#his hair looks so soft and smooth and thick without anything in it

[marimayscarlett]

the girls need more product free pics or reesh's hair!

Hi!! A slightly older ask, but nevertheless I absolutely agree (I'm girls in this). But the quest for product free hair pics of Richard is a hard and adventurous one, because the species of the thick goth dad doesn't like to be caught on camera looking anything less then perfectly styled, or hides underneath an adorable beanie 👀 Thank heavens for Pinterest, honestly

Some pics to serve a tiny impression of somewhat floofy/natural hair:

Of course in the long gone past we had a slightly bigger chance to catch Richard without any products in his hair 😊:

[shotmrmiller]

whenever simon needs a lay, he doesn't go for girls like you: all snarky attitude and self-assuredness in that hole-in-the-wall bar with the peeling wallpaper, dim lighting, and sagging ceiling tiles. he wants those insecure things; the soft, quiet ones who've been recently dumped and are drinking away their woes. the ones who'll take him to theirs in a drunken haze and wake up startled, kicking him out of the front door without their number and an embarrassed forget this ever happened.

can do, sweetheart. (see ya never.)

but you've caught his interest. maybe it was the way your face was bare— pockmarks on your cheeks and eyebrows untamed—yet you exuded confidence not even that loud bimbo with the fake lashes and vibrant ruby lipstick could ever recreate. maybe it was the way you held your own against that drunken man who attempted to grab a handful of arse over your faded, torn jeans, catching his pathetic bollocks and giving them a gnarly twist.

who knows. who cares.

what matters is that you've caught him by complete surprise.

he figured you were the type to want a firm hand. a couple of harsh slaps to your cheeks (both top and bottom), a fistful of your hair in his grip to pull, and to fuck you into the mattress until your body was imprinted on it.

wrong.

the moment he pulled your hair taut, you'd immediately tangled your clever fingers into his chest hair. "i'm no horse, brit. my hair isn't reins for you to lead me around with."

then he tried to bend you over his knee. proper brat like you needs to be put in'er place.

also wrong. "not that either. not yet anyway."

and then he's wrong a third time because you're no passive participant.

he sloppily eats your cunt like it's his first meal since coming back from urzikstan— warm tongue, thick fingers, and the occasional pinch of his crooked teeth on your swollen bundle of nerves. when he tries to pull away, your entrance more than slick enough to take him without much discomfort, you fervently dig your heels into the scarred tissue of his strong back., stopping him in his tracks.

"you stop 'til i finish and not a moment sooner." his whiskey breath is warm between your legs when he huffs out, "affirm." you're fluttering around his hand in minutes when you start to direct him on how you like it, which he supposes is fortunate for you since he's real good at taking orders and even better at obeying them.

your climax is sweet in his mouth with a subtle hint of brine. the exact opposite of you, he finds. simon doesn't even get the chance to tell you to say anything because you're flipping onto your knees and shoving his rigid length into your mouth. he can't help the strangled sound that escapes him when the tip of him touches the back of your throat, constricting when you gag.

bloody hell.

you look up at him; wide, glassy eyes and sunken cheeks and it's pathetic how he can already feel himself on the precipice of ecstasy and he hasn't even gotten to the good part.

when he watches you place a condom in your mouth and roll it on his cock without hands, simon had to squeeze his eyes shut and think of england to stop the fire that threatened to light him ablaze.

alrigh', enough. on your back.

"no. get on yours."

your small hands push against his barrel chest, gesturing he lie back— today preferably.

impatient bint.

you ignore that quip, opting to wrap your fingers around his thick base and sink onto him in one smooth motion.

slow, don't want ya hurtin' ya'self.

he gnaws on his tongue painfully— almost cutting it open with his canine— to keep from finishing because, bloody fuckin' hell, do you feel like the heaven he'll never see.

simon's hands curl and tighten around the swell of your hips— his blunt, square nails digging into your sensitive skin. "easy," you hiss, "i bruise like a peach."

taste like it, too.

you look so sweet, so pliant while being split open on his cock, hot cunt sodden with your earlier release— it sends mind-numbing arousal tingling up his spine, feeling it at the base of his skull. simon grunts when you begin to move, a languid up and down, gentle but firm. spots dance in his vision when you take all of him, his bollocks flush against your arse.

pretty thing with fire in your eyes taking him so well even though others have needed breaks to work up to it. muscle memory takes over then, his callused fingers automatically searching for your swollen clit, but you slap them away. "too sensitive, i'd only be uncomfortable."

yes ma'am.

you chuckle at that, pussy fluttering as you do and simon hisses through his clenched teeth.

keep tha' up 'nd i'll be done before the fun even starts.

this time you clamp down on purpose, your cunt squeezing his cock like a silken fist. "wouldn't that just be a shame. old man like yourself only got one in you?" the playful taunt sinks its teeth into the ego he's never cared about— leaving behind a mark that stings and lingers— and the lieutenant rears his head, if only for a moment.

watch it.

your eyes widen fractionally but your lips curl at the corners in amusement. "sorry, sir." minx.

his thoughts dissolve like sugar in hot tea once your hips began to rise and fall again, this time a much quicker pace. he surrenders to your unsatiable passion-- a hungry beast, feeding on want, on need-- with only his obsidian-black mask as witness.

for the first time in months (since price bent him over his desk post-op that one time) he's the one getting fucked.

and when you plant your feet by his sides, when your hips cant at the slightest of angles, his flared head presses against something firm and his world ceases to exist, the intensity of now reaching its peak.

when he comes to, your sweat-slick body trembles with effort, your pretty cunt still stuffed to the brim with his softening length. but he's not done with you yet, not by a long shot. now it's his turn.

in a quick movement, you find yourself on your back, looking up at simon, and the mewl that falls from your lips bounces off of the spartan white walls when he hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, and claims you again.

he plans on leaving a delicious ache between your legs that won't let you forget this night-- at least not for the next few days. (not like you could, i mean look at him. plus, he's going to magically forget his gloves here, maybe his pack of cigarettes. he's also definitely jotting down his phone number somewhere.)

forgive me i'm tired now so i lost some air at the end hehehe

[ghostsangel]

Heyyy:))

I would love to request some Protective Simon fluff like where he returns home from a mission and sees his wife getting bothered in front of there home ?

(With a soft feminine reader and a broody angry simon)

i love protective simon so much omfg but also i feel like this sucks so im sorry

tags/warnings: super annoyed and angry simon, threats, fluff

Simon doesn’t have time for this shit.

His mission lasted longer than he assumed, every little thing was pissing him off, and the entire time he couldn’t stop thinking about his girl.

You, with your soft eyes and skin, running your pretty pink nails down his back. You, your hair shiny and smooth, perfect for him to twist his fingers into. You, with your melodic voice and your whispered compliments that make his tummy flip and a blush creep up his neck.

The bus drops him off at the corner of the street you two live off, and he slings his military bag over his shoulder as he walks the short distance to your shared house. He hums to himself—he’s happy, in a good mood ready to spoil his girl with kisses and lovin’.

As he approaches the house, however, he’s not too happy with what he sees.

A man standing at the foot of the driveway, yellin’ and hollerin’ at his woman. You’re standing near the porch, and Simon has to stop himself from smiling when he sees the way your pretty yellow dress hangs around your thighs. Your face is flushed and you’re nervously fiddling with your fingers.

His eyes flit back to the man, and he narrows them as he approaches. He doesn’t really care what the man is saying—he’s on Simon’s property bothering his woman.

“Hey,” Simon grunts, causing the man to turn and look at him. He’s still wearing his mask and baclava, and he tilts his head as he looks at the stranger. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Just speaking to the pretty lady is all,” the stranger says, winking at you.

Simon sees red, his eyes flitting to you. You shake your head, your eyes brimmed with tears. “He catcalled me, Si.”

Simon exhales before dropping his military bag with a thud, taking the two steps to close the distance between him and the stranger before punching him in the face. The man yelps as he falls, hand clutching his bloody nose.

Simon yanks him up from the ground, gripping his shirt in his fist. “That’s my girl. Mine. You made her uncomfortable. Get the fuck out of here before I rip your dick off and stuff it down your throat.” His voice is low and dangerous, goosebumps rising to your skin as you hear it.

The stranger scrambles away, turning on his heel and sprinting the opposite direction. Simon grumbles under his breath as he picks his bag up and walks over to you. He picks you up with one hand, slinging you over his shoulder and carrying you inside.

Once the door is shut, he sets his bag down and goes to the couch, lowering you onto his lap. His large hands cup your face, eyes scanning you for any injury. “You okay, love?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his large torso and burying your face in his chest. “Mhm. Just uncomfortable. Didn’t like being catcalled like a piece of meat.”

Simon plants a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his thick arms around you. “He won’t be botherin’ ya anymore, lovie. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

You lift your head and smile at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “What would I do without you, Simon Riley?”

He raises his brows, grinning at you. “Dunno, love. Crash and burn?”

You giggle and hit his chest, which causes him to laugh and squeeze you tighter. The smile on your face relaxes him, and he feels at ease knowing his girl is safe.

[diorcities]

die for you.

playing judas

mdni.

his figure emerges into the room, messy, dark hair covering his eyebrows with a cut in one of them; you don't know how he got it. his artful eyes scan the room after his sense of smell and a wild sensation lures him towards the bed, where you lie with one of your smiles.

he can't help it, he becomes affectionate with the things he touches. your body emanates magnetic energy that confuses his judgment, and just like that, all the girls he's frequented go to the second course, overshadowed by you, and your sharp features disguised as innocence, so appealing to him.

spellbound and driven by an insatiable feeling filling his mind with unholy thoughts. he wants to corrupt you. he dreams of you crying for him as he fucks you. your pretty lips around his aching cock. his mouth on your bristling nipples. he desires to rail you so much that your pussy gets used to his shape. he buzzes with the need to hear your moans tonight. his whole insides burn and blaze when he spots you on his bed, sporting the lingerie he's bought.

“angel.” he grins like the devil.

a bulge squeezes under his pants. he can't stop looking at you. you torment him all the time. you don't leave his mind ever. he is drawn to you, bewitched. so blindly obsessed, he can't ever have enough.

his warm hands sweep over your body, touching you all over. the delicate fabric of your underwear seen in detail by his eyes like two dark wells of molten chocolate, canines catching his inner lip while his pupils wide as blackhole devour you before his mouth does.

haechan runs his tongue and teeth along the line in your belly as you find yourself caught between his legs on the edge of the bed and your fingers tangle in his soft hair. “d'you like it?” head pulling back from the sensation of his mouth sucking on your skin taking over your body. eyebrows coming together while he keeps you in place and forces you to feel it all.

a moan escapes when he gets up without warning and towers over you. “very much.” you don't have time for anything when his lips rest on yours in a crushing kiss full of fervent desire. he muffles a sound when you bite his lips, struggling to keep inside the thrill when he touches you like that: like he's starving. your body charge with elation and you blush from the electricity of his tongue over yours when he hums in your mouth.

your hands disappear under the fabric of his shirt, removing the garment with his help. but when your hands grip on the buckle of his jeans his hands grab your wrists. “show me first.” your whole being is consumed by a blazing fire as you feel his heavy gaze on you, eyes registering your every move as you lie on the bed and your hands begin to crawl across your figure, showing him.

they cradle your chests, up your neck, and your body stretches every fiber in you, legs rising to the air before you open them like a curtain revealing your face paying detailed attention to his expression as you hold yourself by the elbows. there's static in the air as he visibly swallows, tongue wetting his lips and he thinks to himself he's doomed, when you proceed to crawl to him, ass up as you arch your back, reaching finally the hem of his pants, “fuck me, angel.”

you kneel in front of him as his hand combs through your hair, working on the zipper of his pants with quick hands. your mouth feels watery and so eager to have a taste when you reveal his full erection. dick thick and flushed with the tip tinged with the prettiest pink ever, hitting his stomach. mind fogging and fuzzy with craving. you want to put it whole in your mouth. you want to taste him until he comes on your tongue. you want him to pump you full. “so pretty, wanting my cock?” he asks, holding you by the chin, “give it a kiss.”

your parted lips rest on the tip and you hear him take a deep breath. “that's my girl. lay down for me.” haechan doesn't wait for you and his hand gently pushes you, falling onto the smooth surface. his hand goes to your waist where it is pressed firmly to keep you still and at his mercy, while his other hand moves down your thigh towards your femininity.

a sigh chokes in your throat as it growls under his breath. you're soaking wet. his fingers play with the silkiness of your arousal, wetting his digits that go up and down your folds, before they press on the bulge of your clit. you stifle a gasp. “if you want to keep me happy, you'd better let me listen to you,” he advises. he shoves his fingers without warning and starts to pump you hastily, making your eyes roll and want to close your legs. it's so powerful that you moan your heart.

“just like that.” he doesn't slow down, wiggling them side to side and in and out of you, body reacting to his crushing motion. his fingers feel so good, he moves them the way you like, making you moan and taking you into limbo. hips buckling up in a jerk and legs twitching and shaking as his available hand go up to your neck and keep you in place.

“o-oh god,” you cry, “haechan.” voice feeling forced and broken when you hiss at the knot that grips your belly. “please... s'too much.” enticing a bundle of pants and restrained grunts leaving your lips.

haechan ignores your pleas, and soon you find yourself turned into a mess of moans and tremors. he's so entranced by the way your body moves, tits bouncing deliciously as your face contracts and ease to his fingers doing wonders in you. “so good, angel. looking so heavenly, keep moaning my name like that.” they feel so nice, stretching you so good, you become liquid and numb. “f-fuck, hyuck!” your body suffers devastating spasms as you hear haechan laugh ecstatic ally, “shit, angel.” feeling your being release waves of pure and raw pleasure that leaves you breathless and spacing out.

you see him stirring his silky-soaked fingers and putting them in his mouth. haechan closes his eyes enjoying the taste of you on his tongue. so exquisite and sweet, he becomes addicted. “spread,” he commands, and you do his will still recovering from the intensity of your orgasm.

you see him fit between your legs before you feel him flicking his tongue over your pussy. your breath condenses as the sedative effect of his mouth working miracles on you, flicking and lapping. haechan works on you diligently, bites and sucks, caresses and tastes. lips catching your folds over and over again, eating you pleasantly. your seductive scent awakening every nerve ending in him, wanting to make you his all night. show you all that he has to give you. leave your body so satisfied that you don't want anyone but him.

haechan strokes and lashes you, wet sounds filling the room from the way your lube soaks haechan's face, sunk into your swollen pussy. firm hands holding your legs spread as he devours you, reaching your climax in his mouth once more. exhausted and out of breath, sensing his presence still between your legs. “speak up, angel,” he asks when you mumble under your breath. body already jerking because he doesn't give you a break to compose when he inserts two fingers in and twirls them inside.

“i thought this was your birthday present,” you say, in space.

he hums, “this is my present,” he grants. eyes soaked with desire locking yours, “you.”

[jobean12-blog]

Slow Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 3,002

Summary: Joel picks you up (sorta rescues you) and your attraction to him is instant even with the state of the world, but does he feel the same?

Author's Note: Honestly, my friend @lizette50 shared the gif below with me and just his hands on that steering wheel sparked 3k words of nonsense. I'm not only obsessed with his neck but also his hands (and the rest of him!) Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy 💕

Warnings: there's some tension- both sexual and other, softness, grumpy Joel, flirting

The gif below is from pinterest HERE

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The sound of tires on the road draws your attention from your hiding spot but when they skid to a stop you stay in your unseen position and sneak a look. You can never be too careful and staying hidden and quiet has been an essential part of your survival so far.

But all your rational thoughts drain and every muscle in your body coils tightly as you lay eyes on the man that steps out of the old truck.

Before anything else registers, you notice the way he moves. His long, thick legs carry him surely toward the nearest broken-down car and when he bends over to check the gas tank you get a glimpse of his ass in the tight jeans.

With a huff of frustration he straightens and walks toward another car, this one closer to you, and you can see the hard set of his jaw, his eyes much the same as they scan his surroundings.

You can’t stop your gaze from tracking down over his broad shoulders and wide chest.

Without remembering to keep quiet you shift to get a better look and accidentally knock into a rusty metal part, sending it careening down to the pavement with a loud clang.

His gun is out and cocked before you even register your error and with shaky hands you stand up and reveal yourself.

He locks eyes with you across the small space of separation and you have the satisfaction of watching his shoulders relax and his eyes slowly peruse you from head to toe. Perhaps it was merely to check if you were armed…or infected…or maybe he just wanted to look.

Either way, it sets your nerve ends tingling and when his gaze lingers, warmth races across your skin.

“I’m not a threat,” you say, squaring your shoulders but keeping your arms and hands high above your head.

He still doesn’t speak and keeps the gun trained on you, his expression wary.

“I promise. I’m just trying to get to Jackson.”

At the mention of Jackson, his eyes narrow and he steps closer. You don’t budge.

“How do I know you’re not infected?” he asks.

“Well, I’m all alone and have been for days. I’d let you check me out but we just met…usually I have a man at least take me out to dinner first.”

Your joke gets the opposite reaction you hoped for. His jaw clenches and his teeth grind under the pressure.

“I do need a ride though.”

You lower your hands, smoothing them over your hips and brushing the dust from your knees.

“That is, if you don’t mind me bumming one.”

Your hope starts to slip with his extended silence.

He finally drops the gun and pinches the bridge of his nose.

You slowly walk forward and extend your hand to introduce yourself. He stares at it for a moment before taking it in his larger one.

“Joel,” he rumbles.

“You wouldn’t leave a girl stranded, would you Joel?”

“Fine. Get movin’.”

You slide a glance across the console of the rattling old pick-up truck and watch him under the cover of your lashes. He hasn’t looked at you once since loading you into the vehicle, instead keeping his dark eyes glued to the road, jaw still tight with obvious tension.

You were sure you caught him giving you another once over when you bent down to sift through your bag but by the time you felt his stare and peeked his way he was muttering something incoherent and running a rough hand through his hair.

“So…” you start, turning his way slightly. “How long is the ride?”

He shoots you a look that says, “are you serious?”

“Shouldn’t take us more than a day.” He grinds his teeth, something you’ve come to notice he does often, and lifts his eyes to the rearview mirror. “Long as we don’t run inta any trouble.”

“I see…” You cross your legs, hoping to appear relaxed. “Maybe we’ll see something cool on the way.”

His bushy eyebrows shoot up to his hairline but he doesn’t grace you by meeting your eyes when he asks, “ever been to Wyoming?”

You’re surprised silence keeps you quiet for longer than you mean to be and you see his hands flex on the steering wheel.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to ask me any questions.”

He sends you an unamused look. “Ain’t one for much talkin’ these days.”

You nod in understanding but don’t hide your smile. “And no, I haven’t. But I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“What do you plan on doin’ when we get there?”

With a shrug you turn to look out the window, tracing your finger down a smear of dirt on the other side of the glass.

“Help out of course…and I was hoping I could do some planting. You know grow food…or something like that...breed animals…farm?”

Your thoughts trail off as you realize how silly and inadequate your plan sounds but you turn when you feel the heavy weight of his stare and realize he’s studying you.

“You know you should keep your eyes on the road,” you say with a half-hearted smile.

He stares for a beat longer before turning his attention back to driving.

“Yeah because there’s so many other cars out here.”  

You gasp. “He makes a joke? Pull over, I think I’m feeling dizzy.”

He merely grunts in reply but you’re sure you catch the side of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“What do you plan on growin’? The weather can be pretty harsh in the winters.”

“Do you really want to know?”

He frowns at the windshield.

You let out a yielding sigh and start to rattle off a list.

“I dunno…I was thinking maybe…mangoes, bananas, pineapple! Oh kiwi!”

At his dark look you smile brightly to assure him you’re joking.

“Very funny.”

“About time you noticed.”

His gaze turns from the road back to you, raking down your body and back up to meet your face.

“Oh, I noticed sweetheart.”

The interior of the truck suddenly becomes too hot and you start to crack the window for some fresh cool air.

You try your best to settle into the seat and focus on the rush of the scenery, letting the tension filled silence stretch until he speaks again.

“What are you thinkin’ about over there?”

Unsure of where to take the conversation after that unexpected turn, you fall back on your humor.

“Kiwis..and mangoes and bananas..”

This time you see the corners of his eyes crinkle with a genuine smile and you cheer inwardly.

His hand relaxes on the steering wheel before tightening again, long fingers wrapping easily around the worn leather as he slowly slides along the curve, the action drawing your attention and holding it.

His hands are big, dwarfing the wheel with rough and calloused fingers. Your thoughts quickly drift away from tropical fruits and fill with the fantasy of how it would feel if he touched your bare skin.

You seek the air from the window but find it too warm and gently press the back of your hand to your cheek. Your skin is hot and it does nothing to alleviate the feeling so you let your hand drift to the top buttons of your shirt and undo them, leaving the material agape.

When he shifts in the driver’s seat you try not too look. Try not to notice the way his legs are spread wide and his jeans pull tightly between them.

He turns and catches you staring, holding your gaze before his drops to your lips. The hot look in his eyes, the one that continues to dip and linger on your exposed neckline, is hard to ignore and your breath hitches.

By the time you reach Jackson the air inside the truck is thick with tension and you throw the door open and take a deep inhale.

Tommy runs to greet Joel, his eyes shifting to you suspiciously. They talk in hushed voices, Joel standing with his head cocked, hands on hips and signature clenched jaw.

Tommy finally smiles your way and walks over to greet you. He’s handsome and much friendlier than Joel and you instantly feel welcome.

“I can’t believe you survived the whole ride with him,�� Tommy jokes.

A laugh bubbles from your throat.

“I see you inherited all the charm and wit.”

Tommy’s smile widens and he casually throws an arm over your shoulder as he leads you into the town.

“I like her better than you already,” he shoots over his shoulder at Joel, who follows your steps with a scowl.

After you get settled in your new place Joel comes to retrieve you for a bite to eat.

“Hungry?” he asks

“Starving actually.”

His dark eyes study you before he gestures toward the large bar/hall with an arm held out. You walk ahead and feel the press of his hand at your lower back as he reaches to open the door for you.

You lean into his touch and search the space, feeling slightly overwhelmed as several sets of unknown eyes turn to examine you.

Joel’s fingers splay at your back, sending tingles along your spine, then slide over to the curve of your waist. He pulls you into his side and walks you to an empty table.

“Don’t mind them,” he whispers. “They aren’t used to new people.”

You nod and miss his touch instantly as he releases you to pull out your chair. Your meal is eaten in relative silence but you don’t miss how his eyes drift to you at every opportunity.

“You know,” he starts, surprising you once again by speaking first, “if you need help building anythin’ for your plants…your mangoes, I can help.”

You giggle at his joke and lean in closer.

“Do you know a lot about farming?”

He pauses with the spoon half way to his mouth and the corner of his lips lift slightly.

“Enough.”

You let out a playful scoff. “That’s convincing.”

“I can definitely build you plant beds…”

“I’ll take any help I can get,” you say with a smile.

The next week goes by in a blur of meeting new people and adjusting to new routines. You still can’t believe you’ve found a safe place to be. It may not last forever but for now you’re going to be nothing but grateful.

You seek Joel out regularly, stealing as much time with him as you can even if he remains quiet more often than not. He’s more talkative than before and always answers your questions, adding an occasional playful joke here or there, but seems to prefer the comfortable silence between the two of you.

It’s on one particularly warm and sunny morning that Joel scratches at the back of his neck, a feeling of anxiousness crawling over his skin. He tries to tamp down the twitch of alarm but it’s useless, the sense only growing stronger as more time passes.

Where did you say you’d be this morning?

He drops the tool from his hand and heads for the old barn shed, remembering your words about looking for some old planting equipment. He’s almost at the partially closed doors when he hears voices. At first he can’t make out the words since they are hushed but when he hears your clear, “no, move,” he pushes open the doors with a bang.

He enters the barn with his fingers digging into his palms and his breath coming in deep through his nose. Your eyes shoot wide when you see him and Jack, the man who has you cornered, follows your line of vision and steps back immediately.

“You ok sweetheart?” Joel asks through clenched teeth.

You look at Jack and narrow your eyes. “I am now.”

“We were just…” Jack starts.

Joel holds up his hand and steps closer to Jack. “If you ever have trouble understanding the word ‘no,’ again, I’ll be more than happy to explain what it means.”

Jack stiffens at Joel’s dangerous tone and warning words and with a barely perceptible nod he walks out without looking back.

Joel’s eyes follow him until he’s out of sight then he moves purposefully toward you with long strides.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says quietly. “Are you ok?”

“You’re sorry?” you repeat. “But…”

“I didn’t warn you. I shouldn’t have let him within ten feet of you.”

“Well you took care of it. I don’t think he’ll ever come near me again.”

“Better not,” he grits out. “Or he’ll have to deal with me.”

A small smile plays upon your lips and you take a step closer, resting your hands on his biceps.

“I should be thanking you.”

You stare up at him and in a move he never expects you lift your hands to his hair and slide them through his soft curls, pulling him down for a kiss.

For a moment you think he’s going to pull back but when your tempting curves mold to his body and you let out a soft moan he smooths one hand up your back and the other around your waist, tucking you into him as he deepens the kiss.

You whisper his name, brushing your lips to his and getting some air before you kiss him again. He walks backward until you hit the wooden wall behind you, his entire body slotted against yours so you can feel every inch of him.

“Fuck,” he groans out, maintaining intense eye contact when he traces your jaw with his thumb then gently sweeps it across your swollen lips.

“Been wantin’ to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you sweetheart,” he admits.

“Just kiss me?” you ask, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

He dips his head, his nose softly bumping yours as his lips hover above yours.

“No…not just…”

“JOEL?!”

At the sound of Tommy’s loud call Joel grumbles a curse and rests his forehead to yours. He reluctantly steps away but takes your hand in his and lifts it to his mouth, gently kissing your palm and then the curve of your fingertips.

He doesn’t say anything as he backs away and disappears between the doors with a tender release of your hand. You remain rooted in place, unable to do more than press your tingling fingers to your tingling lips.

When the rest of the day passes without any sign of Joel you start to worry you imagined the spark between you and maybe pushed him too far. Dinner time comes and goes and you still don’t see him but before you head to your small house to retire for the night you catch Tommy’s wife, Maria, outside and rush over to ask her if she’s seen Joel.

Her expression is somber before she answers.

“They left this morning,” she says quietly as she delicately rubs her belly.

“Left?”

Maria nods. “Trouble at the border. Tommy wouldn’t get into details but he seemed worried.”

You swallow thickly and thank her, letting her know to get you if she needs anything. Once you’re back inside your place you lean against the door and go over every interaction and every word, although few, between you and Joel.

Why didn’t he tell you and say goodbye? When would he be back? He had to come back…

Two full days pass with no sign of them. You linger at the window every morning and night, hoping to hear the distinct clop of hooves on the dirt.

It isn’t until midnight comes and goes and the clear sky is filled with twinkling bright stars that you’re awakened by the sound of a heavy knock at your door.

You startle from your sleeping spot on the couch and listen again, wondering if it’s your imagination.

Knock, knock.

“Sweetheart. It’s me. Let me in.”

You stand just beyond the threshold, your fingers hovering over the doorknob.

“Open the door for me darlin.’ I have to see you.”

The lock turns and very slowly the door opens.

You’re standing there in his flannel, barefoot and fragile.

“You’re back,” you state, your tone wary.

He waits for any sign of apprehension then brushes past you and spins around, taking you with him and bracing one large hand above your head to push the door closed with a click.

When he leans in closer and crowds you against the hard surface your lips part in awareness and his mouth grazes yours gently.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you before I left.”

“Joel,” you start, shaking your head. “You don’t owe me any goodbyes…”

“But?” he adds.

“I was so worried…and I missed you.”

His fingers fall to the buttons of his shirt, slipping through the large openings at your waist and coasting over the front of your panties.

“Missed you too sweetheart. Been thinkin’ about how sweet those lips taste for the last two damn days.”

Without wasting another moment he brings his mouth down on yours, a low groan spilling from his throat. His hands cradle your face, his lips trailing along your jaw to your ear.

“Are you gonna let me find out if you’re sweet all over? he whispers.

Instead of answering, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug him down for another searing kiss. He presses you harder against the door and circles his hips so you can feel him hard along your stomach.

“You gonna give me a nice little taste darlin’?”

Your fingernails lightly drag down his chest, watching as his eyes darken and the muscles in his throat work over his hard swallow.

When your hands fall to the first closed button of his shirt, the one you’re still wearing, he groans and let’s his gaze fall to track the movement. You slowly unbutton it and drag a finger down, parting the fabric until you reach the next button and do the same, inch by inch exposing your bare skin.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re drivin’ me outta my goddamn mind.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @kmc1989

[kylosjuul]

Kylo Ren NSFW Alphabet (reupload)

a/n: i posted this last year and here it is again! if ur expecting kylo to be a dom don’t read this. Also, this is AFAB!reader.

——

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Kylo has never had anybody to cherish like this, to hold. So you best believe after sex, he’s planting soft kisses across your face and lips trying to show how lucky he feels to have you; that you gave this gift of intimacy to him. It’s all soft touches and cuddles (fight me on this). He looks at you with a sense of longing, to have this feeling forever. He’ll hold your hand over his heart while you fall asleep on his chest, for it only beats for you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Everything about your body has Kylo red in the face, but he finds his eyes trailing to your thighs and your ass often. Your uniform clings to them tightly, and he feels guilty about how quick his blood pools to his thighs, constantly readjusting his leather pants when you bend down or “accidentally” brush against him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Okay, listen. Kylo has never had any sexual experience so you BEST believe he cums a lot. And hard. Borderline hyperspermia. He’s just so sensitive and you just feel too good wrapped around him. Expect rope after rope of thick cum coating your walls, spilling out of you and down your thighs :D

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You make him hard. A lot. He feels so perverted, especially in the beginnings of your relationship. The soft floral notes of your perfume made his pants constrict, the sweet smell making him dizzy. Every kiss, every brush of your fingers=boner. He was embarrassed. The worst part is the wet dreams. Oh. The dreams. Kylo’s mind would drift to images of you kissing him, sitting on top of him, the warmth between your legs remedying the pressure building in his hips; but he would wake up every time, hard as a rock, spilling into his sleep pants panting your name. Yeah.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Absolute virg. Never even kissed a girl before. The first time you climbed on top of him and started trailing kisses down his neck, he was 100% whipped, almost finishing in his uniform as you rocked against his length. He knew he couldn’t give this up, couldn’t give YOU up.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

A bit simple, but this man lovesss missionary. He gets off when your face twists up in pleasure, knowing he’s the one providing it to you. Plus, he can hear each moan, each sharp intake of breath; Between your face drenched in lust, your sweet sounds, and your tits bouncing with each thrust, this position makes him cum the hardest. (Besides you on top. He’ll dig his fingers into your hips watching himself disappear inside you over and over. yum).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I’d say Kylo is serious during the deed. He just loves you so much and wants to worship you with every bit of intimacy he has in him. Large calloused palms smoothing back your hair, plush lips sucking on your collarbone, all of it.

“You’re so beautiful. My sweet girl…”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He isn’t the hairiest man in the galaxy, but he does have a bit of hair down south. Nothing too extreme though. Kylo is very hygienic and well groomed, nothing to worry about here!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

THE MOST INTIMATE. You can see in his eyes how he feels he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve your soft body beneath him. He treats you as if you’ll break, as if you’re the most precious being in the universe. Constantly asking if you’re okay, or, “Does this feel good?” He loves to serve you. To pleasure you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As aforementioned, Kylo can’t help how hard he is around you 24/7. If he knows he’s going to see you, he’ll tuck himself away into his refresher and think of your figure, your eyes looking up at him, (that REALLY makes him cum fast) and stroke his cock with a punishing pace, imagining you slamming down on his hips. He feels a tinge of shame as he grits his teeth and releases his load onto the refresher door.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise. He feels his thighs go weak when you drag your fingers through his hair and call him a “good boy.” He’ll look up at you through heavy lids, a silent plea for more soft touches and appraisals. Also, eye contact. If you ever want anything from him, just look up at his through your eyelashes and he’ll blush like a madman, giving you whatever it is you crave.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a very private person and extremely jealous, so he prefers to fuck you in your shared quarters. Nowhere else. Okay, maybe in his TIE, but that’s only when you beg him so sweetly; and who is he not to give his girl whatever she wants?

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Yes. Just yes. A kiss that lingers a second too long, his name on your lips (in any context), your soft hand following the curve of his jaw. He’s a goner. If you want to torture the man, wear a low cut top around him, he’ll be desperately grabbing at your hips in no time.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything involving someone else. He’s a jealous, jealous man. All these fics about him sharing you with the KOR….girl. A big no no is anything related to degradation. Attention all Kylo writers! He would never even DREAM of calling you names or hurting you in any way. You’re his precious girl and he just loves you so so much:(

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Virgin, remember? The first time you sucked his cock, he’s was a panting mess, brows furrowed, low moans punched from his chest, finishing in your mouth in under a minute. After a few times together, you guided him on how to eat pussy, and he definitely prefers watching your hips rock up into his face, coming undone from his warm tongue. (Kylo will never admit this, but while he was eating you out he rocked against the mattress like a rabid dog, cumming all over his stomach, a pool of his spend spreading over the sheets. Yeah, he prefers giving).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on how much time you’ve spent apart. If he hasn’t seen you for a week, (missions, supreme leader shit) he’ll fuck into you with a strong and punishing pace, still careful not to hurt you, though. If it’s a normal day, he’ll slowly rock into you, dragging his cock along your walls in a sensual way, but you usually beg him to speed up, pushing you further and further up the mattress.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Kylo is a simp. He will take whatever you so kindly gift him with. You get to fuck your man whenever you so please. He gives it to you no matter the time. Day or night. He’s just so excited there’s a GIRL who wants him, his cock, this badly.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nah. Not really. He’d rather savor the sex, instead of constantly looking over his shoulder. But if you drag him into a storage closet aboard and start massaging him through his leather, who is he to say no?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hate to burst any bubbles here, but he’s completely inexperienced, so don’t expect him to last very long, at least not at first. He physically has to tense his muscles, eyes squeezed shut in concentration, trying so hard NOT to blow his load the second your tight wet heat engulfs his cock. His skin is flaming hot, but he’s shivering above you, groans emanating from his slacked jaw, trying to fight the way his balls draw up, the way his stomach muscles tighten already.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Are sex toys canon in Star Wars? Someone please lmk. But my answer is going to be no for now!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kylo doesn’t have to tease you, like, at all. You just want him so bad all the time and he still doesn’t understand why. However. You’re quite the tease, and this poor virgin can’t take it. Seriously, if you want to see the mighty Kylo Ren crumble, all you need to do is press a chaste kiss to his lips, put a hand on his thigh, look at him, or just breathe basically, and he’ll be hard and wanting in seconds. I love our space boyfriend.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ben Swolo can make some NOISE lemme tell ya. It’s all low groans and grunts, so caught up in the heat of your body and how fucking tight you are around him. No matter how hard he tries to contain the noises that slip from his throat, he can’t help it. He’ll confidently moan and moan in your ear, minted breath hitting your cheek, letting you know his pleasure is solely from you, and you alone.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Kylo is what we call a service top. He would do anything to put your pleasure first, his own pleasure depends on that. He had never cum harder than that first time you clamped around his cock, finally feeling your orgasm around him. Lights flickered and whirred; it was…intense.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hung like a moose omg who said that? Anyways. My guess is 7-8 inches. Good luck girl.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Siri play ‘Everyday’ by Ariana Grande please. Seriously. He feels fucking insane with how bad he wants to be buried in you at all times. Whether he’s tired, beaten or bruised, you could catch a dick anytime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Kylo will eventually fall asleep cuddled up next to you, but not until he allots himself a few minutes to admire your beauty, running his thick fingers through your hair, kissing your temple until he sees you eyes flutter shut. Awe. Whatta softie.

[readychilledwine]

Breeding

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

Friends, I'm sweaty as I'm writing this. The Breeding Kink is one of my favorites. The breeding kink/impregnation kink is characterized by being sexually aroused over the idea/risk of pregnancy. People who enjoy this kink typically are those who enjoy "riskier" sex and submission due to this kink potentially causing one partner to give their body fully to raise a baby. Some people who partake in the breeding kink may choose to forgo any type of protection, where some may only use female based protection. If you are not into fluid friendly play (unprotected sex), this may not be the kink for you unless it is being performed with a life partner or someone you deeply trust.

Breeding and pregnancy kinks, despite misconception, are not the same thing. They can exist without the other being involved. Breeding kinks are sexual arousal to the actual act of finishing inside of your partner/having your partner finish inside of you, and the idea of the risk that comes with it. A pregnancy kink is the sexual attraction to pregnant people.

Even though we all know Cassian wants to be a daddy, I focused solely on breeding for this, so I promise no surprise pregnancy at the end, but obviously with how this kink works, there is mentions of it.

Peep the Valentines Day Bingo List Here

NSFW below cut

Cassian x reader

Warnings - unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, slight hints of degradation, overestimation

Cassian watched you, leaning against the bedroom door as you brushed your hair for the night, a fine silk robe wrapped around you.

Spending the day with Nyx always sent him home in this mood he could never describe. This deep settling ache hitting him when he'd leave the boy would wake a primal urge.

That urge typically led to you, knees damn near pressed to your chest as he pounded into you over and over muttering about making you a mommy, about filling you with his seed.

He knew it'd be no different tonight as your toned legs and thick thighs were on display for him. He wanted to breed you, fill you over and over until your perfect pussy leaked for days to come.

“Uh-oh,” you teased as you finally looked at him. “Looks like Uncle Cassie is all riled up again.”

He wasted no time moving to you as you turned away, heading to go grab his pajamas. He grabbed you by the back of your neck, cock twitching as you gasped, and turned you, forcing his lips onto yours. “Think it's funny, sweetheart?” He moved the two of you towards the bed. Your lips danced in a broken rhythm as he groaned and mumbled, mind already lost in feral need. Large rough hands ripped at smooth silk, pulling the robe from your body. Cassian smiled into the kiss when he was met with the softness of your skin. “Didn't even bother wearing anything underneath.”

His cock was already hard, grinding against your core and causing wetness to build quickly in anticipation. “You rip every pair I wear when you're like this.” Your head fell back into a breathy moan, watching him as you prompt up on your elbows.

Cassian's eyes were damn near black, lust filling every inch of them. You sat up, kissing him as you undid the back of his shirt and removed it before taking off his pants. "Besides, I've been waiting for you."

Cassian chuckled into your lips, pushing you back on the bed before getting on top of you. His kisses were rough and rushed, wanting to get to the true goal as quickly as possible. He bit down on your lip before moving to kiss your neck, hands carassing your waist and up to your breasts as he did.

His kisses trailed lower as his hands did, one long thick finger already playing at your core. It took the gathering slick before running up to your clit just as he took a peaked nipple into his warm mouth, moaning as your back arched and you gasped loudly.

Cassian was grinding against the bed already, rutting for any friction he could find to give himself some satisfaction while he got you nice and wet. The wetter you were, the easier it would be for him to breed you over and over, at least, that's what he told himself.

That finger pushed into you, curling up to that sensitive spongy spot that had your eyes rolling back and mouth falling open.

You couldn't help but relax fully into the bed, knowing damn well you would not be doing an ounce of work tonight. You moaned as Cassian switched to your other neglected breast before adding a second finger in.

You panted his name, whining for him as you pushed down on his shoulders. "No, sweetness, on my fingers first. Gotta make you cum over and over before I give you my seed. Gotta make sure it sticks."

His fingers began moving faster, him coming up to be above your face to watch each expression like a damned hawk. "That's my girl," he growled loudly as you began clenching and squeezing those digits. "Squeezing me so tight. Can't wait to have you drooling and milking my cock over," his fingers thrusted harder to accentuate the word. "Over," he hit that special spot hard, making you scream his name. "And over again." You came when he hit your gspot again, vision blurring as you felt a rush of pleasure and wetness spilling from your core.

Cassian didn't stop or allow you rest. His finger kept their assault going, forcing you into a second high quickly and making you scream and plead for him. He then moved down, mouth directly above your now swollen and aching bundle of nerves. "Gotts get you so wet, baby. Have you soaking me before I fuck you." His tongue darted out, pressing into your clit before flicking it.

"Cass-" You were panting, tears beginning to form with each curl of his fingers with each pressured lick of his tongue. "Cassian!" You tugged his hair, feeling those silkened locks as he dug further into your cunt.

He was feral, eating you like he was a male heading to war. Harsh links, sharp flicks, all in time with each pointed and accurate movement of his fingers that quickly sent you into overstimulation. Cassian moaned against you when you tugged his hair harsher, a babbling mess leaving your mouth.

You came again, coil snapping and eyes squeezing shut as that moan echoed into your bones. Drool had started to leave your mouth as you panted, feeling your mate sit up. Your eyes flickered open to his glossy slick soaked fingers coating his cock in your essence.

He was heavy, tip angry and leaking, thick and ready to enter you. Cassian took both of you legs in his hands, pushing your knees up to allow him his favorite view of your cunt while you sat in a mating press. "Hold your fucking legs there." You obeyed, muttering a soft yes daddy that had him freezing. "What was that?"

"Yes, Daddy," you repeated again, louder this time. Cassian groaned with his head thrown back and instantly went to line himself up with you.

"Gonna make you a momma this time, baby," he entered you in one quick movement, hitting so deep he could have sworn your belly bulged with the sheer size and depth. "This pussy is going to be so much prettier when she's leaking my cum."

His hands went to the headboard, supporting him as he began pounding you into the mattress. Each thrust felt like he was kissing your cervix. Every curve and ridge of his cock brushed your soft velvety walls, nerves screaming as it did.

You were in heaven.

You were in hell.

It was too much and not enough all at the same time as you whined and moaned below him. Tears began to fall from your eyes constantly now as his name began a prayer to every unholy God watching your mate stretch you out and take you like you were no more than a hole waiting to be filled by him.

"Gonna look so fucking beautiful carrying my babies," Cassian moaned. "Even if it doesn't take this time, I'll just keep fucking you, keep giving you my seed. Practice again and again until you're a momma. How does that sound, baby?" Your mind was blank, too lost in the feeling to answer him. He took your chin in one hand and nodded for you. "Gonna cum inside you. That's what you want right?"

Your eyes snapped to him, finally echoing that primal urge and need. "Fuck yes," you grabbed his biceps, legs staying in place on their own. "Breed me, Cassian. Please, Gods, please."

His eyes rolled, thrusts becoming even harder as he growled out your name. His hand moved to your neck, "Right there, y/n." His breathing had become uneven, sweat covering every rippling muscle of his tattooed body. "Cum, sweetness. Milk Daddy's cock." He squeezed your throat, allowing that lightheaded feeling to be the final thing to force you over the ledge again.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Your walls began pulsing around him. You went limp, legs shaking and vision going completely black and filled with star light. You could faintly hear his growl of your name before hot rope after rope of cum spilled deep into you. He had your hips so tight against his you were surprised you had not somehow become one.

You came back to him after feeling soft kisses placed on your temple, hearing the deep timber of his voice whispering for you. Cassian pulled out, growing hard again at the sight of you leaking his cum before taking two fingers and pushing it back into you, listening as you whimpered.

Cassian laid down next to you, keeping those fingers inside of you, still working your core slowly. He was allowing you a breather before fucking you from behind. He smiled looking at your already spent form. "Daddy huh?"

"Shut the fuck up. It slipped." You glared toward him before gasping as he curled his fingers. "Cassian-"

Cassian hummed with a smirk, "Well, hopefully it slips again when I'm back inside of you. Hands and knees, sweetness, your break is over."

General taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

Valentines Day taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish

@novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook

[lovemyavatar]

Yours

Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: (aged up) nsfw, smut with no plot, possessive & hard-ish dom Neteyam, pure filth

Mine (part one)

“Oh, fuck.”

Neteyam’s eyes flutter closed, head tilting back in pleasure as your lips part around the head of his cock. He can’t help but rut into you, long fingers tangling in your braids. A soft sigh leaves his mouth as it falls open, a string of moans filling your tent.

You hum lowly, rounded eyes blinking up at him. Heat pools between your legs at the expression of ecstasy etched into his features. Your hands trail up and down his thighs gently, loving the way they tense beneath your touch.

Your tongue swirls around his thick cock, paying extra attention to the underside, just the way you know he likes. He groans above you when you press him deeper, ignoring the few gags that catch in your throat.

He grips your hair at the scalp, tugging firmly, a low growl rumbling through him. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, cock twitching in your mouth as you allow him to to pull nearly all the way out before thrusting his length deep into your waiting mouth.

Your core aches with mounting desire, not only from your mate's sounds of pleasure, but because of the way he so publicly staked his claim over you earlier. Despite the barbaric nature of it all, you can't deny that seeing him jump to your defense without hesitation made your stomach flutter.

One of your hands leaves his thigh, slowly caressing the length of his strong leg before smoothing over the fabric of your loincloth. You just need something to hold you over, anything to quench the overwhelming need within your slick core.

Just as your fingertips nestle beneath the waistband, Neteyam's eyes pop open and he roughly tugs you from his cock.

“Did I say you could touch, baby girl?” He rasps lowly, voice hoarse with pleasure.

Heavy lidded eyes glare down at you, reminding you of his agitated state. It was easy to forget, when he’s so pliant under your touch, but with that one single pointed look, you know you’re in for a long night.

A whimper falls from your lips, fingers inching closer to your pussy as it desperately clenches around nothing. You lean back, his cock pulling from your mouth with a pop.

“Please, Nete.” You blink up at him hopefully, lips pursing in the cute little pout he can never deny.

His jaw clenches, grip on your hair tightening to an almost painful degree. Another broken sound fills the room as he roughly guides your mouth back toward him, cock twitching in need.

Usually, the adorable look on your face would have him weak in the knees, giving you whatever your heart desires, but tonight…tonight, he has no room left for softness. He’s too riled up, too much anger and frustration still lodged in his chest to relent even a fraction of control.

He needs to dominate you, to possess you. Prove to himself—and anyone close enough to hear—that you’re his. His to take, to claim, to devour.

“Hands behind your back.” He grunts through clenched teeth.

Your breath hitches, pussy gushing at his commanding tone. Your body has no choice but to oblige, fingers instantly pulling from your loincloth. You wouldn’t dare disobey him while he’s like this, knowing the punishment likely wouldn’t be worth the momentary satisfaction of making him snap.

Once your fingers intertwine behind your hips, Neteyam is quick to yank you forward by your hair, forcing his cock between your lips. Your eyes flutter, stomach flipping with desire at his roughness. It’s a side of him you don’t get to see often, but when it emerges, you’re reduced to a nothing more than puddle of need.

“Eyes on me, sevin (pretty).” He orders firmly, and you instantly obey.

A long moan rumbles his chest, one hand leaving your scalp to hold your jaw between his fingers and thumb. His cock thrusts into your mouth harshly, the added pressure from his tight grip making his eyes roll back in pleasure.

Within seconds, an intense orgasm washes over him, abs tensing as thick ropes of cum fill your throat. Moisture blurs your vision as you try to keep your breath steady while choking on his huge cock.

Suddenly, he yanks you back, arms wrapping around your middle to hoist you from the floor and toss you onto the bed. Your chest heaves as you prop yourself up onto your elbows, hooded eyes watching as Neteyam sinks to his knees at the foot of the mattress.

Long fingers curl around your hips, effortlessly dragging you to the end of the woven structure. His palms skim along your thighs, sweltering gaze holding you hostage as he peels your legs apart. He tears your loincloth off in one harsh tug, before discarding the tattered material on the floor.

“Go on, touch yourself for me.” He rasps, slinging both of your legs over his shoulders as he nestles between them.

His heated gaze flicks downward, transfixed on your glistening pussy that’s spread just for him. Your eyes pop wide, a disappointed whimper falling from your parted lips.

He glances at you pointedly, daring you to disobey. “You were so desperate before, weren’t you?”

Sharp teeth catch your lower lip, chewing on the plush skin as your hand hesitantly caresses down your chest, over your trembling stomach, until finally landing where you need it most.

A quiet gasp fills the room as you drag one finger through your swollen pussy lips, digit gliding over your slick easily. Neteyam groans, cock already painfully hard again at the sight. His noises spur you on, encourage you to gently prod against your entrance.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You know that, right?” He growls, gaze still locked on your finger as it disappears inside you.

You mewl pathetically, back arching from the bed as a wave of pleasure courses through you at his dirty words.

“Every little tahni (freckle), every stripe…especially right here.” His eyes flick up toward your face, watching your expression tighten as he presses a sloppy kiss in the dip of your thigh, only inches away from your pussy.

Your hips jerk at the sudden spark of sensation, a broken moan rumbling your chest. You add another finger, desperately searching for the relief you know only his cock will provide.

“It all belongs to me, doesn’t it?” He murmurs, laving a trail of kisses down your inner thigh.

When you don’t respond, his fangs nip at your skin, making you buck against him again. Your fingers plunge into your sopping pussy faster, chasing your mounting release. You feel so filthy, so wonton as your hips grind against your own hand, arousal dripping down to your wrist.

“I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question.” Neteyam growls against your skin, soothing the mark from his bite with a soft lick.

“Yes!” You breathe roughly, chest heaving. It’s the only response you can muster, pleasure overwhelming every one of your senses.

Without warning, his palm comes down on your inner thigh, landing a firm slap against the sensitive skin. You cry out, instantly realizing your mistake. Your thumb finds your clit, eyes rolling back as you’re thrown closer to the edge.

“Yes, sir!” You correct, voice hoarse as you’re reduced to a whimpering, moaning mess.

Neteyam groans at the sight of you writhing in pleasure, tongue running along his lips. Restraint tightens his chest as he holds himself back from pouncing on you, from devouring your pussy and pushing you over the edge.

Typically, he wouldn’t hesitate to make you cum, absolutely loving the sight of you falling apart for him. But in his current state, the flood of possessiveness that still courses through him whispers that you need to be punished. That he needs to remind you who’s really in charge.

His cock strains against his lower stomach, aching for relief, but he ignores it, completely focused on you. When your breath catches, spine bowing from the bed as every muscle in your body tenses, he knows it won’t be long.

He grips your wrist without warning, yanking your fingers from your cunt just as you reach the edge. You cry out pitifully, pussy clenching desperately around the sudden emptiness. A broken sound falls from your lips, eyes popping open in surprise.

“Were you about to cum without permission?” Narrowed eyes peer up at you, his lips pulled into a devilish smirk that does nothing to quell the throb between your legs.

“No! No, I—please, Nete…” You gasp, thoughts hazy, unsure what you’re even asking for.

In one fluid motion he rises to his feet before towering over you, pressing one knee between your legs to balance himself as he leers down at you pointedly. Long fingers curl around your neck, and your head instantly tilts back to present yourself to him.

“Who’s pussy is this?” His free hand cups your dripping sex, and your body jerks against the possessive hold.

“Yours.” You whimper pathetically, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. “It’s yours, ‘Teyam.”

“And what does that mean?” Warm breath fans your face as his heated gaze pierces yours.

“Means I…I need to ask.” You can’t help but grind against his hand, seeking friction for your aching core.

“Fuck, baby girl. I love seeing you like this. So desperate for me, and only me, hmm?” He groans, dipping all three fingers into your cunt easily.

“Yes, sir!” You cry out, back arching at the pleasurable sting of his digits stretching you.

Moisture flows freely from your eyes, coating your cheeks in sticky tears that Neteyam dips his head to kiss away. His lips leave a searing trail down the side of your face and along the column of your neck, avoiding his fingers that still hold your throat hostage.

His thumb finds your clit, gently circling the bundle of nerves, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. You’re so, so close, lower belly tightening with your impending orgasm.

“P-please, Nete—sir, can I?” You blubber, unable to form a complete thought as you’re brought to the razor edge, every ounce of energy used to hold yourself back until he grants permission.

A sob wracks your chest when he pulls his fingers out, leaving your hips rutting against the air as you chase another denied release.

“Shh, baby girl. I got you.” He coos into your ear, gripping the base of his cock to line it up with your sopping entrance.

A low growl rumbles his chest as he sinks into you in one swift thrust, pressing his tip firmly into your womb. You tremble beneath him, barely aware as he gently pulls your queue free from under your spine.

He throws his head back when he makes tsaheylu (the bond), a surge of sensation making his hips stutter as he pounds into you. He’s already close, the sight of you submitting to him so readily enough to make him cum untouched.

“Go on, baby girl. Cum for me.” He rasps, reaching down to pinch your clit firmly between his fingers.

You scream, body instantly spasming in an intense orgasm. Your pussy flutters around his cock, throwing him into his second release of the night. His head lowers into your neck, forehead pressed into you for support as he rides out both his and your pleasure.

His thrusts slow, becoming languid as he rocks into you gently. His grip on your neck loosens, palm caressing the sticky skin of your heaving chest. Your heart thrums wildly, breath ragged as you come down from the blinding pleasure.

Neteyam tenderly pulls out of you before sinking into the bed at your side, nestling his face deeper into your neck. One of his arms slides beneath your head, the other slung across your waist possessively. You hum quietly, eyes closing as a wave of sleepiness washes over you.

“I’m yours, ‘Teyam.” You whisper lowly, fingers gently wrapping around his forearm.

“I know, baby, I know.” He murmurs, peppering your skin with soft kisses as you settle into his embrace.

He doesn’t stop even when you drift off, lavishing your body with affection. His kisses trail up and down your neck, your shoulder, all the way to the tips of your fingers as he intertwines them with his.

A small smile tugs at his lips as his eyes flutter closed, feeling assured that while you are most definitely his, he’s just as much yours.

@fanboyluvr @minjix @daeneeryss @aonungsmate @glimmering-darling-dolly @lu-the-ghost-reader @tiredmamaissy @jakexneytiri

[callistoscope]

soaring ahead

Summary: Harvey deserves some extra loving, and you’re more than happy to voice that opinion. In multiple ways.

Pairing: Sub!Harvey x Soft Dom!Reader

Word Count: 2.0k.

Warnings: explicit sexual act/smut! more specifically, harvey gets a bj!

a/n: this doesn’t really have hard sub/dom undertones lol, reader is a verrryyyy soft dom, but it’s really important to me that it’s made clear! Harvey’s the biggest sub in the world in anything I write!

——

It isn't about control. This is not about making him vulnerable in your hands, for the sole sake of satisfying your own whims— but it's getting embarrassingly close the farther you get into this.

Harvey is a gentleman, with not a single bone in his body dedicated only to his own pleasure, and he will remain that way for the rest of his life likely. In some minute way that sprawls out through all of his actions, all his shy but endlessly loving glances. He's selfless with devotion.

Here, Harvey is still wholly himself, every bit of the soft man you love. Not that you'd expected differently. His brown eyes faltering, but still steadfast in their approach to meet yours as he continues to whisper if you're really sure about this— right as you drop to your knees in front of the bed.

It's taken a lot of reassurances to get even this far. Harvey, in his unyielding consideration of your feelings, can never quite bypass his need to assuage any pressure he frets over putting you under. He'd even tried to insist you both lay down on the bed, so you don't hurt your knees from being on the floor.

You still aren't sure if you've ever seen him turn redder than when you'd insisted you prefer it— this way, I get to see your face more clearly, you'd told him maybe too honestly.

Despite stating the reason for your preference, Harvey is still shying away, torn between looking at you in admiration and averting his eyes in mortification. It's cute, to see him flounder between either option, hesitantly holding his first to his mouth. He seems to decide on closing his eyes, fist trembling with the effort it took to not fully cover his face. Trying earnestly to please you without completely forfeiting his desire to hide. He squirms a little when your hand makes contact, wrapping carefully around his dick.

"Hey," you start, voice low but soft. Plush like a warm blanket, knit with thick yarn, "... Can you look at me?" One of your hands goes to rest on his bare knee, right where it bends, thumb rubbing where you can feel the faint indents of his bone.

You can see his shut eyes scrunch closed a bit tighter for a moment, whining quietly when your other hand moves a little as well, stroking his dick in a slow and smooth motion. You'd already gotten his pants and underwear down, were already well on the cusp of giving him the attention he deserved. You trail your thumb up towards the underside of his tip in a misshapen circle. This makes Harvey's eyes fly open with a start, an exhale sharply bursting from his lungs. He still presses his hand to his mouth, the fingers curled into his palms digging in particularly hard when you carefully lick up from hilt to the very top.

His hand flexes, another little noise regretfully getting muffled into it. He blinks wildly, and it shakes you then how disheveled he looks, hair mussed from your hands, face flushed scarlet. The thin sheen of sweat adds a shine to him, but where Harvey truly becomes striking is at his eyes.

It's not unusual to catch him looking at you as if you were a miracle, as if that's the only way he could comprehend a person like you coming into his life.

It's not a look you didn't expect, but there's a rawness now that you've only seen a handful of times. When all the attention's on Harvey, when he allows it to soak into his heart instead of gently ushering you back into the loving spotlight along with him. It's not that he only ever tended to you— he seemed to like it plenty when you were in the lead, guiding you both, gently guiding him where to go. Lavishing him with praise that got him all but melting under you, but he rarely let you take care of just him much farther than that. Not for more than a few moments.

The warmth in his brown eyes causes you to raise your hand, the one that had been on his knee, stretching it until it comes into contact with his cheek. You have to strain your arm like this, but you hardly care, especially when he readily leans into it, effectively abandoning his wrist. You press a kiss right to his tip, getting to feel him inhale shakily against your palm, nuzzling your hand in another attempt to hide.

"... You're so pretty." You barely have a chance to ruminate on the thought before it slips out of your mouth, Harvey's eyes rapidly focusing back on you. His hand and your own partially disfigure the look you get at his face, but the warm light of the lamp shows the red color settling on him nicely. "... I love you so much, sweetheart. You know that?"

Harvey seems to want to answer, his lips parting only to close with an unabashed moan as you settle your mouth down, taking him halfway and carefully keeping your teeth from grazing him. It seems to hit him all at once, whimpering as you look up at him, his hand that had been at his mouth, interestingly enough, rushing for the one on his cheek.

He takes it into his right hand, pressing a sweetly chaste kiss to your knuckles before lowering it to his upper thigh, away from where you were settled. His fingers twine with yours, holding it in a way that felt all too pure. He's looking at you with stars in his eyes, like your own have galaxies and more. You have a sneaking suspicion he knew you were straining your arm.

"... I love you, too." Harvey whispers in a wavering voice, body trembling when you push yourself farther down. You twirl your tongue around the head of his dick, and you can feel him fight the reflex to buck up from his next shiver, the next sound that escapes him sharp, head falling back for a quick moment before he's leaning back forward to look down at you. You suck and he almost repeats the motion, his free hand reaching to tenderly press some of your hair back.

You back off for what might look like a breather on Harvey's part, but it's only really because you want to talk. You shift on the floor, knees starting to ache. "Do you know that I love you?" You say gently, voice a little more hoarse than you'd expected. He hadn't answered your question.

That makes him glance down bashfully, which only seems to make his embarrassment worse since he mostly gets a reminder of what exactly's going on below the metaphorical belt. "O-Of course." He breathes shallowly, seeming to have needed the breather more than you.

"Of course... I wouldn't doubt you." Harvey says softly.

It's not that you don't trust him, but you know him. The doubts that are always riding his coattails, coasting along no matter how adoringly you touch him, no matter how much you praise him. You could give him the world on a sliver platter, kiss every atom of his body, and he'd still struggle to accept it. You want him to know it, down to his bones. For your love to be the airplane he can trust to see in the sky, through the radio, a certainty he can glimpse even in the clouds.

"Can you say it a few times for me?" You ask, swallowing as you gaze up at him determinedly. One hand continues to stroke his cock languidly, the other squeezing the hand he's holding. "Say that I love you."

Harvey blinks, looking a little uncertain. He shudders faintly regardless, sensitive to every touch. "You... love me?" He echoes doubtfully, as if not sure that's quite what you meant him to say, only to gasp when you take his dick back into your mouth, bobbling steadily. You nod as best as you can, which you're sure looks a bit silly, but Harvey doesn't seem to be focusing too much on how silly anything might be, thankfully.

In any case, he seems to be getting it, eyes widening in understanding. He whimpers again, maybe also because he understands. You can't remind him when you're like this, so you're pushing him to remind himself.

"... You love me." His voice shakes, but there's something imbedded in it that warms you. His face is twisting faintly with emotion, eyebrows scrunching when your free hand strokes at his base as you slide your mouth further down. Harvey's grip on your hand tightens, his breaths coming out quick, every other one a bit whiney. He's shaking.

"...Y-You—" His sentence is thoroughly chopped in half when you keep going, fighting your gag reflex as you aim for getting Harvey as deep as he can go. "— God, y-you love me. I love you. So— So much."

You roll the flat of your tongue against the very tip, light and cautious. Harvey's body goes tense before abruptly twitching.

"Honey..." He gets out, brown eyes fluttering shut, "H-Honey, I'm not gonna... I'm not..." He trails off with another noise, breathy and a touch desperate.

Embarrassment creases a few lines into his forehead from his own implication. You squeeze his hand this time, thumb moving to stroke the skin of his own. You're looking up at him again, the way his eyes soften impossibly for you. You can't really nod now, but you try to tell him when your eyes: It's okay. He flinches, endearingly sensitive.

You breathe through your nose, relaxing your throat before you go for the next inch. You don't think you quite succeed, but Harvey seems to think you have regardless. He's holding your hand like a lifeline. The hand in your hair retreats, going back to grasp the sheets with a grip that would have been painful. Your heart flutters with love as much as lust, doubling your efforts.

Harvey's whole body trembles, and you're focusing a bit too much on swallowing to fully appreciate how he sounds, high pitched and shuddering. Even still, it echoes loud in your subconscious mind.

When his body loosens, his hold on your hand loosening but firm enough to portray how little he yearned for its absence, you pull away with a sharp inhale, breathing a bit deeply. Harvey had moved his hand behind him to keep himself propped up, and you can tell it's taking some energy for him to not fall back-first on the bed in midst his bliss, but you can feel his concern reignite.

You leap up on sore knees before he can say anything, arms finding his back and tugging him forward tightly. His face ends up finding the crook of your neck as sinks into you like a ship consumed by the sea, nuzzling into your warmth and hugging you back as if you've been separated for years.

"I love you," you murmur, stroking his back, "I love you, I love you." It's as if you're making up for lost time, saying the words for when you couldn't. That makes him pull away, and you're quick to cup his cheeks, eyes looking meaningfully into his own as you rest your forehead against his. "I love you." Your voice wavers, caught up in a tide of affection that ebbs higher the more you look at him.

Harvey smiles brilliantly, a bashful tinge to it, as if he's still questioning his right to such joy and fortune. He leans until your noses brush in a featherlight touch, needing to touch you however he can. "I... I love you, too." He's still breathless, words a little too hushed, but his eyes glimmer a little from his own emotions. A deep brown that still somehow shines like the sun as they start to glisten with tears.

You pull him back into a hug. His chin rests on your shoulder, a content filling him as he relishes in the feeling of floating— the one time being so high up in the sky doesn’t feel so terrifying.

[littlelamy]

reader gets into it with her best friend and goes to rafe

a/n: hi, thank you so much for this request 🤍 i hope u don’t mind, i used sarah as reader’s best friend! 🐑

you storm out of the chateau, slamming the door behind you so hard the windows rattle. sarah’s voice echoes in your mind, every sharp word cutting deeper than the last. your pulse races, your chest tight, and the humid outer banks air does nothing to soothe your anger. you just need to get away—from her, from the fight, from everything.

and without thinking, you end up at tannyhill.

your hands grip the steering wheel so tight your knuckles ache, but it’s the only thing grounding you right now. when you pull up to the estate, the sight of it calms something inside you, just for a moment. but the second you get out of the car, the weight of everything hits you all over again. you can’t stay in your own head any longer. you need something, someone, to take the edge off.

the door opens before you knock, and there he is—leaning against the doorframe like he’s been waiting for this. rafe’s in a plain white t-shirt, jeans slung low on his hips, that trademark smirk pulling at his lips. it’s maddening how effortlessly he reads you.

“couldn’t stay away, huh?” his voice is low, smooth, and it rolls over you like a challenge.

you push past him without answering, the tension bubbling under your skin too much to deal with right now. you can feel his eyes on you, tracking every movement as you step into the living room. it’s dim inside, the house quiet, but the air feels thick, charged. you can hear the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

“what happened? sarah?” he asks, closing the door behind him with a soft click. his tone is amused, but there’s something more lurking beneath it—something darker.

you run a hand through your hair, pacing as the words tumble out. “yeah, sarah. she just—” you break off, shaking your head. “it doesn’t even matter.”

he watches you, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he has all the time in the world. “sounds like it does.”

you glare at him, frustrated with how easily he seems to brush everything off. “she acts like she knows everything. like i’m the one who's always in the wrong.”

“maybe you are,” he says, stepping closer, voice smooth and infuriatingly calm.

you narrow your eyes at him. “you think this is funny?”

his eyes darken as he closes the distance between you, his voice dropping lower. “nah. i just think you’re too worked up to think straight.”

his scent hits you first—something woodsy, like a mix of cologne and the faintest hint of smoke, something that always clings to him. it makes your head swim, a distraction from the anger still burning in your chest. you can feel his breath on your neck now, warm and teasing, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“what are you doing here?” rafe murmurs, his hand brushing against your arm, slow and deliberate, like he knows the effect it has on you.

“i don’t know,” you admit, hating how shaky your voice sounds. “i just needed to get out of there.”

“you came here for a reason,” he says, stepping even closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “what do you need?”

you know what he’s doing, the way his voice wraps around you like a vice, pulling you in, making you forget. you shouldn’t want this, not now—not after everything. but the weight of the fight with sarah, the tension still coiled tight in your chest, makes it impossible to think straight.

“i don’t need anything,” you lie, but your body betrays you, leaning into him just slightly.

he chuckles softly, the sound low and almost predatory. “that’s not what it looks like.”

his hand slides down your arm, his touch sending a jolt through you. his fingers ghost over your hip, gripping you just enough to pull you flush against him. you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. his breath brushes your cheek, warm and steady, and it’s all too much—too close, too intense.

“tell me what you need,” he whispers, lips barely grazing your ear.

your heart hammers in your chest, your mind racing. you should pull away, put some distance between you. but you can’t. the way he looks at you, like he already knows what you want, makes it impossible to move. impossible to think of anything other than him.

“rafe,” you start, voice catching in your throat, but before you can say anything else, his lips are on your neck, soft at first, then more insistent. your breath hitches, every nerve in your body lighting up as his hands grip your waist tighter.

“you want to forget?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with promise. “i can make you forget.”

you close your eyes, your resolve crumbling as his mouth moves lower, and you hate how much you need this—how much you need him right now. but maybe that’s exactly what you came here for. to let go. to drown out everything else.

“make me forget,” you whisper, and when you feel his lips curl into a dark smile against your skin, you know you’ve already given in.

[shaisuki]

Hello! I hope you are doing well ^^ Can I request for Sanzu Haruchiyo with a chubby reader where reader wants to try Ab riding but is too shy to tell him about this.

COME ALONG FOR A RIDE

SANZU HARUCHIYO X CHUBBY READER

content warnings ─── slight body insecurities, bonten sanzu, drugs, guns, smut, abs riding.

notes. i'm sorry it took a long for me to finish this. hope you like it. thank you!

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ you've been thinking about it a lot but never brought it up afraid of what he may think but sanzu is more than pleased to give what you desire.

“i can't give what you need pretty girl if you won't speak.” the scars in the corner of his lips animatedly move as it turned to one of his signature smirk.

his coat hanging into one of the expensive chairs. leaving him only in his usual formal suit. pale violet vest with matching slacks. his thumb and forefinger grasping your jaw to meet his green eyes gleaming with joy although a crazed one to be exact. his long lashes flattering in a elegant manner.

you sat in the bed, embarrassed. desire pooling between your legs as you rubbed your thick thighs together. the tight fitting dress hugging your plush body and considering how tighter it was than the usual and shorter. your little ministrations making the dress ride up exposing more of your skin to be considered immodest as what others may say but sanzu loves it.

after meetings with his executives followed by cleaning out the traitors of bonten, he sure deserves a reward. something to ease and relax him other than what his pills can do. his pretty baby waiting for him all dolled up for him to ruin.

tonight, he knows something is going on with that pretty head of yours. stealing glances from him time to time and the way your throat move from swallowing. he knows about you every minute more than you could ever know. doesn't mean he's not around he doesn't know anything what's going on with you.

you avert your gaze at him. you can't even make the words without looking at him. you want him so bad.

“speak up, doll.” he firmly orders to you and the words forced its way from your mouth.

“c—can i ride your abs for tonight?” you stutter. swallowing thickly and you look at him, afraid. your face felt hot and the tears making it's appearance in your eyelids. you should have never asked.

his grin grew wider from hearing your request. grasping your jaw tighter to look at him fully. his eyes gleams like a maniac, one you've seen often when he's killing traitors or those who dared to get closer to you.

“should've told me sooner, pretty girl.” his scars appearing wider than it already is from smiling.

even with the cool breeze coming from outside in one of the highest floor of the expensive hotel with the overview of city lights. you can't quell the desire growing stronger and hotter. naked in the bed, straddled in sanzu's hard abs. he lays there amused. his pink-colored hair splayed in the soft pillow, a huge grin plastered on his face while he watched you grind on his abs.

“h-haru...” you moaned out. your palms pressed in his chest. back arched while your hips back and forth to get that delicious friction. your clit throbbing every time it brushes with his firm muscles. the smooth skin of his abs adding stimulation that your thighs shakes from every movement.

“that's it, pretty. show me what you can do while you ride me, 'kay? make yourself cum and i'll reward you.” he praises and still have he smirk in his face doesn't disappear while you rode him. your slick drips and trails from the lines of his abs and if it wasn't filthy and hot he doesn't know what is.

your breasts squished between your arms and your tummy folds while it jiggles from the movement of your hips and your breathy moans occupying the space of the room. you face sweaty with a timid look coming from you. all the hard work and the troubles he dealt today disappearing slowly while you used him for pleasure. careful now, he thinks he might get addicted to this but he didn't care about it.

“you cumming for me, baby? s—shit, do it for me baby.” he rasps out, chuckling at your shaky form.

he buries the heel of his feet in the soft duvet. arching his back slightly for you to get the stimulation you needed as you get nearer from your edge. your hips grinding harder and your body jolts. your aching clit hitting the firm muscle. instinctively cupping your breast and rolling your hardened bud to prolong the delicious feeling that spread throughout your body.

“'m going to cum now, haru” you warned him. your hips rutting desperately and faster to his rock hard abs. “that's a good girl, cum for me now, pretty.”

and with a whine, grinding harder making your clit hit that same spot all over again you came in his abs. the clear, sticky liquid of your cum spreads messily to his stomach. you pant, recovering from the high and the strands of your hair sticks to your face.

you look at the man who granted you in indulging your desires for tonight. he looks contented, happy even and you're more than ready to please him whatever he wants for tonight.

“think you can ride me again, pretty?” you nod at his words in which he replied with a smirk. “this time in my cock.”

[missing2socks]

My Miguel O’Hara Headcanons! (18+)

fem!reader, 18+

CW: descriptive talk of kinks & body stuffs, pure smut and lewdness, sex, more sex, and my darker hcs at the bottom.

You’ve been warned :-)

Oh Miguel where can I even begin

Tall, strong, and handsome. In his younger days he’s buff and muscled, peak physique with dark brown hair and a smooth complexion. Thick brown hair slicked back, every chiseled part of his face visible to everyone around him.

When he’s an older dilf he’s got a little bit of a dad bod, still buff but he’s still got it. Hair still slicked back and dark brown eyes that could melt your heart.

Sure he’s stoic and comes off as crabby and rude but we don’t care :3

I never see any tomboy representation so I like to imagine his type is a strong willed tomboyish type of woman. Does it matter how she looks? No! But me personally I like to think he loves women with short hair, an attitude, and boyish mannerisms.

It doesn’t matter how tall you are— he’s always taller. You could be petite or curvy and he’ll still toss you over his shoulder and make you beat at his back to put you down.

Now into the NSFW 😏

Miguel, the thick man he is, has a fat cock— just difficult to stretch to his size. It’s not impossible but somehow it feels impossible when it’s stuffed in those guts mmmhhhh and it goes so deep it’s delicious

His dick stands proud at 7 and a half inches long, and is thick like a mf. I like to imagine he’s uncut and it’s slightly darker than the rest of his body. Thick veins that you can trace with your fingers or your tongue, his cock swollen and slightly redder at the tip than the rest of the member. Tilts downwards for the best gspot stimulation and slightly tilting towards the left…

Don’t think his sack won’t do anything because when he has you bent over in doggy the way those nuts hit the clit is so !!!

In bed he’s dominant and mean, having you helpless in his arms while he makes you a whining, whimpering mess under him. Soft dom, only a hard dom when he’s had a bad day at work or is pent up and angry.

He will fuck anywhere, anytime, and he has a ridiculous amount of energy. It’s actually unfair how he can go round after round without getting exhausted. Both of your sweaty bodies laying on the bed, you’re sore and used and you feel him stiffen and slowly push back into you, kissing you to hush your whines as he quickly picks up the pace again.

Predator/prey dynamic 😋 as a vampire he loves marking you up and leaving hickeys and love bites everywhere visible and invisible. He’s yours and you’re his, his precious little mami.

Service dom 100% AND a praise kink that drives you wild. Showers you with praises as he bullies his thick cock into your pussy. He loves to make your orgasm, never having the heart to deny you the pleasure of cumming for and on him.

“Mi nena, you’re doing so good taking it all, mm, t’so good amor,”

“Give me one more, baby, jus’ one more cariño, don’t cry just let me use this perfect pussy tonight…”

Breeding kink. Round after round of rough fucking and he’s still not done— being his universe’s spiderman gives him an unfair amount of stamina during sex— filling you over and over with his seed until you’re slightly bloated and dazed.

And when you get pregnant he’s all over you, showering you with love and affection for the baby in your belly. And he has a deep carnal desire to fuck you deep and sensually while you’re swollen with his child, his mouth latched onto your leaky, milk-engorged tits.

My Darker Headcanons below!

CW: somno, CNC(?), free use, more edgy fantasy but not necessarily dead dove do not eat (idk)

Turn back now, you have been warned

I fantasized that Miguel just wants to take reader captive & use them as a toy, to fuck senseless even if they’re whining and protesting and clawing at his back it’s just so hotttt

You’ll beg and whine and plead for him to go easy, take a break, and he shuts you up with passionate, sloppy kisses before he cums deep inside you. So deep, you’d think he’s trying to get as much of it as possible directly into your womb.

And he’ll fuck a baby into you trust me, he’ll be so happy that he can’t help but give you more after the birth of your first baby, just a few more, he loves stuffing his loads into you and seeing you slowly grow his baby.

Definitely into the free use kink or even somno…

When he comes home from a rough day of being spiderman, he sees your soft sleeping body in one of his shirts and he can’t help but nestle behind you, pulling his half-chub cock out and lazily dragging it between your folds. You wake up to the feeling of him pushing his fat cock inside you, and he covers your mouth before you can make any noises.

He’ll sink his fangs into the soft flesh of your neck, groaning as he hears your soft muffled cries, stretching you around his girth and slowly rutting inside those slick walls.

Or for free use maybe you’re spiderwoman from a different universe and he sees you and he can’t help but feel horny and aroused seeing you in your spidersuit but you love being bratty and misbehaving… also goes back to the predator/prey dynamic

He’ll track you down and corner you in a dark alleyway, throwing your small body on the ground, tearing off your suit and having his way with you, rutting into you and forcing you all the way down on his cock while his claws dig into your skin. Your helpless moans and cries go unheard as he groans filthy words in your ears, snarling at you to shut up and take it.

And when he’s done he’ll leave you to pick yourself up, of course after giving you feverish kisses and love bites to your neck to remind you that you’re his and only his. But he’ll leave you, pussy swollen and his cum gushing and pooling between your legs, thighs twitching and body trembling from the orgasms he ripped from you.

Oh but I’d still give him a bit fat sloppy kiss :-)

[ioniansunsets]

pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease i want to braid kayn’a HAAAAIR!!!!!!! I WANT TO USE CUTE HAIR TIES AND SANRIO HAIR CLIPS TO MAKE HIM FEEL SO PRETTY 🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍

✖ Braiding Kayn's Hair ✖

✖ Word Count: 715

✖ Tags: Established R/S, Reader is In the Shadow Order w/ Kayn

✖ A/N: YES I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND YOU. All I dream of is to play with his hair, is it soft? Tangled and coarse? Surprisingly smooth? WHO KNOWS I LOVE IT!

----

- The first time you braided his hair it was because it came horrendously undone mid mission and it was a mess. With frustrated grumbles and complaints coming from your partner as he quarrels with Rhaast you were at your limit. You sat him down, ripped some cloth from the corner of your outfit and delicately braided his hair for him. Almost intimate as your fingers run through his hair, bits of dried blood flaking off, the tangled mess somehow calmed in your hands. Working magic you turned his messy long hair into a neat and tight braid. Both him and Rhaast quiet. Kayn only giving you a soft " Thanks..." before continuing on his way. The cocky, prideful man didn't know how to respond to affections or soft moments like that.

- The second time was much different. Coming out of the bath, his hair was wet and tangled. Excitedly he turns to you sitting in your shared room, towel still wrapped around his waist. " Can you braid it again for me!" It seemed like he was thinking about it the whole time he was washing the blood off his skin. Maybe he just realized how nice your hands felt playing with his hair and fought against his pride. Who knows. You accept of course. It was nice. Being innocently close to him this way. The few soft moments in your life in the Order.

- Ever since then, you being the one in charge of braiding his hair was the norm. Every opportunity, every fight that left his hair free, he runs up to you, smiling excitedly, expectantly. A boyish laugh. " Y/N~" He coos, expecting you to come to his aid. To entertain yourself more, you soon started collecting bits and bops to tie into his dark locks. A red ribbon braided in for when you two were out in combat. Small flowers placed in when in the safety of the order. (Kayn was scary honestly so no other member ever dares says anything about it to his face.) Colorful clips and shiny bits in the privacy of your shared room. Braiding his hair became a special shared moment between the two of you. Something you only did for him, and something he only allowed you to do. His hair was also so delightfully thick it was fun to braid, there was so much you could stick in it without it falling out. It amused the both of you.

- Rhaast complains. A lot. Making fun of him. " The only thing in your hair should be blood of innocents Kayn." You shoot the Darkin a dirty look but all Kayn does is laugh taunting the weapon. " Rhaast is just jealous. Should we tie a ribbon around his handle?" The two of your laugh harder as Rhaast grumbles angrily. The two of you did do it by the way, wrapping the scythe in a ribbon as Rhaast screams threatening to take over Kayn right there and then

- Over time you've learn other ways to braid your partner's hair. The simple braid was his default, but in the privacy of your room, sometimes you let yourself get creative. A fishtail braid for when you two sleep together. A lace braid from his blue hair across the back of his head when you feel like seeing him a little pretty. He never protests, sometimes even humming happily as your fingers brush against his scalp. Letting you do what you want with his hair was special privilege reserved for his lover and you enjoyed that precious intimacy. Sometimes you'd even give his forehead a little kiss when you were done. He protests, but honestly, he secretly loves it. How soft you were with him in private like this.

- Zed commented on it once, when he popped by your room to give Kayn a briefing. Kayn's hair was done to the side, a delicate braid with flowers and ribbons. He didn't like being seen like this but it was Zed, hearing his mentor making a passing amused " Well that's different." remark made his face flush. Kayn was embarrassed but at the same time proud that his partner's abilities amused Zed. You had to stifle back your laughter at his reaction and what was effectively your boss giving you a shrug before leaving.

[bodyswappertransforming]

Every Monday, Samantha trudged into the office, her spirit weighed down by the monotony of her life. She was tired of being invisible, of being the woman no one noticed. It wasn’t just her plain looks; it was the aura of unremarkability that seemed to cling to her. She longed for the thrill of being pursued, of feeling desirable.

One Monday morning, in a moment of frustration, she whispered a wish to the universe. “I wish I was a good-looking Latin man, the kind that all women want.” She laughed at herself afterward, but a part of her clung to the hope that something, anything, might change.

The Bar

The next thing she knew, she was in a dimly lit bar, the scent of cigar smoke thick in the air. Samantha looked down at herself and gasped. She wasn’t in her own body. She was shorter, her frame trim and athletic. Her hands, now larger and more muscular, held a cigar. She brought it to her lips, feeling the soft bristles of a neatly trimmed mustache and beard.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror behind the bar. Her reflection showed a strikingly handsome Latin man with sharp, groomed hair and a confident smile. The transformation was astounding. Instead of feeling confused or frightened, a rush of power and confidence surged through her. She felt sexy, powerful, and irresistibly alive.

Samantha—or rather, the man she had become—took a deep drag from the cigar, reveling in the rich, smoky flavor. It was intoxicating, as if the cigar were an extension of her new identity. She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift upward, and then turned her attention to the room.

Her eyes landed on a woman sitting alone at the end of the bar. She was stunning, with dark hair cascading over her shoulders and a smile that lit up the room. Samantha felt an unfamiliar, exhilarating sense of boldness. She stood up, her movements smooth and confident, and made her way over to the woman.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, her voice deep and smooth.

The woman looked up, her eyes widening slightly with interest. “Not at all,” she replied, her voice warm and inviting.

Samantha sat down, positioning herself casually but confidently. She introduced herself as Alejandro, a name that seemed to fit perfectly with her new persona. They began to talk, and Alejandro found himself effortlessly charming, his words flowing with an ease and wit that Samantha had never known.

As the night went on, Alejandro felt more and more at ease in his new skin. The woman, whose name was Isabella, was clearly captivated. She laughed at his jokes, leaned in closer as they spoke, and touched his arm lightly. For the first time in her life, Samantha felt the thrill of being desired, of having someone genuinely interested in her.

When the bar began to empty out, Alejandro offered to walk Isabella to her car. She accepted with a smile, and they stepped out into the cool night air.

The Encounter

Standing by her car, Isabella looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. “I had a great time tonight,” she said softly.

Alejandro smiled, feeling a surge of pride and affection. “So did I,” he replied.

Without thinking, they leaned in, and their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss. Alejandro felt a rush of sensations—Isabella’s soft lips against his, the warmth of her body pressing into him. The kiss deepened, and he felt a stirring in his groin, a sensation both alien and thrilling.

As they continued to kiss, Alejandro’s arousal grew. He felt his penis begin to harden, a pressure building that was unlike anything Samantha had ever experienced. The sensation was intense, a combination of warmth, tightness, and a pulsating need. The erection pressed insistently against the fabric of his pants, demanding attention.

Isabella seemed to sense his desire. She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, her own filled with a mix of lust and curiosity. She took his hand and led him back to her car, opening the door and sliding into the back seat. Alejandro followed, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Once inside, Isabella reached for him, her hands exploring his body with eager curiosity. Alejandro’s breath caught as she unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers tracing the contours of his chest. The sensation of her touch sent shivers down his spine, heightening his arousal.

She moved lower, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Alejandro’s erection sprang free, and he felt a surge of pleasure as she wrapped her hand around it. The touch was electrifying, sending waves of sensation coursing through his body. He groaned softly, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

Isabella looked up at him with a seductive smile. “I’ve been waiting for this all night,” she whispered.

Alejandro’s response was a primal growl of desire. He pulled her closer, their bodies entwining as they gave in to their mutual passion. The sensations were unlike anything he had ever imagined—intense, powerful, and deeply satisfying. He felt every movement, every touch, with a vividness that left him breathless.

They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, their bodies communicating in ways words never could. Alejandro’s arousal peaked, the pleasure building to a crescendo that left him gasping. When the release finally came, it was explosive, a torrent of sensation that left him trembling with satisfaction.

They lay together afterward, their breathing slowing, their bodies entwined. Isabella rested her head on his chest, a contented smile on her lips. Alejandro held her close, feeling a profound sense of fulfillment.

For now, Samantha was Alejandro, and Alejandro had experienced a night of passion and connection she had always longed for. The future was uncertain, but at this moment, everything was perfect.

[ddejavvu]

Okok. A little Dbf hotch scenario I thought of🤭

Imagine the reader occasionally smokes weed with friends and she can always get past her dad high without him noticing. But when she gets dropped off this time she comes home to Aaron and her dad having a drink… and he immediately knows she’s high.

Do with that what you will!

- eloise!!💌

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+ (because of an age gap and drug use), minors dni.

You don't think anything will be different about tonight than any of the other nights you've come home high. Because your dad never notices, and you don't linger in his study when you announce your return home. You're not quite perceptive enough to pick up on Aaron's prolonged stare on you as you greet your father and his guest, but you do happen to notice when Aaron steps into the kitchen behind you not a minute later.

"Y/N," He announces his presence, and you turn, trying to keep your mind solely focused on him. It's hard, it wants to wander into a foggy haze, but Aaron's a treat to look at, so you start there.

"Hi, Aaron," You hum, a glass of water in hand to take back to your room, "Did you want water too?"

"No," He doesn't stop in the doorway, instead he makes his way over to you, stopping slightly too close for normal conversation. You lean back slightly out of instinct, though if you had your way you'd lean closer, and he studies your face.

"How much weed have you smoked?" He asks a moment later, interrupting the thick beat of silence that had befallen the cramped kitchen.

"What?"

"You're high," He raises a hand to your cheek, tilting your head down so that he can get a better look at you, "Your eyes are red. And you're spacey; you're high."

"I am not!" You feel petulant, like a toddler caught with their hand in the cookie jar, "I'm not high, I just- I've been crying."

"Really? About what?" He hums, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly as he stares down at you, your chin still held in his large hand.

"Um- I broke up with my boyfriend," You fib, because you didn't have one in the first place, "And I'm just sad. That's all."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Aaron croons sympathetically, then drops his hand from your face so that his wrist hovers in front of your nose.

"What time is it?"

You squint at his watch, confused, "What?"

"Tell me the time," He urges, angling the face of his watch towards your own, "If you're not high, you'll be able to read my watch."

"But-"

"Come on," He murmurs, and the smooth tone of his voice sends your insides whirling, "What time is it, sweetheart?"

You don't know. The numbers just aren't making sense, and you're more focused on the dark hair lining his thick wrist than you are on the hands of a clock.

He gives you ten seconds, longer than he needs to know, really, then sighs.

"That's what I thought. Drink this, all of it, and go sleep it off." He gives you an unamused glance, lips turned down as he taps at the rim of your glass, "And don't ever let me catch you coming home high again, do you hear me?"

He seems to take your stunned silence for an answer, and relaxes slightly, backing away. But you find your voice before he's gone, "You're not my dad. You don't live here," And he's stiffening again, turning back to face you.

"I'm not your dad," He repeats, eyes a shade darker than they normally seem. "Your dad's so unobservant he wouldn't notice if you got a face tattoo. But I would. I know you, I notice you. And if it takes me moving in to stop you from smoking, I'll be here every night, sweetheart."

He lets his words hang in the air, exhilaratingly firm. It's a thrill to be noticed by him, even if it means he wants you to stop smoking weed. You watch him with parted lips, not a gawky gape to your mouth, but just enough for a soft intake of air to hit your lungs. You're speechless, and this time silence is your answer.

"Drink your water, and go to sleep," He instructs you, nodding towards the glass as he makes his way back to your dad's study, "Don't let me catch you again."

[chibsandchill]

How to secure a future

Fandom: HOTD (House of the dragon)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x AFAB!reader (no use of Y/N or pronouns)

Summary: Aemond’s delusions about besting his Uncle in combat comes real, and he lives out the aftermath of the war in a cabin with you. Only, it’s not enough. 

Warnings: Obsessive behavior, Aemond Targaryen, mentions of Daemon, allusions to sex, descriptions of murder and gore, metaphorical self-harm, unhealthy relationships, Aemond has truly given in to the delulu, toxic behavior and mindset, spelling and grammatical mistakes (English is my second language), allusions to cannibalism, Aemond baby-traps you, etc

Masterlist

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

If Aemond knew anything it would be obsession. That gut-wrenching longing, the want for more;  the bottomless pit of darkness – a starved beast rattling rusty bars, frothing at the mouth for more. Every inhale heavy with hatred and jealousy, his blood thick as tar with envy, he was a mere shell of a man driven only by the desire to possess. To conquer. His uncle – Daemon – was much the same. His brother too. Though, Aemond thought himself cut from a different cloth. Same material, same maker, but Aemond was driven by love, he ached for the chaos that the chase brought. He thirsted for the blood of your enemies, a thirst that could never be quenched. 

Or could it? 

Had he not cut his beloved uncle from cock to eyes he might have asked for advice. Perhaps then he would be more like the prince his mother wanted and less like a rabid beast drowning in a sea of longing. Wave after wave threatened to pull him under. Sometimes he wanted to let it take him. There could be pleasure in that too. Is there a better death than one in pursuit of you? You’d cry so sweetly over his corpse. 

No, 

the thought disgusted him. He was the one deserving your affection, your tears, your pain. All of it. All his, his, his, his. 

Alas, 

Daemon, his severed cock and all his wisdom (for all the good it did him) laid buried beneath hundreds upon thousands of men in an unmarked grave, and so could not say much at all. 

If only his mother knew what Aemond was truly up to when he said he’d take Vhagar for a flight. She’d cry. Perhaps even strike him. He wouldn’t feel it, so he’d let her. Her words couldn’t hurt him anymore than the back of her hand could – not even his brother’s depravity elicited a reaction from him anymore. Their blades grew as dull as the scars they had left behind, more akin to a cold summer’s breeze than a sword through the gut. How could they hurt when you cut him so deeply? When you looked past him as if he was one of many in a crowd but you’d move so sweetly against him when he visited you at night; when you looked at him and saw nothing, but he looked at you and you were everything. 

The dragon fire in his heart was helpless against the cold left in your absence, he was a man without purpose, with naught but envy, envy, jealousy and longing and spite keeping him at your heels. Even when you were in the same room did he long for you, burn with envy at the sight of your friends sitting next to you, of your cousin who smoothed down wayward hairs, of your uncle who pushing in your chair, of the clothing that clung to you, of the very air you breathed, the blood in your veins, everything. There was not a thing he did not envy for their closeness to you, and not a thing he had not thought of tearing away so he could take his rightful place. 

Were he a better man he would write you poems. Mountains of them. Through mangled hands and bloody fingers would he write scroll after scroll declaring his love and devotion in flowery prose and sweet, sweet words that dripped with adoration. 

But Aemond was a dragon prince and he dealt in chaos, burning possession and fiery jealousy. It was all blood and gore and violence, but Aemond liked to imagine that before the war when he still had that softness to him that his grandsire made sure to beat out of him, he’d woo you with soft hands and smiles and flirtatious words spoken through giggles at grand events, and kisses stolen in gardens. 

But you saw through the flames and violence and saw Aemond for what he was. You had to. You did. He knew you did. He covered you in blood and through a wobbly smile and tear-filled eyes Aemond swore he saw your future together. 

And he grabbed a hold of that future with no intentions of letting go. 

“Honey, I’m home.” 

Aemond locked the door to the cabin behind him. Swinging from his hand was an unlit lantern. It sparked to life without much protest and a pleasant glow lit up the room. Gaunt faces drawn with unsteady hands on water-logged parchment stared down at him from where they hung precariously from rusty nails lodged in moldy walls. It hadn’t begun to smell yet – the mold – but the air was humid. 

“Aemond.” 

“Hello.” He placed the lantern on the kitchen table. It shook under its meager weight. Aemond would have to get you a new one for the new house. “Did you miss me?”

“Like a prisoner misses the headman.”

“Time has not dulled your tongue, my love. I’m glad.” 

You hummed. 

“Have you eaten?” He asked. 

“Yes.”

“Good. I brought dessert.” 

Aemond set the table. Two plates, both cracked, and a fork for you and a spoon for him. You have no glasses, not anymore, so he brought two wooden mugs with him. The handles have splintered from overuse but they served their purpose. He brought two lemon squares dusted with powdered sugar and candied lemons from the kitchens. Perhaps you’d even taste one of them this time. 

The smell filled the room, but you didn't move. 

Aemond let out a sigh as he placed the treats on the plates. “It’s your favorite.”

“Were. They were my favorites.”

His eye twitched. 

“My cousin used to steal platters of them from the kitchen the night before my nameday.” You mused. Aemond knew this already but said nothing in fear that you’d go back to silence. The sweet lilt in your voice warmed him ever so pleasantly. “They were my favorite because they were hers.” 

“Would you rather I bring something else?” 

“Candles. I don’t like the dark.” 

Odd, considering how you clung to the shadows of the room to avoid him. Aemond loved the chase. You knew that. 

“Of course.” He agreed with a dip of his head. “Anything you want.” Within reason. 

“Anything?” You pressed. “I want to go outside.”

“No.”

“Why? The war is over, isn’t it? Aemond, please, I haven’t seen the sun in months.”

The real answer was on the tip of his tongue, but he’d never let them go. You wouldn’t like it. And for what did you need the sun when he was here? He brought a lantern, did he not? He was your sun, and your moon and even the stars. In this cabin nothing could hurt you without his permission, no one could find you and take you away, nothing to leach the warmth from you or dull your smile. He could not shine like you, so he had to bring it with him, unlike you who shone like the brightest star whenever you entered a room. He had lived for far longer than a few months in darkness, with mere glimpses of your light and warmth. The gaping hole in his chest had festered and rotted the longer he carried on, but no longer. Each day when you smiled at him as he entered the cabin tore the corruption from him, your laugh cleansed him off the darkness gripping him. He was reborn by your grace. 

“Perhaps tomorrow, darling.” 

You huffed. 

“Oh. I almost forgot.” Aemond pulled out a locket from his pocket. It was made of gold and lined with red rubies. “I had this made for you.” 

His chest burned as you moved out of the shadows. They clung to you, tugged at you with their dirty fingers. Your steps are almost silent against the floor, but the rattling of chains is louder than thunder. 

A precaution. 

“What is it?” Your fingers curl around his wrist. 

The words died in his throat. You were so warm, your touch soft as silk against his scarred wrist. he had never known a gentle touch before you. Gentle did not make dragons strong, and they certainly didn’t create strong towers capable of withstanding a dragon’s attack. But he had no use of dragon fire in here, or twisted claws, or strong walls to keep you out when all he wanted was to have you closer. 

Here he was simply Aemond. And he was almost… content. 

Almost. 

“It’s a locket.” He cleared his throat. “Look.”

He flipped it open to reveal a portrait he had commissioned of the best artist in King’s Landing, and on the other side he had your favorite flower preserved. A token of his love; everlasting. Much like the flower it would never wilt, never change. He burned for you now just as he did before. He was as addicted to you as his father had been to the milk of the poppy before he passed. You consumed his every thought. 

“Oh, Aemond.” You whispered. “It’s lovely. Thank you.” 

You pressed a kiss against his cheek whilst placing your hand on the other one. Wildfire spread under the skin you touched. 

“I understand it can get lonely-”

He didn’t (couldn’t) understand, but his mother made sure he was a skilled diplomacist, and so he spat out the words as though they were poison. You were two parts of a whole, how could you be lonely when all he wanted, all he needed was you. 

“It’s okay! Truly. I like it here.” You rushed out. 

He allowed himself to bask in your touch. His clenched fist relaxed, but despite your light, your warmth, your love, the root of his darkness could not be touched. In a way, he didn’t want you to. He feared that if you reached that part you would be tainted, or worse, you would take it from him. That part allowed him to do what it takes to love you like you deserve. 

But you never would find it. He had torn at himself until he was in a thousand pieces, drifting in the wind after you. Gradually he stitched himself together, then tore the stitches and created himself anew. Mangled and broken did he wander two steps behind you, darkness oozing from the crude stitching and infested wounds. Truly a monster. Until he made himself whole again. For you. Like you. In your image he made himself anew. He tore the wings from his back, the claws from his fingers and the fire from his chest so that he may never burn you. He tore himself from the sky so that he might see you one last time. Again and again he tore flesh from bone, bone from flesh, until he began to resemble what you needed, what you desired. A thousand layers of flesh to hide the remains of a beast unworthy of you. 

Still, he could tear at himself until nothing remained, could press himself against you until all that remained of him was fading warmth, and it still would not lessen the longing he felt for you, the heart-crushing need to be closer. The seeds of doubt, of what-if’s threatened to undo all that he had made himself. 

If he allowed you but one candle, would you cast him aside? If he was not your light, would you cast him aside? He was nothing without you. Would you think the sun’s warmth superior to his? It would steal your affection, and he would be forced to wander the darkness alone again. Though he did not think he would survive this time, for he had been shown what being with you was like. 

“Good.” He managed to choke out, dull pressure growing behind his eyes at the reminders. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” 

“How- how is my mother?” 

“Thriving. Your father hired that gardener from Dorne.” Aemond placed his hand over yours. 

“Good.” You smiled with glassy eyes. “Good. That’s… good. I’m… happy for her.”

 Aemond nodded. 

He would never tell you the truth. 

Your mother carried that same unnatural warmth as you, and her blood felt like fire. Your father felt like ice. How the mix created you, Aemond would never know. The gardener had heard them. He tasted like the desert – dry, hot and awful. 

It was one of the best nights of his life, and he had left you unable to walk properly for days after. 

Now they could never take you from him. 

Their weakness disgusted him. How easily they had abandoned you. Aemond would not stop protecting you even in death. 

“Yes. Will you eat with me?”

“Oh. Thank you for the gifts but I’m not hungry.” You pulled away from him and he was once more plunged into the icy depths that was being parted from you. His skin crawled with the absence of you. 

His teeth ground together. “That’s fine.” 

“I had a lot of dinner. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” 

It wasn’t. Did you think him incapable of providing for you? 

The lemon squares dripped onto the floor. They coated his fists. 

“I- Maybe next time.” 

“Do you not love me anymore?”

Tense silence fell over the room. 

“What?” You asked, stunned. 

“Do. you. not. love. me?”

“O-of course I do!”

His eyes burned. “Is there someone else?”

“Aemond! What’s gotten into you?! There’s only you.”

“Is it the farmer?” 

“No!” 

“The stable boy?”

“No! Aemond, please! You lock the door every time you leave. There’s no one else.”

“It’s me then.” 

“Did Aegon say something to you? Is that why you’re behaving like this?” Your face reddened, but for all the wrong reasons. 

Disgust coiled in his stomach as his brother’s name left your mouth. 

“My apologies.” He inclined his head. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I shouldn’t have accused you of such filth. I knew you would never betray me like that.”

Aemond felt like a fool. Somewhere along the way he had miscalculated, had missed a piece of corrupted flesh and stitched it along his love and devotion to you. He knew you loved him. Of course you did. You were meant for each other. Two pieces of a whole torn apart by cruel gods. He would need to tear it out, and begin anew. Once more would he bathe himself in blood and fire to become worthy of you. 

You shook your head. “It’s okay. I understand.” 

He barely heard your words. He felt as though he was underwater.  Drowning, drowning, drowning. It was dark, cold, silent, and you were not there. 

How could he cement his place next to you? He had coiled himself around you after you joined together, had left himself inside you so not even that would tear you apart. As you slept he would press himself closer to you, his hold would tighten like a snake coiling around prey until you whimpered, and yet he was not close enough. His knees felt weak. It could never be enough, this would never be enough. Surely there was a way. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Let me make it up to you.” He heard himself saying. 

“There’s nothing to make up for.” 

So understanding. 

“Even so. I’ve missed you.” 

A sharp inhale, and then his lips were on yours. It felt like coming home, like completion. The missing piece returned to the puzzle. He had spent hours trying to put the feeling into words, and yet came up empty-handed. There weren’t a lot of thoughts swirling around his mind when he was pressed against you like this. Not when his hands had already begun to wander down your waist until he gripped your hips. You let out a surprised sound but you welcomed his touch, your own hands coming up to rest on his chest. 

Somehow you make it to the bedroom. Aemond shrugged off his coat and shoes before pushing you down on the bed. Your pupils are dilated, a delightful blush coated the apples of your cheeks, and you were smiling at him again. 

Oh, that smile. 

“Gods.” He whispered. 

Aemond’s hands shook as he began unlacing his shirt, then his trousers, his shoes. They were all thrown in a pile. They didn’t matter. His hands were steady, sure, and gentle as he pulled at the frail strings holding your dress together. It came undone easily enough, and pooled around your hips. 

Just as he leaned down to kiss along the curve of your neck, the lantern went out. It mattered not to Aemond who was used to the darkness, and he knew your body like the back of his hand. Your head lulled to the side and you sighed softly. 

And if a few weeks after that night you greeted him in tears when he returned for the night with the beginnings of a swollen stomach, then that was no one’s business but his and yours.