a future for herself. She survives and that is enough.

Summer is nearing its end. There is no warmth to be found in sunlight obscured by clouds. People walk quickly, keeping their belongings in deathly grips. A woman with a babe in her arms begs the baker to accept one copper instead of five for a loaf of bread. A man despairs that the apothecaries cannot offer him a medicinal herb from Lys for his sickly daughter. The shipping lanes are blocked by the Velaryon Fleet holding the Gullet, and no ship can get in or out of King’s Landing. A woman cries for her son, a rat catcher, his body hanging from the walls of the Red Keep. 

She gets what she needs to, grain she will bring back to the kitchens for the cook to turn into plain tasting flatbread. A butcher sells her tough cuts of beef for a reasonable price to go into a stew. He worries that there have been no imports of salt or sugar. How is the city meant to preserve food for the fast approaching winter? 

“It’s the fucking war,” he grumbles, “why can’t the King just burn the ships so the rest of us can eat?”

In the distance she hears drums, the clatter of horse hooves against the cobbles. She keeps her basket tightly on her arm, not stopping to make eye contact with the people she passes, past the stalls, mules, the buckets of sewage and dirty water falling from windows above her head.

As she emerges from one of the side streets her way is suddenly blocked by masses of people. She had guessed some sort of procession was afoot. This is no celebration, it is lamentation. People weep and wail around her, a mass mourning that she does not understand, and yet she feels it in her chest and behind her eyes, an urge to cry.

Over the sea of bodies before her she sees two women in an open carriage, richly dressed with black veils over their faces. Petals fall from windows and footbridges. People cry the name of Queen Helaena and Dowager Queen Alicent. 

She finds a small ledge to lift herself onto at the base of a statue. What she sees could stop her heart. This is a funeral procession. Queen Helaena’s carriage follows the body of her son, wrapped in a green and gold shroud, with flowers woven into his white hair. For a moment she tells herself the boy is an effigy, that he could be made from wax or porcelain. 

“Behold the work of Rhaenyra Targaryen!”

The whispers follow her as she scurries back to the pleasure house. The Prince was slain in his sleep. Two assassins cut his head from his body. They made his mother and twin sister watch. 

Bile rises in her throat as she hands cook the cuts of meat, blood seeping through the wrappings. She swallows it down.

When Aemond comes to her that night he is more subdued than usual. He pulls her into his arms and she strokes her hand over his hair.

“My nephew is dead,” he utters. He sheds no tears, he seems confused more than anything.

Rhaenyra’s retribution had come then, swift and brutal, a son for a son. 

She undresses him but he leans away when she tries to kiss him. They lie back on the bed and Aemond settles his head on her shoulder.

“My brother is in a rage and wants Rhaenyra dead. My sister has not left her rooms; I tried to go to her but she would not speak to me,” he says.

“How did it happen?”

“There were two. One was a gold cloak. They found him at the gate of the gods with Jaehaerys’ head in a sack. He confessed the other was a rat catcher.” 

Now the bodies of a hundred men hang by their necks, though only one of them is guilty.

“Daemon sent them to kill me,” Aemond says, “but I was out.”

She rests her fingers at the pulsepoint on his wrist to remind herself his heart is still beating. “You were with me,” she says. She feels the guilt weighing in her chest. While she and Aemond had kissed and fucked and held each other, a boy had a lost his life, the very body she had seen paraded through the streets.

“In truth I am proud that he considers me such a foe, that he would seek to murder me in my bed.”

She cannot tell if she admires him for it or not, to gamble with life as though it means nothing.

Aemond is watching her, his hair loose and framing his face. “Do you think he fears me?”

She has never seen Aemond wield a blade. She’s never seen him ride his dragon, not up close. She’s never seen him fight with his fists. She’s never seen him slur his words and throw away threats in a drunken argument. He is always composed. He is always softly spoken, and in a way that terrifies her more than it should. They say the blood of the dragon runs hot. Aemond’s blood does not seem to burn, rather it simmers under the surface of his skin. 

“Perhaps he fears what else you might be capable of.”

Aemond is the closest she has ever seen him to tears. His eyelashes are damp and heavy, his seeing eye vibrantly blue and glassy. “You think me a monster,” he utters.

She could never say it, could she? But this is a man who took the life of his own kin as a reparation for his eye. Violence is carved into his face, beautiful, set with a gemstone, but it is there nonetheless. 

She brushes her fingertips over his cheek and plants a delicate kiss to his lips. After only a few moments he shrugs her off and repositions himself, curling into her lap like a child, clinging to her limbs and the fabric of her gown. 

“I lost my temper that day,” he says. “I should have known Vhagar would not relent. I am sorry for it.”

Her blood runs cold. Should she be glad to hear he is remorseful? He may not be a cold hearted killer, but destruction lives at his fingertips. 

She reaches for his hand and he takes it. His touch is gentle and hesitant. “There was no justice in what happened to you,” she says, “blood has paid for blood…” but where does it end? With Lucerys? With Jaehaerys? With the next?

Aemond says nothing. She feels his tears slip onto her legs, his fingernails forming crescents in her skin.

Remorse will not return Rhaenyra’s son to her, it will not bring back the little Prince paraded through the streets of King’s Landing.

She clings to him, hoping she can ease whatever torment plagues him, and banish what darkness consumes him.

She never tires of the sight of him. His body bare, his hair tied away from his face, the uneven edges of his sapphire glinting in the lowlight, laid out beneath her. She runs her hands over his chest, tracing the lines that are familiar to her now. “I want to taste you,” she says sweetly, knowing he’ll already be desperate for her. 

He hums quietly to himself. By the slight smile threatening to break in the corners of his mouth, she knows he is content.

“On your knees then,” he says, and positions himself to sit at the end of the bed.

She runs her tongue over his length first, finishing with a teasing lick at the tip where he’s already weeping. She takes him into her mouth gradually, pushing a little deeper with every bob of her head. He is her Prince, he takes his pleasure from her and holds her hair from her face but it is she who sets the pace, who revels in his moans as his mind lulls. 

But he pulls her head away by her hair before he finishes. Suddenly she’s on her back and he’s kneeling over her with his fist moving furiously over his cock. He reaches for her breast and squeezes. In the morning when she bathes, she’ll look at the bruises and remember how he touches her. Her own had slips between her legs, tracing circles over her pearl at the thought.

This pleases Aemond. His brow hardens and his jaw falls. “Fuck, are you going to finish with me?” he whispers.

She nods in reply, her breath catching as a whimper in her throat. 

His grip on her breast tightens. She winces at the pain and it only fuels her own pleasure. She succumbs to her senses, chasing the feeling in her gut that only wants for release. Her fingers work frantically over her wet and wanting cunt.

“Make yourself come for me, that’s it,”

She obeys him with a cry, her body reduced to a shaking, dazed mess as Aemond reaches his own end. She watches his seed spurt from his cock, warm as it paints her skin.

He has habits, she’s noticed. He does not spill inside her. Of course, with the nature of the establishment there is no shortage of moontea, but she never questions him when he removes himself. He prefers to see it on her skin. 

Targaryen bastards are not uncommon in King’s Landing, commoners with silver hair. It is said Prince Aegon himself has sired many on the women of Fleabottom. Perhaps the idea is distasteful to Prince Aemond. He is discreet. He does not bring drinking companions with him to the pleasure house and he keeps his hood up as he enters and exits. 

He takes a cloth and wipes his seed from her skin. She bites back another jolt of anticipation in her spine. She would take more from him, but instead he lies beside her, curling into her embrace, tucking his head into her chest. 

He could fuck her quickly and be done with it, it would be more efficient. He could take a different girl each time. He could have one brought up to the castle. Yet since the day of the King’s Coronation he has found his way into her arms to her each night. In these quiet moments she lets herself think there is a reason for it.

They trace their fingertips over each other’s skin and he tells her things she shouldn’t know, that the King has named a new Hand in Ser Criston Cole, that while Queen Alicent seeks to avoid open war, Aegon wants to fly headfirst into it.

“It’s not his place. He’ll not stand a chance against Meleys or Caraxes.”

The names are strange to her. Sometimes it feels like a cruel joke, a reminder that some Silk Street whore is not meant to understand the realm he exists in. Other times it feels like an honour, like he’s gifted her a part of himself, a glimpse into his mind.

“He is no warrior, but he wishes to live up to his namesake. He wants for glory alone; it is a reckless pursuit but he would risk his life for it.”

“He is the King, is it not his war to fight?” she says. 

“He is not capable of it,” Aemond says, “but I…”

It is not a thought he dares to finish.

King Aegon wears the crown of the Conqueror, or so people say. She’s never seen a real crown. She’s seen paper ones worn by the mummers in the square, and she’s seen girls wearing wreaths of flowers on their heads for the festival of spring. They are only delicate things. Real crowns are made of gold, silver and steel. As Aemond’s eye flutters shut he looks divinely peaceful, but unsettled where his sapphire continues to stare at her. She pictures a crown of spring flowers fashioned from steel and imagines it upon her Prince’s brow.

Footsteps thud upon the stone floor, too close to the curtain, closer than anyone should dare to come near. She lifts her head as it’s drawn back.

It takes a moment for them all to realise what’s happening. Several faces stare at her– at Aemond. One of the men has silver hair, shorter and choppier than Aemond’s. He bares his teeth as he grins.

She sees a flash of fury in Aemond’s face as he turns to face them.

The silver haired man starts to laugh, the sound shrill and unpleasant. His friends do not join him. “Aemond the fierce!” he cries, pointing, staring.

Ameond parts himself from her instantly. He retreats as far as the edge of the bed, hunched over himself, his knees in the crooks of his elbows. He keeps his head hung, not looking at the men and the leader of their pack. He does not look at her, he does not look at anything. 

She sees the child he once was, frightened and confused. 

The man staggers towards the bed, clearly half out of his mind by the smell of wine drifting from him when he perches on the bed. On instinct she covers her breasts, devastated to realise her robe is out of reach.

“And here I thought you were as chaste as a fucking septon! You know,” he says to his companions, “I brought him here for his first too. And how far you’ve come, curled in the arms of a whore like a greenboy!”

There’s a bite to his– the King’s words, a cruelty that only makes Aemond shrink further into himself. Her heart aches for him, that she cannot help him. 

“Are you tired, brother? Did you fuck her like a hound?” An idea he emphasises with an impersonation of a hunting dog.

Aemond doesn’t move or speak.

Still in hysterics, Aegon turns his gaze to her, unashamedly lingering on her chest and her legs. “Hard luck for your squire, Ser Martyn,” he says, drawing his tongue over his lips, “as pretty as this one is, she is very much occupied.”

His laughter is the only sound in the chamber and it pierces her skull. 

Aemond starts to shift. Helplessly she reaches out her hand, unsure of what it is she intends to do. He doesn’t take it. He doesn’t even look at her.

He stands before the King and his companions. His humiliation has melted away. In the place of the boy is a man who speaks calmly and clearly. “Your squire is welcome to her. One whore is as good as another.”

He strides from the chamber and she is entirely forgotten.

Or so she wishes that were true. There are still four men in her midst. And she is still, for all the hours she has spent in Aemond’s company, a whore in a pleasure house. 

I've kinda given up on taglists, sorry <3

A/n: I'm quite happy with this! I've been playing with the idea in my head for a few weeks, then I saw episodes 2 and 3 and it just had to happen. Would be very cool if you wanted to let me know what you think :)

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

This is the end guys :')

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, one vague suggestive joke

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus woke before dark this morning. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he realized that you’d drawn closer to him in the night, your body half on top of his and his arm curled around your shoulders as though to keep you there. Remus’ other arm was asleep, trapped beneath Sirius’ ribs. Somehow, on a twin bed, the three of you had managed to get close enough that there was room to spare. 

He didn’t move, but something about Remus’ waking must have caught your attention. He saw your eyes open through the darkness. You’d likely already been rousing, as he had, your body gearing up for a practice that wouldn’t be taking place today. You turned your face up to see him, and the two of you shared a fond, sleepy smile. Then you kissed his chin and went back to sleep. 

It had been a late night. Not the bad kind, but it left you all tired nonetheless. After a long day of talking to press, shaking hands, and celebrating your silver medal (not gold, but Remus reasoned that it wasn’t such a bad thing to lose to the undisputed best skating duo in a generation, and after some pouting even Sirius had agreed. When you stood next to Virtue and Moir on the podium, you’d looked so starstruck Remus was worried you’d faint) you’d been eager to be alone with each other. You’d talked until nearly morning, tenderhearted conversations that perhaps might have taken less time if you’d all been less easily distracted by each other or if Sirius hadn’t made that joke about his parents that made you fall off the bed laughing. Remus can’t bring himself to regret the detours. 

Neither of you seem to either, though Sirius laughs when you yawn in line to drop off your baggage at the airport.

“What is that, five yawns since we’ve left?” he teases, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and smushing a kiss to your cheek. “Poor girl.” 

“Shut up,” you mumble, leaning into his side. “I’m not used to being up all night like you are.” 

“Well, you’d better get used to it, baby.” 

Your brow wrinkles. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Remus laughs, giving Sirius a little shove. Sirius responds by bumping his hip into his own suitcase, forcing Remus to readjust his grip. You shoot Sirius a condemning look. 

In the spirit of good coaching, Remus had volunteered to carry your bags. He’d been more concerned with getting you and Sirius into bed over the last few days than ensuring you were properly stretched out, so when you’d both complained of soreness this morning he felt the need to make it up. You had completely refused and said you’d carry your own, but Sirius had relinquished his hulking suitcase readily; he did, however, insist upon massaging and kissing Remus’ hip for twenty minutes before they left for the airport to prepare it for the journey. 

“Don’t worry,” Remus tells you. “You’ll have plenty of time to sleep in after today.” 

You blink. “No practice?” 

“I think you deserve a couple of days off.” 

“A couple?” Sirius raises an eyebrow. “We just won silver at the Olympics. I’d say we’re due a week at least.” 

Remus eyes him, biting back a smile. “Maybe four days,” he says. 

“God, four days.” You blow out a breath. “What are we gonna do with all that time?” 

Sirius makes a pffting sound. “Like you won’t be at the rink anyway.” 

“Like you won’t be there, too.” 

“Take some actual rest,” Remus chides, ignoring the ridiculous warmth in his chest; it’s obscene how listening to your teasing has become such a comforting familiarity. “You’ve been working hard, you need it.” 

“Alright, Coach,” Sirius says with mock solemnity. “If that’s what you think is best.” 

Remus looks at you. 

You roll your eyes, relenting. “Okay.” 

“Good.” He smiles, winding an arm around your waist and tugging you from Sirius’ hold to press a kiss to your head. 

“Hey!” Sirius protests. 

You laugh. The warmth in Remus’ chest flares again. It’s odd to think about the person he was when he left home to coach you two, and how much has changed since then. Remus had been grieving, a years-long grief, focused only on what he lost and uninterested in trying for anything new. He’d been lonely without knowing it, isolated and purposeless, but you and Sirius had defied his expectations in every way imaginable. He thought he’d simply coach you, take you to the Olympics, and go home. Now, Remus’ sense of home is different than what it was before. 

He wants to stay with you. He’ll coach you and Sirius for as long as you’ll have him, and if someday he’s not what you need anymore he’ll find someone else to coach. He thinks he’ll need to get an apartment instead of an Airbnb, someplace to unpack his things and make his own, preferably with three chairs at the kitchen table and a bed big enough for all of you. He wants to continue feeding off the energy of you and Sirius in your element, readying you for competitions, making you the best you can be. Maybe eventually Remus will get back out on the ice, too. Not like he used to, never to compete, but maybe just for fun. It doesn’t sound so daunting when he imagines skating with you and Sirius alongside him, there to catch him if he falls. 

You’re looking up at him with a small, curious smile. Remus realizes he must be looking mortifyingly in love. “What?” you ask. 

“Nothing.” He kisses you, partly because he wants to and partly to watch your smile bloom in full. It does, and Remus relishes the feeling. Like standing in a pool of sunlight. 

“Oi.” Sirius glares, relaxing only when Remus kisses him, too. He grins and takes another for himself, delivering a playful nibble to Remus’ lip. “That’s more like it.” 

“We’re going to give the woman at the counter a heart attack,” Remus notes. “She looks terribly confused.” 

“Probably just starstruck,” Sirius says without looking. 

“Oh, shit!” You smack your forehead. Remus and Sirius both frown, Sirius taking your hand in his to prevent further damage. “I was going to steal one of the Olympic mugs from the dining hall, and I forgot. I need to find a souvenir.” 

“Ooh, should we get shirts?” Sirius’ expression turns eager. “Something like I went to the Olympics and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.” 

Remus thinks of the silver medal in Sirius’ backpack and actually guffaws. Both you and Sirius beam at him. “I think you got a bit more than that.” 

You laugh and loop your free arm through Sirius’, drawing both boys close. “That’s true.”