#something something returning to a place that holds memories but knowing that you can never return to those times | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

authorhjk1 · 3 months ago

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SNSD Village

Season 1 Episode 1 :

Pilot

(Tiffany Hwang X Male Reader)

You drop your bag in the green chair, before sitting down on the white couch.

“Sorry I’m late, Jisoo. Ms. Park wouldn’t let us go.”

Jisoo looks up from her laptop.

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re helping me out.”

She gives you a thankful smile.

“Don’t mention it. How much have you written so far?”

You slowly settle in as you take your keys out of the back pocket of your jeans and place them on the table.

Your phone joins them. It’s a hot summer day and the screen has some of your sweat on it. But the cool air of the small cafe turns the outside heat into a distant memory.

“Not very far, to be honest.”

Jisoo sighs, before sliding the laptop over the wooden surface.

“Since they're looking for someone who has experience in their field, I mentioned that I’m currently working here.”

You nod your head in agreement as you start reading her job application.

“You could also mention you’re looking after my little sister.”

As you start writing, Jisoo interrupts.

“But that doesn’t have much to do with this receptionist job.”

You look to your left.

“Why not? It’s a way of saying, you can handle difficult people.”

“Oh, please.”

She playfully hits your shoulder.

“Seri isn’t difficult.”

“Oh, trust me. She is.”

“She is four. Plus, Mrs. Seo would kill us both, if she heard how I let you speak about her daughter.”

“You’re right. Mom would kill us.”

You both share a laugh in agreement.

At that moment, your phone lights up. You check who texted you before the screen turns dark again. Your friend, Seogun. Something about a video.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

You put your phone back into your pocket.

“Let’s finish this first.”

Jisoo smiles at you as she pulls the laptop back in front of herself.

“I really appreciate this.”

Just as you are about to touch up Jisoo’s resume, you hear a familiar voice.

“Hi there, young man. How was school today?”

“Hello, Mrs. Kwon:”

Your lips return the genuine smile the owner of the cafe shoots your way.

“It was alright. Ms. Park’s class sucked. As always. Especially when she found out that a lot of people didn’t do their homework. Eunha should start writing stuff down. She always forgets we have homework.”

“Oh, yes. Ms. Park was never my daughter’s favorite teacher either. Poor Eunha though. Her mother is always putting so much pressure on her. But she will grow up eventually.”

Mrs. Kwon is right. Your classmate Eunha is a good student. It’s just that she is also quite clumsy and forgetful.

She sends another smile your way. Only now do you notice that she is holding two bowls of ice cream.

“Enjoy yourselves. It’s on the house.”

She places them in front of the two of you.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kwon.”

You and Jisoo say in union, which makes the older woman’s smile grow bigger.

“I’m sad to see you leave, Jisoo. I really enjoyed having you here.”

"I liked working here a lot.”

“You know, Eunbi is currently doing her gap year. Maybe she can help you find something new?”

“I appreciate your help, Mrs. Kwon. It means a lot to me.”

The older woman waves it off.

“Don’t mention it.”

You see someone at the table outside raising her arm, signaling her that she is ready to order.

“Eat up.”

Ms. Kwon motions towards the sundaes, before walking outside. Jisoo is eating hers as you feel the vibration of your phone inside your pocket. Now you do check what Seogun sent you. You quickly put the phone back into your pocket.

“I-I’m gonna be back in a minute.”

“Sure.”

The message fills you with excitement. You knew it. You knew she had one.

You lock the door behind you, after entering the small restroom. You sit down on the lid of the closed toilet. The turquoise fabric of the cushion on the lid matches the interior of the cafe. Pulling out your phone, you quickly open your chat with Seogun again.

Dude I found her!!!

Check this out

she is so fucking hot, cant belive it

her links

onlyfans.com/tiffany

insta: your_tiffany

After making sure the volume of your phone is on the lowest setting, you press play on the video he sent you. As the buffering cycle appears, you check out the title. “Trying out my new toy. Enjoy!”

When the video starts playing, you can’t believe your eyes. It’s actually Ms. Hwang. You recognize her surroundings instantly. The beach. That spot is barely five minutes away from the cafe.

“Hi there, cutie.”

You focus on Ms. Hwang, who is kneeling on a large blanket. Her short pants and her top look so sexy on her. You saw her wear this outfit once or twice before. Just looking at her like this makes you unbutton your jeans. As Ms Hwang waves into the camera, your pants are already sliding down your legs.

“This is a thank you to the person who sent me this.”

You watch her reach behind herself. Her hand reappears, holding a big dildo. You can’t tell how long it is exactly. The bottom is flat, so your classmate’s mother is able to place it on the towel.

“Let’s see what this bad boy does to me.”

With a flirtatious smile, she starts to strip. Your eyes are glued to your screen as Ms. Hwang's top lands on the towel. She was wearing nothing underneath. You can’t believe you’re seeing Yeji’s mother topless; she would die of embarrassment if she knew.

You start to rub your cock over your boxers as you watch her playing with her breasts. They are slightly smaller than you thought they would be. Trying to take in every detail, you watch how one of her hands slowly glides over her tummy. You start to take your boxers off as Ms.Hwang rubs herself over her shorts. The erotic hum she produces gives you goosebumps. You’ve watched porn before. You even had a girlfriend. But this is different. She is someone you know. You even saw her yesterday. You said hello. And there she is. On her knees. Slowly taking off her denim shorts.

By now, your boxers have joined your jeans around ýour ankles. You slowly stroke yourself to your classmate’s mother stripping. You’ve fantasized about her more than just once. It happened more frequently, after you picked up a small part of Ms. Im’s conversation with her. It made you and your friend look for exactly this.

Once Ms. Hwang's Shorts are off, your eyes wander up her full thighs. Her smooth skin almost seems to glow in the light of the rising sun. Your eyes finally reach her core. You take in her beautiful pussy, which is slightly glistening with arousal. You remember how your ex girlfriend looked when she was naked. This is something different. Ms. Hwang looks sexier, more mature.

“I’m so wet already.”

She gives the camera a mischievous smile as she lets her fingers run along her folds. Your classmate’s mother reaches for the plastic dildo next to her.

“Thank you so much for this.”

She gives you a wink. You watch how two of her fingers, which were running along her folds, are now slipping inside of her. Ms. Hwang closes her eyes. As she slowly fingers herself, she starts to stroke the dildo. Unconsciously you match her pace and rhythm. It almost seems like she is actually working your cock. It feels better than usual. More real.

When Yeji’s mother lifts the dildo off the towel, you can only stare. Her lips close around the pink tip. You stroke yourself faster as her cheeks hollow. Ms. Hwang starts to actually suck the pink dildo, which barely fits into her mouth. She keeps fingering herself at the same time, her hips slightly bucking towards her hand.

“I’ve been so horny since I got this.”

She just pulled the plastic out of her mouth. A smile on her face.

“You guys know how much I like a nice cock.”

Ms. Hwang places the dildo right in front of herself, her fingers slipping out of her pussy. You see them glistening with her juices.

You watch her raise her hips as she sends another seductive look in the direction of the camera. The tip of the dildo parts her pussy lips as she moves forward a little. Yeji’s mother bites her lip. You feel a familiar feeling rising in your stomach. You imagine that you are there on the beach. With Ms. Hwang. You stroke yourself faster, envisioning that you’re lying underneath her. That it’s your tip that penetrates her pussy. That it’s your cock she slowly impales herself on.

Your breathing becomes faster as you’re just about to climax. You watch Ms.Hwang slowly moving up and down. Her pussy lips glide along the shaft. Her moans make you groan. Your toes curl. Another moan from her. Another groan from you.

“When are you gonna be back?”

You ask, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“I don’t know. An hour?"

“Alright. Drive safe.”

Jisoo smiles back at you, before getting into her car. Well, not her car. More like your mother’s company’s car. If Jisoo had enough money to buy herself a car, she wouldn’t need to take care of your sister.

You watch her drive off. As soon as she is out of sight, you start running. 60 minutes. That should be more than enough. An evil smile appears on your face as you jump over the small white fence of your mother’s garden. It barely reaches your knee. You are going to make Yeji pay. The two of you have been at each other's throats since you both can remember. But today, you will finally come out on top.

You quickly unlock the terrace door. Run through the big living room. Speed up the stairs. Barge into your room. Let your bag fall on the ground next to the door and quickly sit down on your chair.

You open your phone again. You open your and Seogun’s chat. After a glance at the thumbnail of the video you watched earlier, you click on the first link. Ms.Hwang’s Onlyfans page appears. You quickly scroll through her profile.

Hi, sweetie! Subscribe now and get 10% off! I will send you a sexy welcome pic!

That video alone would make you win your fight over Yeji. And with that promised picture, Yeji would probably never dare to speak up against you ever again. Your thumb hovers over the blue subscribe button. Just when you’re about to hit it, you remember that your mom sometimes checks your bank account. She caught you buying alcohol before, despite not being 21 yet. She almost killed you. If she finds out you are paying someone for porn… Especially someone you and her both personally know…A shiver runs down your spine. No. You can’t risk it. This isn’t worth it. Your mother can be scary as hell.

You get off Ms. Hwang's Onlyfans page and click on her Instagram link. Her Instagram Bio is the same as the one on her Onlyfans. You quickly skim through her reels and select a random one. It starts with Ms. Hwang gasping, her mouth wide open as she pretends to look down.

“Oh my gosh! You're huge!”

You start rubbing your cock through your jeans. You can’t help it. Yeji’s mom is just so fucking hot.

“You didn’t tell me you are this big.”

Ms. Hwang bites her lip, while smiling into the camera.

“I’m not sure it’s gonna fit.”

“Fuck it.”

You curse, stripping yourself off your pants and underwear. As you keep scrolling through all her recent reels, you stroke your cock. Every reel makes Ms. Hwang look like a slut. In one, she pretends to pick something up while bending over. You can clearly see under her skirt. In another one, she has tight yoga pants on. You don’t even pay attention to what she is saying, your eyes are glued to her cameltoe.

A couple of minutes later, you are fully dressed again. You can’t believe you just came twice within two hours to videos of Yeji’s mother. Having just watched most of her recent reels, you now check out some of her pictures. You do recognize some of those outfits, but others are new to you.

Scrolling back to the top of her page, your eyes get caught up on one of her most recent pics. Ms. Hwang is kneeling on the floor, only wearing a set of blue lingerie. Your heart beats faster when you read the caption.

Looking for someone near my place to shoot some content with. Send me a DM if you’re down for some fun.

You hesitate after reading it a couple of times. It sounds too good to be true. It could very well be a scam, so she can tempt more people to subscribe to her Onlyfans. Would it be worth a shot? Why not? You don’t have anything to lose. You click on the message button. What to write her though? You can’t tell her it’s you. She would probably say no immediately. That thought makes you realize that you’re using your personal account.

You quickly make a new one and search for Ms. Hwang again. Now that you’re all set, the opener continues to be a major problem. You can’t just say hi, can you? You have to be smart about this. Do you want to be funny? Do you just text her that you saw her invite to shoot some content? What do you call her even?

After a couple of minutes, you finally decide on a simple text.

You stare at the screen for a while. You are nervous. Excited. But when Ms. Hwang doesn’t text back immediately, you lean back in your chair. What did you expect? The chance of her actually responding is very slim. She wouldn’t text you back within a couple of minutes.

You dry yourself off with a towel. It’s 11 pm now. Throughout the entirety of your workout, you kept thinking about Ms. Hwang. The chance to actually sleep with her. To record it. Show it to Yeji. It was wishful thinking, but still...

Taking your gym bag out of your locker, you start to get dressed. You usually jog home from the gym, since it only takes thirty minutes and it’s a great way to build up your stamina. But it’s already late and your mom offered to pick you up on her way home. She seems to always be at the company, since your dad died. Is it just because of the huge amount of work, or is it her way to cope with the loss of your father?

After stepping out of the gym, you lean against the outer wall, waiting for her to arrive. You haven’t been working out for a long time yet. You always liked gym class, but you never bothered with actually trying to improve your physique. But you haven’t gotten over your ex-girlfriend yet. As much as you hate to admit it, she might have been the one. Trying to get your mind off her, you started working out about three weeks ago.

After taking your phone out of your black sweatpants, you see a message from your mother.

Grabbed something to eat for the two of us. I will be there in 10.

You quickly skim through your class’s Discord. Someone mentioned something about a party this weekend. As you scroll through the messages, you see that it’s Eunha, who invited everyone. Seems like her mom is out of town over the weekend. As you take your earbuds out of your pocket, your phone vibrates.

You almost let it fall. She actually replied! With shaky fingers, you quickly open Instagram and there your messages.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Your shout bounces off the wall of the gym you were leaning on.

This is unbelievable. It’s your chance. Your chance to-

You pause, already halfway done with your response. No. You can’t message her back immediately. Maybe wait a couple of minutes. But then, your eyes catch the green circle next to her profile. Fuck. She knows you’re online too. Now you have to respond. Something cool. As if you weren’t waiting for her reply for hours.

Seems to be your lucky day. I live close by.

You read it a couple of times, before sending it. You know it sounds a little overconfident, but maybe it works. Ms. Hwang probably got hundreds of messages, so why not try and leave an impression?

Fantastic

Two questions

Are you fine with your body being filmed?

How big are you? You know what I mean

The wink emoji at the end makes a shiver run down your spine. You’re almost there. So close to finally having sex with a woman, who has been your “inspiration” more often than you can count.

I’m cool with that

Why don’t we make that a surprise?

You take a deep breath before you send it. She might take it the wrong way. But hopefully, this gets you through the door.

I do like surprises…

But I do need to know a general direction

Send a pic?

You rub your teeth over your lower lip as you think. You’ve never taken a picture like this one before. Because no one ever asked you to send you one. But Ms. Hwang just did! You’re just about to go back inside, when you see a pair of lights illuminate the parking lot. Your mom is here.

I’m in public right now

I’ll get you one once I’m home

I might need some inspiration to show you what I’ve got

Your wink emoji makes you shake your head. For someone else, this conversation might look borderline weird. But the tingle inside your stomach doesn’t subside, even when your mom’s car stops right in front of you.

“Hi, sweetie.”

"Hey, mom.”

You smile at her, before getting inside and fastening your seatbelt.

“How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. A lot of work, as always. How was school?”

“School is school.”

Your reply makes her chuckle as she gets back on the road.

“Did Ms. Park torture your class again?”

“You know how she is, mom.”

You sigh, getting comfortable in the warm car. You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. But you’re too scared to check. What if Ms. Hwang actually sent you something?

“What did you get by the way?”

“Chicken.”

She points behind herself, eyes still focused on the dark road ahead. You look at the backseat behind her, a grin on your face.

“You're great, mom.”

You take two stairs at once, after you enter the house.

“Be quick, I’m hungry.”

“Just five minutes!”

You close your door.

Your gym bag joins your bag for school on the ground. Opening your phone, you immediately see that Ms. Hwang sent you a picture.

“This actually worked?”

You sit down in your chair again as you open your chat with her.

“Oh fuck.”

You can’t hide your pleasant surprise.

Ms. Hwang, sent you a hot selfie. Her white top is bunched up above her breasts, no bra in sight. She smiles at the camera, at you, as she winks.

You might not even need five minutes. Your sweatpants and boxers are gone within seconds. As you start to stroke yourself, you take in Ms. Hwang’s surroundings. You recognize her open kitchen in the background. You’ve been to her house before, together with one of your closer friends. Your eyes narrow as you spot someone standing in the kitchen. Her face is turned away from the camera, but you recognize her immediately. You see her in class everyday.

The thought of Ms. Hwang sending you a selfie of herself almost half naked, really makes you hard. You are so focused on her tits, you almost forget why she sent you the picture in the first place.

You have to force yourself to stop. Getting off the chair, you sit down on the edge of your bed, facing the mirror. You take a couple of pictures of yourself, while making sure your head isn’t in the frame.

After taking a sip of your cold water, you glance at the TV. You’re sitting on a barstool at the kitchen counter, while your mom is watching a drama. Her long elegant dress got replaced by a pair of shorts and a white tank top, while you were busy upstairs.

“You don’t want to watch this with me?”

“No thanks, mom. Not into romance stuff.”

You take a bite of your chicken, while you hear her laugh.

“Trust me. One day you’ll like it. You’re not old enough to appreciate this yet.”

“Sure mom.”

Your phone vibrates again. You were afraid that the picture was bad. Or worse, that Ms. Hwang didn’t like what she saw. You quickly check what she sent you.

Look how wet you made me

The picture she sent along with the text almost makes you drop your phone. It's a close up shot of her pussy. Two of her fingers spread her lips apart, revealing the lower part of her clit, while showing off how wet she is. Her glistening folds instantly make you hard. You can see the inner part of her walls. The pink flesh drenched in her arousal.

What are you supposed to say now? You can’t just ask, when she wants you to come over. You need to keep this conversation going. Maybe you haven’t convinced her fully yet.

You chug down the rest of your water, before focusing on what to text her next.

You’re dripping Tiffany

I want to know what you taste like

It feels unfamiliar to you to address her with her first name. You always call her Ms. Hwang. But it’d be weird to call her that now.

And I can’t wait to feel your tongue

I need you to eat my pussy so bad right now

“What are you up to, oppa?”

“Nothing important.”

You quickly turn off your phone, before you look up.

One of your classmates is looking down on you, while you sit in your seat.

“Did you catch what Ms. Kim just gave us for homework?”

“Eunha…”

You sigh, still very aware that she almost caught you. You’ve been texting with Ms. Hwang - sorry, Tiffany - for two days now. Eunha just interrupted you, while you were about to reply to one of her messages.

“Oh, please. I didn’t pay attention.”

“That’s not news to me.”

Before you can react, Eunha has already straddled your lap.

“What-?”

You instinctively take a hold of her thighs. You feel how full and smooth they are. And you realize your fingers are partially underneath her skirt.

"Please? I’m begging you.”

Eunha does her best to look cute. She always does. That’s her charm. And that’s also why she gets away with pretty much everything.

You hesitate for a moment. Eunha needs to learn it the hard way at some point. But you can’t resist her either. Those cute cheeks, her lips which are pouting at you, her dark eyes pleading you to tell her.

“We’re supposed to write a two page essay about the Roman gods.”

Ms. Kim is your history teacher. And currently she is focusing on ancient societies to show the evolution of human society and democracy.

“Is there any way…?”

“No, Eunha. I’m not gonna write it for you.”

“That’s not what I was gonna ask.”

She pouts at you again. You’re still very aware that she is sitting in your lap. And that you’re holding her thighs. But most of the class is outside during this nice warm weather. Plus, Eunha is known to be almost a little too comfortable with skinship. No matter with whom.

“I was gonna ask, if you could… you know… read through it before Wednesday?”

At least she remembers that Ms. Kim likes to randomly collect some student’s homework.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Thanks, oppa!”

Eunha suddenly kisses your cheek and jumps off your lap. Only now do you realize how short her skirt actually is. You can almost see a hint of her ass. It’s probably not compliant with the school dress code, but that’s not unusual. All the kids at school have decently rich parents. They couldn’t care less about the school’s rules.

It’s embarrassing to say, but you can’t keep your eyes off Eunha’s thighs. Until you hear someone from behind you.

“Oppa.”

You turn around to see one of your closest friends standing behind your seat.

“Yes, Minju?”

The girl pouts at you and you could’ve sworn you see a glint of anger in her eyes. But they soften, once they focus back on you. Who was she looking at?

“Would you…Would you mind, if we write the essay together? You’re the best at history. Well, except for her.”

Minju nods towards the older girl, who is sitting in the front row.

“It’s also the only subject I’m good at.”

“You are not doing that bad.”

“Then where are my good grades?”

“I can help you. If you help me. Please?”

“Ok, Minju. What about…..Sunday?”

“Sunday sounds great.”

Minju gives you a bright smile.

You check your phone once she has walked away. After finishing your reply, you finally send it.

Looking up from your phone, you see Yeji enter the classroom. She and Minju seem to be talking about something funny. As always, your anger starts to build up, whenever you see her. If only she’d know. If only Yeji knew what you’re planning on doing on Saturday. How you talked to her mother. Yeji would probably kill you. But that’s exactly what you want. Yeji has been annoying you for far too long. And you will finish this war between the two of you. Once and for all.

At exactly that moment, Yeji turns in your direction. She rolls her eyes and gives you a weird grimace. Like she always does, when your eyes meet. You groan in annoyance. Soon…

You picked this time, because you know that Yeji and Minju are downtown for most of the day. Minju said something about going shopping and trying out a new restaurant. After hesitating for a moment, you press the doorbell. You hear it ring. You step from one foot on the other, while you wait for her. You’re nervous. You know her. You’ve known her for years. You’ve dreamed about-

The door opens. Tiffany stands in front of you.

You are able to witness the different emotions that wash through her as she looks at you. First, it’s more of a seductive smile, then surprise, confusion, realization and finally shock. Her mouth is opened as if she is about to scream.

“W-What are you doing here?”

“You were looking for someone to shoot content with.”

You try to stay relaxed as if this is completely normal. Tiffany could still send you away. You doubt she would tell your mother, but it'd be awkward between you and Tiffany nonetheless.

“H-How do you even-How do you even know, I have-?”

Her shocked face turns into a worried one as the volume of her voice rises.

“I found your Instagram by accident.”

Tiffany is about to answer, when you hear a car drive past behind you.

“Go inside, before anyone…”

She sighs and you slip past her.

Once Tiffany has closed the door behind you, she gives you an angry glare.

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re way too young to even think about this! And you’re Yeji’s friend! Are you out of your mind?”

It seems like Tiffany has finally overcome her initial shock. You don’t bother to mention that you and Yeji are sworn enemies.

“I’m old enough Tif-”

Her stare makes you change your mind.

“Ms. Hwang. I’ve done this before. I’m not a virgin.”

She gives you a skeptical look.

“And this is also an opportunity for you.”

You add quickly. You thought about how to convince her on your way over, in case she would say no.

“An opportunity? For what? You’re Ms. Seo’s son for god's sake.”

“So what? My mother doesn’t have anything to do with this. And-”

“But I know her! I know you. I can’t sleep around with my neighbor's son!”

“Why not? I won’t tell anyone. And you said that you’d love to fuck me. You want me to show you-”

You reach for your phone in your pocket.

Tiffany shakes her head. Her cheeks are red in embarrassment. She can’t believe this is actually happening. How did Seohyun’s son find out about her? There is no way he is actually into her. He is the same age as her daughter.

“Even if you weren’t her son, you are still way too young. You’re barely half my age.”

“That's what I said earlier. This is an opportunity for you.”

“Opportunity? To do what? You're nuts!”

Tiffany storms off, into her living room. You follow after her. You know you're being a little clingy, but this kind of opportunity might never come again.

“The opportunity to shoot a different kind of content. You know, since I'm younger.”

Yeji's mother turns around and raises her eyebrow.

“Since you're younger? What do you think is good about that? All young boys think like you.”

Tiffany steps towards you again, her hands on her waist. You can tell she is still fuming.

“Do you think you have a great…”

Tiffany does a vague gesture towards your crotch.

“Or do you think you already have experience? Or that you have better stamina than older guys?”

“Yeah, but that’s not my point.”

Tiffany rolls her eyes.

“I don’t even want to hear it. Would you please leave now?”

She gestures towards the front door.

“At least hear me out. You do want more subscribers and eventually earn more money, don’t you?”

Tiffany is already reaching for the door again, when she turns around.

“I’m listening.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“Well…”

You hesitate for a second. This might come off the wrong way. But by the looks of it, it’s probably your last shot.

“Well, I’m younger than you. That’s true. But you’re also, like you said, twice my age.”

“So? What’s your point? Are you trying to make me feel old now too?”

Tiffany leaves you standing and heads towards her kitchen. You’re walking after her, slightly annoyed that she can’t stand still. While she takes a half opened bottle of wine out of the fridge, you look at her from behind. Her backside makes you lose focus for a moment. Her jeans and her slightly bent over figure makes you hard in excitement. You’re so close. Don’t mess this up.

Tiffany takes out a wine glass and starts pouring herself some whine.

“I’m trying to tell you, you’re a… Well, people my age would call you milf.”

You see her furrowing her brows.

“That doesn’t sound like something nice. And it seems to me like you shouldn’t be saying that to me.”

She looks at you again, while taking a sip from the red wine.

“Well, it means… Mom I like to fuck.”

You hear her choke on the whine she was just about to swallow.

“Excuse you?!”

“What? It’s true. The fact that I’m younger doesn’t mean I don’t find you sexy.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

The disbelief in her voice goes well with her raised eyebrow.

“Yes, I do.”

You can feel that Tiffany isn’t as disgusted at the thought of sleeping with you as before. You can still turn this around.

“Do you know how often I thought about you while….”

You let the sentence linger in the air and Tiffany seems to catch on.

“Oh, please.”

She scoffs.

“You’re trying to impress me by telling me you jerked off to me once or twice?”

You shake your head.

“More than once or twice. Several times a day, since I’ve found your Instagram.”

“Well…”

You finally seem to have made her speechless.

“And I’m not the only one who thinks you’re hot. I’ve heard more than just a couple of boys talk about you.”

“Oh, really?”

Tiffany raises an eyebrow again, before drinking some wine again. She seems more curious than angry now.

“Yes. That’s why this is such a great opportunity for you. I’m the same age as the boys who want to sleep with you. If we include this theme, of you with a way younger guy, in some of your content, those boys might be more interested in watching your stuff.”

Tiffany has finished her drink by now.

“You mean, appeal to younger people because they can identify with you more?”

“Exactly. There are a couple of great themes or roleplay ideas, which would really draw them in.”

You can almost see how the wheels turn inside her head.

Tiffany sighs as she places the empty glass on the counter.

"Alright. Fine.”

You feel goosebumps form on your skin, when she finally agrees.

“But today is only a test. If you mess up, or this doesn’t work, like you said it would, we are done.”

You quickly nod your head. You can’t believe it. You actually convinced her to have sex with you. On camera. Yeji’s mother. Tiffany Hwang.

She pulls a black hairband off her wrist, which you only notice now. After silently tying her hair in a high ponytail, Tiffany sinks to her knees. Right in front of you. You almost forget to breathe.

“Consider this an audition.”

Her eyes wander from your face to your crotch.

You bite your lip as you feel Tiffany’s hands undo your belt and your jeans. They quickly land around your ankles as she slowly lets a finger trace the outlines of your clothed and hard cock.

“Now I’m actually curious, if you were telling the truth about this.”

Tiffany hooks her fingers underneath the waistband of your boxers and pulls them down.

“Not bad at all.”

She smiles as your cock appears right in front of her face.

Tiffany slowly wraps her hand around it and strokes your length once. From the tip to the base.

“I could definitely work with this.”

Tiffany slowly moves her head closer and gives your tip a kiss.

You almost let out a groan already. You can’t believe that she is actually kneeling in front of you. With her hand around your cock and her lips on your tip.

She opens her mouth a little wider and moves down. You feel her lips glide along the length of your cock. Tiffany almost reaches your base, before she retreats again. Her hand around your cock starts stroking the parts of your cock that just left her mouth. Once she finally reaches your tip again, Tiffany gives it another kiss. This one is sloppier. But when she looks up at you, she furrows her brows.

“Why aren’t you recording?”

You’re stunned. The feeling of her lips around your cock has made you unable to move. Tiffany rolls her eyes and motions towards the counter, where she put her phone earlier.

After picking it up, you enter the pin she told you and open the camera. You hit the record button as Tiffany resumes her blowjob. Making sure she is in the frame, you watch her through the phone. But it just doesn’t really compare to the real thing. Now that you got a taste of it, you can’t help yourself.

You have to hold in a deep breath, as you lower her phone a little. Now you can see her better. Tiffany keeps stroking the lower half of your cock, while her mouth works the upper part. The camera can’t catch it, but you feel how her tongue presses against the underside of your shaft. She slowly covers your whole cock in her spit as she starts to make lewd sounds. The vibrations from her mouth are being sent through your cock, into your body and up your spine. Your whole body can feel how Tiffany sucks you off.

When she lifts her head a little further, Tiffany lets your cock fall out of her mouth. Now that the camera can see your whole cock for the first time, you’re a little embarrassed. You are aware that other people will see this. For a moment, you think they could make fun of you, but Tiffany quickly destroys that thought.

“Wow. Your cock tastes so good.”

She smiles up into the camera, before giving your tip another kiss.

“I really like it.”

A wink into the camera and Tiffany resumes her blowjob. You realize too late that she has picked up the pace. You almost drop her phone, when you see her head bob up and down. Her lips glide over your shaft way faster now. Her hand moves quicker too. Tiffany is starting to take more of your cock into her mouth.

Now that her head is moving further forward, everytime she gets deeper onto your cock, you can see a hint of her ass again. The blue jeans she is wearing is hugging her cheeks tightly. You move her phone a little forward and capture more of her ass.

As Tiffany’s blowjob continues, you start to get more into being her cameraman. While your main focus is still not to cum too fast, you’re now trying out some new camera angles. When Tiffany moves back a little, and only your tip remains inside her mouth, you move the phone on the same height as her face to her left. You’re now filming her side profile. Tiffany seems to know what to do. She looks up at you, her eyes now sparkling with amusement and lust. She slowly moves her lips along your cock once more, making sure the camera captures the exact way her mouth slowly takes in your length. After a couple back and forths, you reposition her phone again. It’s now looking from your perspective down at her, just like at the beginning.

You focus more on not just suddenly blowing your load inside her mouth. Because you’re now feeling a familiar pull inside your stomach. The way her mouth and hand work your shaft makes you experience something new. Your ex was never this good. You can tell that Tiffany has done this more than just once.

After leaning back again, Tiffany smiles into the camera. She stops stroking you and places a finger two or three inches above your base.

“I just got up to here. Do you think I can manage to go all the way?”

You hesitate for a second, before slowly making the camera nod.

Tiffany laughs.

“Let’s see if I can take it all.”

With another seductive smile on her face, Tiffany takes you into her mouth once more. You brace yourself for what’s to come next. The feeling of her lips gliding down your shaft once more makes you shiver in excitement. You still can’t believe she is actually doing this to you.

When Tiffany reaches her finger, she looks at the camera again. A wink and she removes her finger. You have to stop yourself from cursing as you feel her take more than before. Your tip grazes something deep inside her mouth and Tiffany stops for a second. She still has around one inch to go. You feel how she opens her mouth a little wider. How your tip slowly moves down. You are suddenly aware that you’re now inside her throat. Tiffany pushes her head further onto your cock and you hear her cough. Your whole cock has finally disappeared inside her mouth and throat.

You can feel how the muscles of her throat tighten around you. And you can also feel your incoming orgasm. You try to count in your head, not wanting to cum already. But Tiffany deepthroating your cock, doesn’t help at all. You make it to 12, when you feel yourself throbbing inside of her. She must have felt it too, because she looks up at you, her eyes have naturally become bigger.

You signal her in whatever way that you’re about to finish. But Tiffany only hums in satisfaction, which brings you so much closer to your orgasm. She moans, when you finally do cum. You unload deep inside Tiffany’s throat. Holding onto the phone, you do your best to keep the camera focused on her face.

Tiffany closes her eyes in bliss, feeling how your warm cum paints her throat. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Follow me.”

Tiffany opens the door to the room next to her bedroom. Yeji’s room is on your left. You glance inside, the door slightly opened. You see her bed, a stuffed toy on it, and a desk. In that moment, Tiffany takes your hand and the two of you walk into the room she just unlocked. The key is still in the keyhole as you walk past. This is probably Tiffany’s way to make sure that Yeji doesn’t know what her mother is doing for a living.

The big window in front of you leads towards the garden. You can see the corner of the pool as you step a little closer. A bed is standing on your right. Next to it a nightstand. One would think it’s just a normal bedroom. But when you turn to your left, you see two tripods with cameras on them. Two cupboards stand against the wall behind those. You guess that’s where Tiffany keeps all her stuff. Costumes, sexy outfits and toys.

“Can you help me set everything up?”

“Sure.”

Reality suddenly seems to crash down on you as you pick up one of the tripods. Tiffany just gave you head. You came in her mouth barely ten minutes ago. And now you’re going to have sex with her on camera. You take a deep breath and set up the tripod near the bed, just like Tiffany told you. It’s not that you’re scared or anything. You’re just really nervous. Tiffany is on a whole different level, compared to your ex. And filming it is different too. You’ve never really done that before.

Once you’re done setting up the cameras, Tiffany walks over to one of the cupboards. She opens it and you can see inside. As you expected, it’s full with all kinds of different outfits. Tiffany takes the one on the far left, but your eyes linger on the one on the right. Is that… a nurse uniform?

“Give me five minutes.”

You nod as Tiffany closes the doors again. You can’t help but look after her as she leaves the room, imagining her in that uniform. You’re now just as hard again as you were when Tiffany took your cock down her throat.

When she closes the door behind herself, you realize that you didn’t even catch a glimpse of the outfit she is about to put on. It was something red. Just like the uniform. You stand where she left you for a moment, before you quickly walk over to the cupboard.

You open the doors again and check out the outfit to your right. A red skirt and a red top, decorated with white lace along the neckline. A matching white apron with a cross on it and a red nurse’s cap. You want to see Tiffany wear this so badly right now. You rub your hand over your clothed crotch as you scan the rest of the cupboard. A black leather outfit, a very low cut green top, which would almost expose her whole cleavage, except for her nipples, a long white dress that almost looks too elegant for this room.

Something else suddenly catches your attention. You squat down and reach for one of the two drawers on the bottom of the cupboard. Biting your lower lip, you feast your eyes on row after row on Tiffany Hwang’s bra collection. There are probably around thirty of them. All differently colored and with different decorations. One has a bow on it at the front. Another one is made out of white lace with butterfly patterns. A third one is a red strapless one. Your hand lingers above a fourth one. It’s blue and it’s not shaped like the other ones. It’s more like a couple of ribbons sewed together, which would only cover Tiffany’s nipples. The rest of her tits would be completely visible.

You quickly open the other one. It’s full with her panties. All folded and lined up neatly. Some of them seem to have a matching bra in the other drawer, while others seem to be a stand alone item. You catch a glimpse of one that has writing on the front. You slightly push the one on top of it out of the way.

“Good girl”

Taking a deep breath, you close both drawers again, but not without letting your eyes scan through their contents one last time. You wonder for how long Tiffany must be doing this already. Because these are a lot, even for a woman. You remember when you were young and you rummaged through your moms wardrobe, searching for the TV remote she hid, while she was out of the house, because she didn’t want you to watch TV the whole day. You came across her underwear drawer, but Tiffany’s is on another level. You wonder if she has even more inside her normal bedroom. Or inside the other cupboard?

A second later, you stand in front of it. But just when you’re about to open its doors, you hear footsteps approaching. You quickly look around. You don’t want to be caught going through her underwear. Two giant steps later, you reach the bed and jump onto the mattress. Just in time. Right when you lean your head against the wall behind you, Tiffany opens the door. You almost forget what you just saw. Hell, you almost forget to breathe.

Tiffany as a whole is too much to handle. You feel like your jaw is about to drop, so you quickly look down, not wanting her to think that you’re some naive little boy. Your eyes land on her feet. They’re covered in red stockings, which are barely see through. But you do catch a hint of her white painted nails. Your eyes follow along Tiffany’s legs as you admire how the fabric tightly wraps around her skin. The thicker fabric turns into lace as you reach her thighs. Red roses greet you as you near the end of her stockings. A strap serves as the next path for your eyes to travel on. Its connection with the hem of Tiffany’s stockings is decorated with a small red bow.

Eventually, you reach Tiffany’s waist. It’s covered by her red garter belt, which is, just like her panties and bra, made out of red lace. Her high-waisted panties give you a side view of one of her butt cheeks, before your focus lands on her clothed pussy. You still can’t believe how sexy she is, you can’t get enough of her. Your eyes travel even further. Past her belly button and her garter belt and along her flat stomach.

Tiffany’s chest is covered by a red lace bra with the same pattern as the top of her stockings. Your gaze lingers right between both her breasts, before you travel along one of her bra straps. You reach her collarbone, which is decorated by a golden necklace, a heart in the middle. Her shoulders are covered in red silk. The night robe she is wearing flows down her back and would’ve hidden her round cheek, if she didn’t rest her hand on her hip. A flirtatious smile plays around her freshly painted red lips.

“You’ve been staring for ages.”

“S-Sorry.”

Well, you certainly do look like a naive little boy right now.

“I don't mind at all.”

Tiffany laughs, before finally stepping fully inside the room.

“So, have you decided yet?”

“Huh?”

You zoned out for a second, too distracted by Tiffany turning around and closing the door.

Now she turns back to you.

“Have you thought about a suitable concept for our video? This was your idea after all.”

You clear your throat, trying to buy yourself some time. Since you decided to message Tiffany, dozens of ideas have piled up inside your mind. One more dirty and fucked up then the next.

“I do have a couple of ideas, actually.”

Tiffany smiles at you as she slowly walks towards the bed.

“Let’s just decide on one for now, shall we?”

She leans down and places her hands on the mattress, right next to your leg. You don’t stand a chance. A second later, you brazenly stare at her voluptuous cleavage.

“We don’t want to get ahead of ourselves yet.”

You tear your eyes off her body once more and focus back on her face. A knowing grin plays around her lips.

“Sure.”

You finally decide on one idea you had in mind.

Tiffany doesn’t look very convinced at first, but as you continue your explanation, her eyes grow a little softer.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

You get off the bed, while Tiffany looks around.

“Why don’t you carry the tripod downstairs and I will set up everything else in the kitchen?”

“Sounds good.”

You’re excited. Receiving a blowjob from Yeji’s mom was already an incredible moment. But now, you're about to actually sleep with her. Your finger shakes as you press the record button on the camera, secured on the tripod, which is directed at the open kitchen. You walk into the hallway, as you hear Tiffany starting the coffee machine. You wait for it to finish, before you silently count to ten, just like the two of you planned. You take your phone out of your pocket and hit the record button on it as well.

When you walk into the kitchen, you see Tiffany leaning against the counter behind her. She is facing the door you’re now standing in as she sips on her freshly made coffee. She acts sleepy, covering her mouth, pretending to yawn into her hand.

“Oh, good morning Ms. Hwang. Did you sleep well last night?”

Your voice makes her look up at you. You make sure your phone captures her face and some of her cleavage. The two of you outlined the general direction of the conversation earlier, but most of it is gonna be improvisation.

“Good morning! I slept pretty well and you?”

Tiffany looks up from her cup and smiles at you.

“I got.. Some sleep. We stayed up pretty late haha. Sorry for all the noise.”

Your words make her shake her head.

“Oh don’t worry, I didn't hear a thing. Would you like a cup? This coffee maker makes a mean cup.”

She gestures towards the machine and of course you accept.

“I would appreciate it. Thank you”

“So why are you up this early? I’d assume you try to get some more sleep after last night.”

“I usually wake up early to get some exercise in. No matter how little sleep I get.”

Tiffany hands you your cup and smiles sympathetically.

“Oh you poor thing. It's okay to take some days off, you know?”

“Yeah but if I get off my routine I’ll start to get lazy and all my hard work would go to waste.”

She nods in understanding, while you try the coffee.

“And who are you working out so hard for? Who’s my poor baby losing sleep over? A girlfriend perhaps?”

It feels weird to you that Tiffany calls you baby. Especially since she isn’t your girlfriend. But you go along with it.

“No, no girlfriend unfortunately. It’s just for myself to stay in shape. It’s a good way to keep my self disciplined on a routine”

“Well if I could offer my honest opinion..”

A sly, almost hungry smile plays around her lips.

“I think your hard work is paying off quite well.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that”

“You know.. because of my daughter’s sleepover. I had to break my own little routine. It’s going to be hard to get back to it without some help.”

Tiffany puts her cup down and steps closer. She keeps eye contact with you.

“Care to lend a hand?”

She places her hand on your shoulder as she says those words. The camera on the tripod catches her movements, while your phone is focused on her face.

“Sorry about that, but if you want.. I could help you out. I have some time.”

A victorious smile plays around the corners of her mouth.

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Tiffany bites her lips seductively as she says those words. Her hand slowly moves down your shoulder, past your biceps and along your lower arm, until it reaches your own hand. She takes your coffee and places the mug on the counter next to you.

“Well then handsome…”

She locks her fingers around yours.

“Care to follow me?”

She is face to face with you as she whispers those words. You lift the camera a little, so you can see her properly.

“Lead the way ma’am.”

You follow after her as Tiffany leads you upstairs.

The two of you walk into the room you were in earlier. Tiffany slings her arms around your neck and turns you around her, so your back is facing the other camera and the bed. Her lips capture yours, which you try to film with your phone. But her lips prove to be too distracting. You close your eyes as you start to lose yourself in the kiss. The last kiss you had was some time ago, with-

Tiffany puts her weight forward, against you, which makes you walk backwards. When your knees hit the edge of the bed, Tiffany finally lets go of your lips. The faint hint of strawberries leaves your lips as you already hope for a second kiss.

She places a finger on your chest, looking up at you with a seductive smile.

“My routine includes working out too.”

Tiffany doesn’t have to use a lot of force to push you onto the bed. A moment after you hit the soft mattress, she is already straddling you. Your hand finds its way to one of her lace covered thighs, while the other holds your phone, trying to capture as much of her as possible. She kisses your cheek once, before pecking you on the lips. Once more the taste of strawberries lingers on your lips as Tiffany moves her mouth closer to your ear.

"Although I’m usually the one who gets worked out.”

She playfully gives your earlobe a little bite, before she moves down your neck. Kiss after kiss, lick after lick, Tiffany travels towards the hem of your shirt. Your free hand reaches behind her back, trying to undo her bra, but Tiffany slowly moves it away while she shakes her head.

“Not so impatient, baby.”

Her smile sends warmth through your system as she leans down and places that smile directly onto your lips. When she moves back, you feel her breath against your lips.

“Just let me take care of you for now.”

Once more, Tiffany begins her journey along your neck. When she reaches your shirt, you feel her hands sneak underneath it from further down, while she kisses your clothed chest. You feel them exploring your upper body as Tiffany keeps peppering you with kisses. She slowly makes her way towards your crotch, while the rest of her body shuffles backwards, until she is face to face with your clothed cock.

“Let's see what you have for me.”

Another smile and Tiffany starts to take off your pants. You make sure your phone captures her deep cleavage as she leans over your lower body.

“Wow.”

Tiffany looks up with an impressed look on her face as she pulls down your pants, revealing your cock.

“I didn’t expect someone my daughter’s age to have such a nice dick.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hwang.”

You make sure that you sound a little embarrassed as she gives your cock a long, slow lick.

“Do you know how much fun we could’ve had last night?”

A second lick follows the first as Tiffany slowly strokes the lower half of your cock.

“I was so horny, thinking about all the young men in my house.”

She lets her tongue swirl around your tip, before she looks back at your face.

“I wouldn’t have minded at all, if you had come in during the night.”

You hold your breath as Tiffany suddenly bobs her head a couple of times on your cock. Her lips glide up and down your length with a speed you weren’t prepared for. But it ended as quickly as it started. Biting back a disappointed groan, you see Tiffany’s eyes sparkle in amusement as if she was silently saying,

“Girls your age don’t play with your cock like this.”

You try to come up with a witty reply, which isn’t as easy as it sounds, when you have someone lying between your legs.

“I will make sure to check up on you during the next sleepover.”

Tiffany smiles as you feel her free hand dive underneath your shirt once more.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Your head finally sinks back into the sheets, while you keep your phone locked on Tiffany. You’re starting to get the hang of it, while she keeps sucking your cock. Even closing your eyes momentarily, you feel her working your shaft with a level of skill, which you aren’t used to. Like before, her technique is too good for you to handle long term. How Tiffany’s lips wrap around your tip. How they slowly glide along your length. How she sucks on your dick, while keeping an airtight seal around it. How one hand gently cups your balls, while the other keeps drawing circles on your chest. How her tongue swirls around your tip, whenever she lifts her head. How it seems to wiggle around your cock like a snake, when Tiffany almost reaches your base.

A particularly tight grip of her lips around your cock makes you thrust upwards a little. If you didn’t have yourself under control at that moment, that would’ve been it. You would’ve blown your load into her mouth without warning. But you do your best to keep your cool. You still have something to prove. Trying to think of something else, you close your eyes again. Maybe you should surprise her? Should you end this pleasurable torture and leave her heaven like mouth? But what would you do then? How would Tiffany react?

You hesitate. You’re afraid she might back off. Might call off this whole thing.

“Improvisation and surprise. That’s what draws a viewer in. Excitement.”

Your late father’s words suddenly echo through your head as you reach the verge of your orgasm. You don’t know how your mind got there. But as always, your father is right.

You reach forward and push Tiffany’s hair a little to the side, cupping her cheek. She leans into your palm a little, humming in acknowledgement. You brace yourself. Gone is your urge to shoot your load down Tiffany’s throat. For some reason, she has triggered your competitive spirit with the way she is sucking you off.

Tiffany lifts her head once more, her lips gliding across your cock. When she reaches your tip, you feel that tongue again. How it swirls around your tip. How she-

You stop yourself. You count to three inside your head. All or nothing.

A frown appears on Tiffany’s forehead as she feels you slowly pulling her off your cock. Her mouth is already empty when she looks towards you. You quickly wrap your legs around her torso. You feel her struggle for a second on instinct. But a second later, you already roll you both over. You land on top of Tiffany, who has a surprised look on her face. She didn’t expect you to be able to do this.

A grin appears on your lips as you steal a kiss from her.

“Since I saw you downstairs, I wanted to know what your pussy tastes like.”

You lean down and suck on Tiffany’s neck. A moan leaves her lips and you could swear she is smiling now.

“Do you always dress this sexy, when your daughter has friends over?”

Tiffany gasps. Not intentionally. She is very surprised by your change of attitude. She was able to tell that you weren’t as confident and experienced as the other men she's been with. She had been wondering if she made the right call. It was still weird to her to be doing this with a boy. With her neighbor’s son, to be exact. She felt how close you were to already cuming down her throat mere seconds ago.

But now, you’re on top of her. Tiffany feels how your lips slightly suck on her skin. How you give her neck small bites. Your free hand has moved to take a handful of her right breast, now squeezing it through her bra.

For a second, she wonders if this is all an act. An act to make the video as good as possible. But then again…

You couldn’t just do this without some sort of proper confidence.

Tiffany glances at your phone, making sure that you’re still doing that part of your job properly, before she completely lets you take over. She feels your control over her as your weight pins her to the mattress underneath her.

You quickly reach under her back and undo her bra with one hand. You practiced this long enough, after the first time with your ex. It took you way too long to take her bra off. Even with two hands. But your work pays off now. Tiffany lets out a sigh as she bites her lip, feeling your hand exposing her chest. Your lips move from her neck to her collarbone, while your free hand plays with her tits.

“Yes, baby.”

The woman underneath you moans into your ear. You move on from her neck soon enough, leaving a trail of kisses on your way to her chest. Once you reach her tits, your hand moves further down too. It glides over Tiffany’s tight tummy as you lick her breasts. You occasionally take a slightly brown nipple into your mouth and suck on it. Your actions make Tiffany arch her back into the air, further towards your lips and your tongue.

Meanwhile, your hand has reached her garter belt. You slip past it, feeling her belly button underneath your palm. As your fingertips touch the hem of her panties, you playfully bite into one of her nipples. Not hard. But the unexpected stimulation makes Tiffany moan out loud.

“Holy fuck!”

You are not as inexperienced as she thought you were. Your lips now follow your hand’s path, leaving Tiffany desperate for another bite.

Just as your fingertips graze her pussy lips underneath the red lace, you pull them away. You hear her breath hitch as you place your hand on her thigh. The milky white flesh feels soft, but firm at the same time. The red strap that connects her stockings to her belt is being pressed into your palm as Tiffany flexes her thighs. She feels your mouth coming closer. You record the place where your lips just were as you finally reach her panties. You lift your head, taking a moment to do a close up shot of her lace covered core. Glancing at her face, you see Tiffany’s red cheeks. Her aroused and slightly curious face makes you smile on the inside. You’re proud of yourself for making her crumble underneath your touches.

Moving your phone a little out of the way again, you lean forward. You plant a kiss on her panties, quickly inhaling her scent.

“You’re way too good at this.”

You wonder if that’s Tiffany who said that, or the character she is playing right now. Another kiss makes her hips buck in your direction.

“Don’t tease me.”

She sighs, giving you a desperate look, which you make sure to capture with your phone.

“Remember, you’re partially responsible for messing up my routine.”

You kiss her thigh instead, which makes her shake her head.

“No, please. You promised to make it up to me.”

Her desperate tone makes you give in. Your ex told you more than once how important foreplay is, so you always took it quite serious. But it seems like Tiffany has already had enough.

Because you can’t just take off her panties, you pull them to the side. A mouthwatering sight reveals itself to you as her slightly brown lips glisten with arousal. You quickly do another close up shot, but your excitement makes you cut it short. Soon, your lips kiss a circle around her lips as you already have a slight hint of her taste on them.

“You make me so wet.”

Another sigh from Tiffany as she reaches for a fistful of your hair. You feel her grab the phone, so you hand it over to her. You can’t see it, but you can almost feel how she films you, while you start to swipe your tongue over her folds. You do the same motion over and over again. Swiping your tongue from the bottom to the top. Whenever you come too close to her clit, Tiffany clamps her thighs together, letting a moan escape her lips. The only problem is, that your head is in between them. You use both your hands to take a hold of her thighs, not wanting to get crushed, as Tiffany moans and whines. You can’t believe that Yeji’s mother is making these sounds because of you. You never thought you would see her in only underwear, or naked ,or, specifically, her bare pussy.

You’re still trying to pinpoint what exactly Tiffany tastes like. Does her pussy taste like strawberries too? Just like her lips? Not really. It tastes a little different. You dive deeper, trying to get to the bottom of this. Your tongue now roams inside her velvet tunnel, making Tiffany’s head fall back. Her hand in your hair starts to make your scalp burn as she keeps tugging at it harder and harder. She keeps pressing your face right into her pussy as you lick and eat her out with all your might.

The sweet, but slightly salty taste of her juices invade your mouth, while you make Tiffany moan and gasp. Her state of mind switches constantly from surprise, to pure lust, to confusion, to arousal and back to surprise. She didn’t expect this at all from you.

Yes, it’s not the best oral sex she’s ever gotten. And your technique is a little sloppy. But Tiffany didn’t even expect you to have a technique. She thought you were too young. Too inexperienced to properly pleasure a woman like her. But you’re proving her wrong right now. The way your tongue glides along the insides of her pussy. The way it occasionally changes its path and gives her clit a flick. The way you bury your face deep into her core. Tiffany is pleasantly surprised at your visible love for her pussy. More often than not was she with guys, who never even bothered eating her out. And if they did, she felt like they were seeing it as a chore. But you seem to enjoy having your tongue buried deep inside her snatch.

Your effort and your pure intention to just make her feel good makes Tiffany mewl and shake. Her thighs close around your head again and again. Her hand pulls you further into her core.

She knows that you’re not quite there yet. Your work is enough to make her fall apart though. To moan your name and breathlessly beg for more. Tiffany wonders, with only a little bit of teaching, you could probably make her cum once or twice on a regular basis. The thought alone makes her pussy even wetter. But it also makes her long for you even more. She suddenly feels the great urge to properly feel you inside of her. She needs you to finally fill her with your cock.

“Need your cock, baby.”

Tiffany whines, her hand in your hair, gently pushing you off her cunt.

“Give it to me.”

She hands you your phone and you make sure her whole body is in focus once more. You kneel in front of her as you stroke your shaft, which is still wet from her earlier blowjob. You can’t help but feel excitement rush through your veins. Up until now, everything was perfect. You still can’t believe your luck. Two blowjobs and the opportunity to eat out Tiffany Hwang. Your attempt to make Yeji’s life hell has already proven to be more pleasurable than you could’ve ever imagined.

And now, you place your cock on top of her labia. Her juices glisten on her skin and you start to rub your cock against her lips.

“Oh, gosh. No teasing!”

Tiffany’s needy voice doesn’t stop you from building your own anticipation as high as possible. This is the moment you’ve dreamed of for years. You still remember the first time you touched yourself to Yeji’s mom. It was summer and you were invited to some neighbor’s garden party. Tiffany showed up in a very tight dress that showed off her ass and a very low cut neckline. Since that day, you imagined her so often while you-

Tiffany interrupts your thoughts by slinging her legs around your waist. The red fabric rubs against your skin as she takes your hand into hers, your cock now freely resting on top of her cleanly shaven cunt.

“Stop playing with me already, baby. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your world starts to spin as Tiffany pulls the same move that you pulled on her earlier. Once more, you’re lying on your back, while Tiffany sits on your lap. Her pussy still rubbing against your cock.

“You’ve got to learn this lesson, baby. “

Tiffany reaches down to stroke your shaft. Her face is marked with pleasure as her dominating stare seems to burn your soul.

“I’m not a patient woman. If I say I need cock, then I do mean I need cock.”

With those words, Tiffany lifts herself off your lap and positions herself right above your tip. Her labia grazes it once more and you feel her fingers hold your cock in place. You make sure your phone catches your cock penetrating her pussy. You almost let it slip out of your hand. It has been a while since you had sex with your ex. But even if you would have cum during the blowjob earlier, you would be just as close to your orgasm as you are now. Her velvet walls squeeze your tip as Tiffany lowers herself onto your cock.

“Oh my gosh!”

You hope the set up camera captures her face, because the only body parts you are able to move are your eyes. They switch between the sight of her pussy engulfing your cock, to watching how a high pitched moan leaves her mouth as she bites her lips, and back to your shaft disappearing inside her cunt.

“You’re so big inside me. I love your cock.”

Tiffany gasps as she slides down your shaft. The more she takes, the more strength the both of you need to keep it together. One of her hands has found itself entangled in her brown hair, messing it up as she tugs and pulls on it, trying to get accustomed to you being inside of her. Her other hand is pressed flat on your chest, giving her enough stability to keep sitting upright. Your own free hand can’t hold itself back anymore. You reach upwards to squeeze one of her breasts, which makes Tiffany’s head roll back.

Under heavy moans, she slowly begins to ride you. It is a fantastic show she is able to pull off. How her hips meet yours. How her waist moves when she rolls her hips a little. How her tits slightly bounce. How her red lips produce moan after moan.

And the feeling. You can’t really describe it. Your time with your ex now seems like a smudged water painting, while Tiffany’s ride makes you feel like looking at an 8k picture. Her slick cunt coats your cock with her juices. Her nails slightly dig into your chest. The stimuli that flood your brain seem to overload your mind.

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time you have to curse under your breath. Tiffany just lifted her legs a little, placing her instep on your thighs. You feel the red fabric rub against your skin. Most of her weight is now being supported by her knees on the mattress and her hand on your chest. Tiffany leans over, showing off her tight tummy to the camera, while her hair falls into her face.

You raise your upper body and capture one of her nipples with your mouth.

“Gosh, yes!”

By now, both her hands have found their place on your chest. Tiffany keeps her slightly bent over position as she keeps bouncing on your cock. Her smooth walls make your cock as hard as it has never been before. You eagerly suck on her tits as you aim your phone at her pussy. The sounds of her cheeks clapping against your lap fills the room, accompanied by her moans and an occasional groan from you. Your hand, which was fondling her tits, is now right above her pussy. Your thumb flicks against her clit. The result is louder moaning. An increase of pace in her riding. And visibly more scratch marks than before.

You actually manage to drive Tiffany towards her orgasm. Which quickly proves to be a bad thing for you. Her cunt squeezes you harder with every flick of your thumb against her clit. She now slams herself down all the way to your base, making her pussy take every last inch of you. Now you’re close too.

“Damn, you have such a nice pussy.”

You manage to say through your teeth, trying to hold in the inevitable. Tiffany pulls off a satisfied smile. But her focus is certainly needed elsewhere. She can’t believe you’re actually able to hold out this long. For a second, she thought you were gonna cum after only a minute, when she saw your reaction to your cock disappearing inside of her. Now she is on the verge of her own orgasm. She can feel you twitch inside of her. Your face tells her that the two of you either cum together, or no one cums. Tiffany decides on the latter. The video isn’t finished yet. If you want to make more appearances in the future, she will need to test you a little more. So far, your cock definitely qualifies. But what about your fucking? She has been the only one working hard up until now.

Tiffany slows down drastically. It unintentionally makes you thrust upwards once or twice, before you have yourself under control. Tiffany leans further down, her mouth now next to your ear.

“Time to work me out properly.”

You turn your head slightly, pulling Tiffany into another kiss. Your lips stay locked for a while as her hips slowly move in circles around your dick.

“Get on all fours.”

Tiffany was about to suggest the next position, but you beat her to it. A satisfied smile plays around her lips as she slowly gets off you.

“That’s right, baby. Make me take your cock like a slut.”

Her words trigger something primal in you. Maybe that was her intention anyway.

As soon as Tiffany is in position, you kneel behind her. Your phone captures how you slap both her ass cheeks once, before squeezing them softly.

A moan echoes through the room as Tiffany feels her cheeks burn up after another spank. She directly faces the camera, standing on the tripod, right at the edge of the bed. She could touch it, if she stretched out her arm. She bites her lip as she feels you aligning your cock with her pussy. You rub your tip against her labia again, teasing her a little.

“You’re such a bad boy.”

Tiffany sighs, feeling how you barely graze her pussy. She secretly loves how you tease her. You turn her into a begging slut in front of the camera.

“Oh yes! Right there!”

Tiffany lets out a loud moan, when you finally do push inside her again. Your hand automatically glides over her slightly arched back. You marvel at how smooth her skin feels, while her walls pull you further into her. You take a hold of her red lace garterbelt, slightly twisting the fabric to use it as a makeshift rein. You pull her onto your cock, while thrusting forward.

“Oh lord!”

Tiffany lets out a surprised yelp, surprised by you suddenly bottoming out inside of her. You quickly settle in a rhythm that works for you and start to fuck Tiffany from behind. Moans spill from her lips, her fists open and close around her sheets, her feet shuffle around as you use her pussy. Her insides feel just as good as when she rode you a moment ago. But now that you had a taste of her warm depth, you start to become greedy. You want to go as deep into her body as you can. You want to feel how her body completely swallows your cock. How her labia stretches around your shaft.

You put some pressure with your hand on her back. It makes Tiffany arch her back further, her upper body getting closer to the mattress. Her body’s center of gravity moves forward, which lifts her feet off the mattress. Once more, Tiffany’s clothed insteps touch your body. They rest on your hips, which makes her ass look even rounder. You can feel yourself now being able to just push that little bit deeper into her. It makes you increase your pace and you keep pushing her further down.

Finally, Tiffany’s head rests on the mattress. She still tries to keep eye contact with the camera. She does her best fuck-me face. Biting her lower lip, frowning, her eyes only half open. But she can’t keep it up for long. Your thrusts into her cunt makes her feet, which are pressed against your hips, hit her ass. With every thrust, her heels dig into her cheeks.

“Gosh, baby! You’re so deep! I-”

Tiffany’s sentence is interrupted by another loud moan, when you reach down to grab one of her arms. You put it on her back and make her close her hand around her garterbelt. You do the same with the second one. Now, Tiffany’s face is buried in the sheets, her muffled moans are only barely audible over your hips smacking against her ass. You know that her viewers would love to see her pleasure wrecked face though. At least you would.

You reach out to grab a fistful of her hair and make it into a makeshift ponytail. You lift her head by pulling at it.

“Oh fuck!”

Tiffany greets you with a loud cry as she feels you fucking her as deep as you possibly can.

“That’s it, baby!”

You feel her cunt tightening around you, whenever you pull on her hair a little. Her upper body is completely in the air, only supported by your grip on her hair and her own hands on her garterbelt. Her back still shows off a beautiful arch though and you can see a small trail of sweat run down towards her ass.

“Fuck me harder!”

Tiffany whines loudly as you keep using your control over her entire body to pleasure yourself. She has given up trying to look sexy for the camera for a while now. Her mouth is now just hanging open, her tongue slightly visible as she takes your pounding from behind.

“Fucking use my pussy!”

You feel it tighten at her own words. You’re surprised how much she is enjoying it. You really hope you’re proving to her that this was a great idea.

“Make me your bitch! Yes!”

Tiffany cries out as you bottom out in her cunt again and again. A strand of her hair has escaped your fingers and is now swinging to your rhythm on the right side of her face.

“Fill me with this young cock!”

Her moans get louder and louder. But unfortunately, you are starting to reach your breaking point once more. There isn’t much left in you. You have to admit that your muscles are starting to grow tired. Your ability to hold back your orgasm becomes weaker. Letting a shaky breath escape your lips, you let go of Tiffany’s hair. She falls face first into the mattress, accompanied by a surprised yelp.

“You’re way too tight, Ms Hwang. I’m gonna cum soon.”

Before she can react properly, you turn her over. Tiffany manages to take her hands off the garterbelt, before she lies on her back. Her messed up hair hides parts of her face as she looks up at you with anticipation. Before you started recording, the two of you decided on how to end your sex scene. As much as you would’ve liked to cum in her mouth again, or maybe even inside her pussy, her suggestion wasn’t that bad either.

Now that she is lying in a missionary position in front of you, you grab the red lace around her waist once more. Your phone is focused on her whole body yet again, as you begin your final sprint towards the end. Her stocking covered legs wrap around your hips, keeping you in place. She doesn’t even have to do that. Nothing in this world could stop you from fucking her right now. You watch how your entire cock penetrates her pretty lips again and again. Her smooth skin around her cunt glistens with sweat and her own juices. Pulling Tiffany towards you, using the garterbelt, has you penetrate her as deep as possible yet again.

You feel your cock starting to throb. And judging by the increasing volume of her moans, so does she.

“Yeah! Cum on me, baby!”

“Fuck.”

You grunt in response, unable to hold yourself back as you fuck her as hard and deep as possible.

“Paint me! Make me your bitch!”

You know you won’t last a moment longer. You feel a familiar pull and you quickly try to pull out of Tiffany’s warm cunt. Almost too late. A second later, you cum on her pussy.

“Oh yes, baby. Claim my pussy.”

A groan leaves your mouth. Stars dance around in front of your eyes. Your knees buckle. You do your best, to keep your eyes open. You want to see what you did to Tiffany.

Her pussy is covered in your cum, her slightly brown lips sticky with semen. A small trail runs down her skin, heading towards her ass and the sheets.

The both of you are trying to catch your breath, once you finally finish. You keep recording her, showing how Tiffany’s tits and her stomach move up and down, before you do a close up shot of her cum covered cunt.

“Oh my gosh.”

You hear her sigh, a satisfied smile on her face. You watch and record how Tiffany reaches down and starts to play with your cum on her pussy. She slowly rubs her clit and occasionally lets a finger disappear inside her cunt.

“You can turn it off now.”

You look at her and stop the recording. Staying silent, you wait for her verdict, although it seemed like she was satisfied with your performance.

“Not bad for a boy. I could see us doing this again.”

You can’t hide your wide smile, excitement washing through your body.

“But if you lied to me and this kind of theme doesn’t help me at all…”

“It will.”

You sound surprisingly confident. But then again, who wouldn’t be, after experiencing possibly the best sex in your life.

Tiffany nods and starts to get off the bed. You do the same, but you can’t help but glance at her, while the two of you get dressed.

“Let's do the ending scene.”

Tiffany has slipped her panties back to their original place, put on her bra and thrown her silk robe over her shoulders.

The two of you now stand in front of the door, just like you planned earlier. You make sure that Tiffany is in focus, before hitting the record button once more. She opens the door a little, but then looks at the camera.

“I hope my daughter has another sleepover soon. I would hate it, if I would have to wait too long for you to come back.”

“Don’t worry, Ms Hwang. I’m sure she will do one again on her birthday.”

“Oh! You’re right.”

An excited smile plays around Tiffany’s lips.

Then, she steps closer, her face almost touching yours. Her eyes become seductive once more.

“I won’t be able to wait till morning though, if I know you’re sleeping in the next room.”

She takes your free hand and guides it towards her core. Your fingers dive underneath her panties. You make sure that the camera captures that.

“I’m gonna try to sneak out as soon as I can. But we stayed up very late yesterday. I doubt we will go to bed earlier next time.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Her hand reaches down, cupping your balls.

“The possibility is very slim. But if I do fall asleep early…”

Tiffany whispers, before kissing your cheekbone, her hand now stroking your cock over your pants.

“Don’t bother waking me up.”

Her voice becomes barely audible as she looks directly into your eyes, her other hand pushing your finger deep inside of her.

“Just put it in.”

“Fuck, yes!”

You whisper, when you see that Tiffany has sent you a video. It's almost midnight and you’re lying in your bed, about to go to sleep. You have actual footage of you, fucking Yeji’s mom. After years and years of fights and humiliation, you finally hold the ultimate weapon in your hand. You know that Yeji will be at Eunha’s party tomorrow. Now, you only need a plan for getting the video to her.

------------------

Hello everyone!

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new series "SNSD Village". There will be many more epsidoes to come, so please stay tuned. I will post the polls, which can infleunce the next chapter, later.

Stay healthy, everyone!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #snsd village #snsd smut #snsd tiffany #snsd #girls generation tiffany #girls generation #girls generation smut #tiffany young #tiffany #eunha #jisoo #yuri #minju #yeji

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livebeforeyoulearn · 12 days ago

Text

Truth in Your Lies

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You haven’t seen Alexia in years and when you catch a glimpse of her at a party, you try not to go back to her, but she’s just too irresistible.

Request

Your girlfriend’s fingers linger on yours, squeezing gently before slipping away as she leans in close. “I’ll be back,” she says softly, a reassuring smile lighting her face. But then she’s gone, her presence dissolving into the pulsing crowd, leaving you standing alone at a party you never wanted to come to in the first place. You watch her disappear into the throng, catching glimpses of her between bodies, a flash of her hair, a corner of her smile, until she vanishes altogether, engulfed by the sea of unfamiliar faces.

The room is filled with people who all seem to know each other, intertwined in a web of friendships and stories that don’t include you. They’re her friends, people she’s known for years, people who hold pieces of her past that you only know in fragments. You wonder how she can be so at ease here, moving comfortably between strangers, while you’re on the outside looking in, detached and uninterested.

Resigning yourself to a long night, you turn towards the drinks table, feeling the prickle of awkwardness settle into your skin. You pour yourself something, letting the cup fill slowly, hoping it will keep you busy, hoping it will make the night blur by. Taking a sip, you scan the room with vague curiosity, hoping for a glimpse of her. But the crowd remains indifferent and unfamiliar.

Setting your drink down, you consider finding somewhere quieter, a corner to retreat to until your girlfriend returns. But as you turn, your gaze catches on a figure across the room, someone you recognise instantly, someone who pulls a breath straight from your lungs. You freeze, eyes locking on her. Alexia. She looks almost exactly as you remember her – the same sharp gaze, the same self-assured posture. Your eyes trail, unbidden, to the smooth skin exposed by her crop top, and memories rush back unfiltered, vivid memories of moments when you were close enough to touch. You didn’t mean to look, but it’s too late; your gaze lingers just a second too long, and by the time you meet her eyes, she’s already noticed. Her gaze is steady, a smirk tilting her lips as if she knows exactly what’s running through your mind.

Before she can cross the room, before she can make her way over to you, you turn sharply, the need for distance almost overwhelming. You hurry towards the bathroom, your heartbeat quickening with each step. The door swings open under your hand, and you step into the empty room, letting the stillness swallow you. You close your eyes briefly, feeling the tension in your shoulders, the tension in the room, all centering on the fact that Alexia is here. After all this time, she’s here.

Your eyes open, and you stare at your reflection. You haven’t seen her in years, but there’s no denying the effect she still has on you, the way her presence digs up old memories you thought were buried. Things between you two hadn’t ended on terrible terms, but they hadn’t been good, either. It was a time when you were struggling, questioning yourself and your own worth, tangled in doubts that made it hard to love yourself, let alone someone else. She’d been patient, tried to understand, but she couldn’t hold onto you forever – not when you were pulling away, struggling in a place she couldn’t reach. Eventually, she’d let go, and you’d parted ways, leaving behind a bittersweet memory that lingered somewhere in the back of your mind. She was once your everything, your biggest love. And now, suddenly, here she is, the embodiment of your past, standing just a room away.

You feel it, this twist of emotion in your chest. You don’t want to go back out there. You don’t want to risk seeing her face again, don’t want your girlfriend near her. Tonight, you realise, might be one of the hardest in a long while.

The door opens, and your stomach drops. Your eyes lift to the mirror, knowing even before you look that it’s her. Alexia. Of course, she’d follow. You turn slowly, watching as she steps inside, the door clicking shut behind her. Her eyes meet yours, calm but curious.

“Y/N,” she murmurs, your name slipping from her lips like a memory, settling around you in that way it used to, filling every quiet space. Her voice is warm, gentle, and the sound alone makes your chest tighten, sending a pang of recognition through you that you hadn’t expected. She takes a careful step forwards, her gaze steady as you instinctively lean back, gripping the edge of the sink for grounding, the cold metal biting into your palms.

“Alexia,” you manage, though your voice wavers.

She studies you, her eyes searching before softening her expression into something tender. “I didn’t think I’d see you here,” she says quietly, her voice gentle, unchanging, the same tone she used to reserve just for you. It’s as if, in this moment, nothing has shifted between you, as if no time has passed at all.

“Me neither.” You’re trying to keep yourself together, to stay composed in the face of the emotions stirring inside. But the way her eyes hold yours, unwavering, familiar, it makes you want to break. You thought you were over her, thought you’d left all of this behind, but here you are, barely holding steady.

She takes another step forwards, the distance between you shrinking. You should feel the need to pull back, to maintain a safe distance, but you don’t. You stand rooted, and the realisation makes your stomach turn. You’re in a committed relationship; you’re not supposed to feel this way, not supposed to want to stay in this moment.

“Alexia, why are you here?” you ask, your voice low, barely above a whisper.

“I was invited,” she shrugs, stopping just in front of you, her eyes holding yours, steady and sincere.

“No, I mean why are you here?” you clarify, gesturing to the small space, the tightness of the room closing in around you both.

She watches you for a moment, and then her hand lifts, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her fingers grazing your cheek, lingering. “I saw you come in… and I wanted to see you. I missed you,” she admits, her voice barely more than a breath. Her hand stays on your cheek, and the softness in her eyes pulls at you, tugging you back to a time when things were simpler, when you were hers.

Her gaze darkens with a look you recognise, one you’ve seen a hundred times before. It’s that look that tells you she’s holding back, that she’s only a step away from reaching out, from claiming what she wants. You feel yourself hoping, irrationally, that you’re wrong, that she doesn’t want what you think she does.

But then her hand slides down, resting on your hip, her thumb grazing over the fabric of your dress. You shift under her touch, uncomfortable but transfixed, unable to break away. “Alexia, I have a girlfriend,” you say, your voice barely audible, laced with guilt as your gaze falls to the place where her hand rests on your hip.

A small smile flickers across her lips, her gaze sparking with amusement. “You’re embarrassed to admit that,” she murmurs, a teasing edge to her tone. You look up at her, brows furrowing in confusion, and she elaborates, “You’re blushing… unless it’s something else?” Her hand tightens ever so slightly.

You widen your eyes in surprise, and her smile shifts into a smirk, confident and knowing.

“Tell me to stop,” she whispers, her voice low and steady, leaning closer until her face is just inches from yours. Her breath warms your skin, and the nearness of her is dizzying. You know you should push her away, tell her this can’t happen. But your voice catches, and the words refuse to come, and then her lips press against yours.

It feels so familiar, the way her lips move against yours, like no time has passed, like she’s picking up where you left off. Your heart pounds as you kiss her back, the memories flooding back, overwhelming you. You think about why you and Alexia ended things, why it couldn’t work then and why it won’t work now. This shouldn’t be happening, you know it.

Your hand presses against her chest, and she lets out a soft, breathless sound, one you catch before pushing her back. She stumbles slightly, her chest heaving, her lips red and kiss-bitten, and her eyes meet yours, arrogant and unbothered.

“I need to go,” you mumble, slipping past her.

“Y/N,” she calls after you, her voice echoing as she follows. You glance around, hoping to see your girlfriend, but there’s no sign of her, and the only escape you can see is the door.

You push through it, stepping into the cool night air. It washes over you, a brief moment of clarity, a chance to breathe. But the door opens behind you, and her voice follows, calling your name one last time. You turn, meeting her eyes, crossing your arms tightly, bracing yourself.

She steps closer, her expression shifting to a playful frown. “It’s too late now,” she says, a slight taunt in her voice, as if she’s already won. “You kissed me. You can’t undo it.” She watches your reaction, savouring it, enjoying the way her words linger. “No matter what you tell her – that I kissed you, that you didn’t want it – she’ll be upset. Won’t she?”

The truth of her words stings, and you nod unwillingly, the weight of it all sinking in.

“So why are you running away?” she asks, voice soft, her eyes still sharp.

For a moment, you’re lost, no answer to give her, and her smirk only widens, her victory clear. She steps closer, leaning in, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “Come back to mine.”

Caught in the pull of her words, Alexia’s lips hover just above yours, her breath warm and mingling with yours, her proximity blurring the lines between her presence and your own. Your heart pounds erratically, each beat heavier than the last, and it feels as though she’s drawing the air straight from your lungs. Her body presses close, and before your mind can catch up, you’re here – naked and vulnerable, lying back on her bed, gazing up at her as she stands before you. The strap around her hips catches your eye, a sight that makes your throat tighten and your stomach clench. Her gaze drinks you in, reverent yet smouldering, the intensity making your skin prickle under her scrutiny.

The guilt simmers in your stomach, a steady, aching weight that you can’t ignore, yet it doesn’t deter you, doesn’t make you pull back. It’s wrong – you know it is – but the pull is undeniable. You came here with her, agreed to this, let yourself be drawn back into her orbit despite the consequences. Your girlfriend’s face flashes in your mind, bringing a brief wave of shame, but it’s immediately overshadowed by the thundering of your heart as you look at Alexia. She does something to you, stirs a part of you that no one else can touch. With her, everything feels heightened, intensified – a rush you can’t replicate, a connection that feels almost supernatural, as if she’s an entirely different form, something more than just human.

She moves with a deliberate slowness, climbing onto the bed and settling herself between your parted knees, her hands soft but commanding as they rest atop your thighs. She leans forwards, her lips brushing one knee, then the other. Her eyes never leave yours, she knows, without needing to ask, the effect she has on your body, the control she still holds over you, and a small smile – a real smile, not a smirk – breaks across her face as she takes in the evidence of your desire for her.

“Does your girlfriend ever make you this wet?” she asks, her voice low and teasing. You feel a wave of heat rush to your cheeks, a soft whimper escaping you in reply as you squirm beneath her, the truth laying bare in your response. Embarrassment swells within you, but it’s powerless against the desire that pulses through your veins. Alexia’s smile widens, her white teeth flashing as her fingers glide up and down the inside of your thighs, each stroke making you shiver and tense under her touch. The feeling is overwhelming, almost dizzying, her hands on you after so long bringing back memories that blur with the present, memories that make you wonder if you’re even awake or dreaming.

She leans down, her lips soft and warm as they press against the sensitive skin along your thigh, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. “Does she fuck you like I do?” Her voice is a taunting whisper that makes your breath hitch, and you shake your head without a word, unable to deny her. A low, appreciative hum slips from her lips, and she places a small, teasing bite on the skin just above your knee, the sharp sensation making you gasp, your hips bucking in reflex.

“No?” She presses, a teasing lilt to her tone as she looks up at you.

“No,” you manage to breathe out, barely a whisper. Her lips curl, satisfaction in her eyes as she leans back down, her mouth tracing over the bite she left, her tongue soothing the skin with languid, deliberate strokes. She works her way up, her lips grazing over each inch of sensitive skin, until she’s almost where you need her most, placing a featherlight kiss just above. Her movements are excruciatingly slow, so familiar, yet so tantalising, a pace she knows you crave. She remembers everything. Each kiss, each caress, is a deliberate reminder of how deeply she once knew you, how deeply she still does.

And with her so close, every touch, every breath between you carries something you’ve missed more than you’d ever admit. Your heart beats erratically, its rhythm matching the intensity with which you’ve yearned for this feeling again. This closeness, this intimacy, the way she knows how to unravel you piece by piece. It’s intoxicating, the taste of nostalgia mixed with the present, making you feel almost like you’re hers again.

When Alexia’s tongue finally finds the spot you’ve been aching for, a sigh slips from your lips, your fingers threading into her hair, pulling her closer as she kisses, sucks, and grazes her teeth against you with an expertise that’s almost dizzying. Her fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as she presses her mouth to your most sensitive spot, making your chest rise, your breath catching with every movement.

She groans softly, the vibration humming against you, your mind and body caught in a whirl of sensations, barely able to process the reality of this moment. Your legs begin to tremble, your hips moving in sync with her, each movement drawing you closer, until her finger slips inside, pushing you over that edge. Her name escapes your lips, breathless and longing, a sound that feels almost right, as if it belongs there, as if you’re meant to call out for her.

She doesn’t let go, guiding you through the high, her tongue and fingers lingering until the sensations subside, until you’re left breathless and dazed beneath her. When she finally pulls away, she doesn’t break her connection with you, her lips pressing a gentle, almost reverent kiss just above your hip before trailing up your body.

When she reaches your chest, you let your head fall back onto the pillow, giving into the pleasure of her mouth enclosing around you. Her lips are soft yet relentless, each pull of her mouth deliberate, leaving marks that bloom under her touch, claiming you in ways you know will leave you marked tomorrow. Each one reminds you of the impossible explanation you’ll have to offer later, but in this moment, it doesn’t matter.

As she reaches your neck, you tilt your head instinctively, offering her more. She lingers, her breath warm and tantalising, and you can feel the curve of her smirk pressing into your skin, owning the space she’s found. Her mouth dances over your pulse, teasing, nipping, leaving her presence imprinted on your skin like a map, leading you back to her, as if she knows you aren’t supposed to be hers and is claiming you anyways.

Your hands thread through her hair, fingers brushing against her scalp, the sigh leaving your lips as you surrender fully to her. Each time her mouth grazes your neck, it’s a reminder that you’re beyond return, bound to her in a way that feels fated.

“You still feel so good,” she murmurs, her voice a low hum against your neck, punctuated by a playful nip, her lips hovering close enough for you to feel the warmth of her breath. “Still taste so good.” Her gaze drifts down between your bodies as she presses the strap against you, letting the tip brush along your slick skin, eliciting a whimper from you.

It feels like time slows as she finally inches inside, her lip caught between her teeth, her gaze never leaving where you connect. You drink in every part of her – her toned torso, the mesmerising push and pull between your bodies, the way her hair falls messily over her shoulders, the look of unfiltered desire etched across her face. You press your hands against her stomach, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath your fingertips as she sinks deeper, her hips setting a languid, almost torturous rhythm, pressing into the spot that only she knows how to reach.

Her lips find their way back to your neck, planting feverish kisses, sucking at your pulse points, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Your hands wander across her back and her sides, feeling the definition in her muscles, tracing the curves that you’ve missed. She’s close, her body holding yours firmly, moving with the exact, practised confidence that only comes from knowing you so intimately.

She holds herself steady on her elbows, her hips driving into you with slow, purposeful thrusts. You feel lightheaded, immersed in the sensations flooding your body, and the way her lips press against your neck, her breath warm against your skin, adds to the overwhelming pleasure enveloping you.

“Fuck, Ale. You feel so good,” you manage to whisper, but your words come out broken, choked off by a moan.

Her hum against your neck vibrates against your skin before she tucks her face into the crook of your shoulder. You pull her even closer, your nails tracing gentle paths up and down her back, grounding yourself in the rhythm of her body against yours. She’s careful and deliberate, each thrust aligning with your heartbeat, the slow, sensual rhythm pulling you deeper into the connection until it feels like she’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

She knows your body as if it’s second nature, every movement designed to push you closer, her hips maintaining a pace that’s maddeningly perfect. Each shift, each slight increase in force has you gripping her, your nails pressing deeper into her skin. She feels it, and her response is immediate, her hips quickening to match the surge building inside you. Her teeth graze your shoulder, a contrast to the gentle slide of her hand down between your bodies, her fingers tracing over your clit with a touch that’s as calculated as it is devastating.

It’s the spark that sends you over, the sensation so consuming that it takes every sense with it, leaving you clinging to her in utter surrender. She guides you through it, her whispers soft against your ear, grounding you as her lips trace delicate paths along your skin, her presence anchoring you through each wave that rolls through.

Finally, as your breathing slows, you press a soft kiss to her temple, your lips lingering as you inhale her scent, letting yourself exist here, if only for this moment. She returns the tenderness, pressing her mouth to your neck, her arms tightening around you as she holds you close, as if neither of you wants to let go.

After a moment of resting in each other's arms, Alexia slowly lifts herself onto her knees between your legs. Her hands rest on your stomach, her thumbs tracing gentle, soothing circles that calm you both. There's a deep contentment in her gaze, her eyes reflecting the unspoken joy of being with you again, of rediscovering this closeness. Still catching your breath, you sit up, feeling a warmth in your chest as your hands reach to cup her face, drawing her down into a kiss that’s fiercer than the last few shared, a kiss that says all the things you can’t put into words.

You moan into her mouth, and her response is immediate as her tongue meets yours, asserting her familiar dominance. You know her tendencies well – she loves being in control, taking the lead, guiding the night as if it’s a dance only she can command. But tonight, after all the time without her, after the distance you’ve both endured, you feel a deep need to have her, to truly make her yours.

“Alexia, please,” you begin, letting her forehead rest against yours as you catch your breath. “If we’re going to do this… let me,” you murmur, your hand trailing down her chest and across her stomach, finding the harness that kept you connected and carefully undoing it. She doesn’t resist; instead, she helps, lifting her hips slightly, an easy smile breaking across her face as she nods.

“Okay,” she whispers, her gaze warm and trusting. You can’t help but mirror her smile, feeling something new settle between you – a mutual surrender.

She lies back, her smirk never fading as she watches you straddle her, her eyes roaming over your body with open admiration. You feel validated under her gaze, alive, the heat of her eyes sparking something wild in you.

Her hands find your hips, and the firmness in her grip is grounding, making you feel completely hers as you lean down, connecting your lips to hers in a kiss that’s all heat and hunger. Teeth and tongues clash as you both fight for control, your fingers tangling in her hair once more, pulling slightly, drawing a low groan from her that sends a shiver through you.

Your lips leave hers to trail along her jaw, then down her neck, your teeth grazing her skin, tasting her, marking her as you go. You cover her chest, her abs, her hips, and her thighs with your own trail of marks – a mix of payback and pure indulgence. Each kiss, each bite, leaves a reminder of your presence, a tangible declaration that she’s yours. And she loves it, her smirk unwavering, revelling in each mark as if wearing them proudly.

Alexia is quieter than you in bed, her breaths controlled, but when your mouth finally reaches her clit, her inhale is sharp. Her hand drifts down, pushing back your hair so she can see you, her head tilting with that captivating focus of hers. You reach up to take her hand in yours, threading your fingers together – a simple, yet intimate gesture that feels like a promise you’re too far gone to break.

As your tongue begins to work, her fingers tighten around yours, each stroke drawing a deeper reaction from her. Her other hand, tangled in your hair, tightens its grip as her hips press into your mouth, grinding in perfect rhythm. She’s trying to hold herself back, but the way her body responds, the way her breathing becomes shallow, tells you she’s close.

“Fuck–” she chokes, cutting herself off with a shaky breath, her voice low and urgent. “Right there,” she gasps, her command clear, and you obey, keeping the rhythm steady, guiding her closer to release.

Her legs begin to shake as the tension peaks, her moans soft but growing in intensity. She clutches you tightly, her nails digging into your skin as her release overtakes her, her entire body arching beneath your touch.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, voice breathless, her grip on you possessive. You smile against her, keeping your mouth on her as the aftershocks pulse through her, savouring every moment, every sound, every taste. When her breathing steadies, you pull back, the taste of her still lingering.

Her eyes flutter open, and she looks up at you with a softness that pulls a smile from you both. For a moment, you simply stare, sharing a silent joy that bubbles over until laughter escapes you, warm and unrestrained. It’s absurd, maybe, to laugh like this under these circumstances, but with her, happiness feels so effortless that you can’t help it. It’s as if nothing else matters; there’s only her, this insatiable warmth that fills the space between you.

She rolls to her side, her gaze unwavering as you follow suit, lying beside her. Her arm slides around your waist, pulling you closer, and her thumb begins a gentle sweep over your hip. There’s something nervous in her eyes, her teeth catching her bottom lip before she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Please don’t go back to her.” The words are laden with vulnerability, and a flicker of fear shadows her expression. She’s afraid of losing you, of this moment fading into a memory.

You reach out, brushing a few strands of her hair back, fingers grazing her cheek. “I have to,” you murmur, your voice soft, letting your hand linger to offer some comfort. Her face falls just a little, but she shakes her head, the desperation unmistakable.

“No, you don’t.” Her voice grows firmer, each word a plea. “You could stay… here, with me. Forever.” Her eyes glisten, and the pull between desire and responsibility feels like it might tear you in two.

A small, bittersweet smile tugs at your lips, a spark of hope lighting up her eyes in response, like she believes this smile could mean you’ll choose her. She’s finding her own ways to convince you, to hold onto what you both share.

“You said it yourself – she doesn’t make you feel the way I do,” she adds, her voice soft yet resolute.

“I know.” The truth settles in the air, and you find yourself looking away, conflicted. You draw in a slow breath, eyes meeting hers again as you exhale, seeing nothing but tenderness reflected back. It’s impossible not to feel pulled towards her, to want nothing but her in these moments.

You bite your lip, leaning down to kiss her, drawn back to her touch. And with that kiss, it’s as if the night reawakens, as if all the words unspoken can be translated in touch alone. What was and what could be blurs into one, and nothing else feels real.

By morning, you know what you have to do. You end the relationship that has been holding you back, choosing to follow the only path that makes sense. Your love for Alexia feels undeniable, as if fate has always intended for your hearts to meet like this, intertwined.

#alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso one shot #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso smut

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animasola86 · 27 days ago

Text

🐺 A FILLING EXPERIENCE

knotting!dildo x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 9.8k

You were a little drunk and very horny when you browsed the website looking for a new sex toy. When your order arrives, however, you feel like you did something very wrong. Or did you? Maybe it'll grow on you? (Not sure that's a good thing, though.) Prepare for a wild ride.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Sex toys! Possessed sex toys. Masturbation. Knotting. Referenced werewolves. Referenced A/B/O dynamics. Possession. Vaginal sex. Breeding. Memory loss. (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: The prompt was "knotting, masturbation, sex toys". The pairing is what it is. For a reference picture of the star of the show (aka the dildo) check it on AO3! (Also, very surprisingly, but this is not an ad for Bad Dragon, I swear.)

You spend a whole minute staring at the item you just pulled out of the unassuming box. The sheer size of it both makes your head spin and mouth very, very dry (at the same time, you feel a growing wetness somewhere much lower). Wow. Just wow. What is that thing? You're absolutely sure you ordered it in a different size, the smallest to be exact, so this can't be right.

Licking your lips, you blink, focusing back on the packaging. There isn't anything on the box, but you find a little sheet of paper next to the satin bag it came with. The dimensions listed make you frown. Putting the hefty item back on your desk, you fumble for the ruler you keep in one of the drawers. Then you start measuring the damn thing.

It's almost nine inches long, if you dismiss the large base that holds it steady to any surface. The head is the smallest part, two inches wide and tapered, the shaft flares out then, you measure two and a half inches in width, sloping into a soft curve lined with ridges and little nubs, before the main attraction protrudes in a rather menacing way: the knot, two bulbous bumps, and they even added thick veins to the design. Your hand is shaking when you put the ruler next to it. Three point five six inches wide.

That's a lot. Way too much. This will never fit inside you. Ever.

And still you are intrigued. Of course you are, you ordered that dildo for a reason, even if it came in the wrong size. (You could return it, you know that, but it's been a thrill to order it in the first place, so sending it back seems like too much of a hassle.) But just seeing it now, sitting heavy on your desk, with your small hand resting beside it, with its intricate and strangely realistic textures, it looks too intimidating.

You've read these werewolf stories where some fair maiden stumbles through the forest and ends up getting relentlessly knotted by the monster (or the more modern versions of some alpha male knotting his omega mate to help them through their heat, which always fascinated you a little more because it seemed not as fantastical). The idea to have something big inside you, filling you, stretching you out, and then something even bigger holding you in place, making it impossible to move, gives you chills, in the good way.

You may have been a little drunk and very horny when you ordered this fantasy dildo, but seeing it now, in the “flesh”, makes you very anxious. This was a stupid purchase. It won't be the same anyway. It's just the disembodied dick of a creature that doesn't exist in the first place. You'll be stuffed, sure, but you'll miss the warmth and the strength of whoever this would be attached to.

You sigh. Well, nothing you can do about it. You neither have a boyfriend to test this out with nor do you possess any magical abilities to make that fantasy come true, and as of right now, you don't see yourself using the damn thing anyway. It's too large (your other dildos look downright puny in comparison), and you are too small.

Despite it all, it is mesmerizing you. You chose a deep midnight blue as the color, that blends from a lighter blue at the tip into an almost black at the base, which makes it look slightly slimmer than it is. Slowly you move your hand up and close it around the curved shaft, well, you try, your fingers are too short to reach all the way around. You still slide your palm along the ridges and bumps, feeling the firm smooth silicone. It gives way in some places, you can bend it just a little bit, but when your hand reaches the knot, those bulbs feel almost a little too rigid.

You squeeze them, watching your knuckles blanching, knowing you will never have the same grip with your pussy. Warmth rushes into your cheeks at the thought. Biting your lip, you keep stroking the strange toy, getting a feel for it, trying to imagine how it would fit inside you. With how hefty the base is, you would have to put it on the ground and lower yourself onto it, which sounds like a workout you're not so sure you'd like.

But maybe the base comes off and you can use it like a regular dildo, snuggled into bed, hidden under your blanket? You lift the thing up and try to twist the base, but nothing happens. Hmm. At least it's sturdy. You find a little hole at the bottom, and you remember you ordered it with a... what did they call it, cumtube? Sounds weird, but it's just a long tube you can fill with cum-like lube that shoots out at some point? You're not too clear on the workings of that. But the idea to be filled by something warm and sticky makes your stomach tense up in anticipation.

Shifting on your chair, you inhale sharply and pull your hand away from the dark blue item. Well, this is not going to happen, not now. Maybe never. The idea is nice, but you don't see it being too pleasurable in reality. So you pack it up into its unassuming black satin bag along with the bottle of lube and the long tube it came with, and store it in the lowest drawer of your desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

Or so you hope.

When you go to bed that night, you see the large dildo in your mind's eye, and you recall these smutty stories, you imagine the grunts of the werewolf as he fucks the poor woman beneath him, rutting into her like the feral creature he is. And how she screams when he bottoms out, pressing all those inches into her, forcing his knot to stretch her entrance, how her pussy lips grip around it and pull it further inside. You have your hand between your legs as you try to imagine what it must feel like to be this full, to be bred and filled, with nowhere to go, stuck on those bulging bulbs.

A moan escapes you as your body shudders. You could try it. You have the hardware. It's right there. You just have to get up and get it... But you're too cozy in bed, under your warm blanket, with your fingers rubbing hard circles around your clit. You end up coming to the idea of it, and that's enough for you. Content with your heart racing, you exhale loudly, wiping your wet fingers on your thigh before you snuggle into the bedding and close your eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Maybe not as dreamless as you've hoped. You wake up the next morning with a dry throat and sticky thighs, your mind swimming with images of cocks plunging into squelching holes, of being held down and ravaged, and you shudder at the memory. Blinking your eyes into focus, you sit up – and freeze.

There, on top of your desk, sits the large dark blue dildo, shining in the sunlight filtering through your window. No way. You've put it into the drawer, into its bag, far away, and even though you thought about using it last night, you didn't. And even if, you wouldn't put it back on the desk like that, right? But it's there, almost mocking you. Slowly you stand up and walk towards your desk, reaching out a hand to touch the smooth surface.

It's sticky, almost warm to the touch. What the hell? But you haven't used it, you're sure, you'd certainly remember it, wouldn't you? Shaking your head, you dismiss it for the moment and start your morning routine as if nothing happened.

Before you leave for the day, you grab the dildo and the toy cleaner you keep in your bedside table and give it a good scrub. Then you hide it away again, shutting the drawer with a firm thud. You are tempted to put a lock on it, but that's just silly.

Later that evening, you sit in bed and scroll through the stories on your phone, mindlessly skimming through your preferred genres. Somehow you end up on another knotting story. What are the odds. This one is set in the omegaverse, depicting an alpha bodyguard taking care of the omega girl in his care... by knotting her senseless. Just your kind of story. You end up with your fingers in your cunt, rubbing and poking desperately as you read.

You're close, your thighs twitching with every brush against your sensitive clit, stomach tense, feet curling into the sheets as you pump your hips. Your breaths are frantic, heart thundering inside your chest. Soundless, strangled gasps escape you (you're always mindful of your noises, these walls are thin and you don't want to alarm or entertain your neighbors) and you squirm and writhe, your phone falling out of your hand when you have to clutch at the edge of the bed.

“Fuck,” you croak out quietly while you roll onto your side and press your thighs together, trapping your hand, fingers stilling inside your clenching pussy as your body convulses under the mind-numbing throes of your orgasm.

You lie there for a moment, taking deep gulps of air into your burning lungs, slowly calming down again. Through the dark room you look towards your desk. And you can see it, your new toy, hidden away, waiting, and before you know it, you stumble off the bed and rip the drawer open and the large dildo out of its bag. You don't even care about the lube at this point.

With your back pressed into the bed, you rub the tapered tip between your wet folds, gathering your slick. You need both hands to guide the big thing back and forth, it's quite heavy. With your heart racing and your stomach fluttering, you angle your hips, feet pressed into the bed, and then you push. The head parts your lips and sinks into your entrance, and it's already a stretch that makes you inhale sharply.

But you keep going, your arms shaking under the exertion of forcing the toy deeper. You feel its protruding ridges and nubs rubbing against your soft walls as you start moving it in and out slowly. There's still so much of it in your hands, but the curve of the thing already presses between your tight muscles. You turn it slightly, figuring out which way feels best, and in doing so drill it even further.

You stop before your pussy lips brush against the bulbous knot, and you hold it tightly when you let the thing just rest inside you for a moment, feeling its girth and length and weight, its textures and shape. Clenching around the toy, you try to relax on the bed, grinding your hips slowly against your hands. It feels amazing, those ridges and nubs seem to hit all the right spots. Little moans slip from your parted lips, mouth hanging open as you squeeze your eyes shut.

The base is heavy between your fingers, and you feel them cramping slightly as you continue to move the large dildo in and out, considering using it like it's intended to be used: standing upright on the ground as you impale yourself on it. But it's a daunting thought, and your legs are already shaking badly. You doubt you have enough strength left to do squats on it now.

So you keep pumping half of it into your tight cunt, both hands closed around the hefty base, hips meeting your thrusts, the wet squelching sounds echoing through your room, adding to the growing arousal inside you. Your wrists hurt under the strain, but you're desperate now, hectic whines escaping you as you double your efforts, pushing and pulling, ramming that damn thing into you as fast as you can.

Arching your back and lifting your hips off the bed, you lean into the impending release, so close, a few more nudges, come on – when a sudden cold breeze over your sweaty face alerts you to something you cannot stop. It's as if an unseen force pushes the dildo with you, stronger than your own hands, an assist you didn't ask for.

But you're too far gone, gasping with your mouth wide open, head pressed into your pillow, thighs twitching, the tension ready to explode, and then it does, and at the same time as your orgasm crashes over you, a strange jerk goes through your body, and your usually voiceless cry becomes a real one, an almost scream as you feel your clenching cunt being stretched. Your hands fall away from the toy in an attempt to let it pop out and relish in the empty feeling as your contractions shake your body, but there's no empty feeling, because you're not empty.

You're stuffed. Somehow the knot has made it into your tight channel and your pussy lips grip the shaft beneath it, and as much as you push and clench, it doesn't budge. Cold panic rips you from your post-orgasmic bliss. Your hands claw at the base sticking out of you as you gyrate your hips, feeling every ridge and nub and bump pressing hard into your fluttering walls, but the toy is lodged within you. How did that happen?

Breathing harder, both from the exertion and the anxiety of having a sex toy stuck in your cunt, you wail quietly, rolling onto your side, lifting your leg, pulling on the damn thing. No chance. It's in there now. Knot and all, and the more you squirm, the more you feel the tapered tip pressing into depths nothing has ever pressed into before. It's a strange pain, sharp and piercing, a jolt of electricity with every movement of your body.

You lie on your back now, legs still angled, thighs twitching, trying to calm yourself down. You need to relax your muscles to get it out, you know that, but it's hard, as hard as the toy inside you. And somehow you feel it... expanding? No, that must be your imagination. It's not one of those inflatable things, you made sure of that. But the stretch is there, and it hurts.

Your hands are back between your legs, gripping the hefty base, but in your attempt to rip it out somehow, you suddenly feel it loosening and with another surprised/pained gasp, you realize you're holding the base of the toy – but without the toy.

“No!” you wail louder, staring at the dark piece of silicone between your fingers. It came right off, not as sturdy as initially suspected after all. You throw it aside and finger at the now-base of the fake shaft. It's barely sticking out now, your cunt eager to swallow it whole it seems. Whining in panic, you try to hook a finger between your tightly stretched skin and the dildo, but there's no way you can grip it like this.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as your anxiety grows. Chill. Calm down, it'll pop out on its own, they always do, don't worry, you try to soothe yourself. Not the first time you accidentally pushed a toy in too deep, but those were smooth ones, half as long and half as thick, with no ridges or knots, of course they'd slip out again. But this thing? It's a fucking knot, designed, by nature, to keep itself lodged inside any unsuspecting hole.

You think back to those stories you read about the topic. Those were fictional though, and every author handled it slightly differently. In some of them, the knot would just deflate when the man (or werewolf) was done dumping his potent load into his victim or mate, in others it stayed bulbous and inflated for a long time, locking the two people together, which, in a way, is a romantic thing and something you'd like to experience once in your life as well, but there's nobody attached to the dildo in your cunt, no one to hold you, to calm you, to rub your back and ease you through the pain of stretching and being filled.

The thought makes you sad, and in your frustration you buck your hips, only to gasp when the motion causes the toy to rub against these very sensitive spots that make your toes curl. You move your pelvis again, ripping a quiet moan from your throat, and then you fall into a slow rhythm of undulating into the bed, one hand back on your mound, feeling the tight fit of the toy before you start rubbing your swollen clit gently.

Before you know it, you work yourself to yet another orgasm, and the dildo seems to work with you. You even nudge its base a little, pushing it deeper, right against that sweet spot in the far back, and you groan at the sensation of pleasure/pain as you thrash your head into the pillow. Rolling onto your side, you keep grinding against the heavy thing inside you, panting under the exertion, your body curled up tightly, just like the coil in your tense stomach.

You're teetering on the edge, head empty except for that delicious cotton that makes you forget everything. It feels so good. The stretch, the pressure, the snug fit, those ridges and nubs and those seemingly pulsing bulbs pressing right against your g-spot. Mewls and wails fall from your trembling lips, and in your haze, you end up on your stomach where you lift your hips up and start humping your mattress feverishly.

The additional stimulation to your clit makes you cry out loudly, and you can only muffle your noises by pressing your face into the pillow. Your hard nipples rub against the fabric of your shirt with every gyrating motion with how you scrape your chest over the bed, and it doesn't take long before you stumble right over the edge, your muscles clenching hard around the toy, squeezing with all they have, as a million bright lights explode around you.

You're too far gone to think at that point, but if you would have been able to, you'd wonder why the toy doesn't come shooting out of your convulsing channel like most other toys would. It's not just the knot holding it in place, there's a strange force keeping your hips up and the dildo inside you. But you notice none of it, not the stiff position of your body as you tremble and quake, hands clawing at the sheets, knuckles white, fingers hurting, you just keep riding the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

You do, however, feel a familiar warmth gathering deep inside you, and you assume it's your own release waiting to gush past the item if it weren't for the knot plugging you up like a cork. Though it feels a little different, not something your body produced due to high stimulation, but something being added...

You groan deeply when your body makes a forward jerk as you feel the toy moving within you. Which shouldn't be possible. It's almost as if it's pulsing, throbbing, twitching, and with those motions something hot pushes into you, filling you up, seeping into every nook and cranny left by the large toy invading your already tight space. You shudder deeply, wondering in your fucked-out state what's going on, before you feel a strange stretch, a pressure building up inside you, and then, like an airlock being lifted, a strange squelching sound appears and you feel something hot and sticky trickling down your leg.

Remaining in your bent-over position, you move a hand between your legs and feel for whatever is leaking out of you. It's thick, thicker than your own juices, and much stickier. You bring it to your eyes, and whatever liquid it is, it pulls into thin strands as you part your fingers. Feels like cum. You blink at the sight and feel of it, and in your stupor, you roll onto your side, feeling more of it gathering between your legs.

When you're on your back again, you lift your hips, your sticky hand rubbing over your bare stomach, trying to ignore how tense and full it feels, down to your mound, teasing at the stretched opening. You feel the silicone against your fingertips, and it's no longer an intruder you want to get out immediately, it's become a strangely comforting feeling, despite the out of nowhere appearing cum-like substance. Maybe you filled it up before you used it? You can't remember, honestly. Does it matter? Not really.

You enjoy the feeling of fullness, the stretch and pressure, how with every slight movement the toy's ridges dig into your soft walls. The curve of it fits perfectly inside you, and the bulbous knot makes it sit so snug, as if it was made specifically for your cunt. You almost laugh at your initial apprehension and how you thought that huge thing would never fit into your tiny body, but look at you now, stuffed and happy.

With one hand on your mound, now eager to keep the toy in, as you rub your swollen labia gently, you roll onto your side and snuggle into your bed, your other hand pulling the sheets over your sweat-slick, sticky body. You don't care about washing up, you just want to sleep, softly riding out the blissful tremors of what this amazing toy has made you feel.

Closing your eyes, you imagine lying next to your alpha mate, or even a fluffy werewolf, as he holds you tightly pressed to his warm body, cock stuck inside your clenching cunt, knotting you to your (and his) heart's content.

But despite feeling exhausted, you can't stop grinding your hips against your hand, breathing harder when the warmth and tension builds up all over again as the dildo presses into all the right places. Soft moans slip from your dry lips, a shudder crashing through you at the feel of the tight knot stretching your sensitive skin. That last orgasm before you actually fall asleep is a mild one, a soothing thing washing over you, a warm embrace from something that isn't there.

You wake up with a sigh, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to start the new day. There is a strange soreness between your legs, as well as a very sticky sensation on your skin, but you don't care much for it – before you sit up and yelp when a sudden pain crashes through you. You stand up so fast your head is spinning, and as you press a hand to your mound, you can feel that the dildo is still lodged snugly inside you.

Yet you don't even have time to panic as the room grows dark all of a sudden. Then it all happens very fast. Somehow you are being turned and bent over the foot of the bed, chest pressed into the mattress by a force you can't explain. Your hands grip for the sheets as you struggle against whatever is holding you down. Are you still dreaming? You can't be sure. It feels too real.

And the pain when something pulls at the dildo in your cunt, when the knot stretches your pussy lips as it forces its way past them, is very, very real and makes you wail into the bedding. After the first stretch, the rest of the toy slips out easily, and with it comes a flood of something warm and sticky, spraying against your inner thighs, dripping down your legs, pooling around your bare feet on the floor. You gasp at the sudden emptiness.

All that wasted seed, you think as if someone has planted the thought into your head. Better put in a new load. Before you can properly wonder about where those words came from, you feel something nudging against your stretched entrance. You stand on shaking legs, ass in the air, torso pushed down into the bed, and you struggle, or try to, but you can't move. It's as if you're frozen in time and place, held down by an invisible force.

It's too dark to see anything, not that you could anyway with how your face is buried in the sheets. All you can do is take it, and even that you're not sure you can. It feels like something is standing behind you, something cold that lets goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin, and at the same time there's something very hot sinking into your fluttering cunt. You know it's the silicone toy warmed by your own body, but it feels different somehow. It feels... real.

You grunt with every sharp stab it gives you, parting your folds, plunging deep, but not as deep, teasing you with those ridges and nubs that scrape over your gummy walls, and the swell of that knot nudges against your entrance, never breaching it. Not yet anyway. The pace is brutal, a feral rutting, pistoning in and out fast and hard, and you can barely contain your noises anymore. They're muffled but still loud in your ears. Maybe because they're the only thing you hear, aside from the wet squelching of your cunt.

Whatever is pushing that dildo into you, whatever took over for you, doesn't make a sound, but you can feel it, you know it's there, holding you down and restrained. Whatever it is.

As sure as you are about the invisible force fucking you on your own bed, you are about the impending orgasm creeping closer with every hard thrust. The constant in and out of the rigid toy makes your head spin, your stomach tense, your thighs tremble. You're moaning and mewling, desperate for release as the warmth gathers in your core, ready to burst free. You even manage to press your hips back and meet the motions of the toy pounding into you.

And then you come, wailing loudly, barely restrained, lights exploding behind your eyelids as your body shudders and convulses, and you feel something wet splattering on the wooden floor, adding to the mess pooling around your feet. You've never squirted before, but you just know that's what happened, if you could analyze the moment, which you can't because your head is deliciously empty as you let bliss take over your thinking apparatus.

You barely register how the toy keeps plunging into your wet cunt, those squelching noises obscene if you would care about them, and as you still float on that amazing high, you feel its thrusts getting slower, slightly deeper, more deliberate, those bulging bulbs nudging firmer against your pussy lips, and suddenly the pressure grows stronger, making you gasp and your legs shake badly, and you fight it, stiffen, muscles tensing up, making it all the worse, but whatever controls the large dildo doesn't care as it pushes it further into your protesting cunt.

You let out a deep groan when it finally breaches the tight squeeze, stretching your sensitive skin, slipping into you, and that motion, the getting swallowed by your own body, turns your wails of distress into cries of pure pleasure as you come again around the invading object, your walls fluttering around the knot. You almost lose your footing, but the force that's penetrating you is still holding you up, no matter how badly your body spasms against the bed.

The dildo is back inside of you, all of it, from the tapered tip that teases at your cervix to the swollen protrusions to the bit of shaft after that. Your cunt clenches around all of it, holding it in place, hugging it to its contracting walls, letting it rub against all those special spots. And you keep shaking, so sensitive by now the slightest motion causes you to gasp and shudder. You'd be content like this, having it inside you, just resting, as heavy and large as it is, but whatever decided to take over, doesn't see it that way.

While you couldn't possibly push the thing deeper the last time it was wedged into you, you now feel it moving, nudging further, the hard tip pressing into your depths, stretching you in a way you've never been stretched before. It hurts, but it also feels good. And it's good that you think so, as you don't have a choice in the matter anyway.

The toy is pushed and pulled in slow fluid motions, and you feel the knot pressing hard against your entrance, stretching but never leaving your cunt. That doesn't stop the force behind you, though. The shallow thrusts continue until they turn into a desperate rutting, quick short stabs that make you howl as they bully both your deepest spot and the tight muscles of your hole. It's painful in the best way possible, and you feel your legs trembling, your stomach tensing, that warmth filling you up before it all explodes, catapulting you over the edge all over again.

You scream as you come, luckily muffled by how your face is still pressed into the bedding, but the sensation isn't any less extreme. Your orgasm crashes over you like the biggest tidal wave you've ever experienced, not that you have seen any of those before, but it sure feels like it hits you straight in the chest and drags you along, throwing you around, unrelenting, merciless, as you're being pushed and pulled and gasping for air.

Your walls clench hard around the still pistoning intruder, the curve, the ridges, the nubs, that fucking knot, all playing vital roles in keeping you afloat (or drowning), prolonging the gloriously mind-blowing experience. You feel dizzy, your heart thundering in your chest, lungs burning, body arching and spasming, as you are being hurdled from one orgasm to the next, or so it feels, and it never ends, not even when the toy suddenly stills, pushed as deep as possible, and then it throbs.

Even though you're barely able to feel anything anymore, you can feel its vibrations, the thrum from deep within it, and it shouldn't do that, it's not a vibrating toy, you tell yourself, it's also not an inflating one, but it still seems to swell, or the knot is, and it's pulsing against your tense muscles, stretching them, working inside you, and then... it unloads.

The warmth it fills you with is scorching, so filling you feel it bulging your stomach, which shouldn't be possible, and you may even taste it on your tongue as you gulp for air. It's all around you, but mostly inside you, and there it stays because the knot keeps it from spilling out. You are plugged shut, and it keeps pumping, giving you more, and it feels both oddly comforting and terrifyingly too much. You feel like bursting, so full, way too full, but all you can do is groan quietly.

With your mind still reeling, you are suddenly moved, lifted up by invisible hands (or paws?), cradled against something strangely warm as you're being put onto your side on the bed, your stomach fluttering and bulging, tensing badly under the onslaught of whatever liquid is pumped into your depths. The knotting dildo remains deep inside you, stuck and locked in, and you become drowsy, exhausted from whatever just happened. The darkness is still all around you, but you feel warm and content and taken good care of.

A smile grazes your dry lips as you imagine lying in the embrace of a mate, a lover, holding you after the strenuous ordeal of being knotted and bred, as their cock keeps pumping cum into you, as you remain tied together. And it feels so real...

Your eyes flutter close, and you inhale deeply, shifting slightly with your precious cargo inside you. As you drift into unconsciousness, the room grows brighter again, letting in the warm sunlight of a day already reaching its halfway point. Of course, you notice none of that, gone as you are.

When you stir awake, the darkness is back, this one real, lying like a heavy blanket all around you, while you lie on your side, shivering because you seemed to have kicked off your own blanket. Once you come to fully, you feel a little strange. Your mind is fuzzy, laden with images that couldn't have happened. Did you dream all that? Surely. It would be too weird if not.

But then why do you feel full when at the same time you are blatantly empty? Rolling onto your back, you grind your hips, assessing if you were indeed knotted and bred, but there's nothing. Your stomach rumbles, and when you touch it, it's normal, not bulged and tense but soft, and that's probably where the emptiness comes from. You're hungry, but that hunger also feels like an air pocket inside you, too big to ignore, giving you the feeling of being full? It's a strange sensation, to say the least.

And then there's another kind of emptiness. The one sitting invisibly in your aching little cunt disguised as nothingness. The toy is gone. You recall vividly how deep it's been in you, how stuck and immobile and heavy it sat between your clenching walls, but now they are fluttering around nothing. Where did it go?

You sit up, rubbing your naked arms, realizing you are indeed completely naked. Strange, didn't you go to bed with your sleep shirt? And why is it dark? It's been morning before, what happened to the rest of the day? You lean over to the lamp on your bedside table and the dark room is suddenly bathed in a warm yellow light, causing your eyes to wander straight towards your desk.

And there it is, sitting on its hefty base, the dark blue knotting dildo, in all its glory, with its curve, those ridges and nubs, and the formidable two bulbs making up the knot of the thing. You blink at the sight, confusion washing over you like a cold shiver. Slowly you stand up, groaning as you do, feeling your limbs shaking. Why are you so weak? Rubbing your stomach, you take a few steps before you almost slip on the floor.

Something wet coats the soles of your feet, and when you look down there's a big puddle of something shiny all over the wooden boards. Some of it is clear, but there's also a white shimmer to it, and you feel your heart accelerating as you remember how that came to be (even if the memory is faint, but seeing the evidence makes it all the more real and that frighteningly so). The feeling of being filled to the brim and leaking with the rest of it, the sensation of coming so hard you squirted all over the floor, while a strange force pounded your new toy into your willing body. Has it really happened? Apparently. But how is that possible?

Your heart beats faster as you keep walking until you reach the large dildo, standing proud and tall and girthy. You reach out with a shaking hand, carefully sliding your fingers over the textured shaft, tracing the thick veins on it. It feels warm and sticky, and it makes your blood run cold. It feels real, and it shouldn't. You know that. You're not crazy.

But there are too many things you just can't explain. How did it get back on the desk, back on the base you seemingly broke off last time? How was it possible that the toy fucked you on its own, in that bent-over position, and why weren't you able to move as it happened?

You feel chills all over your naked body. In that moment your rational mind just gives up. Normally you don't believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, but how else could you explain any of this? Is the toy haunted? Possessed?

It's a silicone thing, man-made, fabricated to cater to certain people's needs, a fantasy product, but it feels real, it pumped seemingly real cum into you (or so you think, it could still have been loaded with that artificial stuff without your knowledge and by squeezing it too hard you made it come out?), it fucked you as if attached to the real deal (whatever the real deal was).

Staring at the item, you lick your lips, eyes scanning every inch of its ridged surface. As creepy as this whole situation is, you still can't deny how good it felt also. How full and happy you were, how many times you came as it rammed into you, how those little nubs felt against your tense walls. They clench just remembering it. And somehow, from the darkest corner of your mind, comes the need to put it back in, feel it again, let the knot lock you up...

A shaky sigh escapes you, and you force yourself to look away from its tantalizing appeal. No. You can't. It'll all happen again, a mind-blowing fuckfest, and you'll waste another day in bed or wherever this thing wants to fuck you, or you it, it's still unclear how that happened, and maybe it was just your extremely horny mind who made up the idea of it being controlled by somebody else, maybe it has been you all along, driven crazy by sheer lust as you rammed that knot into your own cunt.

Shaking your head to clear it, you step away and into the bathroom. You spend a long time in there, inspecting and washing and handling your sore body, and when you emerge again, wrapped in a towel with your wet hair falling over your shoulders, the toy is still sitting on your desk. You watch it, but don't approach it. Instead you leave the room and venture into the kitchen to satiate the human need of eating, and after you sat at the counter and shoveled a bowl of cereal into your achingly empty stomach, you return to your bedroom.

The sight of that thing haunts you. You feel antsy just looking at it. In the end, you pick it up and put it down on the wooden desk chair, something you feel like doing, as if something put that thought into your head, a not too unfamiliar sensation. Then you pull the chair back, drop your towel and move to sit down on it. Again, you're barely thinking about it, it's like a need, an urge, a thing that feels right.

So you squat down on the toy, feeling the tapered tip pressing between your folds, and as soon as it breaches your entrance, pushing against your sore muscles, you gasp, hands curled around the edge of the desk to ground yourself as you let gravity do the rest. Or most of it. You feel the curve sinking into your tight depths, carving a way into your gummy walls, but when the knot presses against your pussy lips, you pause, breathing harder.

It feels too big, but you know it can fit inside you, it's happened before. Inhaling deeply, you try to relax, gyrating your hips to ease it into you, but your hole's too tight, unwilling to part further. You're in that weird half-squat, hovering over the chair, arms propped on the desk in front of you, and instead of giving up, you start moving up and down, fucking yourself slowly on the curved shaft, feeling those ridges and nubs and the tip poking at those delicious spots.

You're panting from the exertion, thighs burning under the strain, but you keep going even when sweat drops down your brows. You feel as if your muscles are opening up, and before your legs give in, you slam your hips down. A shrill shriek escapes you as you feel the knot stretching you open, your sensitive skin and muscles giving way, allowing it inside before they close back around it, swallowing it and the whole thing inside of you. You moan when you feel it filling you out.

Sinking a few inches further, you feel your rear pressing against the base of the toy before you sit down fully, ass cheeks on the chair, the entirety of the dildo wedged between your tight walls. A trembling exhale escapes you as you try to relax on it, your arms shaking before you bring your hands to your lap, your chest rising and falling faster, your stomach fluttering. For a few minutes you just sit there, trying to calm your frantic breaths and your rapid heartbeat, adjusting to the filling sensation.

And then, as if you haven't just impaled yourself on a knotting dildo, you reach a hand out, turn the lamp on your desk on and pull the laptop closer that you keep at the edge of it. You've missed an entire day it seems, so you're hellbent on making up for it. As your fingers fly over the keyboard, you occasionally grind your hips into the chair, relishing in the sudden jolts of pleasure/pain as the toy nudges your insides.

You sit there and work until you've edged yourself so badly, you can barely think anymore. Leaning back in your chair with your hands flat on your desk, you inhale sharply, tilting your head back as you undulate against the toy wedged between your thighs. You're so sensitive, every single motion causes you to shiver deeply. Even the hefty base of the toy rubs delightfully against your mound, adding pressure where you didn't know you needed it. A moan escapes you, and you move your hands to your rear and pull your cheeks apart until you can grind against it better.

It feels so good. To be stuffed, to be teased like this, to feel all those little details on that firm silicone shaft. You want to congratulate whoever came up with this design. It's perfect.

In an attempt to feel more of it, you lift yourself up slightly, really wanting to ride that thing now, but of course the knot prevents you from doing so, plugging you up tightly. You can still nudge the curved dildo a little deeper, so you end up humping your chair with small shallow snaps of your hips, your thighs trembling after only a few minutes, your panting breaths loud in the quiet room.

With a little whine you stand up properly, but instead of forcing the toy out from between your clenching walls, you lift up the entire thing, base and all, as it's firmly stuck inside of you. Its weight is heavy between your legs, but you still manage to stumble towards the bed with it where you throw yourself onto your back, spread your legs, lift your hips and start pushing your hands against the base, working yourself up even more.

Once your wrists cramp up under the strain, you focus on stimulating your clit, and the first touch has you already writhing on the bed. Gasping quietly, you buck your hips against your own fingers as you keep rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves until your thighs spasm wildly. You feel the tension building, the warmth gathering inside you, and then you come with a soundless half-scream, mouth wide open, legs clamping shut around your hands as you ride out the waves of pleasure, the toy practically vibrating inside you with how your walls are fluttering around it.

Your limbs go limp then, hands falling away, legs falling open, as you try to catch your breath. Eyes closed, a stupid smile on your lips, you lie there like a stranded beetle, stomach convulsing, chest heaving. You don't notice how the darkness creeps back in, dimming out the warm light of the desk and bedside table lamp. You don't feel the cold wafting in the air around you, but you do feel the dildo moving, tiny movements, little nudges against your tight muscles until it pops out with an obscenely wet squelching sound, coaxing a deep sigh out of you.

You feel utterly relieved and satisfied and content, ready to fall asleep like that, with your legs wide open, presented on the bed like a strange little offering, and whatever lurks in the shadows around you, seems to take the bait.

It feels like your bed is moving, the mattress denting on either side of your hips, and then you're being lifted a little, and it's cold and warm at the same time as your legs are pushed up and against your chest, and as if you want this to happen, your hands move to grab your thighs, holding your legs like this. In this position you are wide open, a cool breeze on your swollen clit, your cunt clenching around nothing – but not for long.

The tapered tip pushes between your folds, eagerly sinking into your slightly stretched hole, scraping along your soft walls. The curved shaft follows, digging into you, its nubs and ridges rubbing against those sensitive spots that make you mewl softly. You are in a trance, held by lust even as exhaustion wants to pull you under. You don't question anything at this point, you just savor the sensations.

And you feel everything. The shaft moves then, in and out, shallow little stabs, carving its way deeper until you feel the bulbous knot pressing against your entrance. But it doesn't go in yet, it keeps slamming against your puffy lips, the wet squelching sounds a telltale sign of how aroused you still are. There's a strange weight to the thrusts, as if there would be more than just the toy being pushed into you, it feels as if it was attached to something much bigger, a presence you can't see (not even if you would open your eyes), but can sense in a way that feeds your longing.

The pounding continues, and that warmth builds up again, all around the thick shaft that moves between your tight walls with ease and power, in and out, fast and hard, and in an angle that makes you wail, bullying all the right spots until you can't hold it in you anymore. You come with a croaked cry as your body tenses up before it explodes into nothing but bliss, tiny lights dancing behind your eyelids, that soft warmth turning into a burning that devours all of you at once.

Through your orgasm the fake cock (or so you think) keeps pumping into you, those wet squelches are obscenely loud, and you moan and whine, hips bucking to meet the thrusts as your fingers dig into your own thighs, holding your legs squished against your breasts, your feet jumping above your head with every plunge.

And then it happens, your fluttering cunt gives way to the knot, but instead of plugging you up, it pops out, then plunges into you once more, and out again and in again, and you wail under the stretch and strange sensation of being stretched repeatedly. There's pain, but there's also blinding pleasure whenever it forces itself into you, and you keep coming from that motion alone, gasping and writhing, barely able to breathe or think or do anything but let it happen.

Now the whole length of the thing pushes into you, as deep as it'll go, bullying your cervix with its tapered tip, knot fully swallowed by your walls, then it's pulled back almost entirely before doing it all over again, driving you to the edge and over it and back and over in rapid succession. It's all a blur, but it feels so good, you could die on the spot just feeling it breaching your tight space over and over again.

Luckily, you don't die, you are just pushed from orgasm to orgasm, until every single nerve ending is buzzing and tingling, and you come to the point where you don't want to come any more. Not that the thing fucking you seems to mind that very much. It keeps going, in and out, your cunt giving off a lewd wet popping sound every time the knot is forced out and another wet slurping sound every time it's pushed in and swallowed by your walls. Along with your breathless whines and the squeaking of the bed, it's a cacophony of sounds driving you to the edge of sanity, and pleasure, and pain, and all of the above.

You feel yourself fading, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but just as you think you'll drift off now, the thing in your cunt plunges particularly deep, a final thrust full of power and strength, a heavy weight pressing you down as it prods painfully against your already battered cervix. You cry out, your body too confused, so it makes you convulse all over again as another orgasm crashes through you. The curved shaft stills inside you, ridges and nubs and its knot settling against your fluttering walls, and you feel as if it's throbbing and twitching, and the bulbs seem to grow, stretching you further, really plugging you up now.

A groan slips from your dry lips as it starts pumping something warm and filling into your cramped depths. Spurt after spurt, more and more, until you can feel your stomach bulging, tensing under the growing load, and your head is spinning as your body comes down from that strenuous but still utterly pleasurable experience. You feel a little drunk almost, dizzy and disorientated, wondering why you are still holding your legs up. But you stay like this, submitting to whatever leans over you, holding you down with their cock.

The last bit of your rational mind tells you you're just dreaming. Of course you are. And what a nice dream it is, hm? But then your eyes flutter open, and you blink at the darkness around you. It feels impenetrable, too dark. Even at night, you can usually make out the shape of your furniture, the outline of your windows, the streetlamps trying to push their light past your curtains. But you can see absolutely nothing. Did you even open your eyes?

You blink. Yeah, you did. There's something eerie in the way you're staring into the black void in front of you, it gives you chills, makes your body shudder, and as you jerk a little, you feel the weight and the pressure inside of you. The toy. It's still in there, buried deep, and it keeps throbbing, spewing liquid warmth into you. It feels so real. Your heart beats faster, your breaths quicken.

Then a strange hum fills the air, you freeze immediately, your eyes widening. It's a soothing sound as much as it is terrifying. It makes you stiffen, frozen in place, a deep chill running down your spine. And then there's this huff, like an exhale, and you can feel warm air wafting towards you, hitting your sweat-slick face. A tiny little croak escapes you as fear grips your limbs after all.

There is something, holding you down, impaling you on its cock, leaning over you, breathing right against your quivering lips. You can't see it, no matter how hard you try, but it's there. Huffing and puffing in a low, deep rumble, an unseen weight resting between your legs. Hot tears fall from under your lashes, running down your cheeks, but they never reach the pillow beneath your head.

It's a warm sensation, wet, almost a little slimy, and it feels like a tongue lapping at your skin, and the thought alone pushes you right to the edge of hysteria. Helpless whimpers escape you, but that disembodied, unseen tongue keeps licking up the tears continuously spilling from your eyes. Warm breaths dry your wet cheeks, those little huffs quieter now, calm and collected, and they slowly ease your own breathing as you stare ahead at nothing but blackness.

A little shriek is coaxed out of your throat when you feel the same tongue on your neck now, something soft nudging your calves until you let go of your legs and let them fall open against whatever has settled between them. They don't reach the soft bedding beneath but are held up now by something else, and you're too far gone to question it anymore. With your legs down, your torso is exposed to the shadows, your breasts trembling as your chest rises and falls quicker.

Those warm huffs of air hit your sensitive nipples before something warm circles them, and you can feel them being pulled and teased, making you shiver deeply, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your clit and fluttering cunt. The thick shaft inside you throbs as well, still leaking the occasional spurt of warm fluid. The knot is pulsing, tight and harder than before, or so it feels, those bulging veins on it rubbing deliciously against your stretched flesh.

You feel yourself drifting again under all these ministrations, lulled into your own darkness.

In your dreams, or whatever reality you find yourself in, you see a large shadow leaning over you. And you are calm about it, not afraid, but content. The appearance of the figure above you is hazy, like black smoke, fraying at its edges, no clear contour to make out. But what you can see (or think to see) are strong arms, a broad torso, muscles wherever you look. A display of strength and power and dominance, and in its shadow, you feel safe, protected.

You assume it's a large man, but you can't see his face. It's still too dark. But you can feel his breath on your skin, his lips trailing around your breasts, upwards to your collarbones, before you feel that warm tongue against your neck again. You tilt your head, giving him better access, and he hums deeply, showering you with little kisses and broad strokes of his tongue. Your pulse is fluttering against his mouth, and he senses your arousal, smells it. He seems to sniff you, hovering over you, warm and heavy.

“You are mine now,” you hear a low thrum in the air, assuming it's his voice. “My mate.”

You don't know what that means, but you're ready. You want it. And as if he can feel your approval, he leans in, his lips closing around your pulse, sucking softly, his teeth nibbling carefully, before you feel a different sensation. A pinch, a prick, a sudden cold stab when something sharp sinks into your skin.

You moan quietly as a strange warmth rushes through you (and out of you), the smell of metal wafting towards your nostrils, but you keep still, and without knowing what's happening, you let him bite you, mark you, and he grunts against you, holding your neck between his teeth as a shudder crashes through his big body that travels all the way to his cock buried deep inside of you. You feel it throbbing, the knot pulsing, and as your walls clench in response, you feel more warmth seeping into you as he fills you up again.

His hips grind against yours, soft little nudges, and you feel so good. An unusually gentle orgasm washes over you then, like a calming caress through your body that soothes you, eases your sore muscles, the slight pain in your neck, any other ailments you might have had. None of it matters anymore. You've found your mate. You're not alone anymore. You feel like coming home. Safe...

“What's your name?” you breathe out into the black void ready to consume you, not sure why you feel the need to ask this.

A huff of warm air moves over your face before a low hum vibrates in your ear. “Fenrir,” he growls quietly, and it's all you need to know as you inhale deeply, a soft smile grazing your lips.

Then, the darkness closes around you as if someone puts their hand over your eyes, whisking you away to sleep, or back to reality...

The next time you wake up, you are cuddled into your sheets, and the sunlight filters through your curtains. A new day, and you've never felt this refreshed before. Sitting up, you stretch with a soft squeak, rolling your neck, inhaling deeply. Your eyes move through the room, and the sight of the large dildo on your desk doesn't even confuse you anymore. It feels right to see it there. You stand up and walk past it on your way to the bathroom, your fingers sliding gently along its curved shaft.

In the midst of your morning routine, you hear the chime of your doorbell. Slipping into your fuzzy bathrobe, you hurry to the door, but when you reach it, whoever was there, is already gone. Though they left something behind. You bend down to pick up the small package, seeing your address on it and the usual postal stamps. Delivery? But you didn't expect anything.

You close the door and bring the unassuming box to your desk, putting it down next to the big toy on its base. Humming to yourself, mindlessly scratching at a spot on your neck, you open the package – and frown when you see its contents. Slowly you raise it out of its black satin bag. It's the dildo you ordered. The right size also. It's so small, barely as long as your hand, maybe the size of a soda can but much thinner, less than half the size of the toy that sits next to the opened box.

It's got the same design, the same ridges and nubs and the protruding bulbs of the knot, but it's so... tiny. You really ordered this? Apparently so, as you check the accompanying receipt and instructions. You can only half-remember that horny night when you browsed the site, and intimidated as you were, you chose the smallest size: Mini. You had no idea it would be this small. There's a picture of the different available sizes, and you realize the thing you actually fit into your cunt is the Large one. And just how large it is...

You shiver just thinking of having it inside you. But you also can't wait to put it back in. Your mind is hazy with memories of using it, of what really happened since you got it (and somehow you don't even wonder why you received two packages), and it's all a blur of ecstasy that makes you salivate and drip into the panties you put on.

Yet when you notice that the article has a name, you pause, blinking in confusion, your hand still scratching at what feels like a scabby wound on your neck. The name of the dildo feels familiar, like a distant memory, and it is –

As soon as you say it out loud, the big dark blue toy starts humming, its vibrations (even though you're not connected to it) sending shock waves through your whole body, activating all the right nerves. Your heart beats faster, your breaths turn into soft moans, and your cunt clenches hungrily around nothing.

“Fenrir.”

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

#x reader #x reader smut #monsterfucker #monster x reader #werewolf smut #original fiction #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #monster au #supernatural smut #joel miller smut #simon ghost riley smut #arthur morgan smut #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #f!reader #fem reader #terato #teratophillia

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tender-rosiey · 29 days ago

Text

a fleur anew — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: inspired by this post and the idea of sukuna choosing a peaceful life when he is reincarnated but i added a twist of my own hehe; tyyy @yeagersss

the days pass slowly in this quiet life, far removed from the chaos sukuna once knew. he never imagined peace would feel this way—soft, almost too easy.

in his former life, he ruled through fear, each breath a struggle for dominance, but that was all in the past. this life is different.

he has been reincarnated, and while the memories of his former self remain like faint echoes, they don’t hold the same grip on him anymore. they’re reminders of who he once was, but not who he is now.

not in this life.

what surprises him most, however, isn’t the peace. it’s you.

sukuna’s first encounter with you is unexpected. he has no reason to approach anyone in this new life, and people often give him a wide berth, instinctively wary of the undercurrent of danger he still carries.

yet you, unknowingly, stumble into his life with a warm smile, unafraid.

he is sitting quietly on the edge of a small, secluded garden when you wander by, humming softly to yourself as you carry a bundle of wildflowers.

you don’t notice him at first, not until you’re just a few feet away, completely engrossed in arranging the flowers in your arms.

“ah—oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there,” you say, stopping short and giving him an apologetic look.

he stares at you in silence, his usual cold indifference firmly in place. people rarely speak to him so casually, so openly, as if he isn’t someone to be wary of. but you… you’re different.

you don’t seem to notice the subtle menace that keeps others at bay. instead, you give him a small smile and, after a moment of awkward hesitation, extend one of the wildflowers from your bundle toward him.

“for you,” you say. “flowers can make things better, y’know?”

he blinks, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. what kind of fool offers flowers to someone like him? but there’s no malice in your eyes, no hidden agenda.

just simple kindness.

he doesn’t reach for the flower, doesn’t move at all, really. he just stares at you, his mind trying to make sense of this strange, almost laughable gesture.

you don’t seem bothered by his lack of response. instead, you smile again, this time a little wider, before placing the flower on the bench, right beside him.

“there. now it’s yours, even if you don’t want to take it,” you say lightly, as if gifting a flower to a near stranger is the most natural thing in the world.

and just like that, you’re gone, walking away without waiting for a thank you, without expecting anything in return. sukuna watches you go, the wildflower sitting beside him.

he doesn’t know what to make of you at first. he’s met thousands of people in his former life, most of whom were either terrified of him or sought to manipulate him for their own gain.

but you… you gave him a flower. a simple gesture, but one that sticks with him long after you disappear down the path.

he doesn’t expect to see you again, but somehow, you keep appearing in his life. a few days later, he sees you again, sitting by the same garden, your face lit up in concentration as you braid more wildflowers into little crowns.

you don’t seem to notice him at first, but when you finally look up, your face brightens with recognition.

“hey, it’s you again!” you call out, waving him over. “do you want to sit?”

he doesn’t respond, but something about the way you speak to him—so unaffected, so genuine—keeps him from walking away. instead, he moves to sit beside you, his silence heavy between you.

for a while, neither of you speak. you continue weaving your flower crown, and he simply watches, unsure of what to make of this strange, peaceful interaction.

he isn’t used to company, and yet, your presence doesn’t feel intrusive. it’s… easy.

and that’s how it begins.

over time, he finds himself seeking you out more often. you never pry, never ask questions that might stir the memories he isn’t ready to share.

you don’t know about his past life, the blood and carnage that once defined him, and he has no intention of telling you. to you, he’s just another person living in this small, quiet town.

you treat him like he’s normal.

it isn’t long before sukuna finds himself wanting to do something in return, though he can’t quite understand why.

he isn’t the type to give, isn’t the type to care. and yet, for reasons that elude him, he begins leaving flowers for you—quiet gestures, subtle reminders of his presence.

at first, it’s just a single flower, left on your windowsill early in the morning before you wake. the next day, you find another one tucked neatly beside your door.

you never ask if it’s him, but you always smile when you find them, tucking the flowers into little vases or pressing them between the pages of your books.

“did you see the flower by my door today?” you ask casually, your tone light and teasing.

he grunts in response, not admitting anything but not denying it either. you never press further, and he likes that. it’s easy with you—no expectations, no need for explanations.

but one evening, you finally catch him in the act.

he’s placing a small white bloom on your windowsill, the fading light casting soft shadows around him, when you step outside. for a moment, you both freeze, your eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“sukuna?” you say, tilting your head as you walk closer, a soft smile playing on your lips. “what are you doing?”

he straightens, his usual mask of indifference slipping into place. “nothing,” he mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets. “just passing by.”

you laugh softly, your eyes twinkling with amusement as you reach for the flower. “you pass by an awful lot, you know.”

he doesn’t respond, his eyes narrowing just a bit, though there’s no real hostility behind it.

still, you hold the flower delicately between your fingers, studying it for a moment before turning to him with a smile. “thank you, sukuna. I really like it.”

he blinks, the words catching him off-guard.

it’s such a simple thing—a flower—but you say it like it matters. like he matters. for a moment, something warm and unfamiliar stirs in his chest, something he isn’t entirely sure how to handle.

“it’s just a flower,” he says calmly.

“maybe,” you reply, your smile softening. “but it’s thoughtful. and that means a lot to me.”

he doesn’t say anything after that, just nods curtly, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turns to leave. but as he walks away, he can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between you.

after that night, the flowers become a more regular occurrence. you never directly acknowledge that they’re from him, and he never admits to it, but the quiet understanding between you grows stronger with each passing day.

and as much as sukuna tries to resist it, he finds himself wanting more of this—more of you.

one evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the town, you both sit together in the fading light. you turn to him, “sukuna, why flowers?”

he pauses, his gaze focused on the horizon.

when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost contemplative. “they’re…fleeting,” he says, his words carrying a weight that surprises even him. “but they make things better, even if only for a moment.”

a grin makes its way up your face, and you hum, “I think it’s more than enough.”

he doesn’t respond, but you feel the subtle shift in his posture, the way his arm moves just slightly to rest behind you, pulling you closer. it’s his way of saying what he can’t put into words, his way of telling you that in this life, he has chosen you.

and for the first time, in this quiet, peaceful existence, sukuna feels something he hasn’t felt in centuries—contentment.

he decides that this will be how he spends this lifetime: with you.

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do not copy or plagiarize

check out my buy me a coffee!

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #ryomen x you #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you

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rinslutz · 1 year ago

Note

pleasepleaseplease may i request where reader and gojo get scared of megumi when hes out of the shower and he has his hair down since its wet and they have some sort of ptsd from fighting toji in the past!!

ᥫ᭡ “REFLECTIONS” — GOJO SATORU

ㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ fem!reader, megumi calls reader “mom”, megumi calls gojo “dad”, angst, hurt/comfort, megumi is a few years older than canon (18?)

a/n : not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but i tried

“can i have a kiss?” gojo mumbles against your neck. you tried to escape him leaving your shared bed and taking refuge on the living room couch. unfortunately for you, gojo follows you like a lost puppy. he had immediately flopped his body on top of yours. now you’re uncomfortable engulfed in his arms.

“mmm no.” gojo frowns against your neck, tickling your skin. you flinch and pull away from him.

“that tickles.” you jab your finger against his shoulder to push him away from you. you immediately notice a flash of mischief in his eyes. your eyes widen in realization.

“don’t even think about it satoru.” of course he’s thinking about it. his slender fingers inch towards your sides. you slap them away but that only makes him laugh. you jump up and hold your hands up in defense.

“stop!” you squeal playfully. as gojo stands up, wiggling his fingers playfully you decide to make a run for it. you start off running down the hall. gojo is right on your heels and you’re sure he’s going to catch you.

unfortunately, you don’t see the bathroom door open and megumi stepping out. you almost crash into him but you're able to stop before you reach him.

his hair still drenched, droplets of water dripping on his freshly cleaned shirt. the loud screaming that he heard before exiting the bathroom seized. he watches as the playful look in your eyes is replaced with a look of pure terror. for a second he thinks that he’s startled you by existing the bathroom, but when his eyes shift to gojo’s he realizes that it’s something else.

the look in gojo’s eyes matches yours. pure shock and terror. neither of you move from your spot. megumi’s worried eyes shift back to you. he doesn’t like how you’re looking at him. you’ve never looked at him with anything other than love.

“mom?” he reaches his hand out to rest on your shoulder but you step back, startled. he snatches his hand back as if he’s touched an open flame. he feels as if his heart has fell into the pit of his stomach.

“mom? dad?” he calls again. he refrains from touching you this time. he looks at gojo again. the look in his eyes has seemed to return to normal.

“what’s wrong with you both?” megumi asks. his voice is bare above a whisper. he’s startled by your lack of reaction. gojo sends him a sad look before grabbing you and turning you towards him. he places his hands on your cheeks and stares into your eyes. this is when he notices that your shaking.

“it’s okay. it’s okay.” gojo whispers. his fingers caress the apples of your cheeks. the relentless pounding in your chest seems to slow. you swallow the lump that’s formed in your chest. his soft voice pulls you from your deep emotional state.

“mom? are you okay?” you hear megumi speak again. this time, now out of your trance-like state, you turn to him. his eyes are a little watery, making your heart hurt. you didn’t mean to scare him and you’re sure he didn’t mean to scare you.

megumi notice that the love has returned to your eyes. he reaches his hand out to touch you but he hesitates, afraid that you’ll flinch away from him again. you notice so grab his hand into yours. you place your other hand on top of his

“yes, i’m okay.”

“what happened? did i- did i do something?” your heart crumbles at the fact that he thinks he’s done something to warrant your reaction.

“no, no. it’s not you. i just had a bad memory.” megumi sends you a questioning look and then shifts his eyes to gojo. gojo sends him a look. he knows that look. he’s telling him not to ask you any more questions about it. and because megumi never wants you to look at him that way again he leaves it at that.

“well i’m glad you’re okay now.”

©rinslutz

#gojo satoru angst #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen angst #megumi fushiguro #jjk gojo #gojo x you #jujutsu Maiden #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen gojo

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lowkeyren · 5 months ago

Text

dangerous infatuation!

in which — you encounter blade while travelling on the xianzhou luofu with the astral express, who saves you from danger, and asks for a reward in return.

pairing — blade x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns)

₊˚⊹♡ — wc: ~1.2k, from req: here!, 500 words i said to myself and then i end up here, heart squeezed when i saw the ask, blade kissers rise!!!!!!! pls enjoy xx reblogs r much appreciated <3

walking through the unusually crowded streets of starskiff haven, you can’t help but be awed by the sight of the place. it was your first time on the xianzhou luofu, alongside you are your friends from the astral express. march was ahead, animatedly chatting with welt; while you lingered at the rear, taking in the sights.

the air was thick with the mingling scents of exotic spices and freshly cooked street food, engulfing your senses with every breath. in the midst of the bustling crowd, you spot a man who seems oddly out of place. his sole presence draws your attention, and when he catches your gaze, he locks eyes with you, returning your stare with a piercing intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

beside him stands an elegant woman, a jacket casually draped over her shoulders. but your eyes remain locked on the man; his compelling gaze holds a magnetic pull, and you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away. observing his features, he seems more and more familiar to you.

hey… he kinda looks like the guy on the wanted posters you’re seeing everywhere?? and that woman beside him too!

you don't notice yourself falling behind your friends until march calls out to you. “hey slowpoke, c’mon let’s go!” her words snap you out of your trance, and you quickly yell back an acknowledgment, before turning your attention back to the man —but he’s nowhere to be found.

a pang of disappointment washes over you as you scan the sea of faces, searching in vain for any sign of him. it's as if he was never there to begin with; with a heavy sigh, you reluctantly turn away, following march's lead as you weave through the people.

but even as you walk, your mind remains preoccupied with thoughts of him, his image burned into your memory like a flickering flame refusing to be extinguished, leaving you longing for another glimpse.

“hmm bladie… something caught your eye?” kafka's voice breaks through the air, a teasing lilt dancing in her tone. blade’s gaze follows you as you move along with your companions, “find out who she is.”

kafka matches his line of sight, spotting you in the distance. “ah.. the newest member of the astral express crew” she continues without waiting for his response, "you seem to have taken quite a liking to her."

blade doesn’t confirm nor deny her words, eliciting a knowing smirk from kafka.

the next few days on luofu feels…unsettling. you can’t shake the feeling of being watched, a prickling sensation that crawled along your skin; a shadow lurking just beyond your peripheral vision. every corner you turned, every alley you passed felt fraught with a sense of unease.

you arrive upon an alleyway, stopping to take a breather. then you feel that ominous feeling again, causing your hair to stand on end. a sudden, loud thump echoes in the distance, causing you to whirl your head in that direction. you find a man unconscious, sprawled on the ground; instinctively, your body tenses, and your eyes widen in shock.

before you can make a sound, a bandaged hand reaches out, silencing you with its firm grip over your mouth; a voice breaks through the stillness from behind you, “don’t yell.” your heart skips a beat as the hoarse voice brushes against your ear, the unexpected touch sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“...who are you?” your voice muffling against the hand.

“knowing who i am is unnecessary.” the grip on your mouth loosens slightly. without hesitation, you whip around, your weapon materializing in your hand, ready to defend yourself. but before you’re able to strike, your hand is seized mid-air, halting your movement abruptly.

“i-it’s you!” the dim light of the alleyway casts shadows across his features, but you still recognize him. “what did you do t—” your words are cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. in a swift motion, blade pulls you into a more secluded area, his body pressing tightly against yours.

guards swarm around the unconscious man, inspecting him closely. “that guy,” blade nudges his head in the direction of the man, “i saw him following you around.” everything in your head starts to click into place; he continues, “see that needle there.. he spiked it with sedatives earlier today.”

your pulse quickens as his words sink in, “don’t worry, he’s not dead, just…asleep, for a while.” (for a long while)

“i’m sorry, i thought you were going to hurt me— thank you…” he nods in acknowledgement. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he remains close even after the crowd has dispersed, a hint of blush colouring his cheeks, a contrast to his stoic look. you turn your head away, flustered by your proximity, your cheeks warming as you try to gather your thoughts.

he grasps your chin with his hand, your cheeks squished between his fingers; turning your head back and tilting it up to meet his gaze. “i just saved your life, aren’t you going to give me a reward?” you blink, trying to process his words, your face growing warmer each passing second under his intense scrutiny. part of you knows that this is wrong and wants to pull away, but another part is inexplicably drawn to his presence.

with a shaky breath, you manage to stammer out, "w-what kind of reward are you expecting?" your voice wavers. “you know exactly what i mean.” he remarks with a subtle smirk.

you decide to follow the urging of your heart, you lean in, pressing your lips against his, a brief and fleeting kiss. just as you begin to pull away, he pushes his other hand against the back of your head, drawing you back, deepening the kiss.

“[name]! where are you?”

march’s voice breaks through the moment, prompting you to push blade away abruptly. his annoyance evident in the slight downturn of his lips, and the subtle furrow of his brow. however, he quickly masks his emotions, returning to his usual deadpan face.

you give him an apologetic look as you peek out cautiously, catching a glimpse of march and welt’s figures in the distance, “i’m sorry bl—” you turn back only to find nothing except silence that surrounds you.

how does this man just keep vanishing into thin air?!

you shake off the lingering sensations, consciously calming yourself down from the rush of emotions stirred by the kiss. you place your fingertips against your lips, still tingling from the ghostly imprint of his touch; your heart thuds rapidly in your chest, each beat echoing loudly in your ears

oh aeons, you just kissed a criminal.

—

“bladie… looks like you enjoyed yourself, huh?”

"what?"

“you’re not fooling anyone” kafka points at her own lips.

what kind of smudge-proof lipstick do you wear… well at least it works... super well. he has a stain on the corner of his lips for the next few days.

“bro… you’re actually so downbad LOL. y'want me to track her location or sum?”

"...no need, i'll find her myself."

silverwolf won’t stop calling him a “simp”, whatever that means.

₊˚⊹♡

masterlist

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kamaluhkhan · 10 months ago

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anti-curse

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader

summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3

when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.

given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.

archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.

so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner.

“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”

the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.

that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.

you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank.

if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it.

you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations.

“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”

the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”

"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined."

percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”

leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.

you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.

“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”

“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.

“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”

“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.

"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.

"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.

"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."

"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.

"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"

you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."

"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."

"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.

"that's...that's different."

"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"

you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.

"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.

"then what did you mean?"

percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”

“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”

percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition.

“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.

“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes.

her conclusion makes you freeze.

demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were.

what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.

you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.

you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?

either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.

without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze.

“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.

#Spotify #when i was younger i didn't think people would want to read all the stories i'd make up in my head about this series #so im glad the percy jackson renaissance is here #there's something so healing about writing + sharing this blurb even if i'm still nervous #might fuck around and write another part because i have so many ideas of where this could go #percy jackson #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #pjo #saf writes #riordanverse

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novaursa · 3 months ago

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The Blood We Choose

- Summary: Gwayne brings you to Dragonstone, to your sister. But it is Daemon who awaits you both.

- Paring: Gwanye Hightower/targ!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and was bonded with Silverwing. These events happen right after Where Banners Fall. If you want to read parts before this one in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Word count: 4 356

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The scent of salt and brine clings to the air, sharp against the faint undertones of decay and blood—a constant reminder of the battle left behind at Rook’s Rest. You can still feel the memory of fire scorching your skin, the cries of Silverwing echoing in your ears as she fell from the sky, taking you with her.

Your body aches, every breath a laborious effort as you sit propped against the rough-hewn wall of the small cottage. The village is a quiet one, nestled by the coast, far from the eyes of any lords or soldiers. A place where neither banners nor blood oaths hold sway. Here, you can pretend, for a brief moment, that the world is not consumed by war.

But it’s a fleeting delusion. The searing pain that courses through your side is a constant reminder of how close you came to death. Silverwing’s warmth had shielded you as much as she could, but nothing could stop the might of Vhagar. You know that if it weren’t for Gwayne, you would have perished alongside your dragon, your body left among the ruins.

Gwayne Hightower. His name lingers on your tongue, filled with both bitterness and something else you dare not name. He betrayed his own for you—forsook his House, his loyalties, everything that defined him as a knight of the Greens. For you. The memory of his desperate voice calling your name as he found you below Silverwing’s wing is fresh, a rare vulnerability exposed beneath his normally composed demeanor.

“Y/N,” Gwayne’s voice, low and rough, breaks through the silence of the small room. You look up, meeting his gaze from across the dim space. He’s seated near the hearth, his own wounds not fully healed, a dark bruise blooming along his jawline and his side still tightly bound.

“What is it?” you rasp, wincing as the movement strains your ribs.

“You should eat more.” He gestures to a small bowl of fish stew beside you. The smell is unappetizing, but you know he’s right. You need strength if you’re to survive this war, if you’re to return to Dragonstone—to your family.

You give a small, reluctant nod, dipping the spoon into the lukewarm broth. The taste is bland, the texture thick in your mouth, but it’s enough to soothe the gnawing hunger in your belly.

“Daemon’s been searching,” Gwayne says after a moment, voice hesitant. “Caraxes was seen flying from Harrenhal. He’ll come for you.”

There’s a flicker of something dangerous in his tone, a tinge of possessiveness that makes your chest tighten. Daemon. Your husband. Your son’s surrogate father. You hadn’t told Gwayne about the child until that morning when pain had stripped away all pretense and left only raw confessions in the dark. It was the first time you saw something break in his eyes, something beyond duty or loyalty. Gwayne is a man forged in duty, yet in that moment, his loyalty had been to you, and only you.

The silence stretches between you both, heavy with unsaid words, unshed tears, and the tangled web of emotion that neither of you are willing to fully confront. How could you? You were always meant to be Rhaenyra’s little sister, the one whose role was to support, never to lead. Yet here you are, a thread woven into a tapestry that binds you to two men who could tear each other and you apart.

“If Daemon finds us…” Gwayne starts, his voice trailing off.

You lower the spoon, your hand trembling slightly. “You’ll run.” It’s not a question. You know what will happen if Daemon catches Gwayne with you, the traitor Hightower who saved his wife instead of leaving her to her fate. Daemon would kill him without hesitation.

His jaw clenches, eyes darkening with a mixture of anger and resolve. “And leave you alone? I think not.”

You shift, ignoring the pain lancing through your body. “This was never supposed to happen,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. You close your eyes, picturing Silverwing’s brilliant wings and the sight of Dragonstone on the horizon—your home. You ache to be back there, where the sea winds carried the scent of salt and freedom, where you could be Y/N Targaryen again instead of a broken remnant.

Gwayne’s presence is a steady warmth in the room, a contrast to the cold reality of the war raging beyond these walls. You want to hate him for making you feel something other than loyalty to Daemon all these years, but you can’t. Not after he’s saved you, cared for you, and stayed by your side despite the danger. Even now, with your heart and mind divided, you know that whatever he feels—duty, love, or perhaps something in between—it is real. And it terrifies you as much as it comforts you.

“Why did you do it?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

His gaze locks with yours, unwavering. “Because I couldn't let you die.”

Your breath catches. The simplicity of his answer is profound. No grand declarations, no lofty promises, just the brutal, honest truth.

Before you can respond, the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel outside the cottage makes you tense. Both of you are on edge, the brief sense of peace shattering like glass. Gwayne moves instinctively toward the door, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

It’s only the fisherman, his weathered face peeking through the gap in the door. “Tomorrow,” he says quietly. “The boat’ll be ready at dawn. The tides’ll be with us.”

You nod in gratitude, relief mingled with apprehension. Dragonstone is so close now, but you know the return will be fraught with more dangers than those you’ve already faced.

As the fisherman retreats, Gwayne turns back to you. “We’ll get you home,” he promises, though there’s an edge to his voice that betrays his own uncertainty.

Home. But what awaits you there? Daemon’s wrath? Your sister’s grief? And what of your son—your son whom you’ve not seen in so long, raised by a Targaryen father who knows nothing of the man who just saved his mother’s life?

For now, you can only rest, listening to the steady rhythm of Gwayne’s breathing across the room as you both try to find sleep in this fleeting calm before the storm resumes. You close your eyes, letting yourself drift, even as a part of you dreads what dawn will bring.

The sky above Dragonstone is dark, heavy clouds gathering as if reflecting the storm brewing within the walls of the ancient castle. The great red dragon, Caraxes, lands with a furious roar, shaking the stones beneath his claws. Daemon slides from the saddle, his face twisted in rage, eyes burning like molten steel. Every step he takes towards the Great Hall is filled with barely-contained fury, the kind that simmers just below the surface and waits for the slightest spark to ignite into violence.

He bursts into the hall, his armor still stained with ash and soot from his fruitless search. Rhaenyra stands by the fire, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though seeking warmth. She turns as Daemon strides in, but before she can say a word, his voice cuts through the silence, sharp as Valyrian steel.

“You sent her to Rook’s Rest? You sent her?” His words are laced with venom, each one a dagger aimed directly at her heart.

Rhaenyra flinches, but she holds her ground, lifting her chin defiantly. “She volunteered, Daemon! She insisted. It was her choice.”

“Her choice?” he spits back, stepping closer, his anger radiating from him like heat from a forge. “She’s no warrior, not like Rhaenys! You sent her to die, Rhaenyra! To die at the hands of Aemond and that wretched beast of his!”

Rhaenyra’s composure cracks then, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I trusted her! She’s my sister—our blood! I thought… I thought Silverwing—”

“Silverwing is dead!” Daemon’s voice thunders through the hall, a raw, agonized sound. “She fell, trying to protect her rider from Vhagar and Sunfyre. And Y/N? She’s gone, Rhaenyra. Taken by Gwayne Hightower. A Hightower! You might as well have killed her yourself.”

At that, Rhaenyra’s tears break free, streaking down her pale cheeks. “I never wanted this! I would never—”

“Spare me your tears,” Daemon snarls, his eyes narrowing in cold fury. “You speak of choices, yet you chose war over your sister. You sent her out to face death while you remained safe in your castle, protected by your crown. Do you know what it’s like to watch the skies, knowing that the one person who never turned her back on you is likely lying dead, or worse, in the hands of our enemies?”

Rhaenyra’s sobs wrack her slender frame, but Daemon is relentless. He steps closer, so near that he could reach out and touch her, but his hands remain clenched at his sides. “You sacrificed her for a battle that did nothing but weaken us. Aegon still holds King’s Landing. Silverwing is dead, Luke is gone, and now Y/N… she was the last thread of innocence left in this gods-forsaken war, and you ripped it apart.”

Rhaenyra shakes her head desperately. “I thought—Daemon, I thought she could reach them. Convince them to surrender before more blood was spilled. She believed in it too.”

“And now she’s paying for that belief with her life,” Daemon hisses. “Do you understand? Her life, her blood. And for what? Nothing.”

The hall falls silent, the air thick with tension, with grief and fury that neither of them can fully articulate. For a moment, Rhaenyra looks utterly lost, her shoulders sagging under the weight of all the loss that surrounds her. “What am I supposed to do, Daemon? Tell me. What can I do now?”

Before he can respond, a new voice cuts into the fray, youthful but tinged with urgency. “What’s happening? Where is my mother?”

Daemon stiffens, turning slowly to face the boy who has entered the hall. He’s just shy of manhood, tall and lean with the unmistakable features of House Targaryen—silver-gold hair, sharp cheekbones, and the stubborn fire in his gaze. But his eyes, those striking eyes of clear blue, are not Targaryen at all. They are Gwayne Hightower’s, and they haunt Daemon every time he looks at the boy.

The boy’s name is Vaeron, the son raised by Daemon as his own, the boy who never knew the truth of his parentage. Vaeron looks between his father and his aunt, sensing the tension, the raw pain in the air.

“Where is she?” Vaeron’s voice trembles now, the bravado slipping. “Where is my mother?”

Daemon’s expression softens, if only by a fraction. He crosses the distance to his son, placing a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. “Your mother was ambushed at Rook’s Rest,” he says, each word carefully measured, as if they’re knives he’s forcing down his throat. “Aemond and his dragons brought her down. Silverwing is dead.”

Vaeron’s eyes widen, disbelief and horror written across his face. “No,” he breathes, shaking his head as if denying the truth will somehow change it. “She can’t be dead. Mother can’t be—”

“She’s not dead, not yet,” Daemon cuts in, his voice harsh. “But she’s missing, taken by Gwayne Hightower. And I’ll find her, Vaeron. We’ll find her together.”

The boy’s gaze sharpens, anger and grief mixing with determination. “I’ll go with you,” he says, the words coming out more like a plea than a declaration.

Daemon nods, the cold steel of his resolve hardening. “You’ll mount your dragon, and we’ll take to the skies. We’ll search every inch of the realm if we have to.”

Vaeron swallows hard, the weight of what’s being asked of him sinking in. He’s still so young, yet there’s no more room for youth in this war. He nods, determination etched across his face. “For her. For my mother.”

Daemon’s grip on his son’s shoulder tightens for a moment, the only hint of the fierce protectiveness he feels beneath the layers of rage. “For her,” he agrees.

As they turn to leave, Rhaenyra reaches out, her voice breaking. “Daemon… please… I’m sorry…”

Daemon doesn’t look back. “You can’t afford to be sorry, Rhaenyra. Not now. Not ever.”

The boy’s eyes meet Rhaenyra’s for a moment before he turns away, following his father out into the cold winds of Dragonstone. They leave her behind, standing alone in the dim light of the hall, tears streaming down her face, a queen weighed down by guilt and grief.

The dragons will soon take flight again, this time driven by fury, by a father’s desperation and a son’s determination. And neither Daemon nor Vaeron will rest until they bring her back—no matter the cost, no matter the blood they must spill.

The small fishing boat creaks under the weight of the sea’s relentless pull, the salt spray clinging to your face as the wind howls around you. Each dip and rise of the vessel feels precarious, the threat of capsizing ever-present. You cling to the rough wooden edge, your body still weak and aching from your injuries, but your eyes remain fixed on the silhouette of Dragonstone on the horizon. The ancient fortress looms like a jagged tooth against the darkening sky, its towers piercing the clouds.

Gwayne stands beside you, his gaze scanning the skies as if expecting danger at any moment. His face is shadowed, exhaustion etched into the lines around his eyes, but there’s a tension there too—an unspoken fear that you both share.

The fisherman grumbles curses under his breath as he wrestles with the sails. He’s an old man, his hands gnarled from years at sea, but his sharp eyes occasionally flicker toward you, a mixture of recognition and pity in his gaze. “Prince Daemon’s got the skies set ablaze with his searching,” he mutters, his voice rough like gravel. “And now that boy of his—Merothrax near sunk me last time they flew overhead.”

As if on cue, the air vibrates with the distant sound of wings, a deep thrumming that sends shivers down your spine. You glance upward and catch sight of them—two dragons cutting through the sky like living shadows. Caraxes, with his serpentine neck and blood-red scales, moves with a terrifying grace, his roar echoing across the waves. Beside him is Merothrax, Vaeron’s dragon. Sleek and deadly, the young dragon’s scales are a deep, shimmering indigo, laced with streaks of silver that catch the light when he dives. His wings are larger than one would expect for a dragon of his age, giving him a natural agility in the air. His eyes, a piercing shade of gold, scan the sea below, hungry and watchful.

The boat rocks violently as Merothrax swoops low, his wings stirring the water into frothy waves. The fisherman shouts a stream of curses at the sky, clutching at his hat as the gust from the dragon’s wings nearly tears it from his head. “Damn Targaryens, more fire and madness in them than sense!”

Gwayne’s hand is suddenly on your arm, steadying you as the boat pitches. “They’re looking for us,” he says grimly. “Daemon won’t stop until he finds you.”

“Or finds you with me,” you say, your voice quieter than you intend. There’s a deep tension in your chest, not just from the pain but from the knowledge that each moment brings you closer to facing the storm you left behind.

Gwayne doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze is distant, lost in thoughts he hasn’t voiced since you confessed your secrets that day—secrets you had buried for too long. The memory of that confession hangs between you both, a reminder of how fragile this moment of safety is.

“You’re thinking of Vaeron,” Gwayne says softly, finally breaking the silence. “Of what happens when he sees me.”

You nod slowly, your throat tightening. “He’s never known who you really are. Daemon raised him, taught him to ride, to fight. Vaeron idolizes him… but he deserves to know the truth.”

Gwayne’s jaw tightens, and his hand drops away from your arm. “I knew of the boy. Rumors reached me—stories of the bastard prince raised by the Rogue himself. But I never… I never thought he’d…” His voice cracks at the end, and you hear the quiet grief in his words. The grief of a father who never had the chance to be a father.

You turn to him, your heart aching for what you’re about to say. “He’s yours, Gwayne. He always has been.” The admission is heavy, laden with all the years you’ve kept the truth locked away. “Daemon knew from the start. He saw it in Vaeron, even before the boy could speak. But he accepted him anyway, for my sake, and for Rhaenyra’s cause. He never let Vaeron feel unwanted, never let him know he wasn’t his own blood. But those eyes… they’re yours.”

Gwayne’s expression is unreadable, but you see the storm behind his gaze—the battle between duty, regret, and a father’s yearning. “I should have been there,” he says hoarsely. “I should have been the one to raise him, to teach him. Instead, I’ve been chasing ghosts and loyalty that never truly mattered.”

“You would have been hunted down if you claimed him,” you remind him, your voice laced with the bitterness of harsh reality. “Your House would have disowned you—or worse. You would’ve been executed for treason.”

“And now I’m here, having betrayed everything for the woman I…” Gwayne stops himself, the words strangled in his throat.

You don’t push him. The truth lingers between you like a wound too fresh to be probed. You lower your gaze to the churning sea, feeling the boat rock again as Caraxes circles back toward Dragonstone. “He’s a good boy,” you say quietly. “Stubborn, with fire in his blood. But he’s kind, too. He has your strength, even if he doesn’t know it.”

Gwayne’s hand finds yours, squeezing it gently, the roughness of his palm familiar and grounding. “I want to meet him, truly meet him. But what do I say, Y/N? That I’m the man who should have been there, but wasn’t?”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. “You tell him the truth. Vaeron deserves that much, even if it’s painful. We both know there’s no easy way to face it, but hiding it any longer would be a greater cruelty.”

The boat jerks violently as they begin their final approach to Dragonstone’s rocky shore. You see the shadow of the fortress loom closer, the narrow docks already in sight. The fisherman mutters another curse as Merothrax’s tail lashes the air overhead, nearly capsizing the boat.

Gwayne leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “No matter what happens when we land, I’ll be by your side. If Daemon tries to take him from me, or if he tries to strike me down for what I’ve done, I won’t back down.”

Your heart clenches at the promise in his words, at the weight of everything that lies ahead. The shore draws near, and you steel yourself for what awaits—a reunion not just with Daemon and your son, but with all the truths that can no longer be avoided.

Above, the dragons circle, their roars echoing through the skies like thunder. The war rages on, but now it’s not just a battle for the throne. It’s a battle for the lives torn apart by secrets and the relentless march of fate. And as you prepare to step onto the stony shore of Dragonstone, you know that the hardest fight has only just begun.

The small boat bumps against the dock with a dull thud, the sound lost beneath the howling wind and the distant crash of waves against the jagged rocks. The air is thick with tension as the fisherman throws a rope to secure the vessel, muttering prayers under his breath, his eyes wide with fear as he glances toward the two dragons perched on the ridge above. Caraxes and Merothrax sit like twin sentinels, their eyes gleaming with the predatory awareness of beasts ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

You step onto the dock first, your legs trembling beneath you, both from the strain of your injuries and the weight of what’s about to happen. Gwayne follows closely, his hand hovering near his sword hilt, though you both know it would be futile if it came to a fight. The wind pulls at your hair and cloak as you move forward, each step taking you closer to the confrontation you’ve dreaded.

Ahead, you see them—Daemon and Vaeron. Daemon’s expression is cold as stone, his eyes narrowed and lips drawn into a hard line. Beside him, Vaeron stands tense, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of worry and anticipation. He’s grown so much since you last saw him, more a young man than a boy, but the flash of relief in his eyes when he sees you tells you he’s still your son, still that child who would run to you for comfort.

But before he can take a step toward you, Daemon’s hand clamps down on his shoulder, holding him back. “Stay where you are,” Daemon orders, his voice as sharp as a blade. Vaeron’s brow furrows, confusion and frustration evident in his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. He simply watches as you and Gwayne approach, his gaze flicking warily between you and the man who saved you.

The tension in the air is palpable as you reach them. Before you can speak, a detachment of royal guards emerges from the path leading to the castle, armor clanking as they fall into formation around Daemon. The commander steps forward and bows deeply. “Prince Daemon, we stand ready.”

Daemon’s eyes never leave Gwayne as he gives the command. “Seize him.”

The guards move forward, hands reaching for Gwayne’s arms. He doesn’t resist, but you see his jaw clench, muscles tensing as iron manacles click shut around his wrists. Panic flares in your chest, and you step between the guards and Gwayne, your voice rising in desperation. “No! You can’t just lock him away! He saved me, Daemon—he saved my life!”

Daemon’s eyes flash with something dangerous as he looks at you, his expression hardening further. “He’s a Hightower, and a traitor to his House. His loyalty to you doesn’t absolve him of that.”

You take a step closer, your voice trembling but determined. “It does when it’s a debt of blood. He risked everything for me—for us. He’s not the enemy here, Daemon.”

But Daemon’s gaze is unyielding, his anger a simmering force barely restrained. “The enemy is anyone who serves the Greens, no matter the reason. You think I care that he chose you over his House? That only makes him more dangerous. He’s already betrayed his own; what’s to stop him from betraying you, or Vaeron, when it suits him?”

Gwayne meets Daemon’s gaze, holding it without flinching, though you see the strain in his eyes. “I gave up everything for her. I’d do it again. But I know what I am, and I don’t expect your forgiveness.”

Daemon’s lips curl into a sneer. “Good, because you’ll get none from me.” He turns to the guards, his tone cold and final. “Take him to the dungeons. I’ll decide his fate once I’ve had time to consider what to do with him.”

The guards tighten their grip on Gwayne and begin to drag him away. You move to follow, but Daemon’s hand catches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Enough, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice a mix of anger and something softer—concern, perhaps, though it’s buried deep beneath his rage. “He’s done what he thought was right, but it doesn’t change what he is.”

You jerk your arm free, glaring at him with all the defiance you can muster. “You’ve lost sight of what truly matters, Daemon. Gwayne’s no longer a pawn of the Greens—he’s here because of me. Because of Vaeron.”

At the mention of Vaeron, Daemon’s eyes flicker, but he remains resolute. “And I’ll not have him jeopardize our son’s safety, not for some misplaced sense of gratitude.”

Your heart aches as you watch Gwayne being led away, the clink of his shackles echoing in the quiet that follows. He walks with his head held high, shoulders squared, but you can see the brief flicker of pain in his expression as he passes by Vaeron. The boy says nothing, but his eyes track Gwayne’s every move with a curious intensity, as if trying to understand the connection between the man being led to the dungeons and his mother’s desperate pleas.

When Gwayne disappears around the corner, swallowed by the shadows of the castle, Vaeron finally breaks the silence. “Mother… who was that man? Why did he save you?”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet your son’s gaze. “He’s… someone who once served the Greens but chose to protect me instead. He’s no longer a threat, Vaeron.”

Daemon releases his hold on your arm but keeps his eyes fixed on Vaeron. “He’s not to be trusted. Remember that.”

Vaeron nods slowly, his eyes still lingering on the path Gwayne was taken down. There’s something in his expression—curiosity, perhaps, or a flicker of recognition that he doesn’t fully understand. But he doesn’t press further, sensing that there are answers he’s not yet meant to know.

Daemon turns to you, his voice softer now, but still laced with frustration. “We’ll speak more inside. You’ve been through enough, and I’ll not have this discussion out in the open.”

With that, he leads the way toward the castle, the guards following closely behind. You fall into step beside him, though your thoughts remain with Gwayne, locked away beneath the stone walls of Dragonstone. Vaeron walks beside you, his young face set in determination as he tries to piece together the events swirling around him.

And as you approach the darkened halls of the castle, you can’t shake the feeling that the truths left unspoken will tear at the fragile peace you’ve only just regained.

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