#of glistening fabric~ic

[sacrificial-jewels]

Oh my heart... I got an adorable yamper and their owner wants to give them a delibird day outfit... I'll be getting the photo soon

[safrina-shards]

Trick or treat

🪡 Happy Halloween! Go ahead and take 2 candy

[sacrificial-jewels]

Sonidae wants to show rotomblr his plushie

[safrina-shards]

quartz are you willing to step on my face for some torchic nuggets? (desperate rizz)

🪡... excuse me?

[sacrificial-jewels]

Finished the commission, and I'm pretty sure my customer is pleased with her friends' new outfit

[safrina-shards]

trick or treat!

(Evie is wearing a cubone skull (papier mâche, don’t worry) and a black cloak. Del, Charb and Ziggy are running around nearby, and Evies cloak rustles aside to reveal Dit and Dot.)

🪡My! What a creative costume well go ahead and pick a treat from the bowl and here's a bag filled with pokemon safe treats in the of bones

[duuhrayliegh]

consequences

a/n: I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS CAME FROM BUT HERE YOU GO

also i'm more than happy to continue this if yall want more, just LET ME KNOW

other works

“You want to what?"

"To open our relationship."

You stare at him in disbelief, clutching the soft blanket in your hands. There's a sharp ringing sounding through your eardrums and everything around you slows. He keeps talking, his voice breaking through the barrier of fog that encompasses your senses.

"I want us to remain honest with each other, but this is the only way to keep our relationship healthy."

He steps away from the kitchen counter, wearing the sports jacket you bought him for your sister's wedding.

"I want the both of us to disclose when we start dating someone else. That's the main boundary, we can hammer out all the ground rules later. Right now, I'm going on a date, so uh," he pauses as he checks his reflection in the mirror beside the door one last time, "don't wait up."

You try to focus on his words, but no matter your efforts you weren't able to process anything. His keys jangle in his grip and you faintly recognize the sound of the door slamming closed and his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor of your apartment.

"I still can't believe he said that to you."

The singular ice ball hits against the sides of your glass with each tilt of your wrist. You take a long drag of the dark liquor before laughing sardonically.

"It's been six months of him parading his dates around." Another sip, your work skirt digs into your thighs painfully. You distract yourself by reaching for a peanut from the nearly empty bowl. "And what's worse is that he still expects me to be the doting wife that he comes home to every night!"

The bartender refills your glass while you sneak another peanut. You card your fingers through your hair as you continue to rant. A dull throb radiates in between your brows so your eyes slide closed as you take deep breaths.

"Well, I can't imagine you're doing so bad yourself."

You hum questioningly at the man, focusing your gaze on the dark-haired bartender, his stubble dusting his sharp jaw as the muscles work beneath the skin. His eyes haven't left you since you sat down in front of him.

"I see you in here." You begin to pick at the skin around your nails and he nudges a bowl of peanuts in your direction. "Men come up to you all the time. You've been on dates too, right?"

You reach for a peanut and crack open the grainy shell, biting the inside of your cheek. Your bartender laughs incredulously and then presses his hands into his side of the counter to lean over toward you. The cloth he tosses over his shoulder must be damp because the fabric of his white button-up is darkened there.

"Focus on me, Peanut."

Your eyes snap to his, unable to keep the overflow of expression from brimming beneath the surface. Your heart cracks further as he visibly softens, crumpling against the counter to cover your hand with his. A tense silence stretches between the two of you, charging the air with unwelcome emotions.

Your bartender’s spare hand cups your jaw and swipes away the glistening tears fleeing down your cheeks. Sniffling loudly while straightening in your seat, you pull away from his touch—effectively stopping yourself from melting into him.

You’ve worked so hard to make this shitty dive bar your safe place, you’ll be damned if you ruin it with a fling.

“I don’t even know why I’m wasting tears on this whole thing.” You take three deep breaths—whiskey and apples invade your senses. The man in front of you tilts his head to the side while drying a few crystal glasses.

“You’re avoiding my question, Peanut.” He turns briefly and you try to figure a way out as the cups clink softly. “You have been dating too, right?”

Your teeth trap your bottom lip, peeling off the thin layers of skin. You purposely avoid his eyes, doing less than nothing to hide your answer.

“Jesus, Peanut. What’s stopping you?”

You huff, focusing your attention on the patrons around you. There’s noticeably less than there were when you first arrived. The bar guests go about their business, underlying emotions kept close to their chest and out of sight to everyone else. You wish you could be that way, instead of sewing your heart to your sleeve for anyone to rip pieces from.

“I--" You hesitate, twirling your glass, watching as the ice fights to keep up with the sudden movements you force on its surroundings.

"Some small part of me still loves him. No matter how much he hurts me with this whole open relationship bullshit. I'm still thinking that one day he'll wake up and remember that I've been his loving wife and partner for the past six years. This can't be my new reality. It just can't. He's meant to be my partner for life, not my partner who has really good friends. Not my partner with a girlfriend or some fuck buddy across town."

This is the can of worms that you'd hoped to keep locked away from the Commando's dive bar. What you've held close to your chest every night you slink past the blonde bouncer, Steve. The information you never let slip to the six-foot-five bartender with the metal arm. And now, you can't seem to stop the words from leaving your mouth.

"He's supposed to be my husband. Why isn't he my husband? Is it me? He said that we would talk about what the reason was, but I can't get him to sit down with me. I can't even get him to reply to a text, much less answer questions about our relationship."

You spit the last word before downing the rest of your drink in one go. Bucky stands patiently as you let loose every emotion that you've bottled up for the past six years. Further in the bar, someone shouts for the last call.

"Why don't I date? Because I love him. Because outside of him, I don't know who I am. I don't date because I've been with the same man for almost a decade and I wouldn't even know where to begin. I can't see past where I'm at right now. There is no future for me outside of the hell that I find myself in now. I can't date because I want to be there for when my husband remembers that I exist. I want to be there for him like he wasn't for me because I know the novelty of his flings will wear off soon enough. And maybe that makes me worse than him, but I don't know if I have the energy to care anymore."

There's now a heavy silence covering you and your whole body slumps because of it. Despite feeling the biggest breath of relief of getting those emotions out in the open, you now have to deal with what they mean. You were always taught that saying your emotions out loud would only lead to more issues, but here you fucking are. Sometimes these things are unavoidable.

"I call bullshit."

Your jaw drops as your bartender rocks away from the counter. You flounder as he starts performing closing duties. You stare at Bucky's back, slightly distracted by the muscles working underneath the tight material.

"Did you just bullshit my feelings?"

Bucky turns halfway, eyebrows raised, "Yep."

Your bartender plucks the glass in front of you and drops it in the sink on his way to the cash register. If you were in a whole state, you'd smack back with a witty comment, but you're tired.

"You can't bullshit my feelings."

He holds a stack of twenties in one hand and he pins you with the same expression as before.

"Uh, yeah I can."

He continues to count the register and tosses a goodbye to the other bartender. A long lull stretches between you. Now it's just the two of you in the bar, and that must have been what he was waiting on because it's only now that he really talks.

"Peanut, how long have you been coming here?"

You furrow your brow at the question, not sure where he's taking his line of questioning.

"I don't know, four months?"

“Four months, twenty days."

Bucky's retort is quick and final. A fact. Something he's committed to memory. You're taken aback by the heavy tone he layers between the syllables.

"And for those four months and twenty days, I've stood behind this counter and watched you wallow. I've watched you turn down proposition after proposition. I've had Steve throw out dozens of men for how they speak about you. I've sat back and tried to be the listening ear that you need because you're clearly going through a really difficult time. I've never been in the position that you're in and I'm not going to pretend that I understand the half of it."

He slams the drawer closed and rounds the countertop. His boots thud against the floor violently, stopping beside the barstool next to you. Your bartender leans down and swings your stool to face his before taking a seat.

"I've stood behind that bar and was able to listen to quite a bit. But what I can't have is you thinking that you're the issue."

His hand slips into yours, his thumb tracing the knuckles of your fingers. Tears begin to brim at your waterline again, but you refuse to let them fall.

"Peanut, you're the most loyal person I've met in recent years. You love fiercely and you hurt even harder. Hell, you've been with this guy for almost ten years and he's been fucking you over for the past six months and you're sitting in this bar defending him to a relative stranger!"

"But he--"

"You're husband took the decision away from you and then framed it in a way that made you out to be the bad guy. He put you in a nearly impossible situation because he knew you were too loyal to him to do anything about it."

"He didn--"

"Yes, he did."

Having it laid out like that by the one person you wanted to be kept away from all of it was eye-opening. Your shoulders crumple and a new wave of tears threatens to escape.

"Now, this isn't the best time, but I feel like in a situation like yours there's never going to be a 'right' time."

Bucky sits up straighter and sticks his metal hand out to you.

"Hi. I'm Bucky Barnes. I'm a retired Army Sergeant and I now work in the Howling Commandos bar. I've been your bartender for the past four months and twenty days. Over that time, I've grown to care for you, more than a bartender should. Because of that fact, I want to take you out on a date."

You suck in a breath sharply, immediately going to deny him, only for Bucky to cut you off.

"You don't have to give me an answer right now, Peanut. Just think about it and whenever you're ready, I hope I'm your first call."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, gnawing on the idea. You have grown fond of Bucky. He's become a sort of safety net for you these past few months. Going home has proven to be more and more of a chore so you spend hours on end in the Howling Commandos.

What if you and Bucky go on a date and you hate it? What if you date and you have a huge falling out? What if you--

"I can see the wheels turning, Peanut." He taps your temple with a cold metal finger. "What are you thinking?"

"What if we end up not working out?"

"What if we do?"

The question hangs. The implication is clear. You could spend hours going through the what-if scenarios, both positive and negative. You'll never truly know until you take a leap of faith.

"What would your boss think of you dating one of your new regulars though?"

You're grasping at straws, but you're really trying to convince yourself that taking that leap with Bucky would be the worst thing in the world.

"Peanut, I'll sell the damn bar before someone other than you tells me that I can't date you."

Your eyes meet his and all you can see is the adoration and sincerity in them. His thumb is still working over your knuckles, but it's also expanded to tracing aimless circles into the back of your hand. The cool metal is the only way you've grounded yourself to reality.

A slow smile spreads across your features, the first of its kind tonight and you both know what it means.

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x ghost x price :)

2.7k words

tw: teacher-student scenario again, just for the sake of the porn. also, DP. first time writing it, so be NICE!

big thanks to @waves-against-a-cliff for reading what i won't

You sat on Professor Riley's lap after class, his rigid length smearing precum in between your soft, bare thighs as he fucked them. His large hands curled around your waist, long fingers creating tiny dents where he dug them into the supple flesh.

His breath warmed the delicate skin of your throat, as pants escaped his lips. You deliberately pressed your legs closer together— hoping that it provided enough amount of friction for him to finish.

You need this extra credit, after all.

Ghost inhaled sharply when you did, the grip he had on you almost painful.

"Fuckin' hell." His rich groan resonated in your chest. The gusset of your knickers was damp with arousal, both yours and his. The languid drag of his cock against your clothed pussy was so tantalizing, your core ached to be filled.

You were about to urge him to forget intercrural sex— to undress and fuck you already when a sharp knock on the door cuts through the fog in your head; a sudden rush of clarity pouring over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

Shit.

Your back straightens at the interruption and quickly move to get off of Ghost's lap when he wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place. A strangled noise claws up your throat. He cannot be serious.

"Come in," he calls out.

"No. No no no, you can't— you'll be fired, I'll be expelled, Professor Riley, please—" your voice warbles in your panic. His hold on you is as strong as steel, leaving no room for escape or resistance. You're helpless as the doors creep open and Professor Price steps in.

Of course, it's the most pretentious asshole teacher in existence.

"Hey, Riley, have you gotten the ema—" he trails off. His striking blue eyes flick down to your legs. Or more precisely, to what's still in between them fully erect.

"I was unaware you were busy with a...student." The sound of his footsteps draws closer. "Is this what you call detention?" Price leans on the desk with his hip, eyes never straying from you.

Ghost stifles a laugh. "Ask a better question, Price."

Heat licks up your jaw and cheeks when he resumes his thrusting as if there isn't another whole grown man in the room— one who can potentially ruin both his career and your collegiate one.

"Like what, Riley? Want me to ask if I can get a taste?" You look at Price and notice that his eyes are dark, limpid blue rings around the edges— knuckles stained white with how tightly he's clenching his hands. "You've never been a sharing type."

"Well, this sweet toy of mine loves being shared, doesn't she?" Swiftly, Ghost lifts you, his manhood now nestled against the curve of your back. His clever fingers move to your covered center, and draw featherlight circles on your hood, right above your clit. A whimper falls from your lips at the feeling.

"Answer him, pet. Tell Price ya don't mind gettin' this pretty pussy licked by him." He presses down on your bundle of nerves firmly with the pad of his thumb when you take a second too long to answer.

"I, I don't," you hiss when he rubs, "d-don't mind." Ghost gives your cunt a gentle tap.

"Don't mind what?" You swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

"I don't mind getting my pussy licked by Professor Price." His teeth tenderly graze the shell of your ear, followed by a small nip.

"Good girl," he mutters into your hair. Then directs his attention to Price, who's biting his bottom lip— the look he's giving you making your head swim. "She answered, so get down here or get out," he commands.

Ghost clasps his hands under your thighs and lifts until your feet rest flat above his knees. He hooks a finger into the sodden fabric of your knickers and drags it to the side, baring your glistening slit to the cold air of the room, erupting your heated skin in goosebumps. "On your knees, old man, unless they're too creaky to handle this."

Price's lip curls with unveiled amusement. "I was simply admirin' the view, Riley. Don't get your pants in a twist." He lowers himself to the floor smoothly until he's kneeled within inches of your exposed sex.

His prickly beard tickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and his mouth is warm and wet as his tongue slides between your folds.

Another former industry giant devouring your passion with the hunger of a starved man at a lavish feast. Each stroke of his tongue spreads the warmth in your stomach, a pressure slowly rising, building—

"Sit her on you," Price mouths against your cunt.

When you find yourself wedged between two burly men, there's not much you can do except surrender to their wishes. That means being lowered onto Ghost— instinctively closing your eyes as you savor the stretch and biting the inside of your gummy cheek at the mildly uncomfortable burn.

Gravity does most of the work as you sink into him in one gentle stroke.

And without reprieve, Price dives right back in. The dull ache from where Ghost's tip presses into the plug of your womb, to the pleasure coming from the attention given to your swollen bundle of nerves.

An intoxicating mix of bliss with pain furling at the edges.

It's so good, teetering on the edge of too much, but when Price sucks lightly on your clit, your body seizes. You scrabble to grab his dark brown hair, blunt nails biting into his scalp as your shatter around Ghost's cock and Price's mouth.

Ecstasy pulses through you like the steady beat of your heart, white-hot euphoria coursing through your veins. There's a ringing in your ears, shrill and deafening, and your breathing comes in ragged pants as you come down from your high.

Your face glistens with sweat as droplets trickle down your temples, hair plastered to your forehead.

Jesus.

Price lapped at the arousal that dripped down Ghost's length, softly groaning at the taste before giving you a wolfish grin behind his coarse facial hair that was damp with your desire.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You relax the tight hold you have on his hair as he tenderly kisses where you and Ghost are joined.

Ghost nudges your ear with his nose, and his deep voice rolls over you like a wave. "Greedy little cunt jus' about cut off my circulation, pet." He shifts under you, sliding even deeper than before, a hiss escaping from behind your teeth.

"I think Price is feelin' a little left out, don't you?" With a shaky nod and a quiet mhm, you feel his lips press against the side of your neck.

"Think you can take us both?" It feels more like a warning of what's to come than a genuine question. The idea of being stuffed by both of them sends a thrill up your back.

Price sits back on his haunches, palming himself from outside his trousers. "Think so, sweetheart?" He rises to his feet and promptly sweeps away everything from the wooden desk, scattering them across the floor. Taking a seat on the desk, he positions himself comfortably, his legs slightly bent and his feet firmly touching the ground. How unfair.

With a hand, Price beckons you to him.

Your legs tremble almost comically after having them in such an unnatural position for so long; tingling when you finally stretch them out in front of you. Ghost's hands at your waist help you stand, wincing when he pulls out of you unceremoniously.

Under his breath, he apologizes and gently nudges you towards Price by pressing his hand on your shoulder blades. "Go on, it's rude to keep him waiting." You're then guided forward as warm hands wrap around your biceps, leading you to stand in front of Price.

You drag your eyes from his down to his groin, where his erection is confined behind the strained zipper. Suddenly, Ghost's toned arms surround you, his hands eagerly reaching for the button on the front. "Lemme help ya out, love."

In seconds, Price's heavy manhood bobs as it springs out, ruddy tip hitting just below his navel. Simon firmly grabs your hand and swiftly turns it, exposing your palm. Without warning, he shamelessly spits on it before wrapping it around Price.

A guttural noise escapes him when you squeeze the thick of it tightly. He bucks his hips in a deliberate rhythm— taking hold of your wrist, ensuring your hand remains in position as he continues to thrust upwards until his cock is slick with his precum.

You can't help but rub your thighs together in hopes of getting some of the friction you're desperate for.

"Not gonna come already, are ya Price? We haven't even gotten started." Ghost ignores his scoff, rapping his knuckles on the desk. "Knickers off and climb up, pet."

You hastily tear off your smallclothes, shucking them to the side with your foot before hopping up on the desk, one leg at a time. Price steadies you with his hands on your waist. As you straddle him, your muscles ignite with a satisfying burn as they adjust the expanse of his thighs.

His voice is soft, gentle even, when he whispers into your ear. "Good?" You gasp sharply when Ghost spanks your arsecheeks before nodding at Price. "Jus' like we practiced, yeah?"

Yeah, just like you practiced. The plug you had to wear throughout the week whenever they both weren't tearing you in half should be more than enough prep. You hope.

Ghost taps the side of your thigh. "Cockwarm him while I get this perfect arse ready."

The stretch is intense as you lower yourself on Price— his cock thicker than Ghost's just not as long— it pushes the air out of your lungs. He bites his lip til it reddens, his eyes fixed onto where he disappears inside of you, fingers digging into the meat of your waist.

Your eyes flutter closed when he finally bottoms out, his girth splitting your swollen walls apart mercilessly.

God, he feels so good.

And then the sting of one thick, lubed finger pressing into your tight ring of muscle smothers some of that pleasure.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Price tips your chin up with his hand, your eyes meeting his. "Good. Breathe for me, sweetheart." He leans forward to place open-mouthed prickly kisses on your neck. "Breathe, love. You've already taken us before. You did beautifully then, and you'll do beautifully now."

He distracts you from the discomfort by suckling on your skin, leaving red little love bites behind. Then, a second finger, so much bigger than your own. Price hisses sympathetically when you do— a tiny whimper coming from the back of your throat.

This time it's Ghost that breathes into your ear. "Doin' so good f'me."

Then he works a third finger in, and your back arches at the jolt of pain that licks up your spine.

Words of praise fall upon your ears, syrupy and saccharine, dulling the ache. He scissors and stretches gingerly, as he's always done. Ghost takes his time, curling his fingers inside— a slow and steady in and out that eventually has you clamping around Price.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you do. "So bloody tight."

"Alrigh' Price." Ghost takes you by the hips and cants them forward slightly, a cry falling from your lips at the change in angle. "Hold her open f'me."

He does just that; rough, worn hands spreading you open almost embarrassingly. There's a hot and heavy weight tapping your arse once, thrice— and then there's a blunt pressure pushing into your other much smaller hole. Your spine bows at the thick invasion, it burns, it throbs, but smart fingers find your neglected pearl and start to circle it.

The pain is merely physical, it can be overcome. Focus on the touch on your clit, focus on the hands that hold you, the heat that radiates from both of them. The harsh breathing of the man behind you as he fights to keep himself from fucking himself into you unfettered. Strained noises spilled from Price's parted lips as he felt your channel constrict, your sex beginning to get slick with your desire.

Ghost hilts, leaning forward until his barrel chest hits your back, a strangled groan coming from him. You felt unbearably full, about to tear at the bloody seams. Every single nerve from your navel down to the tips of your toes was on fire. You felt a throbbing sensation radiating from the back of your skull.

It was scalding hot, searing. The thin membrane that separated them felt stretched beyond its limit.

"Y'okay?" You can't even tell who asked you that past the rushing of blood that's in your ears. Your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, letting it lull forward until your forehead rests on Price's collarbone.

Ghost's chest vibrates as he speaks, the low rumble sinking into your skin, warming you from the inside. "Breathe for us, love. Deep in, slow out."

Right.

You remember what Price had said the very first time they fucked you. 'Breathing helps to process any pain and supports the nervous system.'

As you inhale deeply, your lungs expand to the point where you can feel a twinge of discomfort. But as you exhale, the tension in your body melts, your muscles gradually slackening.

Ghost undulates his hips once languidly, and while the ache flared back to life, below that was the pleasure you've become well acquainted with, desperately clawing its way to the surface.

A moan slips out of you unbidden.

"Perfect. So fuckin' perfect." Price's praise makes you dig your fingers into his broad shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Then you're lifted by two sets of hands— one on your hips, the other on the underside of your thighs and brought back down. Fuck.

"Tha's it, love. Takin' us both so well," Ghost murmurs. When you begin to mewl, a clear sign of pleasure, Price plants his feet on the floor, and snaps his hips up. Black spots dot your vision, a euphoria shooting through your veins.

God, you hope your hips hold out.

They begin to move in tandem, one pushing in completely, while the other pulls out until just an inch stays inside.

It's sublime, obscene squelching coming from both your front and back. Once your body gives in to their assault, everything starts to blur at the edges, from your sight to your thoughts. You melt in their hands, softening under their touch as they take their pleasure from you.

They begin to fuck you in earnest, breath punched out of you with every thrust, and when Ghost takes control by grabbing a fistful of your hair, it sends waves of something through your stomach. The loud whine that comes from you is filthy.

"Always meltin' into a puddle over a firm hand, pet. Isn't tha' right?" He asks you as if you could even dream of answering. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth, and throat like sandpaper.

"Ready to make Price come? Choke his cock with tha' vice-like cunt, love. Wrench it outta him, take every drop of his cum, and then take mine."

Who are you to disobey such an edict?

The snarl Price lets out is animalistic when you squeeze him snugly, his thrusts turn jarring as he swells and stills— twitching inside of you, warmth pooling in your belly.

Only to realize that Ghost finished simultaneously.

There's a joke in there somewhere, about a couple finishing together, but you've been thoroughly fucked stupid.

Cut.

Simon takes you home— his home, and soaks you in a warm, bubble bath that smells like something he shouldn't have.

"I bough' it for you," he hums.

His callused palms knead into your sore calf muscles, hand making its way down to press into the arch of your foot.

"Don't go makin' those noises, love."

Eventually, you address the elephant in the room, and his answer makes your pulse race. "Gotta create a soft safe place f'you to land after somethin' tha' intense. Ya need to wind down, catch your breath."

He says it so casually as if it was common sense.

"Here. Drink your water." The bottle in your hands is room temperature, just how you like it.

[safrina-shards]

🪡I am not that person but I also make clothes for naked burmy

my sibling keeps torturing me by texting me pictures of cloakless burmy and im going insane

[eudaimaniacs]

bedsheets (logan howlett x female reader)

character/universe: logan howlett/wolverine (x-men/marvel)

word count: 947 words

warning/s: full-on smut (minors, dni).

notes: i am back after a week of stressful preliminary exams. i can't wait to write again. and also, happy birthday to the handsome hugh jackman. have a good day, and enjoy!

The Texas summer was different, requiring you to change your clothes and bedsheets constantly. You had to wear little to none because of the excessive sweating. While you were melting under the sun, Logan enjoyed the view. He loved the short shorts you wore that you would discard later. The sight of the thin, transparent strap accentuating your ass made him crazy. There wasn’t one day where Logan would almost rip your underwear to shreds before fucking you like an animal.

This day was no different. However, you had to change the bedsheets after having them for a week. The mixed sweat and fluids of yours and Logan let out a foul smell. It was disgusting to sleep and have sex on it. Logan wouldn’t admit it, but he loved it. The combined scent of the love you two had for each other drove him crazy.

Dressed only in your t-shirt and underwear, you removed the soiled bedsheet and put on the newly washed one. The sweet, lavender smell overcoming your nose made you smile. You couldn’t wait to lie down and sleep on it. It was extra special since Logan decided to fix the air conditioner that broke down one searing day. He was wearing his signature white tank top and those tight jeans. The cat-haired man was focused on ensuring the air conditioner was in good condition.

After putting on the new bedsheets, you went to the kitchen to eat some ice cream. You turned on the electric fan as the inevitable sweat began to drip. You cursed the cruel Texas summer as you ate spoons of chocolate ice cream. The clacking and boom of Logan fixing the air conditioner filled the air. As much as you hate the loud sounds, you are relieved that both of you are going to sleep in peace without sweating through the night.

“[Y/N], check the air conditioner,” Logan shouted from the bedroom.

You stood up and put the ice cream tub back inside the freezer. Almost removing your sweat-filled shirt, you made your way to the bedroom. The cold air surprises your hot body. The sensation of getting cooled from the cruel summer felt nice. Finally, you and Logan won’t sweat every night, so you won’t have to change the bedsheets constantly.

You kissed Logan and remarked, “Nice job, darling. Now I won’t tire myself changing disgusting bedsheets.”

The older man smirked and massaged your exposed butt. You see the outline of his penis hardening in his tight jeans. You sighed as you knew the bedsheets were getting soiled, not by the combined sweat but by the fluids. Logan groaned as he caressed your breasts and made your nipples perk up. You moaned as you squeezed his jeans, making Logan elicit a loud growl. You giggle as you break the kiss and remove your shirt.

“You don’t mind messing the new bedsheets, princess?”

You lie down on the lavender-scented bedsheets. Your tits bounce as Logan begins to unbuckle his belt.

You smirk and giggle before begging him to mess up the newly changed bedsheets with you. You spread your legs, and that made Logan even crazier. The transparent fabric is now wet with your arousal. The glisten of it invites Logan to let out his animal. Even with his penis wanting relief, Logan wanted to taste your pussy first.

He kneeled at the end of the bed and began to eat you out. You grabbed the sheets as the sensation of Logan’s tongue sent you to ecstasy. You whined and called out Logan’s name. Logan licked your pussy as if it were an ice cream on a cone, melting under the sun.

“You taste so sweet, [Y/N]. Already wetting the bedsheets, you naughty girl,” Logan grunted as he rubbed his penis against the mattress.

As you felt your high crashing over, Logan stopped eating you out and discarded his jeans and underwear. You groaned at the sudden halt of your pleasure. However, in exchange for its absence was his dick finally entering you. Logan lifted your legs and put them over his shoulder. He slowly entered inside you, and you felt the outline of his penis growing in your stomach.

You moaned as Logan started pounding away. Your boobs bouncing at Logan’s sheer animalistic power. He growled as he saw your flushed face overwhelmed with pleasure. Logan squeezed your tits as he continued to thrust inside you.

“Logan, it-i-it feels s-so good!”

You try holding on to the headboard or anything at all. Your legs were tired already. However, you wanted to chase your high. Logan kissed your legs as he quickened his pace.

“L-Logan! I’m, fuck, I-I think I’m c-close to c-c-cumming!” You shout as you feel your stomach twisting at the upcoming wave of pleasure.

Logan growled and whispered, “Fuck, come on, princess. Cum. Cum on my cock.”

He picked up the pace as he wanted you to orgasm. Your eyes roll at the back of your head as the overwhelming sensation of his penis fills you. Logan relaxed his thrusts as he fucked his fluid inside you. He pulled out and lay next to your shaking and sweating body. You sensed Logan’s warm cum flowing out of your pussy.

Logan kissed your forehead as he took care of you. You smile and put your face in his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

“Sure, you don’t care about the messy bedsheets, princess?” Logan whispered as he massaged your back.

You softly smile and look at his eyes before replying, “I am always happy to mess them as long as you fuck me, Logan.”

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[ln4bub]

PLEASE I JUST SAW 71. I NEED MIRROR SEX WITH OSCAR ASAP. Not even kidding that’s my new Roman Empire

A/N back on the oscar pastry hype train for national croissant day

Word Count - 2k

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Oscar's lips were hot and heavy against your own, moving with a precision that you never expected. His hands roamed your body, cupping and squeezing desperately as the two of you stumbled through your apartment door.

"I don't make a habit of hooking up on the first date you know," You say breathlessly against his lips. He hums, "No me neither, but I'm not complaining." He laughs, his lips travelling down your neck. It wasn't like you'd just met Oscar, the two of you spending plenty of time together in the paddock making content for McLaren. He'd convinced you to go on a date with him after the Belgian Grand Prix, knowing that if anything went wrong you'd have the whole summer break to get over it.

The date had been perfect, Oscar flirting with you more than you'd ever anticipated. Sure he flirted in the paddock but now he had you alone he had laid it on thick, holding eye contact with you whilst ate his dessert. That had been your final straw, watching the way his lips had wrapped around the spoon as he cleaned the ice cream off with his tongue.

The taste of ice cream now lingered on your own tongue following its battle with Oscar's. Oscar continued kissing his way down your neck, sucking lightly and leaving as many marks as he could. His lips slammed against yours once more, your hands tangling in his hair, grateful that he hadn't had a chance to cut it. You could feel the underlying anger from his DNF on Sunday, finally getting a chance to release the tension from your body.

"Where's your bedroom?" He asks, darkened eyes staring into your own. You smile, grabbing his hand and pulling him into your room. He matches your own smile, especially when you pull his face back to yours. His large hands rest on your back, trailing up to the zipper of your dress before pulling gently, "Turn around for me." He whispers against your lips.

You follow his instructions immediately, spinning around to allow him access to your back. He unzips your dress, kissing each inch of skin that's revealed as he removes the fabric from your body. He kisses over your lacy thong as he crouches to his knees, allowing the dress to fall to the floor and you to step out of it. "You've looked beautiful all night, but right now, you look drop dead gorgeous." He tells you, hands running up the backs of your legs.

He spins you back around and with a small push to your thighs encourages you to lay back on the bed. Oscar removes his belt and shoes as he admires you, waiting for his touch. He leans down and kisses the centre of your chest, lips moving to trace the mound of your left breast as his hand cups the right. Your back arches, allowing his hand to sneak behind and unclip your bra, pulling the fabric from your body.

Continuing to knead your tits, Oscar returns to his previous crouching position. He kisses your pussy over your thong, moaning at the faint taste of you through the lace. You spread your legs wider, allowing Oscar to fit in between. He removes his shirt quickly, adding to the mess you had already made of his hair. He lifts your right leg over his shoulder, giving himself more space to fit.

Oscar leans in, licking a stripe up the lace of your underwear before sucking at your clit through the fabric. You whimper at the feeling, threading your hands through his hair and digging your heels into his back. He groans into your pussy at the feeling of your stiletto putting pressure on the muscles of his back. His thumb replaces his tongue, rubbing your clit through the fabric and admiring the glisten of your juices as they begin to soak the lace.

"So fucking pretty, and this underwear is too pretty to take off. Love that you wore this for me, my pretty slut." Oscar whispers, causing your pussy to clench around nothing. His thick fingers pull the saturated thong to one side before sliding through your folds, collecting your juices. He brings his fingers to his mouth and his eyes flutter closed, "Could taste you forever." He mutters, your hand in his hair encouraging him to move closer to where you need him.

His tongue delves between your folds, licking every inch that he can. You moan out at the feeling, "Fuck Oscar!" You feel him smile against you, muttering something about saying his name. His lips encircle your clit, sucking gently as his tongue swirls in circles. He feels the way your legs tighten around his head, heel digging in harder, when he traces a figure eight over your clit. He smirks, an idea popping to his head.

Sliding a finger into your pussy, Oscar pulls away slightly, enjoying the sight of your arched back, the hand not in his hair kneading your breast. He lowers his face once more, tracing the number eight onto your clit, following it with a straight line. Your stomach clenches at the feeling, a loud moan tearing from your chest. "So good Osc- oh god, don't stop." You cry, tugging at his hair.

He continues the movement of his tongue, his finger curling against your walls. He feels the way your walls begin to clench around him, doubling his efforts so he can relish in the way your cum floods his tongue. It's when you notice that he's been tracing his driver number on your clit that you feel the waves of your orgasm washing over you, prolonged by his thick finger inside you, drawing more and more cum from your pussy.

Oscar pulls away from you when your legs begin twitching, leaving a gentle kiss on your pussy before reaching down to remove your heels. When your eyes flutter open you catch sight of just how wrecked Oscar looks, hair messy and eyes wild, lips glistening with your cum. You sit up, tongue sliding into his mouth and moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue. You pull him onto the bed, crawling over his body to begin kissing down his chest.

Your hand pulls the zipper of his trousers down before reaching in and palming his length in his underwear. Oscar's head was thrown back against the headboard, eyes screwed shut at the feeling of your small hand over his hard cock. His head snaps forward as he feels the warmth of your mouth ghost over his crotch. It's then that he notices something at the foot of your bed, "Is that a mirror?" He asks, immediately cursing himself for thinking out loud as the feeling of your mouth suddenly disappears from his covered cock.

"Really?" You ask, "That's where your mind went right now?" You can't help but laugh as Oscar's cheeks flush red. "I'm sorry," He laughs in return, "You short-circuited my brain." You roll your eyes at his comment before smiling when he pulls you into his arms, straddling his cock. Oscar tilts his head to allow your lips access to his thick neck. Your lips trail his pulse point, nibbling lightly at the skin. When he moans at the feeling you continue, sucking small marks on his neck to match the ones he left on yours.

Your swirl your tongue gently over each mark, soothing the sting before licking a stripe up Oscar's neck to his ear. His body shudders and he whimpers at the feeling, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling with a harsh tug. "Turn around and face the mirror, right now." He whispers. You bite your lip at the dominant tone of his voice before complying, positioning yourself on your hands and knees at the foot of the bed.

You hear the soft thud of Oscar's remaining clothes hitting the floor before you see his figure behind you. The size of his body sends a shiver down your spine, your pussy clenching at the thought of how he could manhandle you. "Oh baby, so desperate for me that your little pussy is clenching already." Oscar chuckles condescendingly, smoothing his hands over your ass. He tugs your hair back once more, "Watch yourself in the mirror Y/N, want you to see how ruined my cock is gonna get you." You whimper, nodding at his words.

Oscar lines himself up behind you, gliding his cock through your folds, collecting your wetness. He groans softly at the glisten on his cock, biting his lip as he pushes the fat tip into your pussy. You moan at the stretch, mouth dropping open and eyelids fluttering as he continues to push inside you.

"God taking me so good, wish you could see my cock stretching you like this, you were made for me weren't you?" Oscar rambles, slowly thrusting as your walls stretch around him. "All yours Osc, feel so good." You whine, beginning to push yourself back onto his cock. He takes that as his sign to fuck you harder, pulling out before slamming himself back inside you.

You cry out his name, head trying to drop slightly but its stopped by his hand in your hair. You watch in the mirror, practically drooling at the sight of Oscar's eyes trained on the way his cock slides in and out of you. Your hands wrap around the bedframe at the foot of the bed, toes curling as Oscar hits your g-spot with every thrust. "Yeah, right there? That feels good doesn't it?" Oscar groans, hand leaving your hair to join his other hand on your ass. His thumbs spread your cheeks, giving himself a better view of the way you stretch around him.

A small glimmer of light catches your eye in the mirror, the lighting in your room causing the stream of spit leaving Oscar's mouth to glisten. You whimper as it lands on your asshole, sliding down to meet where the two of you are connected. The lewd wet sounds fill the room even more with the addition of Oscar's spit, his weight causing you to fall closer and closer to the mattress. Your thighs are practically stuck together as Oscar fucks into you, the slapping of skin filling the room. Oscar's arm wraps around your front, his forearm practically choking you as he pulls you up slightly, your back arching and pressing your ass against him.

He groans at the way your ass ripples with each thrust, leaning as close to your ear as possible. "You close baby?" He asks, "I can feel your pussy getting tighter, tell me you're close." He practically begs. You nod with a moan, "So fucking close Oscar, please don't stop, so good, so fucking good." You moan, whining with each word as he continues to hit the perfect angle inside you. "Yeah?" Oscar moans, "Want you to cum, want you to show me how good I feel inside you, soak me with your cum baby, come on." He rambles in your ear, voice breathy and desperate as his own orgasm approaches.

His plea is all you need to tumble over the edge, your walls milking his cock as he continues to thrust as best as he can. His rhythm stutters, hips slamming harder against yours as he chases his orgasm. "Fuck baby, that's it. Feel so good, so tight." He whines, his stomach tightening with his approaching orgasm. "Want you to cum inside me Osc, please, fill me up." You moan, white-knuckling the bed frame as you approach the edge of overstimulation. Your whiny request sends Oscar flying towards his orgasm, ropes of cum filling your tight pussy as he shallowly thrusts.

His deep grunts fill your ears as he fills you, warm breath hitting your back. He stills inside you, lifting himself on shaky arms before pulling out. Oscar rolls to the side, pulling you on to his side with one arm, kissing your forehead as your sweaty skin sticks together.

"Totally should've asked you out sooner." He mutters breathlessly. You laugh, kissing his chest softly. "Rookie mistake." You whisper, making Oscar smile before hugging you tighter to his body.

[sacrificial-jewels]

Date today is the 20th of December, I know I should probably do something more compact for that. But the formats in Pilessia and Paldea is different. Either way I'm posting these in case I suddenly cannot be contacted.

I finally got to Pilessia after a long boat ride, I'm posting theses to the internet as rotomblr isn't really a thing known in the part of the region as far as I'm aware... Well besides team Morph but they are of opposite forces of those I hope I don't meet in this visit of mine. I am currently staying at my cousin's apartment, the signal here isn't the best so I have no idea when this will actually get posted.

I'm going to be look around the region for a cure for my sibling's sudden crystalization of their bodies. At this entries writing, it's only been their fingers that have been crystalized. But from my knowledge of this process, it is a painful one. And I intend to stop this happening to my siblings. My cousin has gotten me a cover of having private lessons of the professor, who is my aunt.

The Pokemon I've brought with me is Sonidae, Moni and Kläda. Yes I should have brought my other pokemon but I have to keep my profile low... Anyways here's what my disguise looks like... And Sonidae is here too.

[safrina-shards]

Trick or treat! - Ellisa @adventures-on-foster-island

🪡Why happy Halloween Ms Ellisa! Go ahead and take some I got plenty more treats I'm making!

//pretend they are on a tray and it's a bunch of them

.

..

..

You know Safrina really looks up to you, thank you for giving her that spark of hope

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (5)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

word count | 6k words

summary | aemond goes to reader for comfort after murdering luke. aegon throws a feast and reader and aemond sneak out.

tags | mentions of death, angst/comfort, vampire powers, tensionnnnn, mentions of incest, SMUTTTTT (MDI), oral (f), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, p in v

note | born to give aemond heirs, forced to write fanfics about him. also I loved writing aemond's pov, though it is way more difficult than reader's. also I might be projecting with that finn incident.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚����𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

In the dimly lit chambers of the Red Keep, the oppressive weight of the night enveloped you. The velvet drapes fluttered slightly with the soft summer breeze that whispered through the open window, a rare moment of tranquility. However, your slumber was a mere illusion, your mind cloaked in the abyss of darkness, devoid of dreams and visions that now troubled your sleep.

But your heightened senses—bathed in the echoes of vampiric instinct—felt the air shift, heard the soft footfalls quicken in the shadows. The atmosphere crackled with apprehension, jolting you into awareness. You turned, just as the chamber door burst open to reveal a figure cloaked in night and anxiety.

“Aemond,” you breathed, relief washing over you as you recognized him despite the disarray surrounding his presence. Yet, the relief was short-lived, for the anguish etched on his face struck you like a dagger of ice.

Without a second thought, you flung the silken covers aside, the fabric whispering against your skin as you stood, a vision of natural beauty in your nightgown. It was a modest garment yet beguilingly elegant, the way it clung to your form had no intent to seduce, but it still felt unseemly for him to be here.

“Aemond,” you intoned once more, your voice laced with concern that echoed in the silence of your chamber, frantic to breach the bubbling tension, “What troubles you?”

He remained mute, his expression haunting—a specter in the moonlight. Each heartbeat that passed deepened your worry, and so you closed the space between you, tenderness guiding your hands to cradle his sharp, angular cheeks, your thumbs brushing against his skin with a gentle intimacy. You sought to anchor him within your presence, as if your connection could dispel the shadows that clung to him.

“Please, Aemond,” you urged, your voice softening with each plea, like a lullaby meant to calm a frightened child, “Speak to me.”

At your touch, something flickered in the depths of his violet eye, swirling with shock and unutterable things. “I… I did not mean to,” he stammered, his breath coming out in ragged bursts, as though each word was a struggle against a tide of despair.

“Mean to what?” Your heart raced as you searched his gaze, desperate to uncover the truth beneath the turmoil. “Aemond, tell me what you have done that weighs so heavily upon you.”

He leaned into your touch, surrendering momentarily to the comfort you offered. “I have damned myself,” he breathed, a confession laced with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

“Please, Aemond, tell me,” you implored, your heart thundering in your chest.

Aemond shook his head violently, his silver hair cascading like a waterfall of starlight, wild and untamed. “I cannot! You will condemn me.”

You withdrew your hands from his face, your fingers intertwining with his as you drew them toward your heart, your palms cooling against his warm skin. “I could never. Please, reveal it to me, Aemond,” you whispered, your voice insistent yet tender.

His breath hitched in his throat, a harsh swallow betraying the turmoil within him. As tears glistened in his violet eye—he turned away, shame etching deep lines into his brow. “I did not mean to. I did not mean to take the boy’s life, you must believe me.”

The air froze around you, a chill creeping in as your breath caught in your throat. You slowly led him toward the intricacies of your bed, pulling him with you into the sanctuary of silks and shadows. “What boy, Aemond?” you pressed urgently, your heart aching for the truth, a desperate need to understand the depths of his torment.

His voice broke, drowning in hysteria, a stark reminder of his usual composed personality made from steel, “I didn’t mean to— I swear, I didn’t mean—” he stuttered, desperation pouring from him like the dark tides of the sea.

Frustration welled within you, sharp and biting as the chill of autumn winds crept into the chamber. You pulled him down beside you, urgency fuelling your movements as you grasped his face, forcing his haunted eye to meet yours. “Aemond,” you said firmly, your tone dripping with the magic that came naturally to one of your kind. The allure of your compulsion wrapped around him like a silken trap, gently commanding his frayed emotions to still. “Calm yourself and tell me.”

Gradually, his breathing steadied, though the tremors of his fear still lingered. You held his gaze, and through the dark storm of pain reflected in his eye, he managed to choke out the words. “Lucerys. He was at Storm’s End. When I laid eyes on him, all I felt was fury—so I chased him through the skies, on Vhagar’s back…” His voice cracked like the thunder that often heralded the tempestuous nights, and he swallowed hard, “And then… I did not know Vhagar would react so violently.”

Your heart plummeted at the mention of Lucerys—Rhaenyra's beloved son. The weight of his loss hung heavily in the air, and the grim reality sank in; Aemond had killed him. The Blacks would demand retribution, blood for blood. "Tell me you lie, Aemond," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation seeping into every syllable.

He turned his gaze from you, shame encasing him like a shroud. There was a slow shake of his head, and it felt as though the world around you had muted, the chaos outside overshadowed by his revelation. "I cannot bring myself to lie to you. There is no penance that could ever atone for what I have wrought."

The sadness in your heart twisted anew as you murmured his name, "Aemond," the pain manifesting in your voice like a lamentation for the boy lost beneath the weight of his rage.

In the stillness that lingered between you, it seemed he had finally drawn a breath of composure, yet he refused to meet your eyes, speaking softly as if confiding a terrible secret. "I went to Aegon first, and he laughed... whilst Mother..." He faltered, the memory flickering like a dying candle. "She looked upon me as if I were a stranger, as if I were no longer her son."

Your heart ached for him, your hands clasped in his, both a comfort and a tether to the boy he had once been. Finally, he looked up, his eye reflecting a glimmer of vulnerability. "May I stay here with you?" he asked, almost timidly, as if fearing your rejection.

In that moment, you were transported back to another time, a fleeting memory of innocence—of the boy who had fled from the ignoble raucousness of a brothel, a shadow of the boy who once sought solace in your presence. You nodded, and the words flowed freely, tenderly, "Of course."

Yet, unease lingered in the air, evident in the way he fidgeted, lost amidst his thoughts. So slowly, you knelt before him, taking his leather boots in your hands, gently easing them from his feet. He remained poised on the edge of the bed, lost in his struggles. Next, you reached for his finely crafted doublet, peeling away the layers that held the weight of his distress. He remained clad only in his trousers and a simple cotton shirt, the stark contrast highlighting the tension etched into his features.

Your fingers found their way to his tousled hair, and with a tender caress, you could sense him leaning into your touch, a semblance of solace in the storm raging within him. But when your hand drifted towards the eyepatch concealing his scar, he recoiled instinctively, shaking his head as if to banish the very thought.

“Please, Aemond,” you urged softly, noting the flicker of resistance in his eye. “Remove it; it cannot be comfortable.”

His response was a stubborn shake of his head, reminiscent of a petulant child, “No, it is… hideous. You will turn away from me, repulsed.”

A sorrowful smile etched across your face as you cupped his cheek. Your thumb traced the remnants of his scar. “I have seen your truth before, Aemond,” you promised, sincerity tethering your words. “I swear on my mother's grave, it will not scare me.”

There was a moment of taut apprehension, then, led by both fear and a flicker of hope, he slowly lifted the eyepatch. You fought against the shock that threatened to break through your calm facade, for nestled where an eye once was, a sapphire gleamed—brighter than the sky itself. It was an iridescent gem, the very one you had gifted him just before you had left.

Slowly, you led him with great care to lie beneath the sanctuary of your blankets, cocooned in the warmth of your bed. After a moment's pause, you nestled beside him, drawing him close to your chest, his face instinctively burying itself in the curve of your neck, your arms enveloping him in a protective embrace.

After a time, Aemond's voice broke the silence, a mere whisper against your collarbone. "Do you hate me?"

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, your grip tightening around him. “I could never hate you, Aemond.”

He offered no reply, but the silence spoke volumes as you held him resolutely, the weight of his unspoken thoughts pressing down upon both of you. In that moment, it felt almost surreal, how intimately connected you were to his emotions.

Gently, you began to hum, your voice weaving through the stillness like a soft breeze. The lullaby your mother once sang to you, a sweet melody birthed in the warmth of her embrace, flowed from your lips as if casting a spell of solace.

You wished, with every fiber of your being, to take all his sorrows and put it upon yourself, so he might find peace at last. You longed to envelop him fully, to draw him into the depths of your heart, to safeguard him from the malevolence and peril that lingered just beyond your chambers.

Aemond Targaryen loathed this wretched place, the shadowed halls of King's Landing, where the very stones seemed steeped in whispered betrayals and the lingering scent of ash. The oppressive weight of recent events pressed upon him like a heavy cloak; the death of Lucerys Velaryon hung in the air, suffocating him with its bitter aftermath. His beloved mother, Queen Alicent, having made her choice, had cast him aside, suspending him from his seat on the small council as if he were some wayward pup rather than the proud dragon prince he was.

Now, as the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows upon the walls, Aemond found himself trapped within a feast thrown by Aegon — a disgraceful celebration in honor of Aemond’s brutal deed. The hall was alive with the raucous laughter of lords and ladies feigning joy, their revelry a cruel mockery of the bloodshed that had transpired. How could they toast to this, when the realm itself was a tapestry of grief and strife?

Aegon, reeking of wine and folly, reclined upon his gilded seat, a silver goblet clutched in his hand as he guffawed with a drunken abandon that made Aemond’s skin crawl. With each passing moment, the king grew more intoxicated, rejoicing in his own foolishness while the kingdom itself threatened to unravel under the weight of his incompetence. Aemond could hardly bear to watch. How could they hope to usurp Rhaenyra and her support when Aegon was unfit to rule, lost in a haze of mead and merriment whilst the fires of war devoured their domain?

As the raucous clamor swirled around him, Aemond's thoughts turned treasonous. He was the prince with blood of the dragon coursing through his veins, rider of Vhagar, the mightiest dragon in the skies; he had wrested mastery over sword and word alike. His studies had taken him deep into the philosophies of Targaryen history, strategy, and the art of war — all knowledge he wielded like the sword strapped to his side. Why must he remain the second son, languishing in the shadow of a brother who was more a child than a king?

The Grand Hall was stifling, heavy with the clamor of lords and ladies engaged in mindless revelry, their laughter slicing through the air like blades of Valyrian steel. The goblet of deep red Dornish wine— he had forced down his throat—now boiled in his stomach. He stood abruptly, ignoring the wary glances of curious courtiers, and stormed toward the moonlit balcony, pursued by a dread that felt all-consuming.

Upon stepping into the cool night air his breath hitched in his throat as his gaze fell upon you. There you stood, framed by moonlight, leaning against the aged stone balustrade of the balcony as you gazed at the stars above. In that moment, the world around him faded, the cacophony of the court silenced, as if the realm had been reduced to just the two of you—two souls adrift in the sea of night.

The moon cast a silver halo around you, illuminating your features as though the Seven themselves had blessed you. You appeared ethereal, a vision of solace amidst the tempest of his thoughts. You were an otherworldly being, a divine presence—you reminded Aemond of an angel gazing longingly at her heavenly home.

You wore a divine gown of crimson, its fabric clinging to your curves and accentuating your remarkable beauty, stirring memories of the first time he had beheld you in childhood innocence. Your hair was artfully braided, interwoven among the strands were glimmering rubies, and nestled between your breasts hung a necklace bearing your family’s sigil, a house still entirely foreign to him.

The last time his path had crossed yours was after the wretched deed had been done—when he had barged into your chambers, a storm of pain and regret in his heart after slaying Lucerys Velaryon. You had held him tight, drawing him into the warmth of your embrace, while your gentle whispers—sweet reassurances—had washed over him, as soothing as a dragon’s breath on a winter’s night. He recalled the way you had traced fingers through his hair, the delicate caress of your breath against his skin, and how he had surrendered to your comfort.

When dawn had broken and shadows had retreated, he woke before you, overwhelmed by that precious moment, and with the lingering scent of lavender and warmth still clinging to him. He had kissed your forehead tenderly and slipped away, haunted by what he had done and striving to shield you from the darkness that threatened to engulf you both.

"Are you not enjoying the feast?" Aemond murmured, his voice a soft cadence as he moved closer to you.

You turned, meeting his gaze with a fierce intensity. "Am I meant to revel in a celebration held in honor of someone's death?" With a sharp breath, you averted your gaze, a flicker of regret crossing your features. "Forgive me."

Aemond’s eyes remained locked on you, the truth like a weight upon his heart—he had taken Lucerys' life, a shadow he must now bear. “You speak only the truth,” he admitted, the gravity of his words mingling with the cool night air.

You shook your head slowly, those captivating eyes piercing through the veil of his turmoil. “It is Aegon’s folly to throw such a feast given the circumstances,” you replied, your tone laced with a mix of frustration and sorrow.

Aemond couldn't suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth at your disdain for his brother's decision. "You tread upon treasonous ground," he teased, though there was an undercurrent of approval in his tone

With a resolute lift of your chin, an unbidden smile danced upon your lips, illuminating your beauty, "Do you intend to tell?"

In that charged moment, Aemond closed the distance between you, the space that once separated you now laden with tension. He leaned closer, whispering with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, "You know I shall never."

With a soft sigh, you began to turn away, “I think I shall retire to my chambers now.” Aemond feigned indifference, though he struggled against the urge to let out an exasperated breath at your obvious attempt to distance yourself from him.

“Then I shall escort you,” he declared, a hint of determination flaring in his violet gaze. He noticed the way annoyance shadowed your features but sensed no protest forthcoming.

The two of you slipped away from the feast, indifferent to the lingering glances that followed your hasty exit. Festive laughter faded into the background as you walked side by side through the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep,

As you walked side by side, silence hung heavily between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of your dress against the stone floor. Aemond cast furtive glances in your direction, grappling with the right words to breach the gap between you. The tension was palpable, and eventually, he settled on candor. “I wish to know more about you."

“Aemond,” you replied, and he could detect the undercurrent of hesitation in your tone as you reached your room.

With a sudden, almost frantic motion, Aemond pivoted to face you, his fingers brushing against your forearm, a firm yet gentle grip that sent a shiver down your spine. “Why do you persist in keeping yourself at a distance from me? You are like an angel I am forever barred from touching,” he implored, desperation edging his voice.

You yanked your arm away from him, your gaze fierce, betraying no hint of the storm brewing inside. “You must not perceive me in such a way! I am not the paragon of virtue you think I am.”

“Then share something,” Aemond pressed, his violet eye locking onto yours with an intensity that threatened to unravel your resolve. “Something dark, something impure.”

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Is that what you seek? So you can soothe your own conscience?”

“Perhaps,” Aemond admitted with unvarnished honesty. He was, after all, a man well aware of his own self-serving tendencies, and he would not shy away from using emotional manipulation to achieve his desires. “But if you hold any affection for me, you will grant me this.”

Your eyes blazed with righteous indignation, and for a fleeting moment, he questioned if he had ventured too far. Yet, as the heat in your gaze began to dim, he felt an uneasy tension settle in the silence.

You drew your arms around yourself, a familiar gesture that he now observed closely. Your gaze fell away as you began to speak, “The Targaryens... Your customs are indeed strange. Some might even call them sinful or abominable. Yet there exists a rationale behind them, no matter how obscure.”

“There can be no justifiable reason for my desires,” you whispered, Aemond's brow furrowed in confusion as he sensed the shift in your tone. But when the next revelation slipped from your lips, it left him reeling with disbelief. “I once harbored unnatural feelings for my eldest brother.”

A surge of jealousy twisted in Aemond's chest at the mere thought of you harboring feelings for another. He cleared his throat, the taste of bile rising, and asked, "Did anything come of it?"

"A fleeting kiss—one I initiated. He loathed me for it thereafter," you murmured, your gaze falling to the ground in shame.

A grimace contorted Aemond’s features. "Loathed you?"

"He could scarcely bear to look upon me after that moment," you replied, your voice heavy with sorrow. Aemond felt a visceral urge to take vengeance upon your brother, to avenge the hurt he had caused you. "That was the moment I realized I had lost the only one who truly loved me."

"I recall you speaking of your mother’s grave," Aemond said softly.

You nodded, a glimmer of sorrow passing over your face. "She is gone," you said, and a bittersweet smile flickered briefly. "And I dare say, my family may be worse than yours."

Aemond shook his head with an amused glint dancing in his violet eye. “Impossible,” he replied, the word rolling off his tongue like the soft murmur of waves against the rocky shore. Then, in softer tones, he pressed, “Do you still harbor affections for your brother?”

“No,” you murmured, the admission barely escaping your lips, “Not anymore. Not for ages.”

Aemond studied your features, the interplay of moonlight illuminating the subtle lines of your face. A low chuckle escaped him, like the rustle of leaves in a breeze. Your brow furrowed, an indignant spark igniting within you. “What?"

“A mere infatuation does not alter the truth of my feelings, nor my perception of you,” he said with an air of certainty, the tension between you thickening as he took a step closer, almost as if the distance between your hearts diminished with every passing heartbeat.

“Then you must be a fool,” you whispered, breathless and yet emboldened, as his presence encroached upon you like the tide reclaiming the shore.

“A lovesick fool, indeed,” he replied, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a mere heartbeat away. The memory of your last kiss flared in your mind— so in that fleeting silence, Aemond’s voice lowered, almost reverent. “May I kiss you?”

He could see the tempest of emotions raging within you, wrestling against reason and desire, your heart at war with itself. Aemond, sensing your internal struggle, began to withdraw, the flicker of disappointment clouding his striking features, but in a sudden rush of bold resolve, you seized the collar of his embroidered doublet, drawing him close, your lips colliding in a swift, fervent embrace.

His breath hitched at the warmth of your touch, and he instinctively cupped your face, anchoring you both in this stolen moment as if the world around you had ceased to exist. Tentatively, his tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entry, a question hanging palpably in the air—one you answered with the soft, desperate parting of your mouth.

Aemond’s heart raced, a primal longing igniting within him as he explored the depths of your mouth, each caress of his tongue inviting a sweet sound of pleasure to escape from you—a sound that intoxicated him, filling the air with a heady blend of passion and unanswered yearnings.

In that dimly lit hallway of the Red Keep, time lost its meaning, turning to mere whispers around you. The world outside faded, and all that remained was the intoxicating exchange of breath and soul, each sweet caress a vow sealed in secrecy and yearning. But the moment was fleeting; the distant sound of approaching footsteps pulled you both back to reality.

Without hesitation, Aemond seized your hand, urgency painting his every movement as he pulled you into the sanctuary of your chambers. You could not stifle the startled gasp that escaped your lips at his haste. Before you could utter a word, his mouth found yours again, this time with a fervor that struck like wildfire. It was wild and fervent, a collision of passion tinged with desperation.

He broke the kiss, his breath mingling with yours, heavy and frantic. "I need you," he murmured, his gaze dark and intense, searching your face for any trace of doubt.

But all resolve melted away in the warmth of his presence, and you nodded quickly, breathless and eager. "Take me, Aemond."

Though reason whispered for him to temper his passion, to shield you from the storm he bore and not taint your innocence, the dragon's need screamed louder still. His lips found yours once more, his hands exploring the fabric of your gown, tracing the soft curves beneath the layers of silk and lace.

A soft whimper escaped your throat, the sound intoxicating him as it echoed in the chamber. You tugged at his doublet, your voice a barely contained plea, “Get this dress off me, Aemond.”

A wild grin spread across his features, the kind that promised mischief and fervor. “With pleasure,” he declared, the words a fervent vow rather than mere amusement. In a swift motion, he spun you around, deftly severing the laces that bound your dress. You gasped as the fine fabric slid away, pooling at your feet, leaving you clad only in a tantalizing shift that clung to your form like mist in the moonlight.

Without hesitation, Aemond gathered you into his arms, your surprised laughter ringing like bells in his ears as your legs instinctively locked around his waist. He carried you with ease, the weight of expectations and honor forgotten in that moment as he made his way to your bed.

He laid you down gently, his gaze a blend of fierce devotion and raw desire, like a dragon surveying its treasured hoard, and he leaned closer, whispering a question that weighed heavily on his mind. “Tell me, sweetling,” he began, his voice a low rasp, “are you still a maiden?”

You nodded, your wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The confirmation sent a bolt of need through him, further arousing him as he hastily shed his own garments, baring himself to you. He crawled over you, a predatory grace to his movements, and as you reached out to caress his face, he halted, your touch grounding him.

"I wish to see all of you, Aemond," you whispered.

His lips twitched with a mixture of hesitation and determination. With a deft movement, he removed his eye patch, exposing his scar and sapphire. In response to his bravery, you leaned forward, claiming his mouth once more, the warmth of your kiss wrapping around him like wildfire.

As his lips trailed away from yours, they descended to your neck—his warm breath sending shivers cascading down your spine. His hands roamed freely over your body, caressing and squeezing as if memorizing every curve. His fingers brushed against the hem of your shift, lifting the fabric with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment.

As his hand ventured beneath the fabric, his fingers brushed against the delicate curls of your mound, a low moan escaping your lips, raw and unbidden. "What treasure lies hidden here? Hmm?" he murmured against your skin, his voice low and intoxicating.

His smirk deepened as your hips instinctively lifted, surrendering to the ghostly touch of his fingertips gliding over your wet slit. In a moment of tantalizing tension, he withdrew slightly, seated back as he used two fingers to part your folds, exposing your glistening cunt to his keen gaze.

He was captivated by the sight—your essence glistening, beckoning him forth like a siren’s call across the sea. His breath hitched as he lowered himself, savoring the intoxicating scent that wafted from your cunt; it was a heady blend of desire and vulnerability. With a swift flick of his tongue, he brushed over the tender bud of pleasure, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips as your hips jerked in delightful shock.

Aemond’s dark laughter rumbled softly in his chest, a sound that resonated with satisfaction at your response. He ventured further, dipping into the folds of your drenched warmth, his tongue dancing along your slit as if tasting the sweetest of wines. Each movement of his mouth sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you, prompting your fingers to clutch at the silk sheets in desperate need of tethering.

You were ambrosia made flesh, a divine fruit of the gods that rendered him intoxicated with longing. He lost himself in the act, the rhythm of his tongue reflecting the primal hunger within him, driving him to worship at your altar without restraint or decorum. There was no pattern in his movements, merely the frantic need of a man raised in the crucible of ambition, now reduced to a ravenous beast by your taste.

His low moans vibrated against your skin as your fingers tangled in his silken hair, urging him closer, deeper. Each sound that escaped your lips heightened his fervor, sending him spiraling further into a haze of lust, where only the two of you existed.

He thrust his tongue deeper, igniting fires within you that threatened to consume all sense. A tremor raced through your body, a shuddering gasp escaping as his tongue flicked over your most sensitive peak. The intensity of the moment left him breathless with longing as he stole glances at your rapturous face, seeking the delight in your face as he skillfully coaxed you towards the precipice of ecstasy.

In one final surge of fervor, he took your pearl between his lips, sucking with fervent need. Your voice rang through the air, calling his name like a battle cry as your release washed over you, your body clenching and shuddering beneath his eager mouth, leaving him lost in the euphoria of your pleasure.

Spent and quaking, you fell back onto the sheets, your chest heaving, eyes fluttering shut as the final ripples of ecstasy coursed through you. Aemond watched you with an entranced intensity, his lustful gaze drinking in the sight of your debauchery, before he positioned himself between your thighs, claiming his rightful place.

With a swift, possessive motion, he grasped the neckline of your shift, ripping the fabric asunder with a growl that echoed his primal desire. The cool air met your flushed skin, and a fresh wave of longing washed over you, eliciting a soft moan as your hardened nipples strained against the chill. Aemond, unable to resist, descended upon you, drawing one of your peaks into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, relishing the way your whimpers filled the air. He felt your fingers weave into his silken hair, tugging him closer, urging him on with your breathless pleas.

He reveled in the contrast of your previously cool skin, now warming deliciously beneath him, the heat of your body igniting a primal fire within him. He pressed his hardness against your lower belly, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through both. “I could be so good to you,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry as he nipped at your shoulder, “So fucking good. So why do you deny the need that lies between us?"

Your breath hitched, interrupted by a soft moan as he pressed against you with deliberate intent. “I do,” you gasped, desire flaring within you as his cock pressed against your pearl. “I do need you.”

“As I need you, sweet girl,” Aemond murmured, a predatory glint in his eye as he continued to grind against you. Though he was no man of debauchery, the fiery knowledge instilled by whispered secrets and that one fleeting encounter coursed through him.

You responded to his movements with an intoxicating sigh, rocking your hips to match his rhythm, a melody of desire unfolding between them. Aemond’s breath caught as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate thrust, he breached the sacred barrier that had kept the two of you at bay. A yelp escaped you, sharp and sweet, and he immediately softened, pressing featherlight kisses across your face, murmuring apologies as he reveled in your warmth.

Gripping your hip with a fierce intensity, he drew a sharp breath through his teeth as he buried himself deeper, engulfed in the sensations of your tight, welcoming embrace. You were exquisite—so wet, so warm, so perfectly crafted for him. Aemond began at a measured pace, savoring the glide of his cock within you, the exquisite stretch as you enveloped him, but the fire within quickly ignited into an unquenchable blaze.

Once he'd found a rhythm, he succumbed to the recklessness of desire, thrusting with urgency, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the chamber, a rhythmic drumbeat of passion. His hips snapped against yours with fervor, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure cascading through both of you, an unravelling of control as he sought to claim you in the way that dragons claim their territory.

Your moans echoed within the room, each sound a sweet melody, a heady mixture of fervor and abandon that filled the space with a primal energy. You had long since discarded any pretense of modesty, your voice rising like a songbird caught in a storm. His name spilled from your lips, fervent and loaded with longing.

With an urgency born from need, you surrendered yourself to him, your touch igniting a fire along his torso as your hands freely roamed, fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles. You clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his with reckless abandon. Your lips found the curve of his neck, the warmth of your breath a tempting promise. There was a strange thrill to your bite, and Aemond swore your teeth felt unusually sharp, as you nibbled delicately at his skin.

Yet even in the throes of ecstasy, an insatiable hunger gnawed at him, a need for greater possession. He withdrew slightly, capturing your gaze with his own smoldering gaze. His hand gripped the delicate expanse of your throat, sturdy yet tender, while his other found purchase on your stomach, fingers pressing into your soft skin. “You are mine,” he growled, the primal command taking on a life of its own as he increased the fervor of his thrusts. “Say it.”

The intensity of his possession ignited a fire within you; you instinctively pressed against his hand, urging him to hold you more tightly, to claim you wholly. “Yours,” you breathed, “all yours.”

“Good girl,” he groaned, the phrase rolling off his tongue like a hot brand onto your skin. Your body responded eagerly to his words, an electric shiver rippling through you as you arched your back, another desperate whimper escaping your lips.

It was not long before the dam broke, your body convulsing around him, the tension unfurling like the petals of a flower awakened by the sun. Your breath hitched in a final, breathless moan, and in that moment of exquisite surrender, you tightened your grip around him, pulling him deeper into the abyss of pleasure. And with a primal roar of ecstasy, he followed you into that dark, consuming void, painting your insides with his seed.

@barnes70stark @izabell26 @urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @hueanhdang @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @caged-birdies-blog @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy @goddesslilithmoriarty @filmflux @esposadomd @littybeech @gyneve @https-kokomi @void21 @baby-w3-ar3-infinite @baby-i-can-see-your-reylo

As the last waves of pleasure subsided, your smile glimmered like the stars beyond the castle walls. Reaching out, you traced your fingers along his jaw, drawing him back into a kiss that spoke of unbridled passion and afterglow—a sigh of contentment escaping your lips as you two joined once more.

[natalievoncatte]

The heat was getting to be a problem.

The power had been out in National City for three days, and those three days were expected to be among the hottest of the year. Lena was, frankly, desperate.

You might think that she’d have it easy, but anyone who would think that a penthouse in a skyscraper would be easy to cool would quickly be disabused of that notion. The windows mostly didn’t open and having the balcony doors spread wide did next to nothing when the breeze felt like opening an oven, even up here.

It had been Alex’s suggestion, sent by text.

Why don’t you go to Kara’s? The loft is pretty breezy.

She was right, of course. When Lena arrived, Kara had every one of her huge loft windows open, allowing the breeze to flow freely through the open, airy space.

There was another problem, though.

When Kara opened the door, Lena nearly keeled over. Kara was wearing a sports bra and shorts so short they barely deserved the name, exposing a vast amount of golden, sun-kissed skin. Worse, her gloriously muscled stomach and shoulders glistened with sweat.

Lena was surprised to see that the heat bothered her, but it clearly did. Kara had forgone her glasses, too, and after she opened the door, she swept the back of her hand across her forehead and sighed.

“Hi,” Lena squeaked.

“Hi yourself. Hot out there?”

“It’s hot in here.”

“Come in, come in,” said Kara.

Lena stepped inside, forcing herself not to stare at Kara’s thick thighs and the swell of her chest under straining fabric. Was that zipper some advanced Kryptonian technology?

“Want something to drink?”

“Isn’t your fridge dead, too?”

“Yeah, but I cheat. Watch.”

Kara slipped a bottle of water out of a pack on her counter and breathed on it. Ice crystals formed on the surface and the water visibly chilled. It shocked Lena when she accepted it and the cold water on her lips was bliss. Lena let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of cold spreading through her chest, cooling her body.

When she opened her eyes, Kara was the one staring. Lena had thrown on a short, a-frame sun dress that bared her back, for no other reason than making sure that her skin could have as much surface exposed to the air to evaporate and cool her down as possible.

“So what are you up to?” Lena asked.

Kara gestured to the notebook and stacks of papers on the table.

“Old-fashioned journalism, I guess. My laptop battery died yesterday.”

“I thought you’d be out there trying to fix the power.”

Kara shrugged. “With what, my super-electrician powers?”

Lena shot her a look, raising her brow.

Kara turned away, heading for the windows.

Oh, Jesus, Lena thought.

It wasn’t as if Lena hadn’t… noticed Kara’s physique. She wasn’t blind, after all. They’d taken spin class together, and Kara liked to wear leggings on the weekends.

But holy shit, those shorts made her ass look… Super.

Lena was still fumbling over a buns of steel pun in her head when Kara turned back.

“Hey, you okay? Your heart raced for a second there.”

“F-fine,” said Lena.

“Alex and the others are coming over tonight for an emergency game night,” said Kara. “I better get ready.”

For the next couple of hours, Lena helped Kara neaten up her apartment and prepare non-perishable snacks and a cooler full of beer and wine coolers, chilled care of Kara. Alex and Kelly were the first to show up, with Alex giving Lena a cheeky look as she walked into the apartment.

“Hey, you two,” she said. “Been having a hot time?”

There was something brittle in Kara’s laugh that set Lena a little on edge, and the Danvers sisters shared one of those looks they shared that made Lena wonder if they could communicate telepathically. Whatever the message was, it made Kara look away first, distracting with an offered beer that Alex gladly accepted.

Lena took a wine cooler, wishing it were wine.

Nia and Brainy showed up next, followed by J’onn, who was the only one fully dressed in a button-down shirt and khakis, while everyone else was dressed for the beach or a track meet.

Lena sat on the floor, because the hardwood was cool under her butt, and leaned back against Kara’s couch. Kara sat beside her and Lena’s heart definitely sped up.

Looking over, it was hard to tear her eyes away. Kara made a magnificent display- the blocky weight of her shoulders, full biceps and strong arms and bulky, sculpted forearms. Lena’s eyes followed the vein on the back of Kara’s arm down the back of her strong hand and the elegant lengths of her fingers.

Kara kept her nails neatly trimmed like that because of Supergirl duties, right?

Right?

“Hey Luthor? You having a heat stroke?” said Alex. “You look spaced out over there.”

Alex had a playful grin plastered on her face, though she too was sweating profusely. A cooler breeze rolled in through the big windows and everyone sighed in delight.

Except J’onn. “What shall we play first?” she said.

“Clue!” Nia chirped.

“Brainy always kicks our ass at Clue,” said Alex, “and I am not playing Monopoly with a literal billionaire again.”

“Perhaps we should play Risk,” said J’onn, rifling through the game shelf.

“We could try Twisted,” Kara suggested in a deadpan voice.

Lena swallowed hard, thinking of herself tangled up on the mat with Kara, clothes glued to their skin by sweat, salty skin sliding against salty skin, the scent of her…

“Earth to Lena,” said Alex. “Got any ideas?”

“Exploding Kittens,” said Lena. “We haven’t done that one in a while.”

“Kara, chill us some cold ones, will you?” said Nia.

Once everyone had a rapidly warming drink, Brainy dealt the cards and the game began. Alex called Kara out for peeking several times, with that loaded Danvers Sisters Look and an almost predatory smirk.

She wasn’t the only one peeking.

Lena participate in the game but her mind was elsewhere, specifically the valley of Kara’s broad back, where sweat gathered between her muscles and rain down in heavy beads, or the sweat gathering along her collarbone or sparking along the lush inner curves of her tightly contained breasts.

“Hey,” said Kara. “It’s your turn, Lena.”

Then she reached over and brushed damp lock of inky hair out of Lena’s eyes.

She could have melted. She swallowed hard, brushed the sweat from her brow, and made a hasty and wasteful play that would probably cost her any chance of winning, but she didn’t care. The game seemed at most a distant concern.

Kara’s tongue glazing along her soft pink lips was much more interesting. They’d pretty much all given up on makeup but Kara was still positively radiant, soft and inviting and homey in a way that made Lena ache in her chest.

And, uh, other places.

It was full dark now, so they finished the game and Kara and Alex got up to light a few candles.

“This is like camping,” said Nia.

“We should have thought to procure ‘marshmallows’, said Brainy. “Kara could toast them with her heat vision.”

“We hardly need more heat. I’m boiling,” said Lena.

J’onn let out a soft grunt. “It’s my turn to go on patrol. I think I’ll be the first to head out.

Everyone gave their goodbyes as he headed out the window. The others huddled closer around the table, lit by the candle sitting in the middle.

“We should tell scary stories,” said Alex. “Like around a campfire.”

“Since it was your idea, you go first,” said Kelly.

Alex leaned into it with abandon, leaning in over the table as she started spinning a campfire yarn that Lena quickly recognized as The Hook.

Kara edged closer, until her bare thigh pressed against Lena. She leaned in close, and it wouldn’t have taken much for Lena to… rest her head on Kara’s shoulder. It just kind of happened, Kara’s scent filling her nostrils as she turned into Kara.

Lena flinched as Kara shot her a concerned look.

She can hear my heartbeat.

Kara must have thought Lena was scared, because she casually slipped an arm around her.

Lena’s breath caught. Kara’s powerful arm rested lazily around her hip and her relaxed hand rested on Lena’s thigh, fingers placed lightly on bare skin.

It was a powerfully possessive gesture, not just protective but… more. Lena shifted a little and let herself completely fall against Kara.

Alex kept on telling the story, her gaze pausing heavily on the two of them as she scanned the room. Brainy looked bored but Nia looked genuinely petrified and Kelly was looking at her wife with the kind of adoring reference that was currently plastered on Lena’s face as she looked up at Kara.

Alex reached the crescendo of the story and Lena let out a little gasp, turning her face into Kara’s neck, more for the sake of it than out of fear. Kara’s hand stroked lazily up and down her back.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone get you,” Kara whispered.

“You two okay over there?” said Alex.

“Fine,” said Kara.

“There are two actual couples here and you two are the ones doing the heavy petting.”

They weren’t heavy petting. Okay sure, Lena had her fingers curled around Kara’s hip and Kara’s hand was staring to pass the platonic zone when stroking her back but…

Oh.

“It’s getting late,” said Kelly. “Maybe we should head home.”

“Agreed,” said Nia. “Come on, Brainy.”

Lena and Kara didn’t get up.

The others did, piling out of the apartment. Alex went last, shooting Kara another of those damned looks, smiling like a self-satisfied cat after a big stretch.

The door closed and Kara yawned.

“Mind if I stay?” Lena said, quickly. “My place is just too hot to sleep.”

“Of course,” Kara said softly.

Lena didn’t move. They were alone now, the apartment dark except for candles that threw flickering shadows and made Kara even more ethereal. Lena could barely believe someone so gorgeous could be real.

“Lena,” Kara said quietly. “Have you ever thought about…” she trailed off.

“About what?”

“Us. What we are to each other.”

“Yes,” said Lena.

“Me too.”

“What are you thinking?” Lena asked.

“You’re my best friend. You mean more to me than basically anyone else, and the thought of you has kept me going through some really dark times.”

When Kara smiled for her, her eyes lit up, sparkling in the candlelight, like moonlight dancing on nighttime waves. She was entrancing.

“I…” Lena began. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as just a friend. There’s more on the table if you want it.”

“More like… kissing?”

“Yes, exactly.”

This was actually happening. It was real, not a daydream or a fantasy. Kara moved with agonizing slowness, full of a gentle, kind intensity as she leaned down and lightly brushed her lips across Lena’s.

It was like being tossed in a tub of ice water… in a good way. Lena shivered as Kara cupped her jaw and went for another kiss, more forcefully this time, more insistent. The breathed as one.

“Kara,” Lena whispered.

She couldn’t help it. Lena dragged her tongue over Kara’s skin, tasting the sweat pooled at the base of her neck. Kara let out a low moan followed by a deep basso rumble in her chest, pulsating in time with her breathing.

“Did you just lick my sweat?”

“Are you purring?!”

Kara giggled. “I can do lots of things.”

Lena looked up at her with lidded eyes. “Oh yeah? Show me what you got.”

She squeaked as Kara picked her up in a single smooth motion, and with a self-satisfied smirk, carried her towards the bed.

Later, as they lay in a tangle of perspiring limbs atop sweat-soaked sheets, the power thumped back on and the air conditioning began to blow over them, chilling Lena’s skin.

She barely noticed.

[sacrificial-jewels]

I am so terribly sorry Ms Ellisa, Safrina's currently in a situation...

•°[Video ID: toddler Safrina looking at the screen]°•

Who this? Are you my teacher in ... Rangering? What is rangering?

-@safrina-shards

I... I'm not sure what I'm looking at here. A prank? Hold on let me go look at something.