#hes dying a little in his defense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mamayan · 1 year ago

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You up? Give us some delicious yandere stuff 🙏 let's say... Fae King yandere and changeling darling 😏✨

This turned into a full fic :3 ~★ In honor of some monster fucking!

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling

tw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Non-Human Morality • Kidnapping • afab Reader • Dubcon • Oral (F) • Grooming (reader is of consenting adult age) • Forced Mating • Imprisonment • Violence (not toward reader) • Implied Murder • Rough Sex • Praise • Overstimulation • Dumbification • Belly Bulge • Size Kink

Part Two: Here

“…hic…sniff…”

Dark eyes glanced into the cool night, curious as to what creature was disturbing his evening.

“…hic…” it came again, much to his chagrin.

The still lake reflected the full moon like a mirror. To his left, not too far off, he honed in on the disturber. Something small and curled up. Shaking. The oddity enough to catch his full attention as he stood silently. The night his home and prison as he swiftly left in a puff of smoke over to the location of his intruder.

You.

His first instinct to end your miserable life, a human somehow entering his domain and crossing his barriers, but upon a closer look… he realized you were of his own kind.

A changeling at that. An abandoned fae left to die in the hands of mortals. Few if any live to maturity like this, but your short human stature led him to believe your growth was surely stunted due to neglect. Young fae needed abundant love and care in their infancy, the first 100 years of life incredibly crucial for their development. Least they end up like him and his kingdom. You were even younger than full maturity, though your physical body had completed it’s growth, your magic was weak and juvenile.

You were making odd noises which drew his curiosity, moving closer to your form, face buried in your lap as you hunched over your drawn up legs. Your feet were bare as the edges of the water lapped at them. Clothing sparse and tattered, rags unfit for even a human, let alone a Fae nearing maturity.

“Noisy little thing,” he hums aloud, startling you as you jolt and nearly throw yourself into the water. Your neck snaps up, pretty face swollen and blotchy from tears looking up and up until you saw a creature looming over you.

Your scream is cut off by a clawed dark hand, slapping over your mouth and muffling the cry as you try to jerk away in fear and panic. He watches in mild amusement, snickering as you realize your struggle is futile and efforts dying down. “Scream if you like, but none other than I will hear it out here.” He assures ominously, thin onyx colored lips pulling back to bare his razor sharp canines and pearly teeth at you. His grin savage and delighted in your terror.

He watches curiously as your wide doe eyes well up with tears, the crystalline droplets spilling up and over your cheeks, soft lips quivering beneath his palm. You reminded him of an animal imploring their predator for mercy by revealing their underbelly. There was a word for it…

Cute. His mind conjured at last. He found you cute, a changeling bold enough to intrude into the kingdom of the corrupted. You hadn’t even dropped the mirage covering you, old magic from your biological family still covering your natural appearance to mimic the human you parasitized off the life of.

“Why do you cry little one?” He asks softly, attempting not to terrify you further and avoid his questions.

You hesitate, but his molten gold eyes seem to melt through your defenses despite his dangerous and beautiful appearance. “I’m wrong,” you sniffle, grateful when he removes his enormous hand off your face, the sharp claws tipped in gold frightening against your soft breakable skin. “All wrong… and I don’t know what to do.” You curl back up around yourself, as if he too will cast judgement upon you.

He awkwardly mimics your stance, curiosity blazing as watches you in fascination. You find the way his monstrously large form contorts to sit like you somewhat baffling and amusing, less frightened now that he doesn’t seem to wish you harm.

“How are you wrong then?” He pries further, cupping his defined jaw and leaning into his hand as he observes.

“I’m not…I’m not human—I’m a—a—,” you stumble, unsure if this night is even real anymore. The shock so great you’re still trying to cope.

“A faery?” He supplies, amused by the way you gesture with your hands, expression so open and easy to read. “A changeling raised amongst humans to feed off their happiness?” His deep voice purrs it happily, as if he’s glad for it.

He is. His hatred of humans not something he feels the need to hide.

You appear devastated though, “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt or make anyone unhappy.” You mumble miserably, tugging at your hair and skin, as if that will dispel the magic which hides your true appearance.

“That’s just how our kind is, we need that happiness to grow properly.” He rubbles, eyeing your shocked expression. “We also happen to be fickle creatures ironically, and if a newborn is thought to need too much care, it is pawned off on humans who have more patience.” He clarifies, smiling as you seem to take him in with new eyes.

“You— are you a faery too? You just seem…” he chuckles as you awkwardly trail off.

“Evil? Centuries ago humans once called me the devil,” he laughs, his dark hair falling into his face like a waterfall as he shakes the loose fluffy curls, his pointed horns jutting from the top of his forehead jet black and smooth like ivory. He was too beautiful to call a devil, though you supposed it could be because of that which he was deemed so. His every feature seeming to catch your gaze with it’s beauty.

“I was going to say different…” you trail off shyly. “You don’t seem evil to me at least.”

He pauses, taking you in again as you regard him with those harmless eyes still wet with drying tears. It’d been centuries too since he’d left his kingdom, the entrance to the veil this lake he occasionally comes up to lounge by. He hasn’t seen a human since then, let alone a changeling or uncorrupted little faery like you.

He likes those pretty tears. He finds it annoying you shed them for humans you should guiltlessly take from.

His smile widens, eyes glittering mischievously and nearly glowing as he leans closer. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafting off of him as you breathe in, nearly gasping as your mouth waters.

“How’s this little one? I’ll teach you how to be a faery, to show you there is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes, where they should be white are entirely inky black, golden irises with reddened pupils framed by dark thick lashes, looked sincerely upon you.

He seemed genuine and kind despite his towering humanoid figure which looked to be capable of killing you easily.

It warmed you though, the thought of wanting to belong strong as you nod with a smile.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” You nod.

Sealing your fate.

“Tell me your name.” He asks sweetly, because despite his menacing size and sharp teeth and nails, your new friend was nothing but kind and gentle with you.

“Y/N” you reply easily, letting him playfully ruffle your hair as he picks out the leaves which got tangled in your locks from your travels here.

When he repeats it though, wonderful shivers shoot down your spine. He smiles, cooing at you like one might a baby as a he teases, “Such a cute name for a cute faery.”

You weakly protest, but fall into easy laughter as he swiftly changes the subject.

He was discussing proper fae etiquette. The basics, to not say please or thank you or I’m sorry. They all meant you expected more from the other or wouldn’t reciprocate, and that was just bad manners.

His soft hands, which could easily cover your entire face, were settled on your upper arms, having sat you in the grass against his chest.

He liked holding you close. Your little figure so soft, and from the dark circles beneath your human appearance, he assumed the neglect from the humans you resided amongst was growing worse. It was bad for your development.

“You should come live out here, they are vile creatures you know.” He comments every time you visit, though he never forces you to stay with him.

“It’s because I make them unhappy…” you explain sheepishly.

He shakes his head, thick brow arching as he rolls his eyes. “You are nearly completely mature now, you suck no happiness from your surroundings anymore silly girl.” Your confusion was palpable as he sighs and further explains, enjoying the squish of your tender flesh as he lightly squeezes you.

“While it is true fae infants are quite the hassle to raise, it isn’t as tortuous as humans make it out to be. In fact, most fae will take their child back if not treated well by their human surrogates.”

You hum, relaxing back against his warm chest and breathing in his sugary scent.

“So why wasn’t I—,” you stop short, brows furrowed but no longer speaking.

He doesn’t pry further, leaning his chin atop your head as he looks out at the lake.

“You won’t tell me?” You push, annoyed how he dances around your question endlessly. Your companion close enough that you feel insulted he won’t reveal it.

“My name is not to be uttered aloud, least calamity befall this land~” he’s teasing, you know he is, but still he refuses to divulge his name. “I gave you mine,” you argue again, huffing as he chuckles and lightly shoves you to your back on the grass, leaning over you and caging you in beneath him.

The moon is bright like the first time you’d met, illuminating his other worldly beauty.

“If you wish to call me something, call me Master,” he laughs, his sharp teeth no longer scaring you, but making your thighs squeeze together whenever he flashes them. He acts nothing like an immortal being, too immature and jovial to resemble someone having lived for thousands of years.

“So why do you get my name, but I don’t get yours?” You question in annoyance, avoiding his kiss to your cheek by jerking your face away. He huffs, sharp gaze daring you to dodge again.

You do. Earning yourself a warning nip to your collarbone as you yelp.

“Mean!” You cry, pushing at his chest as he snickers.

“Yes little flower, I am very, very, mean.” He rumbles, chest literally vibrating much like a cat does to purr.

“You give me weird nicknames…” you mutter, giving up as he licks your cheek. You don’t fight it, even as it feels foreign to you, trying to accept this side of your culture.

He licks your neck, lavishing the point where your pulse races with wet kisses and you tremble and struggle to act unaffected beneath him.

His smile is dangerous outside your view.

“Star!” You giggle, his rumble of irritation not the least intimidating to you as you roll away.

“That is an awful nickname.” He hisses, face twisted in disgust as you throw out the most horrendous names you could conjure in your pretty head at him.

“Lumi!” He growls.

“Then… Kitty?” He nearly bites you, careful not to play too roughly as he lightly tackles you down.

“If I give you a nickname, will you cease your little game?” He feels his anger fade as he wraps his arms around your smaller figure, easily pulling you into his lap. You don’t even flinch, too engrossed in your amusement to care where he handles you. You nod happily, your wish finally being fulfilled.

“Very well you stubborn creature,” he chides, “In addition to Master, you may also call me King.”

You frown. Clearly displeased by the lack of intimacy in the name. He laughs, amused by your obvious dislike. He kisses your puffed cheeks, over your pouty lips, and down to your vulnerable neck. Snickering as he goes, adoring how you so easily become pliant for him.

“I am teasing pretty flower, there was a time long ago I was called Ava, will you settle now?” He asks, voice husky as he sucks a mark into your skin, your little whine flaring his desires.

A strong urge to press you down and mate you nearly overpowers his control, but he merely holds you close and breathes your floral scent in to calm himself.

“I still prefer Kitty…” His eye twitches.

“Ava… this feels weird…” he pauses, looking down at your small form still cloaked like a human. Weak beneath him, partially nude as your skirt is pulled up to your soft belly. Your thighs are spread and shaking, his lips sucking another mark onto the thin skin of your inner thigh while you writhe.

He had your wet dripping slit open to the night air and his lustful gaze, begging for his tongue to taste.

“You don’t want to please me?” He asks, purring as you pout but deny. You were such a good little girl for him after all, so eager to learn and soak up his attention.

He resumes, licking down your thigh until his face rested above the warm mound you so sweetly offered him.

“You’re being so good for me petal, can you keep your legs open or should I help you?” He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re shaking in arousal and embarrassment. He can feel the tremors through the air as you struggle to keep your thighs spread as he asked.

“I-I need help…” you admit, feeling terribly hot as he keeps licking you, except where you seem to ache for him to lick.

He easily shifts forward, arms wrapping around you and letting your legs rest over his shoulders as he finally lets his tongue slip out to taste you.

You glance down, choking at the sight and feeling as he lets his entire tongue come out, the appendage inhumanly long and colored purple. It feels strange, the wet slimy feeling of his tongue slithering through your folds, but when he nudges the tiny nub hidden above your slit, you moan.

It sends jolts of electricity through you, hips canting up so he can to lick there again, earning you a hearty chuckle as he obliges. Licking and even curling his tongue around it, riling you up as your tiny hole leaks arousal and drips down your ass to the earth below.

“You’re making a mess petal, do you feel good? Should I stick my tongue inside you this time?” You moan, feeling the muscle prod at your unused vaginal entrance, too hazy to bother responding. He doesn’t wait for your answer, letting the thin tip of his tongue lap and taste your heady desire before poking and wiggling inside you.

It has your legs shooting straight, back arching as he holds you down with one large hand placed over your belly and chest. He groans as he feels the molten texture of your insides struggling against his intrusion, trying to force him out of your tight heat as he surges forward.

The tip of his tongue curls, swirling up and knocking the air from your lungs as a rush of hot liquid spills from your insides for him to drink down.

You shook and twitched, moaning and curling your hands around his curved horns like a handle.

The touch sends blood racing to his cock, as he moans and loudly slurps your cum down with audible squelching, enjoying the cries you released into the quiet night.

He lets you rest as he pulls back for just a moment, your body limp and panting as your high comes down.

“Good girl~” he praises, leaning over you to kiss softly at your sweaty skin, licking that too and tasting the sweet and salty mixture.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours, forcing them open to sneak his long tongue inside your mouth, filling it and claiming that space too as his own. You’re helpless to resist, delirious on pleasure as he devours you, wiggling muscle curling and rubbing erotically around your own.

He tastes like sugar and something heavier, more musky, as you come to realize it as your own taste.

“Is this… really normal…?” You can help but ask as he pulls away, his lips still sticking close to trail kisses across your skin.

“It’s quite normal little flower, are you shy still?” He asks curiously, lifting one of your small hands and bringing it to his face, his size dwarfing you considerably. He lightly nibbles on your fingers, making a giggle bubble up as you smile and then squirm when he grins and licks your hand instead.

“A little…” you admit honestly. Always so honest and open.

He nods, as if completely understanding.

“That’s alright, we’re in no rush, I’ll teach you slowly…” there’s something else not said in his words, and you’re left drunk on his pheromones and lips as he distracts you. Then he’s kissing down, discarding your clothing and leaving you naked for his mouth and curious fingers.

Your breasts are lavished in his saliva, pebbled nipples sucked until standing upright before poked down with the tip of his tongue playfully. Always so playful, Ava nips and teases your skin, blinking innocently when you moan and glare accusingly.

“It’s not my fault you enjoy this so much petal~” he pouts, looking comical and so harmless, his glittery gold wings, almost translucent behind him, fluttering as if indignant to your silent accusation.

The golden tattoos which marked his skin more visible tonight, his clothing more minimal in his wish to feel more of you as he explores and plays.

Then he’s parting your thighs and throwing you into ecstasy again.

“Who did it?”

You sat curled around yourself, terror and dread swirling inside of you at the new side of Ava you’d never been graced with before.

The side you supposed was reserved for his enemies, but now showed to you.

Despite your fear, the tears spilling down your cheeks, and the injuries you bore, you still remained stubbornly silent.

He was going insane with rage and anguish.

You truly were a flower. So delicate and easily destroyed.

“Y/N… while I am being reasonable…Tell. Me. Who. Did. It.”

For all the times he’d made himself smaller, less alarming and more charming than his true nature called for, it made this time more appallingly. He stood to his full height, like an unwavering tree he did not budge or allow you to leave, golden eyes flaring and mixing with his red pupils to create something alarming. Even the markings which covered his dark skin seemed to glow and match his eyes, magic crackling in the air and silencing the night further.

As if the stars and moon were frightened too.

Still, still, you did not speak, even as he closed in on you, your fear so strong it almost choked him. Almost. He was too angry, too furious with the humans he liked to cast out of his mind. They needed to be taught a lesson it seemed. Their fear of the Fae renewed. They were becoming arrogant, as if their species was even in the same standing as them.

Your pretty injured face and form, battered from abuse and humiliation, was all the information he truly needed.

If you wanted to protect them, and not tell him, then he’d just punish them all as if they were the culprits.

It soothed him finally, his decision made as the ominous energy around him faded slowly. He let his rage dissipate, worry and concern bleeding through now as he crouched and shuffled towards you, claws spread and outstretched towards you.

“Come here Y/N, keep your secrets, but allow me to hold and comfort you…” his eyes darkened, the glow leaving behind almost a copper color, somber as he looks at you. There’s not pity in his eyes though, as you swallow and sigh in relief, grateful to crawl into his warm embrace where it feels safe.

He’s gentle as he wraps you in his arms, lips and tongue soothing as he tastes your tears and blood.

He grits his teeth, focusing on your scent and the feel of you to calm himself again, before letting his magic seep into your skin. You easily absorbed it, soaking it up like a sponge as your pain and injuries heal.

“Ava—?” Your eyes widen, amazement in their depths which stroke his ego as he taps his forehead against your own. His horns slightly tangling in your hair.

“Do you not want to drop the illusion on yourself?” He asks softly, staring at the human image your portray. He didn’t want to admit it, but it enraged him to see you still trying to live amongst them.

You seem surprised, before looking away nervously.

“It just feels strange… to not see myself anymore,” you confess, burrowing deeper into his chest while enjoying his ability to heal and soothe you. His sugary smell lightening your heavy heart.

He nods slowly, eyes staring at nothing over the still lake.

He holds you a little tighter.

Then you’re asleep.

The burns and screams of the people echo, the night come to life with flames and chaos.

Ava stands leisurely, smile filled with fondness as he watches the human village he’d followed and found to be your residence burn.

He’d spent all night playing with them, listening to them confess the awful things they’d done to you, said to you, and tried to do to you. They even thought of sacrificing you to some nonexistent deity, which only prolonged the nightmare he’d turned the populace into.

He laughed as the sounds swirled into music for his ears, the sharp points curling in delight as he hummed a tune older than the trees towering in this forest.

The night was still coming to an end sadly, and he’d need to return to your unconscious body still where he’d left it.

He didn’t want to let you wake in your new home alone after all.

His body covered in the blood of mortals he’d torn into and feasted on, Ava left them to perish.

Alone you woke. In a bed four times the size of any normal one, within the walls of a palace you’d only ever seen depicted in stories told by faraway travelers.

You glanced down, at hands unlike ones you were accustomed to seeing. You were nude, unable to hide from yourself as you felt tears begin to sprout. The illusion magic wasn’t working, and you couldn’t understand why.

This body was your true form, not that of the human you continuously tried to convince yourself you were. You hadn’t showed Ava, too afraid he’d see your appearance and dislike you for it.

While he was magnificent, you felt puny and odd.

A hiss snatches you from your self loathing, eyes flicking up to land on the one you’d just been thinking of.

He was covered in something, though you weren’t entirely sure what until he moved closer. The pearls lining his chambers glowed softly, his appearance more vibrant as he closed the distance between himself and the bed you laid on.

You sucked in a breath, realization dawning as the red contrasts against his skin. His lower face completely smeared in it, but his lips seemed clean. Until he grinned, red stained sharp teeth with chunks of dark meat stuck in between.

You remembered briefly him mentioning being mistaken for a demon.

You finally understood as a strange fear blossomed in your gut and you scooted away. Confusion and terror consuming you, but your body not catching up with your mind, because it recognized his scent and touch. You didn’t move quick enough, a clawed hand easily curling around your ankle and tugging you close. You slid smoothly over the cool silk, brought close to his body radiating heat. He only wore trousers, his taloned feet bare and ankles revealed as he’d cuffed them up to avoid bloody human fingers trying to grip them.

“Oh my little flower, look at you,” his eyes are swirling melted gold, enchanting and so disorienting. His beauty becoming savage with the blood and human flesh he adorned.

“A-Ava…” you want to ask, but you also don’t want the answer.

Did he find out who hurt you? Or was it unrelated? It seemed too coincidental.

Your chest constricted painfully as he stared down at you in wonder. Your true form so lovely it took his breath away, your image so fitting for you it was a wonder why you didn’t prefer this over your human mirage. Your ears, pointed like his own, were curled down a little with your emotions, as his eyes traced your face.

The shape was the same, your body still so small, and your eyes still expressed every little thought without fail.

He hated to admit it was even cuter, though he mused it was likely because he was the first to see your true form.

An abandoned young changeling, one he only took mild interest in, had him so thoroughly ravenous for all of you now.

“Isn’t this more comfortable petal? Instead of masquerading as a filthy human, aren’t you happier to just be you now?” His callous words seem off, but you can’t quite fathom it all as the shock settles in.

“My precious flower faery, are you scared?” Yes, you wanted to scream, as his bloody face and body near you, his sugary scent over powered by the scent of iron and death. Fae hated iron. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

You choked, jerking back and trying to crawl away from him, but he still had your ankle caged in his hand.

He laughs, but it’s empty and devoid of any true humor as he stares down at you with something dark in his gaze.

He yanks you back, harshly and sending a jolt of pain up your leg as you cry out, pulled back beneath him as he crawls onto the bed over you.

He’s too close, nausea consuming you as you smell and see the gore adorning him.

He finds your useless fear amusing and annoying all at once.

“I asked you a question little flower.” He grips your face, smushing your cheeks and making you look at him.

He rolls his eyes as the tears you so love to shed spill down your cheeks.

“Yes… I-I’m scared…” his smile softens, almost becoming sweet and familiar.

“Good. You should be.” Your blood runs cold.

He has the mercy to bathe, but not alone. You watch as the spray of water from some sort of piping turns pink as it disappears through tiny holes in the marble floor.

He’s nude, like you, and even though you cower and try to turn away, he easily stops any and all retreats with hardly any effort.

“I thought you didn’t like the blood? I’m still not clean petal.” His fluffy curls are flattened by the water falling above, the warm spray soaking you both as you try not to wonder why the sticky redness won’t just wash away with the water. The dried portions difficult to get off without physically touching and rubbing him with your soapy hands. You wanted to know why he was doing this, being so mean.

His ears look more distinct with his hair flat, onyx horns prominent against his forehead as his lashes hold droplets of water to frame his golden eyes.

You try not to show it, but as the blood clears and his dark smooth gold lined skin is revealed, you notice the hard lines of muscle and purple veins which protrude.

You only come up just below his chest, and you can’t look down, least you see it again.

He was making you nervous and scared on purpose, but you couldn’t understand why.

Like a coward you didn’t ask either, because you feared the answer even more.

Ava shifts, fingers coming up to cup your face in his hands and tilt your head up as he leans over you and blocks the water falling. His claws jut out beside your head, one lightly tickling your pointed little ear.

He licks his lips, loving the sight of you soaked and naked, your pretty form so enthralling to his eyes he struggles to contain himself.

“Do you want my help…?” His tone is condescending, eyes uncaring in the least about your inner turmoil.

“Here,” he drops one hand, engulfing your wrist and forcing you to plant your hand against his abdomen. “You have to wash like this—,” he teaches patiently, like none of this was happening and everything was fine. He moves your soft little hand back and forth, the soap quick to wash away as the water continues to fall. “You need more soap petal.” He informs gently, moving to stop the warm spray and letting you both stand in silence now, drops of water falling the only noise besides your breathing.

He sighs when you don’t move, your eyes trained on the corner of the spacious bathing room, where an in ground bath rests. He would take you to the hot springs later.

He fills the hand he has control of with soap, and amuses himself with using it like a washcloth, your little fingers curling as your lips tilt down into a frown.

“Since you need the help,” he goads, watching as those sweet familiar doe eyes flash up a glare from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, a nasty grin filled with something sinister as he chuckles darkly. “Don’t want to be my good girl anymore?” It’s a loaded question you’re unsure of how to answer.

It hardly matters as he forces your hand down, until you jolt at the change in body part you were touching. He forces your fingers to close around his throbbing length, unable to touch or fully wrap around it as your head jerks instinctively to look at what he was making you do.

“A-Ava—,” you try to pull away, but to no avail. He only hums, the soap like lube as he uses your hand to jerk his cock, amused as you stare in shock. He won’t let you go, not when the sight of your smaller form holding his leaking rod is so arousing he comes a minute a later. Hips thrusting with the timing of the squeeze he forces your hand to hold, hot ropes of his seed shooting out onto your chest and belly as he cages you with his free arm from moving away. He allows his purple tapered tip to smear the remaining pearls of his seed on your skin, ignoring your whine of protest as he paints you.

“Fuck, that’s it, be good for me pretty girl,” he growls lightly, chest rattling as he releases his pent up frustration on your confused form.

Really, you couldn’t be more adorable covered in his release looking dazed.

His golden eyes heavy lidded as he crouches down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.

You swallow nervously, staring at Ava as he stares at you from across his bed chambers.

You’d fallen asleep after… after bathing, if you could even call it that, and awoken later to find yourself alone again. Ava missing and your body covered by fine silk sheets while you slept.

You’d scrambled about the room looking for escape, finding nothing but a single exit locked, which Ava now stood before.

He wore a pair of silken sleep pants, tailored to his enormous figure as well as a matching robe left loose and revealing a majority of his chest and abdomen. His wings weren’t physical but a magic which naturally formed behind him, you’d learned.

The gold markings on his body were duller than earlier, his eyes less vibrant and more cool as he looks at you.

He seems more… familiar. Less of the Ava covered in blood and flesh of humans and more of the one you’ve befriended.

He’s silent, unmoving as he stands still in the doorway.

You don’t want to make the first move, unsure in this new environment, but you similarly disliked all of this distance and miscommunication between you both.

You moved cautiously, much like the skittish animal he likens you to in his mind, off the bed. You’d wrapped yourself in one of his sheets, his scent clinging to you the only thing stopping him from tearing it off you in annoyance. He stays put, muscles taunt and jaw clenched as you approach him like he might harm you.

He debated it.

Briefly showing you why you should be obedient and just listen, but dismissing it in favor of you liking him at least to some degree.

When you reach him, he merely stares down at you, face impassive unlike your nervous and awkward expression.

“Ava…?” He finally shifts, leaning down to close the distance a little but still not touching you. It’s you who initiates, because he’s certain he’s trained you well enough in your past touch starved state that you can’t resist the comfort and warmth he provides. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your figure to his while looking up with those honest eyes he adores.

He finally relaxes, your touch so addicting he was unable to resist wrapping you further into his embrace while lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, warm bare cunt now pressed against his abdomen while your arms come around his neck. The sheet loosening and falling down to pool at his feet. He finally smiles at your flustered state, not letting you climb down to grab it, instead moving you both towards his—your—bed and easily laying you down to drape over you.

“You’re calmer than I imagined you’d be…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, kissing up to your jaw. “Should I prepare for your wrath later little flower?” He muses, lifting up to look at your expression.

“Was that blood… from a human?” You look guarded but he isn’t surprised.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” He affirms again.

“Was it because of… me?” Those sweet eyes looked so haunted as you asked, as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No. It wasn’t because of you.”

You check his face, as if he were a human and would lie to you as they do.

“Then why did you do it?” You breathed, sagging in relief beneath him. His lips twitch, molten eyes shining with adoration as he looks upon you.

“They greatly offended me.” He answers vaguely, but it was the truth. They offended him by breathing and walking the earth. It was a direct insult to him. They only met misfortune because they caught his attention.

You seemed happy to accept whatever rid you of any guilt, looking up at him less fearfully now that he was clean and not being mean to you. Though, you both shared very different definitions of being “mean”.

“Am I staying the night?” You asked him curiously. You had thought he’d brought you here as he didn’t know where your home in the village was when you’d fallen asleep.

He shook his head, lips curling higher.

“You’re staying forever.” He declares, sweet scent filling your senses as he comes close enough to kiss you.

Then he does.

You thought his teasing was funny, lips tilting up finally as the awkwardness dissipates and familiarity rises.

This is your Ava, warm sweet Ava that smells so good it makes you crave sweets you cannot afford.

He presses you further into the unfathomably soft bed, his lips demanding as you open for him.

“Ava,” you break the kiss, breathing heavier as he growls and nips at your bottom lip, a shiver wracking you as he leans back enough to meet your gaze. “What we’re doing… it’s what lovers and spouses do isn’t it? At least, this is what human lovers do…” your voice becomes smaller as he stares down as you with an expression you couldn’t name.

“And?” He encourages.

You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before remembering out of all the cruelty in the world, Ava was the outlier.

“Is that what we’re doing? Like lovers?” You felt too embarrassed to directly state it, to say it aloud, and equally scared this isn’t anything different than exchanging a handshake with another faery to him. It was different to you.

“Do you want it to be?” He leans down, placing a feather soft kiss against your temple so you couldn’t see his eyes glowing bright. “Do you want us to be like lovers little flower?” His voice is deeper than usual, strained almost as he holds himself perfectly still above you.

You take the time to think, much to his displeasure, but when you answer it was everything for him.

“I do.”

He places a chaste kiss to your lips, his own tilting higher and higher until he’s grinning gleefully.

“Then that’s what we’ll be.” He confirms, and you miss it.

You miss every little trap he’d laid, each tiny piece of the puzzle forming around you like a cage. You miss everything and it’s too late to go back now. Ava muses wickedly, as he kisses you more sensually, lets his claws drag so delicately down your soft skin, he thinks how stupid you are.

“I’ll be all yours if you ask for it Y/N,” he speaks directly into your pointed ear, hot breath making the tips curl as you whine. The way he says your name is different than usual, more serious and seductive. You realize this seems wrong somehow, the way he’s making you melt so easily like this, how your panic and fear evaporated so quickly. You aren’t given time to think further, when he shifts and sits up. He sneers when you attempt to cover yourself again, gripping your wrist and lightly pulling you up too. On your knees, you face his chest, eyes looking up to see his heated expression.

Ava cups your jaw with one hand, and pokes at your lip with the other.

He doesn’t ask before his thumb invades your mouth, and you fight not to bite down or jerk away with his pointed claw inside.

He’s exploring, squeezing your cheeks until you open wide so he can playfully run over your sharpened canines. Curiously playing with your tongue until he leans down licks it with his own. It felt strange and erotic, your body vibrating with nerves and budding arousal as he explores you.

“Ava…” you wanted to touch him too, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he lets his hands trail down to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples as your back arches into them.

So you let your own hands wander, bolder than usual as you feel his solid form beneath you. His skin is much softer than it appears, strange markings and golden symbols flat. He had no softer points aside from that, muscles like stone and occasionally uncomfortable to lounge against due to it.

He squeezes your waist, smiling mischievous as you yelp and glare at him. He does it again, finally chuckling as he lets his hands slip to your ass.

This time his squeeze makes you gasp, as he parts your ass cheeks and allows your heated core to be exposed to the air. His claws so careful not to tear your skin open as he drags you taunt against him, rutting his hardened cock against your soft belly.

He moans aloud as he sees the tip poke out between you, your breasts above a delicious sight as he does it again and again.

“You drive me wild pretty faery,” he smiles, licking your cheek as he easily lifts you up to toss you to the center of the bed. You sink in, huffing but giggling as he crawls over you, looking like a dark angel as he covers you completely to capture your lips in a much more filthy kiss.

“I want to devour you,” he purrs, licking and kissing down your neck and chest, spreading your legs. “Make you mine completely,” you moan, feeling delirious as he finally licks your sloppy pussy.

You moan when you feel his fingers prod your entrance, sharp claws gone and retracted as he pushes one inside you while he laps at your clit. It feels different and firmer than his tongue, able to rub and stretch you better as he begins sucking on your puffy nub and purring deep in his chest. “Your little nub is hard~ are you feeling good?” He teases, wiggling the tip of his tongue over your engorged clit.

Then he’s pressing a second finger in, a mild burn heating your core as you gasp and try to shift away to no avail. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, spearing them into you, your soft gummy walls forcefully spread around the two digits as he noisily slurps. He’s being messy and a bit rough, but your moans spur him on as he groans into your pussy when you begin clawing at his hair and whining.

“Ava! S’too much! Can’t—!” You squeak and almost bite your tongue when you cum, pussy sucking his fingers deep and massaging them as you soak his hand and face.

He doesn’t stop, eyes glowing bright molten gold as he watches you squirm and babble senselessly while he stuffs a third finger into your poor overstimulated cunt. Your little hole stretched wide around him, and he’s content to watch as your greedy lower mouth takes it as he pumps them into you.

You’re less amused though, body thrumming as the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you panic.

“Stop, I’m gonna make a mess, Ava stop—!” You cry out, eyes watering before tears fall as you struggle to stop the powerful pressure building in your core, hurting you with the intensity as he pushes you further and further. “Your insides are steadily swallowing and sucking my fingers in, aren’t you a little lewd?” He asks, unaffected by your dull nails digging into his forearm, eyes trained on your drooling hole below.

He’s got an iron grip on your hip with his other hand, nails digging into your flesh every time you try to squirm away. “You’re so lovely like this petal.”

He’s fascinated when you break again, clear fluid squirting up and out from your squelching pussy as he continues to shove his fingers in.

You cum so hard it nearly causes you to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back as you twitch and moan as the dam inside you bursts open.

You whine as he pulls free, hand dripping in gooey arousal as he brings it to his lips and slurps it up without any decorum, appearing almost starved as he gazes down at you with the eyes of a predator. “Messy girl~ I’ll teach you though,” his lips pull back to reveal his sharp teeth, “When you feel so good you think you’ll break, you’re supposed to say I’m coming, do you understand?” He asks darkly.

“No more…” your weak plea only makes him smirk, kissing you softly as he slides forward and uses both hands to cover your hips and lift your lower half up.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open, slow to realize that his enormous cock is now laid over your pussy, pulsing and dragging back and forth through your slick folds. The thick veiny appendage causes your trepidation to rise, realization dawning that he intends to fit that inside of you.

“It won’t fit—,” you weren’t being cute or coy, because while you may not be human, your form was still the same size as one. He was much, much bigger, and his cock certainly fit his proportions. You try to catch his attention, unable to close your legs with his body between them. “Ava,” He’s truly not hearing you at all, too enthralled and excited as he lubes his massive length up with your juices. He’s shaking a bit too, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he coos down at you mindlessly, golden orbs almost unseeing at this point as he lines up with your entrance.

“So good for me petal~ you’re all mine aren’t you?” He breathes, and you feel the weight and pressure begin as his tip breaches.

“Wait, stop Ava—!” You whine as the sting becomes a burn and then you’re being filled to the point of excess as you struggle to breathe anymore.

“Shh—♡,” he hushes you, pained as well due to the pressure around him, strangling him as he grimaces and drags back out a little before surging forward. “You’re mine now petal,” he groans.

You’re unable to form words as he works his cock into you like a piece which doesn’t quite fit, bullying and stretching you open to forcefully fit himself.

He leans more weight down onto you as you struggle and writhe, noisy cries falling on deaf ears as he feels himself slipping deeper as your body finally gives up on keeping him out. His tip touches your cervix, before shoving even further and smashing it up as your stomach aches in protest.

You lay limp as he finally bottoms out, twitching with your mouth open and drool pooling down your chin as you feel nothing but the feeling of him inside you. He huffs a laugh, the way you look ruined before he’s even gotten started.

You look like a doll in his grasp, his cock extending your stomach a little as it twitches inside you. Your thighs ache as they’re naturally forced up, unable to spread fully enough for him to settle so he’d merely folded you and pressed you down to prevent escape.

“You did it pretty girl, look at you~” he grins, one hand leaving your hip to press on your belly, making your eyes widen and roll back as you whine. “You took every inch of me in this cute cunt didn’t you?” This male over you isn’t familiar, even as his sugary scent seems to increase and smother you, he seems foreign in his words and actions.

The inconsistencies are difficult to track as he drags himself out of you, the fullness replaced by feeling each ridge and bump of veins decorating his cock as he slides out.

Then he’s pushing in again, stealing your breath and ability to think as he starts to fuck you.

“Don’t worry petal, I won’t hurt you,” you can’t quite understand as he pushes his thick rod inside you, brain shutting off as you go pliant in his hold. “I’ll go nice and slow so you never forget,” he moans as you tighten and jerk, “who owns you.” He’s holding back with all his might as you spasm and grip him in inside of you, walls sucking him back in as he moves to exit.

You make him forget.

As you slick his cock up with your juices, he begins to slip in easier, folding you down further into a mating press as he looks down at your teary face. You make him forget all the time he’s spent alone. Your moans increase as he picks up the pace, pounding nice and deep inside of you and ridding you of any thought beside him. He slips a hand down between you both, claws retracted completely as he softly presses on your swollen clit and throws you reeling into another orgasm around him. “Say it petal,” he grits out, the feeling of you tightening drawing his own end. He’s hardly able to move inside you, short thrusts all he can manage as he drags you over the edge.

“I’m coming—!” Your head tips back, neck bared to his eyes as you cum for him obediently.

He fills you up right after, heavy engorged balls drawing up as he pumps his first load of the day into you. His thrusts not stopping as he rocks forward, expression relaxing as his magic swirls inside of you, his mating mark slowly sinking into your soul as he works to keep his seed deep within your womb. You’re too fucked out to notice, the pleasure and pressure overwhelming your senses as you try to rest now.

Except his cock doesn’t soften.

He thrusts hard once he’s sure his bond has settled, feeling you so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out almost all the way. “It’s like your little hole misses me already,” he smiles, watching as you flutter around his tip as if to tell him you don’t want him to leave. “Tell me petal,” he slides back inside, jolting you awake as you stare incredulously down at where you both connect. The slick sounds of him slipping into your sticky wet entrance haunting as you whine, hands digging into fine silk as you try to push away.

He only presses you down harder, cock burrowing deep as if to anchor you. His eyes are wild and swirling, the color so bright it’s almost blinding in the dim room. “How does it feel to lose?”

You blank. His question not making any sense as the room spins and you’re overcome again with pleasure so intense it makes your toes and feet curl in the air where they rest.

“How does it feel to be utterly mine for the rest of eternity?” You gasp, tearing at the sheets as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to truly fuck you now. Enormous cock working you into a frenzy as you yelp when two fingers pinch painfully around a nipple. “You’re not going back pretty girl,” he laughs, face wicked and beautiful as you look up through blurry eyes spilling tears. “You’ll not return to that filthy human village,” he releases your sore nipple in favor of loosely gripping your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his hand. “You are not in the land of Fae sweet flower,” he lets his lips ghost over yours, his tip bullying your cervix as you writhe and move to claw at his shoulders. “You are in my kingdom, ours, where the corrupted Fae separate themselves,” you’re lost, eyes crossing almost dumbly as you come again, choking as you cry out his name.

You can’t move even an inch, unable to even squirm as you’re forced to take each punishing inch of his cock and he ruts into you.

“Your pussy keeps tightening up when I tell you all the ways you’re mine. Do you like this?” He delights in your pathetic attempt to push at his chest, clearly finished despite his balls still being heavy with his seed he intends to spill into you.

“A-Av-Ava!” You struggle to form even his name, let alone any sentences as he keeps up his fast and brutal pace. Though, from his perspective he was still holding back as he moans and spills himself inside you again.

“Yes flower?” He coos, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face as he pulls out just enough to grip your thigh and turn you on your side, sliding back to the hilt again. He hugs your leg to his chest, working his cock at a new angle in your abused pussy still spilling cum from earlier. “I’m listening,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t speak, aware his cock was keeping you like this.

Words die down as he uses his hand not holding your leg up to grip your hip, holding you still while pushing his hips forward, railing himself inside your exhausted body. Your head rests against the bed, mouth open as your saliva soaks into the sheets, eyes staring at nothing as you feel another impending orgasm approaching.

Ava doesn’t mind, adoring the cute cock drunk expression as he uses you like a toy, filling you up over and over while you slowly lose your mind. “I’m sorry—Ava please, I’m sorry,” your slurred speech and delirious voice make him laugh. Genuinely amused by your rambling, “Why are you sorry petal? I’m not mad,” he catches your lips, tongue invading and swallowing your cries. He finds you so cute.

His cute, stupid little changeling, so trusting and unaware of his unsavory intentions.

You lose consciousness and count when he comes with his hips pressed deeply into your ass, pressing you belly first into his hand as he keeps you angled up to meet his thrusts. Your sensitive chest rubbing against the silk below, body limp as your world goes black and you convulse around him.

This time he lets you fall flat into the soaked bedding, taking his still hard cock out so he can pry apart your pussy lips and watch his release ooze out of your gaping hole.

His golden eyes flick up to your sleeping form, lips pulling as he coos, “Cute~♡” before he’s stuffing you full again, merciless as he leans on one arm to keep from crushing you as he continues to drill into you.

Even when you regain consciousness, trying to crawl away from his torturous pleasure, he only grips your arm and twists it gently behind you to hold. “You’re soaked and so hot inside, do you know how crazy you’re making me?” He groans, almost sounding like he’s in pain as you squeeze and come again. “I’m not letting you go, stop trying to run. You’ve already lost sweet girl.” As he lifts his hips, tip still encased by your wet hot heat, he eyes the slick mess which coats you both and connects you to him. “Go ahead and go crazy too, be good and listen.” He laughs, slamming back in and making your back arch as you nearly scream, feeling him so deep it makes you wonder if he’s going to break you. You really will go crazy, it’s a fleeting thought stolen by his cock once again, but you truly worry as he drowns you with euphoria and madness.

He’s hunched and leaning over your back, letting his tongue and teeth tease your ear so sweetly while he pounds you stupid, whispering to you things you won’t remember.

“You wanted my name so badly, didn’t you my lovely mate?” He knows you don’t understand, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking on, husky voice lulling you as you cry and lose yourself to pleasure. “I’ll tell you since you’re being so good, taking my seed so well~” he lets a little more weight settle on top of you, his cock nestling into your deepest parts with it.

“I am Avarice.”

Post dividers by @cafekitsune

#Dark Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae #monster smut #Greed x reader #Fae smut #faecore #yancore #yandere x reader #fae king #yandere smut #Dark Fae #kinktober fun #request filled #afab reader #Fae x reader smut #changeling #changeling reader

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remember-the-fanfics · 10 months ago

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Gen-Z!Overlord!Reader

• Died at 18, been in hell for a few years.

• Came in after Alastor disappeared, just before Vaggie showed up.

• You were never one to follow what everyone else did. Killing, drugs, theft, or porn.

• Kept to yourself for a few months, getting use to being dead and in hell.

• Accidentally became an Overlord after you killed one in self defense.

"In my defense, she was like super creepy and an asshole. A big one."

• The souls were free but you kept your new territory nice so they didn't leave.

• You made jobs and kept the housing in better shape, only made deals to help souls.

• Gave them a job, house, and protection. You give them a limit of a few years of the deal and if they don't mind it, they can renew it.

"Well I don't want to force them to do something, its rude."

• In return, they keep your territory nice, clean, and less violent than most. Work the jobs you made and protect your little town.

• There's been occasions were you trade souls to other overlords, either the soul did something against them or just an asshole.

• The time on the contract would restart

• To every other overlord, you are a child with a knife and to much power.

• You demolished another overlord because they thought you were weak and tried to destroy you territory.

"You ass eatting bitch-"

• You let others fight for new open territory because you're fine with what you have.

• Panicked when you got invited to an Overlord meeting.

• Apparently you had enough power to be one, then you realized you actually were one.

• It was awkward to meet the most of the overlords. Not knowing who you were to begin with.

"This is for overlords only."

"Oh, I'm (Y/n). I got invited."

• Chatted with Rosie before and after it.

• Camilla likes how you run your territory but you seem so young.

• Did apologized afterwards, introducing you to her daughters, apparently you were around the same age.

• Zestial wanted to know how you took over you territory, interested on how you did it.

• You've only meet Velvette because you need some clothes. She recognized you as the up and coming overlord.

• Throwing the clothes you had in your hands away, saying you need to be in the best lastest trend of clothes.

• You were now stuck having a fashion show as she decided what look good on you.

• While not enjoying all the clothes she had you try on, you kept being nice having conversation when she wasn't yelling at everyone else.

• Velvette learned that you were around the same age so she decided that you were acquainted enough to have her number.

• Apparently it wasn't optional for you.

• You brought back way to much clothes for one person, atleast now you have style.

• Chaotic neutral energy

• Charlie meet you after she heard that you improved a part of hell, wasn't expecting someone so young looking.

"Dying just after I turned 18 just means I look young forever."

• Laughing at your own dark humor.

"Ha...ha.

• Charlie did not find it as funny.

• Told you about the hotel idea and you were right on board.

• Thought it was a good way to stick it to the man and help people.

• Vaggie was surprised when Charlie brought back a child.

• More surprised that you're the Overlord that Charlie wanted to meet with.

• Definitely said Vaggie's name wrong for the first time reading it.

• Meeting Angel Dust after he decided to crash at the hotel.

• Not knowing what he was known for but definitely heard his name from someone.

"You're a kind of actor?"

"Of the sorts."

• After you heard what he was famous for.

"Well, he'll do him and I'll do me but never do each other."

• There was an awkward silence of confusion from everyone.

• Having to explain every reference you make.

• Vaggie made jar for everytime you make a dark joke.

• Charlie has asked you why you were in hell. You shrugged, never living a truly bad life but probably just too chaotic for heaven to handle.

• You leave every few days to check back in your little town to make sure everything was running smoothly.

• You know when something happens, feeling the souls you own in a panic.

• Having to let everyone remember why you were in charge a couple of times.

• Either with your words or actions.

• Luckily Rosie just adores your mannerisms and how you don't completely turn away from her with what or who she eats.

"You could say the food was to die for!"

• She finds your dark humor funny.

• So she keeps an eye out for you, sending letters to you every few days.

• You vist her every other week to just chat, she tells you about easy territories that you could get. You say you would rather show up some punks than have more responsibility with more souls.

• Offers food everytime, you say no thanks everytime.

• Rosie would tell you all the tea about the other overlords or her own town.

• Yay! You have an allie with an another overlord by being friends.

• Also with offering truly worse souls sometimes. On a rare occasion.

• Rosie knowing when you offer a soul to her, she would take her time with it. Enjoying every bite.

• Anyway- Sinners would come up to asking for deal when they are completely down on their luck.

• But whats following a couple of rules for free house and job.

• You give them enough warning before you would shake hands then saying you would know if they even thought of fucking your shit up.

• Putting an add for Charlie's hotel in your territory.

• Charlie almost hugged you to death after seeing it.

• When Alastor showed up, the two of you would have a intense staring contest.

• He wasn't expecting another overlord here, oh wait, you're new.

• Alastor not actually taking the hotel serious, pissed you off but he was more powerful.

• Charlie having to keep you and Vaggie from trying to fight him.

"I didn't know there was a new overlord! Charmed to meet you. Whose territory was up for grab?"

"She was a bitch-."

"I know who exactly you speak of, that's good. She never had any manners."

• Watching him summon Husk and Niffty and was shocked.

• Tried it and summoned one of your workers.

• Excited that it worked! Apologetic for interrupting their day.

"Ah ha! It worked! Oh shit it worked! Sorry!"

• You and Niffty vibe on a similar level. Charmingly violent.

• Vaggie has to make sure either of you give the other one a bad idea to do.

• Husk question your age when you went to the bar. Making you do the math.

"Well I died at 18, it's been a few years so old enough."

• Gave you a hard drink which you spit out after tasting.

• You decide hard alcohol wasn't for you.

• Knowing how technology was when you died making you the most technical advance Sinners in the hotel.

That's enough for now, just a thought I had when working.

#platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin rosie #camilla carmine #zestial #hazbin niffty #platonic #reader insert #charlie morningstar #genz reader

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celandeline · 5 months ago

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The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader, mostly canon compliant (yes, people are still dying/getting maimed), heavy on the smut, incest (they are targaryens, obv), a little angst

9.5k words (buckle up)

You were born at the end of a long summer’s day, just as the last sliver of sun was sinking below the waves of the bay. Your sister was born on the same day, just after the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. Twin Targaryen girls, Helaena and Jaenara, the second and third of Alicent Hightower’s children.

The summer has always held a special place in your heart - not only because of your nameday, but because of the way the heat of the day lingers in the air long after the sun has set. The sound of a warm breeze as it rustles through the courtyard flowers, spreading the lovely floral scent. The feeling of the sun on your skin - the taste of fresh fruit grown outside the city. You’ve always loved the summer. You love it especially now, the only thing making this godforsaken funeral bearable.

Next to you, Aegon snags two more glasses of wine from a passing serving girl, handing one to you with a limp wrist and a sigh. He downs half his glass in one long draught. “I don’t understand why Helaena.” He grumbles, gesturing to where she sits on the ground with his glass, the wine sloshing inside. “If I must marry at all, why not you?”

You take a long sip from your own glass, leaning back against the store railing overlooking the sea. Driftmark, while much more drab than the Red Keep, has one thing going for it - the pleasant smell of salt in the air, and the sound of the waves against the shore. “Our mother thinks that if we were to be wed, I would enable you.” You say.

Aegon snorts, finishing off his drink. “As if Helaena will do anything to stop me from my hedonistic desires.” He jokes, quoting Alicent. “If it’s not to do with grasshoppers, it’s not to do with her.”

You neglect to snicker along with him, simply pressing your lips to the rim of your glass as you watch your dear sister pass a spider back and forth between her hands, muttering under her breath. She’s always been something of a dreamer, your Helaena, something the rest of your family doesn’t seem to notice. But you, always in tune to your sister from the moment you were born, know. Threads of omniscience run through her mutterings, though deciphering them sometimes is beyond you.

“Some could say the same about you, with wine and whores.” You say, glancing knowingly at Aegon. “We all have our compulsions - some worse than others.”

“I only jest.” Aegon says, defensive. You can tell he’s getting drunker, his movements becoming more loose, his words louder.

“Hm.” You finish your glass, setting the empty cup on the railing beside you. “Is it truly in jest if you are the only one laughing?”

“Perhaps it is better that I marry Helaena instead of you.” Aegon says, leaning close enough that you can smell the wine on his breath. “You do have a way of inciting my annoyance, Jaenara. No, I do not think you would make a good wife.”

You lean even closer, all too ready to play Aegon’s game. Your teeth scrape over his ear as you retort, “No, you’ve always liked the ones who won’t fight back, haven’t you?”

The tension breaks as Aegon laughs, tossing his head back as he steps away, putting a respectable amount of distance between you again. You chuckle as well, until another voice - softer, younger - cuts through your chortling. Aemond.

“What’s funny?”

Aegon, not subtle at all, rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“We were just discussing Aegon’s betrothal.” You say, shifting so that Aemond can lean against the railing beside you. You’ve never understood Aegon’s disdain for your baby brother - something your nephews seem to share. “Or rather,” You cast a joking look to Aegon. “Aegon was complaining about it.”

“‘Tis your duty.” Aemond says, ever so serious.

Aegon rolls his eyes again, gesturing widely at Helaena. “Look at her.”

“Aegon-” You start.

“I would do my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.” Aemond retorts.

Aegon flaps a hand. “The both of you.” He dismisses, eyes scanning through the thin crowd. “I’m going to get more wine.” And with that, he’s gone, sliding between chatting relatives in the wake of a serving girl, chasing after the wine she carries.

You place a hand atop Aemond’s head with a sigh, gently carding it through the silky silver hair there. “He can be such an ass, our brother.”

Aemond looks up at you with a thin smile. “Mm.”

The blood on your hands is not yours, but your brothers, smeared across your forearms from when you’d clutched his face in your hands, holding closed the gash across his eye with your thumbs as the maester stitched the wound back together. Now, he smears tears and snot across the bodice of your gown, the good side of his face pressed against the thin fabric of your nightclothes as he clutches you with shaking hands.

Your mother is screaming. Aegon is huddled against the wall of the room, no doubt already suffering a hangover from how much he drank. Helaena stands to your left, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the scene before her, gaze absent. You watch in horror as your mother wields a knife against Rhaenyra, spitting insults like venom. Ser Cole is pressed almost chest to chest with Daemon. Your little nephew, Lucerys’ face is bloodied.

You have no idea what happened. But Aemond is missing an eye. And Vhagar is now his dragon, instead of Laena’s daughters. You knew - known, now - that his lack of a dragon had always been a sore spot for Aemond, but you never would have guessed that he would go to such drastic measures to claim a beast of his own. And Vhagar, no less.

You expect him to cry, to whimper in pain, to react, but he just holds onto the gauzy fabric of your nightdress and keeps the unmarred side of his face pressed close to your chest. Hiding, almost.

You soothe a hand down his back, pressing him closer. “It’ll be alright.” You say, your voice lost amongst the carrying on. It won’t be. He’ll be scarred forever, he’ll have to re-learn how to walk, how to write, how to do anything that requires vision. It’ll take him years to recover fully.

“I know.” He says, voice soft. Level. Even.

And it’s his calm reassurance that makes you believe your own words. It will be alright, one way or another.

Hand in hand, you walk your brother through the halls of the Red Keep, towards the training yards, for his swordsmanship lessons. Servants and nobles alike avert their eyes as you pass, some out of respect, some out of disgust. It’s true - the scar across Aemond’s face is nothing delightful to look at, a motley of yellow and purple swollen skin, the scabs leaking pus. But you do not look away. He is your brother, and he receives enough torment from Aegon already.

He clutches your hand tightly, holding it like a bannister as he puts one foot in front of the other, his good eye steadfastly looking ahead. Sometimes his balance sways (especially around turns or on the steps) but he’s getting better. “You’ll be able to come and go as you please again soon.” You say, not bothering to hide the pride in your tone.

He scoffs. “I can’t stay a cripple forever.”

Aemond was never sweet. But the loss of his eye has only soured him more. You roll your eyes, teasing, “You’d do well to save your bitterness for someone who’s not capable of causing you to fall down the stairs at a moment's notice.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Apologies, sister.” He mumbles.

You sigh. “I only joke, Aemond.” Aegon has ruined him, picking at all of his insecurities without remorse until he bristles at the slightest hint of humor, thinking an insult is coming.

His good eye shifts away from the hall in front of him for a moment to cast you a sidelong glance.

“Not all of us are Aegon.” You insist, rounding the corner with him to step outside into the afternoon sunlight. Ser Cole is already waiting, whirling his sword from hand to hand idly as Aegon straps himself into his practice armor. Aemond lets go of your hand as soon as he sees Aegon, taking shaky steps onto the field proper, alone.

Aegon pays him no mind, his gaze falling on you. “Jaenara. Come help me.”

“Your lack of manners is appalling.” You say, walking over to him anyway, taking the leather straps of his breastplate from him and tightening them over his shoulders. “What would mother say?”

Aegon just grins. “Meet me tonight.” He says, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial register. He doesn’t have to say where - you’ve snuck out with him before. You know the route. “A traveling troupe has arrived in Flea Bottom, supposedly.”

“Sunset?” You ask, dropping your hands from the straps on his shoulders to the ones near his waist.

“Mm.” He watches you work, still grinning.

“Alright.” You say, stepping back.

His grin widens into a smile as he twirls his sword. “What fun we’ll have.”

The sun has begun to light the sky when you stumble back into the Red Keep with Aegon, giggling under your hoods as you sneak past the white cloaks back to your chambers. Really, it can barely be called sneaking anymore - you know they see you return, you know they saw you leave. The only reason they don’t trail you through the streets of the city is because Alicent doesn’t know, and hasn’t ordered them to, so why do the extra work?

You sway into Aegon’s shoulder as you walk, all the wine that you drank making your head spin. Taking you by the arm, he only makes it worse as he begins to waltz you down the hall, jauntily humming the same tune you’d been dancing to in a tavern earlier. Laughing like a fool, you tip your head back and let him dance you about, until he deposits you against the wall by your bedroom door, caging you in against the stone.

You know he’s going to kiss you - he always does, at the end of the night. Gently, he presses his lips to yours, and you smile into it. He doesn’t kiss you like he kisses his whores - nor do you kiss him as you do yours. It’s a chaste thing, only a moment before you’re both pulling back to look at each other.

“As sweet as wine.” He whispers.

“Mm.” You bite your lip in a grin. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

“Good morning.” He giggles, pushing away from the wall to stumble back to his own bed.

You slip into your own room, dropping your cloak and dress from your shoulders, one after the other, as soon as you are inside. Just in your shift, you turn to flop into the soft comfort of your bed, only to see a lump under the covers that wasn’t there when you left. Slowly, you peel back the sheets to reveal Aemond, face pressed into your pillow, soundly asleep.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you climb into bed beside him, doing your best not to disturb his slumber. He stirs anyway though, good eye cracking open with a jolt, softening when he realizes it’s you. Extending an arm, you make space for him to curl up against your chest, and he does, tucking his face under your chin.

“You were with Aegon.” It’s mildly accusatory, but mostly sleepy.

“Mm.” You don’t deny it, stroking a hand through Aemond’s hair. “And you were here. In my bed.” You press your nose to the top of his head. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

“My eye.” He says. “The pain. It’s more than just the skin, it… it stabs me through the skull, sometimes. Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

“We will see the maesters in the morning.” You say, still gently stroking. “Perhaps they will be able to come up with some tincture to soothe you.”

He lets out a sleepy little hum, and settles more against you. Your own eyes flutter shut, and your stroking hand moves to wrap around his shoulders instead. It’s quiet, for a while, and for a moment you think he’s drifted off, but then,

“Will you take me with you, once?”

“To Flea Bottom?”

“Mm.”

You pause for a moment. “If you wish. Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”

“How old?”

“At least as old as I was when Aegon first took me with him.”

“And how old was that?”

You smile into his hair. “Give it a year.”

“Mm. Alright.”

The quality of Aemond’s eye improves drastically over the course of a year, so that by the time he dons his own cloak and takes to the streets of King’s Landing with you and Aegon, it almost blends into his face. The scar is a long pale thing that trails down his cheek, and the only part of the injury that escapes the eyepatch. Under the shadow of his hood, it’s barely noticeable.

He trails a half-step after you and Aegon, clearly unsure. You don’t blame him, it’s quite a change from within the walls of the Red Keep, but an exhilarating one at that. Arm in arm, you and Aegon lead the way, moving smoothly through the crowds to one of your favorite haunts, a little brothel tucked away near the edge of the city.

You can hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from within before you even step foot in the building, and the area around the door is crowded with hangers-on, men who can’t pay their whores dues. Aegon pushes through them all easily, and you glance back to make sure Aemond isn’t lost before following him inside.

The place reeks of incense, barely covering the smells of sweat and sex, but it’s familiar to you. On instinct, your eyes scan the crowd of the main chamber, searching for your favorite whore, a beauty named Falyse with long lashes and plump lips. You can feel Aemond pull closer to you in the presence of such debauchery, and you glance down at him again, to find him already looking at you.

“This is a brothel.” He says.

“Aye.” You grin, glancing at Aegon.

Aegon smiles wide, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Tonight is the night that you become a man, brother! Your first taste of the best pleasure the world can offer.”

Catching sight of a familiar shock of black hair, you turn, meeting Falyse’s eyes through the throngs of men. “I must take my leave.” You say, petting Aemond’s head. “But you are in good hands with Aegon. And I won't be far.”

“Alright.” Aemond says. He’s still unsure, clearly, but there’s no time for hesitation once Aegon’s swept Aemond up in his frenzy. You slip away, weaving through the writhing bodies until you reach the other side of the room, where Falyse is pouring a glass of wine for another patron. She’s barely clothed, so you can feel the goosebumps that rise when you snake an arm around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder.

“Princess.” She greets you with a sultry purr.

“My lady.” You return, laying your lips in the junction of her neck. “I’ve missed you so.”

She’s quick to pull you away from the main room, behind a thick curtain to an empty bed. It’s a familiar dance that you do - she makes a show of ridding you of your clothes, running her soft hands up and down your body until you’re dripping. Then she lays her mouth on you - her wonderful mouth that could pull honey from even the most stalwart of noble women. She never lets you rest with only one peak, no she delights in working as many from you as she can, until you’re pushing her away. Then it’s your turn to return the favor, licking at her until her sweet moans fill the air and you can feel her clenching around your tongue. You’ve earned her devotion in that way - on more than one occasion, she’s confessed that no man has ever thought of her pleasure, on their own.

“Well, I am no man.” You’d responded.

It’s an exhausting affair, this dance, so it often ends with you curled around her on the bed, listening to her share the latest gossip of the smallfolk whilst you twist her hair into intricate braids, the kind only Targaryens wear, a sign she’s been with royalty. You’ve just finished your handiwork, laughing along to a story about the smallest cock she’s ever seen, when the curtains part, and Aemond slips into the room, clearly close to tears.

Immediately you sit up, paying no mind to the fact that you’re completely bare. “What’s wrong?”

Holding back tears, he hesitates for a moment before climbing into your lap, pressing his face between your breasts with a shaky sigh. You clutch him to you, guilt and regret sinking into your heart. Too young. He’s always been more sensitive than you, or Aegon, you should have waited to include him in your revelry. Too young, too young.

Falyse sits up as well, raising a questioning brow. You shake your head, and run your fingers down your brother’s back. For a while, the room is silent as Aemond’s breathing calms, and then he pulls his face away, sliding out of your lap to sit next to you instead. Looking down, he hides behind long curtains of hair, but not before you catch a glimpse of his expression. Shame.

Gently, you break the silence. “Aemond, this is my friend, Falyse. Falyse, my dear brother.”

Falyse smiles warmly, peering underneath Aemond’s hair. “A pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

“You must tell him what you were telling me.” You say. “Oh, it’s hilarious, Aemond, you must listen.”

He perks up slightly, as Falyse starts her story again - and she does get him to laugh, but the hurt doesn’t leave his eyes, and the guilt begins to pool in your stomach.

The sapphire is weighty in the pocket of your gown, and bounces heavy against your leg as you rise from the dinner table, dipping your head towards your father before you take your leave, following your siblings out of the hall. Aemond’s nameday feast was a small affair, per request of the prince, and he only received books from both of your parents - leatherbound histories of Valyria that look entirely too large in his little arms as he carries them back to his bedroom.

“Aemond.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, and you pluck one of the books from his hold, tucking it under your arm. With your other hand, you pull the sapphire from your pocket, and hold your closed fist out to him. “Here.”

Looking at you curiously, he holds out a hand, and you drop the sapphire into it. “A sapphire.” He says.

“For your eye.” You explain. “I had the masons fashion it so that you can slide it into the socket. I thought it might suit you.” Jokingly, you add, “And perhaps improve your standing with the court ladies.”

He huffs out a little laugh, examining the gemstone with a careful eye. “Thank you Jaenara.”

You smile, reveling in the first laugh you’ve won from him in a very long time.

Ser Cole and Aemond behind you, you lead them through the streets of Flea Bottom in the early morning light. It feels like a bit of a betrayal, showing them all of Aegon’s usual haunts, but the situation is dire, and your brother needs to be found. Your father is dead, and it was his dying wish, your mother said, for Aegon to be king.

The brothel looks different in the daylight, drab and empty. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you bound up the steps to the door and bang the heavy knocker twice on the wood. With any luck, you can get a hold of Falyse - if Aegon was here last night, she will let you know, free of charge.

It is not Falyse that answers the door, but the brothel Madame, Sylvi. A familiar face to you, albeit one that you have not had the pleasure of knowing under more intimate circumstances. Her eyes scan over your face, and then Aemond and Cole behind you. Stooping into a short curtsy, she asks. “And what can I do for you, my lady?”

“I am looking for my brother.” You say.

“He seems to be behind you-”

“My other brother. Aegon.” You clarify. “Was he here last night?”

“I’m afraid not.” She says.

You turn back to face your companions. Cole sighs, glancing around the streets like he might spot Aegon passed out in the mud. Aemond’s eye is on the Madame, a mixture of contempt and something else stirring in his gaze.

“Where else, then?” Cole asks.

“I don’t know.” You wrack your mind, tracing through all of the taverns and brothels you frequent with your brother, all places that you’ve stopped before arriving here, all with the same result. “This was the last place I could think of.”

Cole swears under his breath.

Aemond breezes back down the steps, his mouth set in a determined line. “He must be somewhere. Come, we will try the fighting pits next.”

You murmur your thanks to the Madame before following after Aemond and Cole, worry sinking into your gut. Leave it to Aegon to get swallowed up by the city when the realm needs him most.

Meleys’ breath washes over you as you stare down the dragon’s maw, expecting to see the glow of fire any moment, signaling your end. There is no time for action - in the few seconds you would have before flame reached you, there is no way you could reach your own dragon, Vermithor, to have any hope of combatting Rhaenys. Instead, you grasp Helaena’s arm and try to ignore how your hands shake.

Aemond steps in front of the both of you, obscuring your view of Rhaenys atop her dragon with one hand on his sword. As if something as feeble as that will do anything against a dragon.

You wait, feeling your sister with whom you shared your mother’s womb tremble underneath your grasp.

You wait, watching Aemond’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath in front of you.

You wait, watching as your mother steps in front of Aegon, one hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice.

A tidal wave of relief floods through you as Rhaenys pulls at the reins, and Meleys backs off, slipping through the doors of the dragonpit just before they swing closed, casting the room into semi-darkness. Alive. You’re alive - as is Helaena, and Aemond and Aegon. All of you, alive. You watch your mother almost fall to her knees as the relief washes through her, and then you are wrapped up in Helaena’s arms as she crushes herself to your chest. You return the hug with vigor, your eyes finding Aemond’s over her shoulder.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

Something is happening. They’ve been locked in the small council chamber even since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. It’s been hours since your brother dismounted Vhagar, soaked to the bone and looking more shaken than you’ve ever seen him. You have no idea what happened, or what’s being discussed. Now, more than ever, you curse not being born a man.

Still, there is nothing to do but wait.

So you do, steeping in the burning hot waters of Aemond’s bathtub, idly flipping with damp fingers through a series of poems you’d found in your great-grandfather Jaehaerys’s saddlebag when you’d claimed his dragon. Some of them you recognize as things he’d copied from other poets, some are his own musings about his wife, Alysanne. He wasn’t half bad, in your opinion.

You snap the booklet closed as the door to the bathroom opens, and Aemond slips inside, still dressed in his soaked riding leathers. He stills when he lays eyes on you, obviously not expecting anyone to have been waiting for him. But you just smile, and set your book aside.

“I had them draw a bath.” You say. “I figured you would want a soak, after flying in the rain. Scalding, of course.”

He smiles, and starts on the buttons of his overcoats, the fabric falling to the floor with a wet slap. His trousers are next, and then his eyepatch, set on top of your book before he slides into the bath behind you with a sigh, his head falling back against the edge of the tub.

“Very thoughtful of you, sister.” He says, eye fluttering shut.

“Mm.” You turn around in the tub, collecting a rag that you’d draped over the side and dipping it into the hot water, beginning to run it over his skin that isn’t submerged. For a moment, the only sounds are the echoes of droplets falling back into the tub as you wash him, until you speak again. “What business kept you in council so long?”

A tension settles in his jaw. “Lucerys Velaryon was also at Storm’s End.”

“You failed to win their allegiance?” You ask, surprised.

“No. Lord Borros was easily won when I promised myself to one of his daughters.” You brother opens his eye. “But Lucerys is dead, at my hand.”

You set the rag aside, your mind spinning. Lucerys, dead. As if things weren’t already pointing towards all out war after your father changed his mind about the succession. “How?”

Something in his expression shifts and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. “Vhagar.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. “I only meant to scare him, but she knows my anger… I cannot pretend that I did not fantasize about killing him. I did not think that she would…” He swallows, collecting himself. “Our mother is less than pleased with me.”

“Our mother could never understand the bond between dragon and rider.” You say, consoling. You lay a hand gently on his face, over his scar, and run your thumb under the sapphire that sits in his eye. “You cannot be blamed for your anger at the boy who maimed you. Vhagar cannot be blamed for sharing that sentiment.” You pause. “It is a regrettable accident. And I am sorry for Rhaenyra and her children.”

He takes a shaky breath before wrapping his arms around your middle, and pressing his face into your shoulder, holding you to him as tightly as possible. Already wet from the bath, the few tears he sheds onto your skin make no difference. You say nothing, but pick up a comb from the short table beside the tub and begin to work it through his hair.

You wake up to a sharp pain in the side of your neck, like the skin has been sliced open. One hand flies to the wound, and the other slips under your mattress, pulling the long dagger you keep there free of its sheath in a smooth motion. You sit up, the knife brandished before you, only to find your bedroom empty, the only motion being that of the curtains fluttering from the breeze of your open window.

You pull your other hand away from your neck, expecting to see blood. Your palm is blank, the skin unmarred. In the reflection of your blade, you inspect your neck, only to find nothing. A phantom wound, perhaps from a dream. Anyone else would have simply gone back to sleep. But this is not the first time you and your sister have shared each other’s injuries.

You rise quickly, knife still in hand as you dart from your chambers, heading down the hall at a quick clip. It’s eerily empty - not a white cloak in sight. Something is wrong, you’re sure of it, the echo of your footsteps on the stone only serving to further put you on edge as you approach the nursery. The door stands ajar, flickering candlelight seeping out into the hall from within.

Slowly, carefully, you peer around the door. The room is empty - silent. The door creaks as you edge your way inside, turning to glance at the children’s beds. It is then that you see it - the headless body of your nephew, blood still seeping out of the stump of his neck into his bedsheets. Your blood runs ice cold, and then burning hot as rage fills you. Your gaze drops to the blood spatters on the floor, little droplets lead out into the hall.

Readjusting your grip on your dagger, you break into a sprint, following the trail.

Your bare feet slap in harsh rhythm against the stone, your eyes flicking back and forth from the floor to the hall in front of you as you follow the blood splatters. It is too late now. Jaehaerys is dead already, but you have to do something, you must. You can see candles being lit as you whip past door after door, the Keep slowly waking as the horror sets in, but you do not stop.

You do not stop even when you turn an ankle as you round a corner, because there he is, a tall man in a hooded cloak, a burlap sack tightly clutched in his hand, blood dripping through the fibers. Stumbling, you push yourself back up with your hands, and with a mighty scream, leap at the mans back, knocking him forward.

The bag tumbles to the ground, and Jaehaerys’ head rolls out, jaw slack and eyes wide.

“The fuck-” The man growls, knocking you from his back. You fall to the ground, but force yourself to your feet again, diving forward, your dagger poised to strike. Bigger and stronger than you, he grabs your wrist, bending the bone until it snaps. Tears flood your vision as the pain washes over you, but you do not stop. Gritting your teeth, you drive your dagger into the soft skin of his side, between where his ribs end and his hips begin.

He groans, releasing your wrist, and you leap at him again, clawing at his face as you sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you can. You can feel the blows he’s raining on you, but you hold on, savoring the taste of his blood as it floods your mouth, coppery and strong. His hands wrap around your broken wrist, and you wail again, your voice muffled by his skin in your mouth.

But then there are hands around your waist, and the clank of armor fills your ears. Two white cloaks tackle the man to the ground as Aemond pulls you from his grasp, pressing your back to his chest.

“Kill him!” You shout, eyes locked on the man as the guards beat him into submission before hauling him up to his feet. “Kill him!”

“Jaenara.” Aemond’s voice is low in your ear. “The maesters…”

You try to shake him off, but your brother doesn’t relent, gently steering you away from the guards and little Jaehaerys’ head on the floor, back into the relative calm of the halls. As the adrenaline fades, pain begins to wrack your body in waves, and you find yourself leaning against Aemond as tears fill your vision.

“Helaena,” You gasp, chest heaving as sobs build up in your throat.

“With Cole, and our mother. Jaehaera, as well.” Aemond assures you.

“They,” You say, working around the lump in your throat. “Put a knife. To her throat.” You bring your fingers up to the side of your neck, where the pain had awoken you. “Here.”

“I’m sure she’s being tended to.” He says. Gently, he pulls your arm up, inspecting your wrist, bent at an odd angle and already starting to swell. “We must tend to you too.”

Too exhausted to insist that there are more important things to be dealt with, you let him steer you along.

You watch little Jaehaerys’ body bounce with the movement of the carriage in front of you, slightly obscured by the mourning veil you wear. Helaena sits beside you, pressed between you and your mother, eyes firmly pointed up at the sky. She’s empty, you can feel the echo of it in your own body, as you’re sure she can feel a hint of the festering anger you yourself are harboring.

It will only be a matter of time now, before you don your armor and mount Vermithor for battle. You pity the fool who will fly to meet you.

The wails of the smallfolk fill the city streets as you pass, petals filling the air as they toss handfuls at the carriages, shouting their grief in harmony. The news of Jaehaerys death had swept through the city like fire, just as your grandsire had suggested it would. Now, more than ever, the smallfolk hated Rhaenyra - there would be no public protest of the war that was brewing.

But you cannot help but feel angered by the whole thing as your little nephew’s body shakes with the movement of the carriage in front of you. To be reduced to a martyr, at such a young age. And knowingly, by his own kin. It is an ugly, ugly thing.

Helaena’s eyes finally drop from the sky, and your mother shifts, extending a hand to touch her arm. Helaena shrinks away instinctually, leaning further into you, and you shift, allowing her to press herself against your side, her head falling into the crook of your neck.

You do not need to speak to know what she is thinking. You rest a hand on the back of her head, and let her curl into you, feeling her heartbeat against your own.

“Cole and I will cut them off entirely.” Aemond says, laying another marker on the map, over Rook’s Rest. “And with Rhaenyra confined to Dragonstone, it should be simple enough to take Harrenhal without interruption.”

You let your gaze sweep over the map, stopping at each marker Aemond had put down. “A clever plan.” You agree. “And Aegon also approves?”

Aemond scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair, the light from the fireplace dancing over his face. “What does it matter?”

“He is the king.” You say simply, lifting your gaze to look at your brother. “It is his war that we fight.”

“He is a figurehead.” Aemond says, rising from his seat to circle around the table, coming to stand behind you. “At the hands of our mother and grandsire. His only purpose is to lend them free reign.”

“He is our brother, and liege lord.” You say, standing from your own seat and turning to face him. “You speak treason, Aemond.”

“Mm.” Aemond hums, eye drifting over your face. “I forget, sometimes, that you are partial to him.”

“He is my brother.” You repeat. “And my Helaena is his wife.”

Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, the only sound is that of the crackling fire. But Aemond’s soft voice breaks through again. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”

The question takes you aback, and you laugh. “What?”

“In all your whoring together, did you ever let him fuck you?” He asks again, unwavering.

“No.” You say. “I have no taste for his particular flavor of depravity.” Not that Aegon ever tried, either. That wasn’t - isn’t - the nature of your friendship.

“Hm.” Aemond hums, turning back to the map sprawled across the table. “Vermithor will be needed to secure the Riverlands.” He continues, like the discussion never strayed from battle in the first place. He leans over the map, tracing a long finger over the stretch of the reach.

“Of course.” You agree, confused.

It’s been too long since you last did this.

Wine flowing through your veins, you walk arm in arm with Aegon, leading the way to the old brothel, his friends and squire - the reason for the night - behind you. The crowd parts as you step through the brothel doors, a hush falling over the gathered patrons. The quiet only lasts for a moment before whispers take its place, hushed words about the king himself being a patron tonight.

Aegon, of course, pays these whispers no mind, dropping your arm in favor of grasping his squire by the shoulders, speaking grandly about the pleasures of manhood. It makes you think of a similar night many years ago, when you’d brought Aemond to this very brothel. Guilt floods you for a moment, but is quickly quelled when soft hands wind over your shoulders, and a sultry voice whispers in your ears.

“Princess.”

You turn, delighted to see Falyse - delighted enough, that with the wine already in you, you plant a wet kiss to her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “My sweet lady, my own heart.” You croon. “It has been far too long.”

She laughs, raspy and seductive, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile. “I did not know that all three of you would be joining us tonight.” She says, winding her arms about your shoulders. “Just like when you were younger.”

“Mm.” You find yourself agreeing before her words really register. “Wait, three? Is Aemond-?”

But it’s too late, you know it is as soon as Aegon’s raucous laughter booms through the room. You turn away from Falyse, finding your brother amidst the crowd, having abandoned his squire in favor of sinking next to Aemond on a bed, a wide grin crawling over his face.

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see Aemond shrinking in on himself, curling away from the Madame, who he’d been laying with. Winding Falyse’s hands away from your shoulders, you bring her knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there. “Another time, my lady.”

“Of course.” She says, understanding flashing across her gaze.

You push through the gathered patrons towards your brothers, but Aemond meets you halfway, stalking through the crowd naked as the day he was born, clearly fuming. He pauses when his eye falls on you, clearly not having expected you to be here as well, and you watch his lip tremble ever so slightly. But he does not cry.

“Aemond.” You say, unsure how to broach the subject.

“Jaenara.” He returns, icy.

A pause stretches between you, and Aemond turns to leave, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “Come back home with me.” You say.

You think he’ll spurn you, hiss some insult that’s more for Aegon than for you, but he sighs, “Fine.”

He does not speak to you until you stand at his bedroom door. You feel as though you should say something, apologize on Aegon’s behalf in some way, but you don’t get the chance before Aemond is beckoning you into his chambers with a quiet, “Come.”

You do, not realizing what he wants until the door is shut behind you and you’re pressed against it, your brother's lips pressing insistently into yours. You only hesitate for a moment before kissing him back, giving him what he wants. He melts into it, softening as he realizes that you won’t reject him, cradling you into his arms.

When he pulls back, his voice is breathy. “I’m going to kill him.”

It sends a spike of fear through you, thinking of one brother killing the other, but the look in Aemond’s eye leaves no room for doubt. “I’m sure you will.”

Apparently the correct answer, Aemond resumes kissing you with a fervor, steering you away from the door and towards his bed. “I’ll kill him,” He says, rushed between kisses. “And without an heir, I’ll take his place.” His hair tickles the side of your face as he presses his nose into your neck. “Make you my queen, as he had Helaena.” He nips at the thin skin, making you hiss in pain, pulling at his hair.

He lifts his head as he pushes you down onto his bed, crawling over you. “You’re betrothed to another.” You say as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress.

“As are you.” He responds. You bat his hands away from the laces as soon as you hear fabric rip, and begin undoing them yourself. “Both empty promises made by our grandsire for armies.”

You shimmy out of your overdress, and kick it off the edge of the bed, left in your shift. Aemond strips himself of his shirt before tugging at the hem of your slip, urging you to take it off as well. Before long, you’re both naked, and he’s hovering over you again, trailing his nose along the swell of your breast. You take the opportunity to free him of his eyepatch, enjoying the glitter of the sapphire you gave him.

His eye finds yours as he quietly asks, “Will you let me?”

As if you really even have a choice in the matter. “Yes.”

That’s all the permission he needs to lift your hips with one hand and slide his cock into you with the other. You wrinkle your nose as the sting of the stretch as he works himself into you, his eye fluttering shut. With a deep groan, he begins rocking himself in and out, grinding into you slowly. It’s not the most pleasure you’ve ever felt (no, he would be hard-pressed to compete with Falyse), but it isn’t unpleasant.

You relax into the bed as he begins to fuck into you in earnest, whimpering to himself as he takes a breast in his mouth, lost in your body. You suppose you should have expected something like this, eventually. It was odd, that he’d asked if Aegon had ever fucked you, but you hadn’t thought that he himself wanted to. Now, his intentions in asking seem obvious.

He releases your breast with a pop before tucking his face against your neck, words trickling directly from his lips to your ear. “My Jaenara…” He moans. “Always so good to me. So kind, so sweet, so fierce. Hm.” He pants heavy, his hips knocking against yours frantically. “Seeing you covered in that mans blood, the chunk you ripped out of his neck with your teeth… my dragon.” He croons.

You wind a hand into his hair, wincing as your wrist twinges in pain. It’s gotten better under the maester’s care, but it still complains when you move it in certain ways. The pain vanishes quickly though, and you begin to stroke Aemond’s hair just how he likes, pressing your lips to his temple.

He whimpers again, almost like he’s in pain. “I will put us on the Iron Throne.” He swears, voice breathy. “Our dragons will burn Rhaenyra and her armies alive, and it will be our line that continues the tradition of our ancestors.” He all but growls it, snapping his hips with such force that you have to stop yourself from slamming into the headboard. “I swear it to you.”

“Aemond.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the vigor of his thrusts. The last thing you would have expected was for Aemond to get you to peak, but you can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of his rough fucking and devoted words stirring your insides.

“Tell me that you are mine.” He says, demanding and begging at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm, pleasure no doubt creeping up on him the same as it is for you.

“I’m yours.” You swear. “I’m yours, Aemond.”

He whimpers, and it’s the whining sound that sends you over the edge, your body tensing in his hold as you clench around him. With a loud gasp, you come, and Aemond’s thrusts reach breakneck speed.

“You’re mine.” He whispers in your ear. “Mine, mine-” He comes with a rough groan, pressing his hips to yours and holding them there. He sinks into you immediately, collapsing onto your chest, his breath coming in pants against your skin.

You bask in the quiet of his room as his cock softens within you, mind spinning as you take in what just happened. “Did you mean it? All that you said?” You ask softly, stroking his hair again.

“Mm.” He affirms, sleep heavy in his voice.

You say no more as he drifts off to sleep on your chest, cock still inside you. He intends to make you his queen. To kill Aegon and take his place.

You love Aegon, you do. He is your brother, and one of your closest friends. But you would be lying if you said he was a good king. Perhaps it would not be so bad, if Aemond were to take his place, especially with you at his side.

But does Aegon really deserve to die?

Aemond is insatiable now that he knows you won’t spurn his advances. You can’t say that you mind too much.

Your elbows resting on the table before you, he takes you from behind as you both pore over a map of Westeros, markers indicating where your forces lay. A letter from Ser Cole sits open on the table beside you, informing Aemond of his most recent conquest as he nears Rook’s Rest. You run your fingers against the wood of the table, moving pieces along the map like chess, the sounds of Aemond’s breathy groans and the rustle of your skirts shifting as he takes you the only sounds in the room.

“You will have to - ah - take flight on Vhagar soon then, if you are to meet Cole at Rook’s Rest.” You say.

“Hm.” Aemond’s hips smack into yours as he leans over your back, moving the piece that symbolizes Vhagar to the edge of the crownlands. “The conquest should not take more than a day. Any longer and I would send Aegon in my stead - I would be loathe to leave you.” He jokes, pressing his nose against your neck.

“Mm.” You hum, letting him stretch you further across the table and angle your hips to better receive his thrusts. Planting his hands on your hips, he pulls you back to meet each snap of his hips, the map forgotten as he pleasures himself with your body. There’s something intoxicating about his unwavering devotion, something rewarding. It feels like all the time you spent comforting him as a child is paying off; after all, he intends to put you on the throne. You wind a hand behind you to caress his cheek.

He melts into the touch, extending his body over your back, pressing himself to you completely. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him. The simplest of touches, the softest of words, and the most fearsome dragon rider in the world bends completely to your will.

“You must tell Aegon of your plans.” You say, laying your head down on the table to peer at the man behind you.

“He will no doubt find out on his own.” Aemond says. “Either way, they don’t involve him. Rook’s Rest is nothing Cole and I cannot take on our own.”

“And if someone were to show you the same insolence if you were the king?” You retort, biting back a gasp as his thrusts increase pace.

“When.” He corrects, almost growling. “When I am the king. And I would exile them for such an insult.”

“Yet- mm, Aemond, ah - you do not fear such retribution from Aegon.” You say. You know he’s getting close, his soft pants turning into longer whines, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. You clench as tightly as you can, reveling in the breathy moan you pull from him as he stills, hips still pressed against yours, spent.

You feel him make himself comfortable against your back, not bothering to pull away just yet. “Our brother is a fool, not fit for the duties of the crown. How can one be expected to respect such an undeserving monarch? No,” He says, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto any patch of your skin he can reach. “We will be much greater.”

It’s treason, even just entertaining thoughts of taking the throne from the rightful king, but the more Aemond speaks of it, the more you find yourself indulging in the fantasy. Never before did you truly consider what it would be to be queen, but after truly thinking about it, you find yourself enchanted with the idea. With anyone else, you have no doubt that you would have been subjected to the life your mother lived, but as Aemond’s queen, you would have more power than any woman before you.

“You sound so sure already.” You tease, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he slips away, tucking himself back into his trousers and pulls your skirts back down over your legs.

“That is because I am.”

Aegon presses his face into his hands, groaning. While he’s not looking, you slide the wine decanter away from him. Full when you sat down, it’s almost empty now, most of the contents having been poured down the kings throat. He’s been drinking more, in the aftermath of little Jaehaerys’ death. You can’t blame him, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t concerning.

“They plot behind my back.” He says, his face still hidden in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Aemond. My own hand - and our mother, she…” He trails off. “They mock me. Think me an idiot. I cannot…” He reaches for the decanter, only to find it missing, and lifts his head out of his hands. “My wine.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” You say, doing your best to be firm.

He looks at you blankly before gesturing for the decanter again. With a sigh, you fold, sliding the container across the table to him. Let him drink himself to death if he wishes - it would be a better end than whatever Aemond is planning.

It’s hard to look at Aegon, knowing that your other brother is plotting his demise. He doesn’t deserve to die, not after all he’s been through. Sometimes, you think you know Aegon better than yourself. You’ve seen him at his drunkest, in the streets of Flea Bottom, at his most desperate before his coronation, at his lowest, after the death of his son. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be king. He doesn’t deserve to die because of a crown he never desired.

But one cannot simply resign from the throne.

You watch as Aegon empties the rest of the decanter into his glass, and then misses the table as he sets the pitcher down, shards shattering across the tiled floor. He stares down at the floor, eyes blank. “Ah.”

“Aegon.” You groan.

He flaps his hand. “Someone will clean it up. Someone always does.”

“Perhaps it is behavior such as this that deters Cole and Aemond from sharing their plans with you.” You say, utterly annoyed at your brother’s actions.

Aegon scoffs. “As if you weren’t also kept in the dark.” His eyes lazily slide to yours, and you don’t look away quickly enough, it seems, because he catches it in your gaze. “They told you? And not me, their king?”

“I cannot help that our brother seeks my opinion on such matters.” You say.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aegon demands, angrily rising from his seat to level an accusatory finger at you. “You are supposed to be my closest confidant, I expect you to be on my side-!” He cuts himself off. “But no. Of course not. As soon as Aemond gets his claws into you you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Aegon,” You try, placating. “I meant no offense. In fact, I urged Aemond to tell you himself-”

“No, no, you cannot fool me again! I am not as stupid as you think me to be, I am not.” He shouts, harshly backing away from the table as you rise from your seat. There’s an anger in his eyes that you’ve never seen directed at you before, and it gives you pause, guilt and shame sinking into the pit of your stomach. What were you thinking, going behind his back like this? He is your brother, one of your closest friends, your king. Curse Aemond and all his sickly sweet words.

“Aegon-”

A loose hand thrown up in the air, he silences you with a harsh glance before stalking out of the room, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of the decanter for company.

Aegon returns to you on a litter, melted into his armor by dragonfire, barely conscious. The smell of charred flesh and dragon blood fills the hall as the kingsguard rush him to the maesters, and you press yourself as far into the wall as you can to let them pass. There is no rage in you, only shock and despair. You had not thought it would be so soon, that Aemond had his revenge.

“Jaenara.”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and he stops in front of you, pulling off his riding gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his leathers. There’s an energy about him that you haven’t seen before. Leftover adrenaline crackles over his skin, the pupil of his good eye blown wide, almost lustful.

“What have you done?” You demand, cringing at the frightened quality of your voice.

“What I planned to do.” He says, taking you by the arm. “Are you not delighted? Aegon is indisposed, he will be crippled for the rest of his life - however many short years he has left, in this state. None will stand in our way.”

“I…” You aren’t sure how you feel. Aegon isn’t dead, but he will be in incredible pain for the rest of his life. Likely, he won’t be able to walk on his own, or ever ride his dragon again. It is an awful fate for someone you love. But you cannot pretend a part of you - the same part seduced by Aemond’s ambition - isn’t elated at the downfall of the king.

“Come.” Aemond says, tugging you away from your palace pressed against the rough hewn stone of the Keep walls. You fall into pace beside him, stumbling over your own feet as you process how reality is shifting around you at this very moment. Aemond and the council will have to speak on Aegon’s behalf, puppeteering him even more so than before. You are one step closer to ascending the throne. Your brother is half-alive, melted into the armor of his namesake.

You don’t realize where you are until Aemond is pushing you down onto his bed with one hand and rucking your skirts up around your waist with the other. He does not wait for you to react before he scoops your hips up to insert himself into you, groaning in relief as he slides home. “My queen.” He gasps throatily, pillowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Have I pleased you?”

“Mm.” You hum, unable to say the words ‘yes, of course’. It proves to be enough though, for Aemond sighs again, slowly beginning to grind his hips against yours. It’s more fervent than his usual fucking, spurred on by the bloody battle he’s just come from. You can smell the smoke in his hair from where it lays across your face.

“It will not be long now,” He says, breathy and rough. “Soon, you and I will sit the throne. Have our own heirs - will you give me an heir?” He asks. “Will you give me more than one?”

“As many as you’d like.” You choke out. There isn’t another option for you now, not with Aemond so intent on having you by his side when he takes his place as king. As you’re sure he will.

“We will put Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame.” He declares, placing his hands under the small of your back, causing you to arch against him. Holding the tops of your hips, he fucks you against him feverishly. It does not take long for him to finish, already keyed up on the high of his plans coming to fruition.

He collapses against your chest with a heavy sigh, and instinctually, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I love you.” He whispers against your skin.

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud, though you’ve known it for a very long time. Of course Aemond loves you.

“As I, you.” You return.

What you can’t decide, is if you feel the same.

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd smut #hotd x reader

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 1 year ago

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Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions.

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself.

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many.

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you.

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped.

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it.

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake.

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one.

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something.

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze.

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it.

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting.

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him.

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed.

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes.

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous.

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason.

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?”

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.”

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances.

But what about your lives were normal?

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #long fic #spoilers #and thats how later astarion found himself on stage with a killer clown #whoops #still fluffy i'd say #I got a soft (in comparison to cough alternatives) jealousy trilogy in mind so one more dirty part. Also #side note #in reality everyone in your party is attractive and probably gets flirted with an equal amount at the caress #but I love the idea of astarion being hyper focused on you.

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avelera · 24 days ago

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I am literally so baffled by how so many people think the Viktor/Jayce separation in Arcane S2 was:

1. Rushed

2. Deserved, because Jayce ignored Viktor’s wishes and that’s what Viktor was reacting to

3. A choice Viktor was making, literally at all

Let’s go through these one at a time but they’re all related.

1. Yes it’s rushed. That’s because of time constraints per episode, sure, but forget that for a second. Viktor getting out of his goo cocoon and immediately leaving while still STARK NAKED is weird. It’s very weird. It’s meant to be a five alarm fire, red klaxons blaring, levels of really fucking WEIRD. The guy is LITERALLY NAKED he just walks out, barefoot, into the Undercity.

It’s weird and it’s meant to seem weird and indeed, inhuman, because that is not Viktor. Those are not Viktor’s choices. That is not who Viktor is. And the fact it is so rushed is part of the warnings, and meant to show us just how much something is very very wrong.

2. Tying into Point 1, if this was a real disagreement between Jayce and Viktor as we knew them through S1, Viktor would have stopped to get some damn trousers and shoes. I know it sounds like I’m joking but legitimately, there is no (or very little) conscious human thought going through Viktor’s head in that scene because a human being choosing to leave their partner of years over legitimate disagreements would have stopped to get fucking dressed before they left. That is not Viktor.

And to briefly launch into a defense of Jayce, he has spent literal years with Viktor doing science to address Viktor’s failing health. He knew about Viktor’s fear of dying. They’d both dedicated themselves to hextech in the hopes it would better people’s lives but the more selfish goal at the heart of that research for both of them was that it would save Viktor’s life.

Viktor only told Jayce one (1) time to destroy the hexcore and he didn’t explain why at all. Jayce didn’t know about the self experimentation. He didn’t know about Skye’s death because Viktor never told him.

Jayce spent years working on a cure for Viktor and in a moment of blind panic used their research to save his loved one’s life based on what 99% of his interactions with Viktor with one (1) outlier would have told him that this is what Viktor would have wanted, which was to live, and using their research to make sure he lives has always not only been on the table, it’s literally been the main focus of their overarching research goals minus one weird and unexplained thing Viktor said once while a zillion other things were going on in Jayce’s life.

Jayce using their research to save Viktor wasn’t a conscious defiance of Viktor’s wishes, it’s literally what 99.99% of Viktor’s wishes that Jayce knew about would have pointed towards. He was as far as he knew enacting Viktor’s wishes, the wishes Viktor had for years upon years. Without knowing about Sky, Viktor’s one request to destroy the hexcore was a weird and out of character request that had no explanation. It didn’t hold up when compared to everything else Jayce has ever known and experienced with Viktor.

3. Whew, anyway, the bigger point is that Viktor is a Hexcore puppet at this point so it doesn’t even matter if he had legitimate grievance against Jayce. He’s not leaving because of grievances, legitimate or otherwise. Viktor would never leave Jayce like that (or while STARK NAKED).

Literally in one of the last scenes we got that gave us a glimpse of Viktor’s inner life and motivations, he told Singed that Jayce would understand and stay by his side no matter his choices or transformations.

Singed is skeptical. But Viktor WAS RIGHT. Jayce didn’t even blink, didn’t hesitate at all to hug him after he was transformed so drastically. But my point is: real Viktor was actively worried about losing Jayce. Real Viktor would not take off like that.

And in one last defense of Jayce, I think the reason he just lets Viktor go there is that he has always respected Viktor’s autonomy.

Jayce notes in S1 that Viktor would often disappear without warning. He never tried to control Viktor’s movements. That’s what makes Jayce yelling at him for going to the Undercity so shocking to both of them in S1.

Jayce is also traumatized and shell shocked himself when Viktor leaves. He’s not prepared and he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t do what he probably should which is prevent Viktor from leaving (literally naked and barefoot!) because it doesn’t occur to him to control Viktor’s movements but also because he’s in shock.

But he really should because again, that’s not Viktor. That’s not Viktor making a conscious choice, that is another power and impulse puppeting what is left of Viktor, using his tenuous connections to his identity like his guilt over Sky and his/his + Sky’s overarching desire to help people in the Undercity.

It has nothing to do with Jayce. Jayce’s choices are not why Viktor is leaving. And the real Viktor would never leave Jayce under such abrupt and INHUMAN circumstances.

We are meant to be as alarmed and confused as Jayce was. It is a part of a pile of evidence that something is very wrong with Viktor and indeed, the Viktor we knew is not the one in charge of his actions right now. How much of him is even left in there is what remains to be seen, and if who he was can ever come back.

#jayvik #arcane #arcane s2 #arcane spoilers #arcane meta

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bucksdoll · 10 months ago

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rafe x reader blurb

just thinkin about how scared the boys are (mainly topper) of rafe even prior to the two of you dating, but once you guys get together they notice him being EXTRA short tempered.

like if you two are at a party together, and rafe is sitting in an arm chair, with kelce and topper across from him on a couch, and you stroll in. you’re a little tipsy and just wanna be around rafe. you go to straddle him and rafe quickly greets you with a “hey princess” before instantly snapping his gaze to topper and kelce to make sure they aren’t looking anywhere they aren’t supposed to. and topper practically completely turning his whole body in the opposite direction just to make it REALLY obvious he’s not looking. like bros terrified and it’s SOO funny.

or if topper gets bold one night when you’re kissing up on rafe, and he makes a comment to kelce like “damn i need me a needy chick like that” and rafe snaps his head to topper and toppers just like “hey-hey-hey bro, i- uh didn’t mean it like that yo, i didn’t-“ and he’s holding his arms up in defense and rafe is just gently tugging you off him with a “the fuck is that supposed to mean, top? you callin her needy or sumthin?” and toppers practically shaking, standing up super fast and backing up like “WOAHHH man-“

rafes got this guy scared for his LIFE out here.

(this is short, not read over, ignore any grammatical or spelling mistakes)

also PLEASE send me fic/blurb requests !! i’m dying over here bro

#obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx imagine #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron

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lymtw · 8 months ago

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When you let Toji accompany you in the dressing room

"Toji, um," you struggle with your balance, wobbling when he starts pulling down your underwear. "I don't think this is a good idea. There's a really big gap in this stall. People can see us, or at least me."

He makes you take a few steps back with him until his back meets the wall you share with the next stall. "No one can see you now, okay? Come on." He slides his rough hand up your thigh, pulling your dress up to reveal your bare ass. "You look stunning in this dress, mama," he murmurs into your ear. "You're putting me through hell by having me just stand here and watch you try it on." His breath lures goosebumps out onto your skin. "Just makes me wanna fuck you in it." His other hand paws at your boob, squeezing it repeatedly.

"Well... what if they catch us?" You ask, your defense crumbling as he kisses your shoulder and up the slope to your neck.

"We'll just have to be quiet, won't we?"

—

"F-Fuck, Toji—mmph..." Toji's hand comes up to muffle your sounds.

"Shh... mama. You trying to get us caught?"

You shake your head, but it's proving to be a lot harder than you initially thought. You knew it would be hard, but you didn't know you'd be so terrible at holding your sounds in.

"You look expensive, doll. You want this one?"

"Mhm..." you mumble into his palm.

"Yeah? You can have it. On one condition." He leans in close to your ear. "You only wear it for me."

"Mm-mm..." you shake your head and push his hand away from your mouth. "I-It's a dress, Toji."

"Clearly," he says, smugly.

"I-I wanna wear it out."

He kisses your neck. "That's not what I told you, baby. If you get it, it's for my eyes only." His grip tightens on your hips. "Can't have you prancing around in this little thing. All that spare attention on you," he chuckles in your ear. "my knuckles would never heal."

"Oh, fuck," you whimper, your hand holds onto the stall door, the lock rattling noisily.

"That got you?" He snickers. "You really are the embodiment of chaos." His hand continues to paw at your clothed breast. He can feel your nipple hardening over the material, something that fuels the lust his body is feeding you. He groans at the feeling of your cunt clenching sporadically.

"What's it gonna be? You gonna be good and wear it only for me, or are we leaving it behind?"

You don't hear a word he says, the adrenaline pumping through your veins blocking everything out.

"Am I talking to myself, now? Answer the question, baby."

You gasp, your head hanging low. "Mm... okay, okay. It's for you... o-only you."

"Smart girl," he murmurs. "Gonna look so pretty like this on my bed."

"C-Can I cum, please?"

"We're taking too long in here, huh?"

You nod, your grip on the door faltering as your legs threatening to give out.

"Alright, you gotta keep your voice down, though."

Toji reached down to overwhelm your neglected clit, enduring the way your body jolted at the rush of stimulation.

"Come on, baby. Feels good, huh? Make a mess on me.

You shudder, unraveling at the constant feeling of Toji thrusting into you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, almost drawing blood from how hard you bite. Your brows furrow, your eyes shutting tightly as you try your best to suppress the moans that are dying to leave your mouth. Toji watches you, a smirk on his face when he hears the smallest squeak slip out, followed by shuddered breathing.

"Good fucking girl," he praises. His arms wrap tightly around your waist as he keeps rutting into you until he feels like he's about to burst. You tap his thigh when the overstimulation starts creeping in, falling to your hands and knees when he releases you and pulls his cock out to bust into his hand. You could hear his little hums and breaths behind you, a couple fucks muttered. This was his way of not groaning or moaning out loud when his load spurted out.

He looked down at you stretching your back on the floor, still on your hands and knees. The sight made him realize that this little incident wasn't enough to sate his lust for you.

"Get dressed," he says, tucking himself away. He watches you with a wolf-like hunger as you sluggishly take the dress off. You put your underwear back on and got dressed into your outfit. Green eyes bore into your frame as you tried to make yourself look as presentable as possible for when you exit. You could still see the lingering desire in his gaze when you told him you were ready to go.

You clung onto his arm, leaning against him as you walked out. He grabbed the tag number from the stall door and gave it to the woman working the dressing room area. She looked at the weary smile on your face and the random parts of hair that messily stuck out on your head. She reciprocated the smile but with worried eyes.

"We'll be taking this," Toji says, interrupting the woman's focus on you. He raises the dress by the coathanger it's on to briefly show it to her, before quickly dragging you away from her concerned expression.

"We're done here, right? Ready to go home?" Toji mumbles into your hair as he walks you back to the center of the store.

"Mhm, 'm tired. Just take me home already." You start trying to lead him towards the store's exit.

"Whoop, this way." He maneuvers both of you towards the register area. "Gotta pay first."

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pomefioredove · 1 month ago

Note

If you're still taking requests, I think something funny would be Idia w a reader/yuu that, in the middle of listening to him ramble (with lovey dovey eyes bc they like listening to him <3) just says. Would. Or like I want you. Like they didn't notice they were saying that out loud and now Idia and them are both dying but Ortho is just like OMG ITS HAPPENING FINALLY EXITING STAGE LEFT! hahdhahshsh I hope you get what I'm saying, completely fine if not!

I got u anon

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ slip of the tongue

type of post: fic characters: idia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu author's note: I know very little about video games so I stole a lot of idia's dialogue from my boyfriend. if he sees this. um. hi baby

"The designs are pretty good. I mean, they fit the same three molds, but they're unique, you know?"

Idia shows you his screen again, rolling his gaming chair to the side so you can get a better look at the game he's been explaining to you for half an hour.

"The fighting is kinda button-mashy, but the graphics are cool enough, so I don't really care,"

You haven't gotten so much as a word in for almost ten minutes now, but that doesn't bother you. You like listening to him talk.

He goes back to the game menu to show you the special features, and then to the menu again. His long, nimble fingers dance across his keyboard, as if he were made for this, and he pulls up another screen with a lot of numbers in colored text.

"The game is free, but it's got an insane file size for it. 180gb. Nothing should be that big,"

Your thoughts become a little louder as you zone out, letting his words, heavy with tech jargon and fast with excitement, become music. You can't always keep up with Idia when he starts going on tangents like this. Usually you have questions, but now, you can't think of any. You're looking more at him than the screen. He's being distractingly cute today.

You sigh, letting your thoughts rest on the tip of your tongue, and without meaning to:

"Would,"

Idia's hands jump off the keyboard, and he goes still. Oh. Shit.

He wasn't supposed to hear that.

He slowly turns to look at you, his eyes widened, his face beet-red. In your defense, you really thought he wasn't listening.

You don't say anything. Either of you. You wait. He waits. His computer eventually powers down, making the room a little darker. Finally, Idia looks away.

"...I forgot what I was saying," he mumbles.

Weird. Okay, he's just going to ignore that? Is that good or bad?

You look away, too. "Something about the file size. I think you were-"

"Did you mean that," he asks, but it's not exactly a question. More like a demand for an answer.

"Um..." you say, looking at the floor. "...Yeah, I did."

Idia narrows his eyes at you. He's quiet, studying you, your expression, your body language. For what, you don't know. Maybe he thinks you're lying. Whatever it is, though, he doesn't say.

"...Okay," he finally says, turning back to his monitor. "Well... um... at least give me some warning next time, or something. I would've dressed nicer."

You blink. Next time. "...Yeah. Okay. Next time, then,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #idia shroud x reader

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lalunanymph · 2 months ago

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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. STOLE MY HEART (AND MY PANTIES) ♡

✧₊⁺ SUMMARY when your panties go missing like clockwork every wednesday, there's only one possible explanation...

✧₊⁺ WARNINGS fem!reader, panty stealing, jerking off, perv!caleb nation rise up, male masturbation, oral sex, pseudo-stepcest (for like, the first scenes), use of gege, use of mei mei, almost getting caught, semi-public sex, against the wall sex, closet sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, petnames (princess, pipsqueak, beautiful girl), caleb huge cock agenda, repressed emotions, angst if you squint, mdni, 18+, do let me know if i missed any warnings !!

✧₊⁺ DAWN SAYS oh my god here it is.... caleb debut we up!! this was the product of horny from the caleb gc and i have to thank everyone for fuelling this piece with sm thots (no prayers) ily all caleb fawkers <3 writing this took like 5 years from me (dying from the horny) so please enjoy and do let me know what you think <3

✧₊⁺ x/twt

Caleb knew this was wrong.

He knew with every fiber of his being that what he was doing was completely, irrevocably and utterly wrong.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself. It was like an addiction.

You were like an addiction.

It started with one missing pair.

In your defense, work had been pushing you too hard, and whatever spare time you could muster was dedicated to rotting on the couch. You would wave him off whenever he offered to do the laundry with a distracted,

"Sure. Thanks, Caleb."

He didn't mind. Of course, he didn't. If only he could use this chance to get what he wanted—your favorite pair of lacy panties.

It was a gorgeous pair. Black lace, with a little bow in the front, slightly crumpled from being wrapped around your hips all day, and if he really locked in, he swore he could feel the remnants of your body heat still pressed between the lacy crevices.

But, that wasn't the best part.

The best part was the little wet spot right on the innocuous fabric. A spot which he would press his nose into and inhale; flick out his tongue and run it along the seam, swearing he could taste your musk in his mouth.

That's funny, you commented one day, shooting him a look of confusion. Did you see where my underwear went?

And he would shrug, giving you a teasing look. "Maybe the washing machine ate it, Pipsqueak."

You frowned, wondering if he was pulling your leg. A day later, you found it crumpled and still damp in the back of the washing machine, and shrugged. Maybe Caleb forgot about it.

You had no idea how he had wrapped that delicate scrap of last around the base of his cock last night and was jerking off thinking about the face you’d make once he sank balls deep inside of you. How he had his sleep shirt stuck between his teeth, sweat bulleting down his toned chest and forehead, furiously jacking off his raw cock with the little lacy number stuffed in his fist. Imagining it was you—your cries, your moans, your sighs echoing right in his ear as you rode him.

The guilt hit him immediately after that and he tried his best to scrub his seed from your panties, crumpling it up and tossing it into the back of the washing machine like he had forgotten to take it out.

And so, the cycle continued.

Every laundry day, you'd find one pair missing, only to show up inconspicuously in the back of the washing machine. You were starting to see a pattern: this only happened when Caleb was on laundry duty.

You weren't as stupid as he thought you were. And you had to admit, the thought of Caleb taking your panties, doing God knows what he did with them, stirred a curious flicker of heat in your belly.

It was on a random Wednesday night when grandma was out for a dinner that you decided to make your move. You hid behind the pillar as you watched your childhood friend doing laundry, keeping your eyes peeled on his every movement.

Caleb looked good tonight. He had just come back from a gym session, face flushed, muscles swollen and pumped. He was shirtless, bare chest glistening, the military tag with the apple charm you gave him dangling from his neck. A pair of headphones muted him from your silent observations, letting you stalk him in peace.

Like the proverbial forbidden fruit, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. You had no idea what to make of these new... feelings... you've developed for him, but you sure as hell didn't want to waste an opportunity to catch him in the middle of your suspicions.

And, there it was. A flick of his wrist that was quicker than the speed of light thanks to his Evol—but, you caught it all the same.

Your panties flew from the laundry basket and into his sweatpants pocket, where he stuffed his fist inside to jam it down further.

You wanted to call him out, corner him and ask what he was doing with your intimate undergarments.

But, you kept quiet, letting him go about his work.

It was only at night when you gathered the courage to confront him, standing right at the front of his bedroom door. You raised your fist to knock, but to your surprise, the door was cracked ajar, a sliver of light spilling out into the darkened hallway.

Cautiously, you stepped inside his room, immediately hit with the sounds of his low grunts and moans.

With his back to you, Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed, pumping his cock with something held tightly in his fist. Light as a cat, you slunk into the room, taking him off guard by your sudden appearance by his side.

"Ah!" He squeaked and whipped his head around, looking wildly from the wide open door to your curious expression. "How did you—what did you—why're you here?!"

You pointed at the door with a lazy flick of your wrist. "You left it open, dummy."

His huffs and groans fell on deaf ears as your gaze landed on a familiar scrap of lace in his hand. "I knew it..."

Before he could defend himself, you snatched his fist, dragging it closer to your face as you forced him to reveal the truth to you. To your surprise, he didn't resist, letting you open his clenched fist as his free hand tugged his cock back under the band of his sweatpants. The highpoints of his cheeks were dusted with pink, and honestly looked like he was about to break into tears at your next words.

"I had my suspicions all along... but, this is all I needed to know."

Caleb was breathing hard, his bare chest flushed with shame and embarrassment. He couldn’t look you in the eye, the welling guilt overflowing through his stammers and stuttering words.

"Look, I can explain—I-I... that is to say—it wasn't my intention... I didn't mean to..."

The words tangled in his mouth, losing steam once he realized there was no going back from this. A huge boundary and line had been crossed, and it was going to take more than an apology to get back into your good graces.

He ran a hand through his mused hair, licking his swollen lips. Caleb couldn't fathom what was in your gaze—whether it was disgust, anger or something else entirely.

But, what he couldn’t deny was how your eyes flickered right to the bulge straining in his pants, the dot of pre staining the front from hastily hiding his arousal from your glare.

What is this feeling inside of me? You thought as you slowly approached him, your panties fisted tightly in your hand. Why am I not yelling at him? Or, scolding him?

In fact, why were you looking at him like you wanted him to… continue?

Caleb’s expression morphed from mortification to curiosity, and he gazed at you as you approached him, arms crossed in front of your body. He opened his mouth, intending to say something, when you tossed your lace panties right on the seat of his lap.

“Go on.”

Two words. Caleb’s brain felt like it was malfunctioning.

“What… wh-what do you mean—?” He trailed off, falling mute at the fire dancing behind your eyes. He tried hard not to gape when you sat down next to him, observing him like he was a bug under a microscope, scrutiny heavy in your silence.

Whatever shred of logic he had left disappeared the second you gave him your consent. Caleb slowly tugged down his sweatpants, letting his half-hard cock spring free. He grasped the base of his girth, keeping his gaze locked on yours, gauging your reaction. Your blank face gave nothing away, and he took a deep breath, suddenly wondering if he would be able to perform under pressure… so to speak.

“Touch yourself for me… gege.”

Your sweet tone, coupled with his honorific, made his cock twitch, coming back to life. Caleb gritted his teeth, wanting to stop himself from jacking off, but unable to deny how your command was making him feel.

He was hot all over, goosebumps rising on his skin. Biting back a low moan, he picked up where he left off, his movements a bit stiffer and shy.

Surprising him, you leaned forward, wrapping your palm around his fingers, helping him move his slick fist up and down, increasing the pressure.

“Holy—slow down,” he cursed under his breath, glancing at you with burning, violet eyes. “It’s not some j-joystick, Pipsqueak—mhmph.”

Caleb thought he was hallucinating your lips on his, but when his eyes fluttered shut and your taste permeated your mouth, he was acutely aware of how close you were. You tasted like strawberries, your soft lips drawing him in deeper till he was close to drowning. Ragged gasps and breaths echoed between the space where your mouths were connected by a single strand of spit.

His cheeks were hotter than two suns, stomach doing a flip when he felt you gripping his wrist, quickening his movements.

“So, this is where all my panties went,” you murmured, gaze half-lidded and eyes dark with desire.

Caleb felt like someone had punched him right in the gut when you planted your lips on his throat, sucking your claim onto his skin. He tipped his head back to give you more access to his neck, groaning out your name.

I’m dreaming, he thought. There is no way in hell this is happening.

But, it was. You were here, right in the flesh. Close was never close enough for you when you clambered onto his lap, taking over from his flustered movements to jack him off.

“You’re disgusting, Caleb,” you purred, lips swollen from his kisses.

He gasped when you twisted your wrist, the rough material of your lace panties chafing his cock in the best way.

“Absolutely… repulsive.” You marked each word with heated puffs in the crook of his neck, running your tongue over the ridge of his jaw. “Using your mei mei’s panties like this to get yourself off…”

Caleb gasped at the rough sensation of your tongue on his neck, never expecting you to tease him this boldly.

“That’s not—” he broke off in a whine when you started to slide your thumb over his leaking head. “... shit…” he hissed, eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

“What’d you say?”

“... nothing…” Caleb exhaled shakily, knowing he could do nothing but let you have your way with him.

Circling his sensitive tip with your thumb, you teased him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you would say.”

But, for all your bravado, the slick pooling in the pair of panties you had on now was hard to ignore. The feeling of Caleb’s hulking, muscular figure trembling underneath your smaller one injected you with a dose of cockiness.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He hissed when you tugged on his girth, using your other hand to fondle his balls.

Shit. It was one thing to jerk himself off, but another to have the woman he loved doing it.

Caleb wasn’t even phased with the realization, his mind feeling like it was floating a million miles away. Lightheaded and overcome by awe, he thought this moment might’ve been a hallucination conjured up by his desperate wishes.

You, sitting on his lap, looking absolutely delicious and depraved, licking your lips as you milked him towards the biggest orgasm of his life.

His hips moved against his volition, snapping into yours. To his surprise, he felt you grinding down on him, reciprocating his actions. The fighter pilot was holding onto his dear life to not spill all over your hands, batting your insistent digits away, breathing heavily.

“N-no, Pipsqueak, hold on—”

He thought he had finally lost it when you got onto your knees, glancing up at him with wide, doe eyes. You unwrapped your lace panties from his cock like it was a depraved gift bow, tossing the delicate scrap to the ground. Caleb’s lashes brushed his cheekbones as he took in the sight of you on your knees, lips mere inches away from his throbbing cock. In a position he had envisioned you would be in since the first time he understood the meaning of lust.

“Come on,” he murmured, brows knitted. “Stop playing—”

His protests died the second you wrapped your lips around his swollen cockhead, lapping at his precum.

“Shhhiiit,” Caleb exhaled like a deflated tire, resisting the urge to sink his fingers in your hair and fuck your mouth.

While he was taking in the glorious moment of you sucking his dick, his keen ears picked up the sounds of footsteps outside the hallway. In a flash, he twitched his fingers, and his room door went slamming shut.

“... Caleb?”

Josephine’s voice echoed from behind the door. Instead of freezing and getting off his cock like a normal person, you continued to suck him off, bobbing your head up and down his shiny, spit-soaked length. The soft gurgling of your throat taking his cock reached his heated ears and he cursed under his breath, hoping his grandmother of all people couldn’t hear your stupid stunt.

“Uh, yeah, grandma?”

He bit back a moan when he felt your tongue slide across the thick, bulging vein down the side of his cock, leaving whispery kisses over his length. He just about nearly spurted some pre right into your eye when grandma asked him, “Where’s Y/N?” and you unexpectedly deep throated him.

“A-ah, I have no idea!” His voice was higher-pitched than usual, those violet eyes boring right into yours, warning you to quit it without words.

“Caleb?” Josephine’s concern shone past the thick barrier.

His heart dropped into his stomach when he heard the door knock jangling. With a level of concentration he usually reserved for the field, not the bedroom, Caleb increased the pressure of his Evol to create a dense weight behind his door, barring her from entering.

“I don’t know where she is, Gran,” he called out, hoping he didn’t sound too strained. You breathed a laugh, mouth still full of his cock, and he shot you a glare.

“Are you alright?”

She refused to leave him alone, and Caleb cursed under his breath.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, trying his best to sound level-headed and not like he was getting the best head of his life.

His eyes rolled back into his head, and he had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from expelling an embarrassing moan.

Clearly still unconvinced, Josephine cleared her throat. “Okay, Caleb. Goodnight.”

You giggled softly when a drop of pre hit the back of your throat, lapping up the bitter-salty taste which was clearly a sign of his growing excitement from something so taboo and wrong.

“Okay… night, Gran,” he mumbled in a strained tone.

Her footsteps shuffled away from the door, and Caleb was left with his full attention on you.

“You feisty little vixen,” he groaned, leaning back on his arms to enjoy the sight of you down the line of his body.

As you continued to suck him off, Caleb’s breathing grew more unsteady, his bravado and confidence stripped away to be lapped up by your surprisingly talented mouth.

He wanted to ask you how’d you know to suck cock so well, but he thinks the answer would upset him.

In this moment, you were his and his alone. Screw the previous guys you were with—Caleb wants to be the only one you ever think about whenever you take dick.

Your cheeky tongue expertly swirls over his weeping tip, and he stifles down a loud groan.

“You’ll be the death of me, I swear.” He threaded his fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you took him deeper down your throat.

Mouth stuffed with him, you flicked your tongue over his heavy, leaking shaft and shot him a smirk.

Caleb’s breathing grew heavier, close to his finish line.

He gritted his teeth, giving you one last chance to back off before he made a mess in your pretty mouth.

“I’m close,” he whispered, knowing Gran would be in the other room, sound asleep.

You hummed, and to his delight and mortification, massaged his taint with your knuckles.

Holy… He bit out. “S-shit. You gotta show me the guy who’s been teaching you how to do t-this,” he stammered. “I need to beat him up.”

You giggled, letting him go with a soft ‘pop’, licking your swollen lips. It didn’t take much for him to spurt all over your hands, hot and thick, as you continued to fist his length and massage his weak point at the same time.

Caleb was breathing hard like he had just finished running a marathon, his entire body limp like jelly noodles. He sagged onto the bed, grunting softly when you shifted onto his body, straddling his lap.

Looking smug like the cat who got the cream, you traced a nail down his broad chest. Caleb caught your hand before it could move down to tease his spent dick, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles instead.

“I think that’s enough exploration for now, Pipsqueak,” he muttered, chest still rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You hummed and much to his fascination and consternation, lifted your cum-coated fingers to your mouth to suck them clean absent-mindedly.

Caleb’s dick twitched at the sight, coming back to life.

His blood pumped hard with the undeniable yearning and lust he’s had to deny himself for the longest time since he’d known what love meant.

He chuckled tiredly, and without much effort, straightened up, bringing you with him. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Pipsqueak.”

Despite the fast track to this new development in your relationship, you were both still friends first. Banter, inside jokes and giggles filled the bathroom where he cleaned you up, intent to take care of you after you treated him so well.

As much as you thought things would be different, it felt like… nothing had changed at all.

Caleb didn’t speak of the night since it happened, going back to teasing smiles, hair ruffles and his brotherly brand of affection. If it weren’t for your missing panties from the laundry basket which happened every Wednesday like clockwork, you would’ve thought you hallucinated the entire ordeal with him.

You had no idea if you should confront him again. A part of you even wondered if he was embarrassed of the whole thing—if he wanted to pretend like the entire night hadn’t happened because he couldn’t stomach the thought of you. Shame and guilt paralyzed you from speaking about the whole ordeal, and you kept your head down, trying to avoid him if you could whenever he came back home after his training.

Since he was home for his summer holidays before returning back to the field, Caleb’s days back were limited. There was no rhyme or reason for you to pursue something so fragile, but a part of you couldn’t help but hope he would speak to you first.

“Y/N? Aren’t you going to finish your food?” Gran’s concerned tone broke you from your reverie and you shook your head, forcing a smile.

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, picking up your plate of untouched food and cutlery before stepping into the kitchen, almost bumping into Caleb.

“Whoa, Pipsqueak. You’re done already?”

You were never good at maintaining a poker face, so when he glanced at you, Caleb could tell something was wrong.

“Hey—”

You stepped away from him, plastering on a bright grin to hide the lapse of your emotions. “I already ate at work. I’m fine.”

Somehow, he wasn’t convinced. But, you didn’t give him a chance to ask how you were before you booked it back to your bedroom, shutting the door and locking it for extra measure. You were a grown woman now, and yet, this rejection from Caleb stung like you were a jilted teenager all over again.

Huffing, you almost forgot that tonight would be the night of his DAA Fundraiser Gala—a night where you agreed to accompany him as his plus one since Gran couldn’t make it.

It was one thing to see him again after practically finding out your childhood friend used your lacy undergarments as jerk off material, and it was another ballpark altogether to attend an event by his side, pretending to be his loving, younger sister while fighting off these strange emotions of love and heartbreak threatening to spill over.

Caleb could tell your heart wasn’t in it tonight when he pulled his bike in front of the Administration building where the Gala was in full swing.

The entire ride here, you hadn’t said a single word, your arms wrapped around him, but your mind felt like it was a million miles away.

Before you could step away from the bike and walk ahead to the front doors, Caleb caught up to you, grabbing your wrist.

“Hey. Can we… talk?”

He was stuttering, ears turning a bright red when you turned around with a little, “Hmm?”

The taller, older man hummed and hawed, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze bounced from your eyes to the floor, an exhausting yo-yo of unspoken words and desires.

“You… look beautiful.”

You glanced down at the simple black dress you chose for tonight, noting its lack of frills or embellishments. “You’ve seen me wear this dress a thousand times. It’s nothing special.”

Your callous disregard of his praise made him wince, and Caleb shook his head. “Pipsqueak, no. That’s not what I meant. I… I think you look beautiful tonight. As in you and not the dress.”

He trailed off and you held your breath, vain hope blooming in your chest at the sudden fondness glimmering in his eyes.

“You… mean that?”

He was about to open his mouth and reply when one of his subordinates clapped him on the back, effectively shooting this tenacious moment between you and Caleb down with a shattering bark of laughter.

“Captain Xia! You finally made it in time for the raffle.”

Caleb winced at the interruption, but mustered a grin, clasping his comrade on the shoulder. “I’ll see you inside, Ethan.”

The man named Ethan tipped his head towards you, a wiry shock of ginger curls falling right into his hazel eyes. “Evening, Miss Y/N. You look beautiful.” Not one to stick around after flirting his way through half of Skyhaven, Caleb’s colleague hightailed it towards another group of girls, leaving a blank, ringing silence behind which engulfed you two.

You could tell Caleb wasn’t exactly fond of Ethan’s praise, his amethyst eyes darkening a shade deeper, glittering like an uncut gem in the heart of a dark cavern.

But, he shook off the jealousy and turned to you, extending his arm politely.

Despite the awkwardness lingering between you, you took his arm, unsure what this gesture meant.

Caleb glanced at you, a subtle furrow in his brow which belied his true emotions. He wanted to ask you how you were after the entire reveal—if you had it in your heart to forgive him. But, the words clogged in the back of his throat, lost in the oasis of his slowly fading hopes and dreams that the two of you could ever be more than just friends.

How can he entertain such a thought when you had someone like Zayne in your life? Caleb shuddered. If there was anyone who was perfect for you, it would be the dark-haired man who was your primary physician. He glanced at you throughout the whole night, watching as you danced, ate and bantered with his teammates. How effortlessly you fit into his life without so much as a hitch.

Halfway through the second song, Ethan asked you to dance with him, and you agreed, taking his hand. Caleb struggled to keep his jealousy under wraps when he noticed how you tossed your head back, laughing at something his handsome colleague said. Before he could stop himself, the fighter pilot captain stood up and squeezed his way to the dance floor, taking your hand and tugging you into his arms while you were in the middle of a twirl.

“Caleb!” You gasped, and he glanced over at Ethan, giving him a dumbfounded colleague a cheeky wink.

Ignoring your protest, Caleb smoothly guided you through a slow waltz, taking this time to hold you close. You struggled to put some distance between your bodies, worried that his colleagues would get the wrong idea.

“Caleb, we’re in public—”

“So?” He interjected teasingly. The chandelier overhead threw specks of light onto the dancefloor, fragments of rays speckling his grin. “People can say what they want, Pipsqueak. I’m here with you—that’s all that matters.”

He spun you in his arms effortlessly, reminding you again of how easily he could maneuver your body. Giddy from the champagne and restless from the feelings you were trying so hard to forget from that forbidden night you shared with each other, you spoke the first thing that came to your mind.

“Caleb, do I mean anything to you?”

His grin faltered, though his movements were smooth and sure as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist, playfully dipping you low before putting you back to your feet.

“Of course, you do. You’re my Pipsqueak,” he murmured, soft enough that you needed to move closer to hear him better.

But, Caleb could see the doubt flickering across your expression, and he quickly rectified his insensible confession.

“No. Crap—that’s not what I meant,” he stumbled over his words, the two of you coming to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Despite the couples twirling and giggling around you, it felt like you were in a bubble, lost in each other’s presence and gazes.

“I like you,” he admitted softly, cringing when he came to the realization that the reason you were being so distant these past few days was because of him. “And I have always… I’ve loved you. Since as long as I can remember.” He had no idea where the confidence to spew these lifelong words he’s kept fast to his chest came from, but it burst forth from the dam the moment he gave his true emotions permission to overflow.

You gaped at him. Under the strobing lights, Caleb couldn’t take his eyes off you, the flickering beams highlighting just how goddamn beautiful you were.

“You… like me?”

If his feelings weren’t obvious enough, Caleb leaned forward and without a single shred of fear, he kissed you, softly and sure. Right on the lips where everyone could see.

He didn’t care if someone had spotted him basically professing his love to the woman he had grown up with. The same one who Josephine gave the impression of being his younger sister. All that was on Caleb’s mind now was tearing down your doubts of him not loving you.

Your pretty eyes fluttered wide open when he pulled away, common sense snapping you back to the reality of standing on the dance floor as he waited for you to say something.

But, you had a better idea to truly show him your love.

Grabbing his hand, you pulled him from the dance floor and towards the exit, turning back to find him grinning knowingly. The flicker of desire you ignited that night when you caught him with your panties matured into something deeper. Something more carnal.

He took the lead, knowing this building like the back of his hand. There was a hidden room on the second floor where lecturers kept their projectors, and he dragged you right into the dark spot, pushing the door open, and then pushing you against it.

Caleb’s violet eyes shone brighter than jewels as he leaned in closer, lips millimeters from yours.

“I want you…”

Intoxicated by his scent, his presence, his everything, you leaned in, too, eyes drooping close, your voice soft and hypnotizing as you whispered:

“Then, take me.”

Caleb couldn’t waste another moment anymore. His lips slammed into yours with a bruising force and he kissed you like a starved man denied the taste of honey for thousands of years. The sweetness of you coated his palette, saturating his tongue till he felt like he could drown in your flavor. You kissed him back just as ardently, desperate to feel him closer.

The inexplicable heat of your bodies pressed against each other began to fog up the windows of this tiny room, your mouths meeting in between stirring gasps and ragged moans.

His lips charted a path from your jaw to your throat, down to the dip of your collarbone. The feel of him tonguing the rise of your breasts past the edge of your dress made a spark of electricity run up your spine. They said that the most sensitive parts of a human’s body were the fingertips and tongue with 100 pressure receptors in one cubic centimeter.

You were starting to realize how correct the fact was. The smoothness of his skin under your fingertips, the texture of his tongue curling around yours, seemed to be magnified by tenfold, your entire body aroused beyond reason.

“You taste divine…”

His whisper in your ear made the hairs on the back of your neck tingle. You moaned when he backed you up against the wall, hooking your thighs around his waist.

You chuckled at his impatience, your hip bumping into an old projector.

“S-slow down,” you teased in a shaky voice, digging your heels into his lower back. “I’m not leaving.”

He grunted, using one hand to unbutton the front of his pants. “Can’t take the risk.”

The sight of him, bulging behind his gray boxers, solidified to you how real this felt. How you were about to get fucked by your oldest childhood friend in what was the DAA’s broom closet.

Despite the less than romantic setting, the sparks flying between your bodies was hard to deny. The mounting heat left you susceptible to exhaling soft moans whenever his lips smeared hasty kisses on your throat and jaw. His teeth preyed on the sensitive strip of your neck, leaving behind careless love bites, his devouring mouth bringing the blood to your skin and gifting you marks in the shape of his mouth.

It was too dark to make out much of the sight of his cock, but in the sparse scattering of light shining through the grimy windows, you could make out at least 6 inches of flaccidity which was growing into a monster waiting to impale you.

Heart in your throat and a pulse in your pussy, you eagerly lifted your hips, waiting for him to give you what you want.

“Impatient, aren’t we, Pipsqueak?” He teased, though the ragged quality of his voice belied his true need. It felt hot and stuffy inside this little room, but you didn’t mind the mugginess.

Rivulets of sweat dripped down your back and neck, beads of sweat collecting on his brow. Caleb was fighting his inner demons to just grab and ravish you without a care for anything else in this goddamn world. It wasn’t exactly the ‘roses-on-bed-scented-candles-all-night-loving’ he envisioned for his first time, but he still had to be gentle.

He was determined to not hurt you.

Using his raw strength to lift you with one arm, Caleb discreetly snuck a stroke, making sure he was ready to claim you.

Your eyes shone demurely with mushy desire, glowing softly in the lack of light. Caleb was mesmerized when he slowly unzipped your dress. Your tits were right in his face, held captive by the loving lacy grip of your bra, and he didn’t spare another second to drag them down, letting your pillowy softness overspill right into his waiting mouth.

Caleb took one hard nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive peak with his tongue. Your soft gasps and hitched whines were making him leak all over the dusty floors, and he growled, grazing his teeth on the stiff bud.

He loved how your hips clipped against his and groaned under his breath when you buried your fingers in his hair, tugging on the roots.

“You’re gonna pluck some strands out if you keep this up,” he grumbled when you pulled harder. The ghost of your laughter brushed the delicate shell of his ear, and Caleb felt your warm tongue trace the ridges.

Closer to you now, he could plainly hear your quiet whines. Taking his time to prep you, Caleb ignored the strain of lifting you up, enjoying the weight of your body in his grasp as he quickly stuffed his index and middle finger down his mouth.

Lubricating it well with his spit, he used the two soaked digits to pry the seat of your panties aside, before gently easing them right into your fluttering hole.

Your gasp reverberated across the room and he shushed you, planting his mouth on yours to quell your whimpers and moans.

“C-Caleb—”

Shit. You’re so tight. He murmured right into the crook of your throat, flicking his tongue out to taste your skin.

Beautiful girl, he whispered. You love this, don’t you?

The stretch of his fingers felt immaculate, pushing past the tight ring of muscle, slowly feeding you inch after inch. Caleb knew he didn’t exactly have the smallest hands, and that was partly what made this so fun.

If you struggled to take his fingers, imagine how tight you would be wrapped around his cock.

The blood rushed straight to his head, leaving him dizzy. He licked his lips, settling knuckle-deep into the depths of your cunt.

The violet-haired man groaned the same moment you mewled out his name.

Caleb… shit… you’re so deep…

He chuckled throatily. I can go deeper, baby.

Scissoring his fingers, Caleb established a rhythm which had your entire body shaking.

His mouth stays latched around your nipple, plumping it up with arousal from tender suction and licks.

Your breathy whimpers and heady sighs went straight to his neglected cock. But, Caleb didn’t care. He wanted to fully focus on you.

You like that, baby?

Devotion flooded his instincts, loving how you held onto him tighter as if he was both your anchor and the storm wrecking you apart.

You gurgled a cross between a whimper and a sigh, nodding. “It feels good, Caleb.”

You weren’t lying. The way you were squeezing down on him made Caleb feel like he was in a dream.

Yeah? He huffed, licking a strip from your jaw to your lower lip. Loving your mewled and arched your back.

Once your sweet pussy began to flutter uncontrollably, Caleb knew it was time to really claim you once and for all.

The thrill of fucking you with your clothes still on was part of the entire charm of why Caleb had fallen in love with you. Daring, bold, kind—you were the physical embodiment of all his dreams coming true.

And he never stopped reminding you of how lucky he was to have you.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling,” he cooed. The feeling of his cock sinking deep inside of you couldn't compare to his fingers.

For one, he was girthier than you expected; stretching you further than what you could handle. Caleb had to clamp a hand over your mouth to staunch your sweet moans.

Ssh. You don’t want them to find us out, don’t you?

Sweet and obedient, you hummed, shaking your head. The honeyed tenderness in his violet eyes never disappeared, the affection in them shining through with unconcealed devotion.

Your dulcet mewl of, “Caleb, please,” went straight to his dick like a lightning strike, and the last strands of his patience snapped.

Caleb wanted to take it nice and slow, but the building heat between the both of you that has been stoking for years and years on his end, displaced his common sense.

He needed to have you; he needed to claim you.

In one swift motion, Caleb lifted you by the hips, hissing in pleasure when you hastily tugged your panties down, allowing him to nudge the tip of his cock past the snug fit of your drooling pussy.

He grunted the second your sweet heat and vulnerable walls closed on him, encapsulating him in your intoxicating warmth.

Caleb felt your forehead press to his, the closeness of you spiking his heart rate. Despite the position and location he had you in, the air was clouded with intimacy.

Your soft sighs, your yielding kisses, the subdued moans you bit back so as not to give any nosy eavesdroppers an idea of how good he was indulging you, made his head spin with love and his cock twitch with lust.

You’re so big, you whispered and he almost came into your tight heat.

Caleb grunted, sweat stinging his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. “You’ll be the death of me, darling,” he murmured, losing himself in your gooey, wide doe eyes. “You feel amazing.”

Grunts, moans and puffs of heat touching each other’s lips filled the space. Your body was making him so high; no amount of stimulants or adrenaline could make his heart pound this fast.

When you pressed your lips to his, Caleb just about had a stroke of Nirvana, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, voice low and deep as he murmured, “I’m close.”

He’d been with girls before, but none of them were you. Experience couldn’t trump the novelty of tasting the first girl he had ever been in love with.

Tears pricked in your eyes, the pleasure overwhelming.

Caleb… oh… oh… shit.

He felt you tighten on him, the soft plop plop plop of your bodies meeting each other in a sloppy, heavenly embrace loud through the rush of blood flowing in his ears.

Caleb pushed his tongue right into your mouth, at the same moment you cried out his name, muffling your cries.

You were being so unbelievably good for him, not a hint of restraint, and he kept on going. Caleb dug his heels into the ground, propelling his hips in powerful surges, the fucking grip of your pussy on him so warm, wet and tight.

He has no desire of stopping, intent on pushing you over the edge. To get your body to recognize his undeniable claim on it.

You’re being so good for me, princess, he breathed hotly into your ear. I can feel you clamping down—fuck. Don’t stop.

Your nails stabbed into his shoulders, dragging down his back.

His precum mixed with your juices, dripping to the floor, your body shaking like an earthquake was ripping through it.

Please—you panted. Don’t stop.

Caleb didn’t want to. He wanted nothing more than to stuff you full of his seed, and to finally see his claim dripping white hot and thick down your thighs.

He has been dreaming of this day since he figured out how to jack himself off—the star of his filthiest fantasies finally in his arms.

Caleb dug his fingers into the plush fat of your thighs, using it as leverage to jerk you up and down his slick cock. He can tell you’re approaching your high from the scrunch in your brow, the way your lips are slack and parted.

“Caleb…”

He encouraged your release with a hearty squeeze, the feeling of his cock rutting deeper into you making your toes curl behind his back.

You tossed your head back, letting a shameless moan escape. Fingers tangling his hair, his mouth pressed to yours, you squeaked, your climax hanging on a tenacious thread.

He broke it with his lips pressed to your ear, growling at you—cum for me, princess. Give me all of your sweet cum.

Your heels stabbed into his lower back almost painfully, the sting enough to push him over the edge together with you. Caleb pumped you full of his cum, relentless in his need to conquer you.

His seed painted your walls, your breaths plucking into a whiny, high-pitched moan. If he hadn’t just blown the biggest load in his life, Caleb was sure he would’ve combust into flames when you sucked on his bottom lip needily, murmuring about how much you loved his cum inside of you.

Caleb brushed a soft kiss to your forehead, setting you back down to your feet. You wobbled and stumbled, needing to hold onto the thick trunk of his bicep to steady yourself.

The flush on your cheeks and the glassy look in your eyes was a complete telltale to what you both had done in this closet, and yet, he wanted to see you squirm even more.

Deftly, without you noticing, Caleb used his Evol to flick your skirt up, smoothly removing your panties and stuffing it into his pocket. He grinned at your aghast expression, words saccharine sweet and dubiously innocent.

“What? That’s my souvenir for the night.”

You had no energy to fight him off, not when he was helping you adjust your dress and hair. Once you were decently dressed and he made sure his pants had no wrinkles, Caleb steps out of the closet, glancing left to right before tightening his grip on your hand and leading you out.

Your earth shattering release still humming in your bones, you almost felt shy to meet his eyes under the flickering, warm lights.

But, Caleb didn’t let you marinate in your shyness for too long, squeezing your hand and shooting you a bright, reassuring grin.

“Come on, princess. Let’s get you home.”

Not Pipsqueak. Not Y/N.

But, princess.

Caleb’s princess.

You squirmed under his gaze, but not for the reasons he thought. Caleb glanced at you, curiosity shining in his eyes when you whispered softly: “Can I have my panties back?”

He grinned, cocking a brow. “And why should I do that, princess?”

You plastered on a scowl, narrowing your eyes. “Because,” you huffed, “Your stupid cum is leaking down my thighs.”

Against your wishes, you felt the faint stirrings of his Evol brushing your legs, though to someone not accustomed to it, the pressure probably felt like the slightest hint of a breeze. Using his Evol, Caleb slid it between your folds, finding your puffy pussy and to your mortification, the pressure solidified.

Safely stuffing you full of his cum.

You opened your mouth, about to comment on his audacity when you were accosted by Ethan, who’s self-assured smirk faltered the moment he saw Caleb’s hand in yours.

“Yo… isn’t she your sister?”

Caleb’s eyes darkened, and he straightened at the intrusive question, his usual jovial, light tone now deeper and authoritative.

“Do you always make it a habit to make such intrusive comments on your captain’s relationships, Lieutenant Cole?”

The second Caleb uttered his rank, Ethan sobered up and clicked his heels together, arms folded behind his back as he looked past his superior’s shoulder.

“No, sir,” Ethan said clearly, shaking his head. “Of course, not, sir.”

Caleb nodded, apparently satisfied, and tightened his grip on your hand. “Come on, princess. Let’s go home before Gran gets worried.”

The older man knew the second his back was turned, Ethan would run off and gossip with the rest of his cohort, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Let the rumor mill churn. As long as Caleb has you by his side, he wouldn’t pay a single shred of attention to the whispers.

You were noticeably shaken by the encounter with Ethan and Caleb squeezed your hand, bringing you back from your thoughts.

“Hey. You okay, Pipsqueak?”

A deep breath. “Are you sure you… want this?” Are you sure you want me?

The silent question was unspoken, yet he heard it all the same.

“Of course, I do,” he said and proving without a shadow of doubt at how serious he was for you, Caleb drew you closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I want this. I want you. And nothing is ever going to change my mind on this.”

Relieved and a little touched by his insistence, Caleb saw the trust spreading across your face; your belief in him strengthening.

“Come on, princess,” he murmured, voice warm as he tugged you towards his motorcycle. “Let’s head home—I’m not done with you yet.”

Clutching his hand tighter, you flashed him a carefree grin and nodded.

Home with Caleb. Home and Caleb.

Both felt incredibly right.

a/n: i need a cold shower and caleb to come home stat .... reblogs and feedback are so beloved <3

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