#too close to a loss of control too close to home

[nashdoesstuff]

crest RAMBLES because i’m so normal about him <- i am regular

okay so. first and foremost crest is my take on nicemare. because i don’t really like a lot of interpretations of nicemare,, that’s just my opinion, though— i don’t like them much really but i do think they have potential!! so i gave it a shot and crescent is the result of that.

here he is!! my goober ever <3

second. he and his sister [celeste] were born in around the late 1550s. no specific birthdate [yet] but they were born in that decade. crest stood by the tree as per usual, defending nim’s new form as best he could, even if it didn’t go to plan sometimes.

during the apple incident, he only ate around half of the apples on the tree before the villagers started attacking him, so a lot of them were left to roam the universe after crest fled. celeste was put into stone with a spell after crest finished killing every villager, mostly because he was scared of hurting her with the new magic that had overcome him and that was beyond his control at the time.

he was. very sick. throughout the first year of his corruption. in this multiverse the apples make their consumer feel sick and nauseous, alongside other side affects. these can last or worsen, depending on how many apples are consumed. in crest’s case, since they were around 500, he was sick for several months, staying in one universe and mourning what he presumed was the loss of his sister, and the actual loss of his mother, whom he killed accidentally. due to the fact he never consumed every apple, “passive’s” soul was not lost, and crescent still controls his own body. his corruption only controls his body when crescent is angrier or influenced by surrounding negative energy. this can be best shown through crest’s eyelight— which typically is blue and purple [this is also known as crest’s ‘neutral’ state.] when it is entirely violet, crescent is usually showing genuine, strong positive emotions, or experiencing sadness, fear, or likewise. when his eyelight is entirely blue/cyan, his corruption has the majority of the control, and crest has a lack of sympathy. fortunately, entire corruption rarely ever occurs, only in situations of anger or extreme negativity.

he travelled the multiverse young, and stood in one universe for the rest of his childhood until he decided to travel again. he stood in another universe after falling in love with someone for some 20+ years, leaving a month after said lover’s death. after that occurred, he began to live loosely, only staying in a universe for at most a week or two before departing once again. this changed in the 1800s when he found an abandoned castle and called it his home.

his sister awoke from stone in the year 2065, in which you may remember from this comic where crest recalls celeste disowning him. after this happened and celeste befriended ink, crest met killer, horror, and dust, alongside cross who joined them two years later. crest treats his boys like family, and is a father figure of sorts to them. [sound familiar?]

after celeste’s corruption, he made a truce with ink to help both of them fight her off. as time passed, however, the two became closer and closer and eventually fell in love. they married around a year into their relationship.

now, my main issue with nicemare universes is they never really put reason to nightmare’s kindness. why is it that nightmare is seen as heartless to everyone but kind only to those who know him closely?

my explanation for this is crest’s requirement for other’s suffering. his corruption requires him to feed on the suffering of other people, even if he doesn’t want it. so, he goes to universes and harms them, only because he must. due to this, people find it more difficult to trust him. however, since his boys know and trust him, they deem him as the kind-hearted guardian he is ^^

additionally, as to why he’s nice, i think he used to Not Be. like he wasn’t too kind in his childhood. he used to get into fights and didn’t socialize, blah blah. these events occurred most frequently before the age of 13 because he was just on edge due to everything that had occurred in the village and had a very difficult time seeing that others weren’t going to hurt him. but as his magic developed and he was able to better feel the intentions of others, he grew to understand other people much easier than he was able in the years prior. he managed to grow out of that “guilty until proven innocent” mindset, and made some acquaintances and even developed some feelings for boys he grew up around. 

so! some fun facts about crest:

he is an avid tea and coffee drinker. he has coffee once in the mornings, and jasmine tea twice or more a day. he drinks coffee for energy since he doesn’t sleep ^^

he is gay! he would rather watch paint dry than kiss a woman

originally, he had a lot of internalized homophobia. he was told being queer was wrong growing up, so when he found out he was he Hated Himself for it. it wasn’t until he met his first boyfriend when he realized it was okay to be gay, and even after he passed he thought his partner’s death was caused by a higher deity being angry with them for loving each other. he only stopped believing this in the mid-1900s. 

crest is autistic and has some difficulty with social cues. he runs the castle on a strict schedule, only barely changing it. he rotates between 3-4 outfits and refuses to wear anything else unless it is an occasion. he also hates velvety textures, and cannot wear any sort of fabrics/textiles on his hands without freaking out about it. this includes bandages, gloves, and fabric on his hands for a prolonged period of time. this also extends to touch— long-term hand holding or unauthorized touching makes him extremely anxious. basically, if anything is on his hands that he doesn’t want on there, he will Not like it. his special interest could be considered the multiverse.

he does like rings though! he wears five in total.

he isn’t very fond of corrupt dream/positivity guardian variants. he just. doesn’t like them. his sister scares him enough.

he has a type when it comes to love interests: artists. he loves artists of any kind— his first boyfriend was a musician, and ink’s… ink. any other crushes he had were either painters, musicians, writers, or actors.

crest does doodle on occasion, mostly in journals he uses to take notes around the multiverse. he’s been keeping journals since adulthood, and has kept all of them since. he keeps all of his journals on a bookshelf in his office, and he has a total of 200+ journals, some specialized in certain universes and others moreso as travel diaries.

he primarily listens to classical and acoustic music. he has a record player and refuses to use anything else to listen to music in his free time.

he is 5’0”.

crest is insecure about his body, particularly his goop/negativity coating. he sees it as a reminder of the worst day of his life.

yeagh i’m normal about him. anyways feel free to ask me questions about him. thumbs up emoji

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

When You Were Mine

Summary: You are Madam Sylvi’s daughter, the proprietor of one of the most frequented pleasure houses on the street of silk. On Prince Aemond’s thirteenth name day, you strike up a friendship that is everlasting, developing into something far more sweeter as you grow into adults.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: smut (p in v sex, oral- f receiving, female masturbation), mentions of sex work, loss of virginity, angst, talk of character death, MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 8K+

Author’s Note: First time writing in second person. I always felt a little unsettled on how Aemond lost his virginity. This is a more tender take on it. This also got a little away from me, so the length is just a bonus. I may write again in this world if anyone is interested! 

You are the daughter of the madam. 

Everyone in the pleasure house has respected the presence of your tender life running about the house asking for sweets and spinning about in your silk dresses. You have many mothers here who dote on you. You are a prize, a little sweet prize pulled from your mother’s womb when she was just aging out of tending to the needs of the gentlemen in this place of pleasure..

Your mother makes sure you are in bed before anything truly lewd begins during the evening, but as the years weigh on she can not keep you still. You are too curious about the work she does. Of course she keeps you safe in her chambers. Her services have not been called on for many many years, whatever that is to mean. 

You play alone at times, though the younger girls seem to be keen to keep you company between their little dances and performances. Your mother checks in on you making sure you are fed and well taken care of. That you have enough toys to play with or sheets to color on. 

You are brushing your doll’s hair under your mother’s bed. Sometimes the candlelight is too bright and warm. Underneath the bed feels like a little cave for you to hide yourself. 

The curtains flutter, you can see it from your cozy position. You can hear the soft music drift through. The curtains expose the darkness outside your mother’s room. Part of you wishes you could watch what happens outside these walls, but you know it isn’t safe. 

She has said it is not safe. 

The boots are heavy on the ground, dragging like the steps of boys. Your mother’s delicate laced up flat sandals also peak through, stopping steadily in the room.  

“I shall return soon, my prince.” You can see her lean close to the black clad leather studded feet. “Please make yourself comfortable.” 

The curtains flutter again as your mother’s quickened steps leave. You are left alone with the shifting boots and the prince attached to them. You lay on your stomach tucking the doll with pretty knotted hair close to your heart as if shielding her from the dirty feet. You try to control your breathing so as not to alert the boy who now is pacing back and forth at the side of the bed. He settles on the bed, close to you swinging his legs nearly hitting your forehead. 

You give out a small whimper when he does make contact with your curious skin. 

He stops. 

He settles to the floor. 

He looks under the bed lifting up every silken sheet. 

He is a Targaryen prince. 

He is the very definition in the stories the young women have told you when your mother is busy entertaining and you require a bedtime tale. 

He has pale freckle peppered skin. His hair is a blinding white blonde that is nearly silver. You can see one eye, a lucid liquidly blue, but the other eye is covered with a brown leather eye patch. 

This is Prince Aemond Targayen. 

“What are you doing under here?” He demands in a voice most princely. 

You are annoyed by how he is treating you in your home. 

“What are you doing here?” You hiss with narrow eyes. You hold your doll closer. 

Immediately you see him flush. His face reddens bright as the summer sun. He stammers, but can not seem to muster words that make sense. His grip on the sheets speaks for him. 

He is nervous. 

“Come under here. You can hide from her.” You say pulling at his shirt feeling only a little sorry for him. 

He folds into the suggestion quite quickly. 

You suspect he does not want to be here. 

He perhaps would like to be anywhere else in the world. 

The young Targayen prince shifts closer to you under the bed. His breath is hot and bothersome. It smells like cake, sweet strawberries and strong vanilla. It makes you wish you were a princess. They must get all sorts of sweet treats every day. 

“I didn’t want to come. He made me. My brother.” He nearly pouts, tucking his hands under his head as he lays on his side looking at you. “Is the madam your mother?” You merely nod. “Did she forget you were here?” 

You look over the prince. 

The young prince is your age. 

Perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age. 

You smile as you shake your head. 

“She knows I’m here. She never brings anyone here.” 

It takes a moment for him to realize what it all means because he does not know your mother as you do. 

He is meant to be your friend. 

“Hold, Nymeria.” You thrust your dark haired doll at the prince as you crawl further under the bed. 

There is a small stack of tomes you have kept here. You pull one forward tickling the well worn pages full of colorful illustrations about war, love, and dragons. You pull it to the princeling who is running his fingers through the doll’s knotted hair.

 “Will you read to me? Or better yet teach me to read for myself? I want to know what’s in these books.” 

His eye brightens, exchanging the doll for the tome. He struggles to open it under the bed, but manages. He thumbs through it as you watch with rapt curiosity. Many of the women that work here do not know how to read and make up tales from the pictures inside. You know this because the stories are different then when your mother opens the tomes. 

She can read quite well. 

“Yes, of course.” He looks over the words and begins to open his mouth. He squints at the page. “It is dark down here. Perhaps,” He looks upward then to you with a small glimmer of happiness in his bright eye. “We can read by candle light. Above?” 

The question is one of asking. He wants to know if it is safe to return to the world outside your secret cave. You are so desperate to hear the stories your mother has not told you yet that you scurry to leave the darkness and head into the light. 

You both settle on top of the bed. 

Sometimes you forget how hard the floor is when you are on the dipping mattress. The princling takes off his boots slowly, careful to put them side by side. Before he settles on top of the bouncing bed as you eagerly await him and the tome, he pauses. 

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen.” He holds his hand out to you very formally. 

You shake it stating your name. When he hears it he smiles. 

Perhaps he would like a friend as well. 

He crawls to the bed, settling the book heavy between you, spread out wide in yellowed dog eared pages. He runs his fingers over the words indicating to you that it is a table of contents meaning it is a list of all the stories within the book. He reads out all the story titles to you, making sure you see each word and letter. He speaks slowly as well, not in a way that is to make you feel inferior, but a way to ensure that you may soon be able to read along. 

He is teaching you. 

He is allowing you to select a story to read, together. 

“That one!” You declare when he reads out a title about an ancient warrior queen. Your mother always told you that tale was too violent, but you always secretly looked at the pictures. They were red soaked images featuring bodies being ripped apart or drowning in sea battles. 

“I thought you may like that one.” He smiles as you hold your doll close to your chest, the namesake of the tale Prince Aemond is about to tell. 

He turns to the middle of the book. The pages are heavy, but he seems not to struggle. Perhaps he reads all the time. He seems very good at turning pages and reading the words on each page. Even the most difficult ones you do not know the meaning of and ask about each time. He seems to have an explanation ready at hand. He seems very happy to explain the words to you. 

You decide you like Prince Aemond very much when he does not mind explaining to you the meaning of ancient words for different weapons. You even grab some paper to allow him to draw what they look like. He seems very engaged and elated to draw you a morningstar. You decide that if you were going to go into battle that would be your weapon. It is very pointed. 

Page after page you are taken over by the story and transported to ancient times with long fought battles. The prince interjects his own insight as he has begun to train himself. You are convinced he will make a fine warrior someday. He down plays himself saying he is still learning. 

“I will not be as grand as Nymeria.” He flushes a bit running his fingers over the beautiful illustration of the fair and fierce queen. 

“But you have Vhagar.” You point out. “The largest, oldest dragon, nothing would stop you in battle. You have fire at your command.” 

He blinks at you swallowing. 

You wonder if you have said something wrong. 

Perhaps he does not want to be reminded of the dragon. Maybe he is afraid of the beast. She is quite large and fierce. She can not even be contained in the confines of the dragon pit; she is so cumbersome. 

You think that could easily be a lonely life for her. 

“Does Vhagar get lonely?” You ask tilting your head so your hair falls sideways. “Like us?” 

“I am not lonely!” He starts to close the tome, but you stop him. 

“Wait, apologies, my prince.” You pull the cover open. He does not stop you. “I didn’t mean to think you were lonely, I was merely wondering if . . . well . . . Vhagar is different. She is large, too large for the dragon pit so perhaps she is sad without other dragons.” 

“She has me.” The princling confirms pressing the pages flat. “And I have her. We are not lonely because we have each other.” 

You think that is sweet. That a dragon and a boy can find comfort in each other. You look to his eye, the one covered in leather. There is a rumor that the Gods took Prince Aemond’s eye and replaced it with a dragon. 

“Do you miss it? Your eye?” You are thirteen and do not care if you are asking too many questions. You are truly curious. 

“Sometimes, yes.” He shrugs. He runs his fingers over the bottom of the patch, over the reddened scar. “Hmmm,” He looks at you. “You won’t be scared I think.” 

You are not confused by what he means. You immediately know. He holds the patch itself. The prince hesitates as if thinking better of himself, but then continues. He pulls it off revealing the scar fully. It travels through the eye socket in a red meaty scar. In the eye’s place is a perfectly reflective blue sapphire. You blink, a smile spreading across your face as you shift closer. 

You do not think it grotesque as many maidens would. 

Instead you think it -

“It’s beautiful!” You say it louder than you meant to. Your heart warms at his tender and relieved smile. 

“You really think so?” Prince Aemond asks so tenderly you are sure they are the sweetest words any boy has ever formed together. 

“Of course. It suits you.” Your fingers twitch to feel. 

“Yes, please, go ahead.” His words stumble out. 

You are unsure. You suddenly remember yourself in this moment. 

You are Madam Sylvi’s daughter. 

You are not meant to intermingle with princes. To ask to be taught to read. To listen to his perfectly crafted voice. You are not meant to demand things like seeing his worst moment etched in a devilish scar. You are not meant to be so taken by the placement of the sapphire in his missing eye you feel giddy. 

You certainly should not be touching his face. 

But he asked. 

He begged you to touch his scar. 

So you do. 

Your fingers run softly like a ghost, a whispering wind over his brow. The wound is deep. It is healed in ridgid places feeling like little bumps and tears. The skin feels cool under your fingers. Your pads are about to fully trace the dip to his socket when the curtain flutters. 

Your mother says your name with a shout. 

“You should not be touching the prince!” Your mother pulls her robe tighter around herself marching to the bed. 

“I asked her too. She was only obeying me!” The prince is quick to defend you. 

His new friend. 

Your mother looks between you then at the book on the bed. There is a ghost of a smile that comes to life fully at seeing you and the prince behaving as children should. 

“Have you found friendship in each other?” Your mother sits in front of you on the bed looking at the pages of the story you should not be reading. You flush in apology, eyes downcast. “I am not mad. You are thirteen. You will know of violence in this world. That I can not shield you from my precious dove.” She plays with your hair, sharing a soft private moment with you. 

“Prince Aemond was teaching me to read.” You say fluttering your lashes innocently. Your mother continues to stroke your face, contentment on hers. 

“Is that so?” She asks and gives you, her precious daughter, a sweet kiss on the forehead. “It is the young prince’s birthday. He is now thirteen. His brother believes him to be a man today.” 

You see your mother purposely not looking at the prince, but you do. You see him look down shifting uncomfortably. He plays with his fingers, lacing them then unlacing them, together then apart. 

“Is that why you smell like cake?” You ask with a tilt. 

It seems to melt his nervousness. 

“The maids made me strawberry and vanilla. A small one just for me. Mother forgot I do not like chocolate. Aegon likes chocolate.” He is ready for an explanation. 

“I like strawberries and vanilla too.” You declare exchanging a smile with the prince. 

“Madam Sylvi?” The princling asks lacing his fingers together. 

“I will tell your brother lies. You only need to confirm it.” Your mother says. 

He nods. 

You are unsure what it all means, but you know you will understand this someday. 

“I shall stay with you two a while longer to keep up appearances, but please, my prince, continue to read to my darling daughter.” Your mother brushes her fingers through a chunk of your tangled hair. “She has a sharp mind that is not meant for this life.” 

There is a sadness in your mother’s voice as she looks upon you. 

She has always told you she wishes for a better life for you. 

She wants you to read, to explore, to be doted on by someone special who loves you. 

“What shall we read next, little dove?” Prince Aemond shifts closer to you. 

You smile at your new friend as he smiles back proudly showing his unclothed eye. 

“Read me a tale of dragons.” 

***

Aemond is a frequent visitor of your mother’s house of pleasure as the pair of you grow into adults. His brother thinks he has clung to the taker of his virginity when in truth the middle prince has not lost it. 

He did not lose it that night to your mother like so many whisper over. He does not lose it anytime he comes to the pleasure palace. The prince remains chaste and a gentleman. Instead he comes seeking a different kind of pleasure. 

He comes seeking you. 

His little dove. 

At first he would bring books and ancient tomes from the library in the Red Keep. He would read you stories about ancient battles and prophecies. He would teach you how to read out the simplest words aloud and sound out the more difficult titles. When you have mastered the skills of reading he listens to you read aloud. He is prone to putting his head in your lap as you play with his growing long straight strands. Most nights he falls asleep listening to you name dragons and their riders aloud sometimes sleepily listing them along with you. 

When you have mastered the common language, he begins to teach you High Valyrian, the ancient language of Old Valyria. It is a difficult language to learn especially since it takes you so long to learn how to roll your tongue with the exotic words. He has squeezed your face so many times to assist you in the language that your jaw has begun to hurt. 

You began to learn a few words and even some phrases.

Every time he hears you speak in the ancient lanaguage he swells with pride. 

It is much like every time you read a story to him. 

He has taken to removing his eye patch every time he enters the room, your mother’s room which she keeps you hidden away in. It has become your hide away with Aemond. He has only recently insisted you drop the prince title when referring to him. 

“The whole world sees me as a prince, little dove.” He touches your face as he says this. “With you I wish to be Aemond. Only Aemond if it pleases you.” 

You are not sure he knows, but it does please you. 

It pleases you greatly to be his friend.

It pleases you greatly that he wants to share his singular name with you. 

While Aemond has grown into a talented, well educated and well trained noble prince, you have developed into a lively beauty prone to intelligent conversations and feeling music enrapture you. Your body is now well settled from growing your lush curves and bountiful bosom. You know yourself greatly and have confidence in your looks. It causes some patrons to ask your mother for you. 

“My daughter is not a whore.” Your mother tells them. 

They keep asking hoping for a different answer. 

One day the prince hears someone ask for you. 

They offer a hefty sum, a giant coin purse. 

“She is mine.” Aemond tells the man asserting himself forward in a way you have never seen him.

He pulls you quickly into the privacy of your mother’s quarters. There is bubbling rage that makes his fists open and close. It is similar to when he was a boy, lacing and unlacing his fingers. 

“Aemond.” You call out settled on the bed. 

“No man will ever touch you.” He says through gritted teeth. 

He is pacing. The anger makes your body hum with gratitude. He has protected you. With his declaration he has ensured that no one will ever ask to bed you again. You are still pure. Your mother has made sure of that and now so has Aemond. Your prince. 

“Someone will touch me someday.” You inform him. 

His head snaps to you. His eye is wide with sudden realization. You are not an innocent little dove anymore. You are a woman grown. A beauty that is sure to bring a kind and gentle man to your door. If not your beauty, your beautiful curious nature is too sweet not to have a man falling in love with you so surely he would do anything for you. 

“Do you want to be touched?” He looks you over. There is a shiver that runs through your body to your core. 

You want to say you want him to touch you. 

“I want you to touch me, Aemond.” You were never good at keeping your thoughts to yourself. 

It is like the first time you met. 

You forget yourself. 

You are Madam Sylvi’s daughter. 

You can not demand to be touched by -

“Where?” You see him. You truly see him now. His living eye begins to tear. The joyous kind of an echo of a tear reflects in his eye. His sapphire eye nearly comes alive as well as he kneels before you. “Where do you want me to touch you?” It is a near panic as if you will change your mind. 

Your heart is caught in your throat as you hear his needy question. 

You do not know. 

You do not know the answer, yet it floods out of you like a possession. 

“Everywhere.” 

The panic rolls off of him still. He does not know either where he wants to touch you. You part your legs for him wearing a lovely white silk gown that looks nearly grey in the fiery candlelight. He slots his head and torso between your thighs. Aemond’s hand moves the soft fabric on your right thigh up to reveal plush dips and curves of your skin. 

He runs his hands over it squeezing you gently before he dips his lips to kiss you. 

There. 

On the softest part of your legs you feel a prince’s lips, your prince’s lips tickle you. 

They are wet. 

You are wet. 

“Aemond.” You say his name as his kisses trail upwards. He is giving your thigh open mouthed kisses as he kneads your flesh, hungry and thankful. 

“Ñuha jorrāelagon.” You are taken over by how good his kisses feel running up your thigh. It pierces straight to your core that your mind struggles to translate the phrase. 

My love.

It is not right. 

But it seems so very right. 

Feels so very right. 

His fingers tease the crease between your thigh and pelvis. He is so very hot and heavy in breath, licking at the peak of your mound. Your small clothes cover you there. You can not think if you prefer them clothed or if you would rather Aemond peel them away from your sweat drenched body. 

“Ñuha dārilaros.” My Prince.

Your pronunciation is not quite right as you feel so many emotions and physical sensations right now your High Valyrian pronunciation is the furthest thing from your mind. You are trying to stop from falling back to the bed, legs spread like the whore your mother claimed you not to be. 

Perhaps you are only a whore for Aemond Targaryen. 

“Renigon nyke.” It is better. It is desperate. 

Touch me. 

“I would spend the rest of my days obeying that order.” He says smoothing his hand on your upper thigh. He peers up at you. He watches you try to catch your breath. He watches how much you want him. How much you have always wanted him. 

You realize that now. 

There has been a growing infactuation starting from that very day he peered under your mother’s bed. It started out as simple friendship. Two lonely little children misunderstood by the overarching world. With the years, with understanding each other, it has churned into more. It has become something grand and wide spreading, a warm feeling in your chest that is now spreading between your legs. 

“Hmmm . . .you are wet.” He hums. 

“I am sorry -” You flush embarrassed but his lips are on your soaked small clothes suckling before you can respond. 

Instead you shutter and feel like someone has taken your breath from your body. 

You have never had so many goose pimples in your life. 

“Wet is good.” His fingers are now palming your core through the fabric of your small clothes.. “Wet means you enjoy what I am doing to you.” You nod. 

You remember a book he brought to you about bodies, sex, and arousal. You had been too nervous to read it in front of him, but he had kept it close to his chest. You realize now he probably studied it for a moment such as this. 

“Would you like to kiss me?” Your heart flutters at the question on your lips. 

Surely a prince would not like - 

He kisses you before you have a chance to change your mind. 

You never would. 

He holds the back of your neck threading his fingers through your beautiful locks. His lips are so soft and inviting. Your lips part in a little gasping breath. He moves his lips, opening and closing them to take you in. He’s so warm. His other hand remains on your trembling thigh as he kisses you with the need to never stop. You welcome him trying to meet his passion tenfold. 

It is not a prince you are kissing in this moment. 

It is your friend. 

It is your Aemond. 

Yours and yours alone. 

In that moment you belong to each other and nothing else matters. 

***

You welcome his small touches. 

The pair of you are not as intense as the night he claimed you as his, when he kissed your thigh and kissed you with such need and fury it made your lips ache and burn red. Both of you had kissed so hungrily that night your lips were too sore to do anything else. You and he just laid side by side watching each other, giggling at the giddiness of the moment. 

You hold hands as you read to one another. He takes care to stroke your cheek gently when he looks upon you. He whispers words you do not know but begin to learn in High Valyrian. 

Gevie. Beautiful.

Ñuha prūmia. My Heart.

Ñuhon. Mine.

You wonder if he has always been this taken with you. 

He tells you truthfully when you ask. 

“I have always loved you a little. It has grown so deeply since that first day.” 

Perhaps you understand this more than anyone. 

He leaves you in small chunks of time when he is overtraining his body to show off to his nephews who are to return. The nephews who belittled him and gifted him a pig as a dragon. You have not ever been teased, but can imagine his pain. You see his pain in the form of a missing eye. An eye one of those nephews took from him. 

You understand his desire to be as sharp as a knife. 

He wants his body to be ready should they ever try to belittle him again. 

You are happy to give him over to the training. 

But so very sad when you do not see him for months. 

You are more sad that you are missing his touch. 

Instead you experiment for the first time. You attempt to touch yourself as he touched you. You start by journeying up your thigh. You trail soft kneading touches. You imagine they are his hands. 

Where else would you want him? 

Everywhere. You remember saying

You can not fathom him on any other part of your body that would feel better than his lips sucking on your small clothes. Perhaps maybe on your core directly. You blush thinking as you stroke over your small clothes. You bring your fingers to your lips sucking on them. It will make it easier to pretend it is his tongue on your core. 

You dip your fingers under the fabric on your core laid back spread on the bed missing your friend, hoping the next time you see him you can ask for more. You stroke yourself, finding the wetness of your fingers causes you to sigh. You find a small bud between your core and tease it gently. 

You arch your back at the feeling it gives you. You leak wet hot arousal between your fingers. 

Your mother shouts your name entering through the curtains. 

Your face flushes embarrassed as gravity settles you down from your high. 

You wipe your wet fingers on your dress and squeeze your thighs together hoping it will ease the pulsing you still feel. 

It helps very little. 

“Do not be embarrassed of pleasuring yourself, daughter.” This perhaps makes you more embarrassed. “It is a natural thing to wish to feel pleasure.” 

You look down at your fingers slightly pruned from your desire. The release you felt was incredible and exhilarating. Perhaps she is right. Feeling good, as good as this, is a marvel. 

“I have come to share some news. Your prince is looking for Prince Aegon. He was just at the door now. He said he would visit soon.” She pauses looking at you, taking your hands softly. “There is a rumor the king is dead.” You feel saddened. Aemond did not speak much of his father, but the loss will surely devastate him in some way. “They speak of putting Aegon on the throne.” 

You slip your hands from your mother’s. You know what this means. There is to be a war. The king’s firstborn would not stand to see her half-brother on the throne. 

Battle lines will be drawn. 

Houses will be fought for. 

Marriage pacts . . .

He was not betrothed. 

Young, dashing Prince Aemond Targaryen was a free suitor.

A pawn to be used should houses need a push from one side to the other. 

It is not the thought of Aemond going to war that frightens you, but the idea that he may share a bed with another woman. 

That he may take a wife. 

“Oh my sweet girl.” Your mother wipes tears that you did not know were there from your face. “Come here, my little love.” She embraces you as silent tears fall from your sweet innocent face. “It is troublesome to fall in love with a prince.” 

You think this is true. 

***

Days after King Viserys’ death, Aemond arrives on a stormy night. 

You are on the bed propped up with pillows. You read through a book on Aegon the Conqueror considering how he took two wives, both sisters. He arrives in your mother’s chambers, to you, soaked to the bone, water running off his leathers and through his long flat hair. His eye patch is already abandoned, the sapphire reflects the flickering candles. 

“Aemond.” You whisper closing the book. 

You have known him too long not to notice the sad confusion in his face. 

“I did not mean it.” It is the boy you hear. The one who laid with you under your mother’s bed. The one who taught you how to read. That boy is scared. 

“Come here, my love.” You shift to welcome him onto your lap. He crawls onto the bed in damp clothes. 

“I did not mean it.” He grabs onto you as an anchor. The soft part of your thigh is so warm and welcoming that he nuzzled his face there. 

“What didn’t you mean? Tell me, ñuha jorrāelagon.” You are done chasing away how you feel about him. You love him, it is too plain to see. You stroke his hair in the most loving way you know how.

“Lucerys.” 

You already know what has happened. 

You already know blood has been drawn in such a short time. 

You do not pause as you pet his damp hair. He nuzzles you close. 

“It is alright. It will be alright.” You assure him. You must assure him. Not because it is your duty as a smallfolk to bluster your prince, but it is your honor as his friend, his love. Whatever he is to you. 

Your heart. 

“It will not be.” He holds onto your thigh as though you might stop your sweet embrace as he speaks. “I am to be married.” 

This causes pause. 

Lucerys’ death was not devastating to you. He had hurt your prince so you felt nothing for the boy but disdain. It is no matter to you that he is dead. 

But a marriage . . . 

Your heart grieves for a future you were never meant to have. 

“I do not wish it.” He says snuggling you close. He breathes in your scent. He clings to you for comfort in this miserable moment. You ease him. It is what you know how to do. It is what you want to do by petting his soft hair and pulling him closer to your body. “I want you. I only ever want you.” 

Out loud he appears to be a grieving boy in need of physical affection. 

In your heart, you hear it differently, you hear true undying desperation to have you. 

“I want it to be with you.” He turns to lay on his back looking up at you. “My first time. I do not want it to be with the Baratheon girl. I want it to be with you, ñuha prūmia.” He reaches up to stroke your face. His thumb trails over your lower lip, plump and ready for him. 

You could never deny him. 

You will never deny him. 

You are his heart. 

He is your heart. 

You reach down and kiss him. His lips are wet with need and hunger to finally take you as he wants. You want him too. You have envisioned this moment in your deep sleep. Dreams of Aemond nude and wanting before you make you wake with your hand between your aching thighs. He pushes upward, entangling his hand in your hair and one hand at your waist. 

You whisper his name, eyes floating over him as he kisses you lightly then deeply as if his survival depends on making you feel so incredibly good. He strokes your hip, lifting up the side of your pale green layered silk gown. His hand strokes your backside feeling the wide curve of your ass. He presses flush to you against the soft mattress and propped pillows. 

It is when you feel him. 

Between his legs is a sword at the ready. 

“You. Are. Hard.” You say each word with small gasps as he kisses your neck laying on top of you. 

“I am.” You can feel his lips curve into a smile at your collarbone. “It means I desire you.” 

You feel your body shiver at this thought. 

He wants you. 

You find his hand at your hip guiding it with yours to your aching core. It is as soaked as his heavy leather coat. 

“I want you too.” You show him. He strokes you there and you feel too much pleasure soaking you more. “Let me undress you.” 

His coat falls to the side. Your fingers slip against the buttons of his tunic. He helps you in frustration, nearly ripping them off in a harsh pull. You stifle a laugh at his eagerness. He lavishes you with kisses, open mouthed and needy. You feel his tongue slip inside your mouth. It is so hot and so is his skin. It is as if he is burning up from the inside with desire. 

“I need you, my darling dove.”  

Your hand palms his hardness through the leather pants. You admire his torso for a moment stroking the length of him. He is well toned, muscular. His wide pecs and deep abs make you gasp. He leans forward threatening to kiss you again, but you lean back marvelling at the site knelt before you on your mother’s bed. 

“You like what you see then? I have been hoping that when we were ready to make love that my body was to your liking. It is another reason I have been training so hard.” 

You feel a deep devotion to him in this moment. 

That he would spend so much time on his body to please you. 

Just you. 

“You were sculpted by the Gods.” You trace your fingers over his abs stroking along the dips of his hips. 

“I was sculpted for you and you alone, my little dove.” He cups your cheeks seeking your kiss again. He is sweet and well practiced now with how to kiss you. 

He is so happy now after being so taken with guilt over the death of his nephew you wonder if he is truly okay. 

You feel selfish kissing him back. 

You feel wrong for wanting him to never stop wanting you even if he is to marry another. 

“Say you want me ag-”

“I want you. Jaelan ao.” He says before you can finish. 

You press down his trousers. He stands to reveal his naked body to you. You have never seen a nude man before, but you are sure no other man looks as Aemond Targaryen does. He stands proudly as if he knows his body is a work of art. You have already been admiring his torso. 

Why not admire the rest of him? 

You sit on the bed letting your eyes fall to the part of him you had been too bashful to lay eyes on. You are in the midst of exploring him fully. You must look at that part. His hardness stands straight, long and thick. You see he is smooth at his base where his balls hang low. He strokes himself proudly, smirking. The tip of his cock is leaking. 

You think it is because his body needs you so badly it is weeping. 

On instinct, you spread your legs. 

He watches you nearly panting. 

“Would you like to see me?” 

It is a question you know the answer to. 

You watch his cock twitch, up and down as if an invisible force is causing him to stir. 

He steps forward eager, but cautious in case you are nervous about revealing yourself fully. You are nervous. You have never been naked in front of a man before. You ease yourself looking to his sapphire eye. He has exposed himself time and time again to you. 

Surely you can show him your tits and not flush? 

You stand and turn away from him. Your neck bends forward as you shift your hair exposing the clasp around your neck. You feel the pads of his fingers there. It is there you realize he is trembling. Uneasily with a few fumbled tries, he undoes the clasps letting the bodice of your gown fall forward exposing your tits to the cool air. 

Your nipples peak to life in the coldness. You instinctively go to cover them, but he stays your hands. He is easy with them, a gentle kind of ease. He moves to knead your breasts. You say nothing because his hands, while cold from the rain, are so good squeezing at your fleshy fat before rolling your peaked pink buds between his fingers. 

“Aemond,” You sigh, leaning back into him. You touch his face from behind bringing him closer as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Take the rest off.” 

He kisses behind your ear, a lingering beautiful kiss. 

His hands move from your well massaged breasts down further. He glides them down your torso to your hips. They still hug the silk dark green dress with little gold lace. He pulls it down over your wide hips. He pushes himself at the curve of your bottom and you feel that he is harder than you remembered. 

The dress pools to the floor. 

You are as exposed as he is. 

You are the same in this moment.

You feel his face from behind you as he continues to kiss your neck and hold your body to his. 

“I want you to be my first too.” You tell him. It is a secret you have kept close to your chest. “I dream about you, Aemond. I . . .” You can not bring yourself to say it, but you do. If you do not say it now it will fester inside you until you leave this world. “I love you, Aemond Targaryen.” 

He does not stop kissing you.��

He only whispers. 

“Avy jorrāelan tolī.”

You turn in his arms. Tears edge his bottom eyelid. You kiss them away holding his face. You repeat the words in High Valyrian, the same tone and cadence as his confession. He leans forward kissing you. He can not stop telling you he loves you, in either language. 

“Make love to me.” You instruct him feeling that his kisses are suddenly not enough. You hold his face seeing how his desire matches your own. “I want you inside me.” 

He lays you down gently on the bed. His kisses press to your lips. His tongue continues to explore your mouth. Yours is eager to explore his. You are eager as you spread your legs for his member to slot between your thighs. You feel the leaking head caressing your core. 

“Will it hurt?” 

You do not like pain. You know that your core is tight and his thick throbbing length is supposed to fit inside you. 

“It may be uncomfortable.” He strokes your hair softly. “If you need to stop, just say so. I would never do anything to hurt you, my little dove.”

You believe him.

You nod feeling ready for him. 

“I . . .” He pauses looking down at your face, your body, your cunt. He teases you with long lithe fingers, stroking your slit making you whimper. “I should like you a bit wetter before I enter you.” 

His face moves downward trailing feathery kisses between your breasts then further down making you shudder with anticipation. He looks up from kissing your belly as if asking for approval to journey further. You bite your lip and nod. It takes all your power not to push his face where you need him. 

He is at your sex. 

He is between your legs. 

Aemond licks your slit long and slow. It has the desired effect. You grow wetter letting out tiny pleased gasps. Your sex pulses with need. He kisses you there where he is needed most. His tongue pushes past your folds letting his lips suckle and drink you in. The slurping noise is quite lewd, but it makes your body soak around his lip. Your hips dance upwards as his hands grip your thighs in place. He presses little circles on your soft inner thigh. 

“Aemond . . .” You grip the sheets never wanting him to stop. You have never felt this good or loved in your life. You fear you will never feel this good again. “Don’t stop.” You want to beg him to keep his tongue inside you, but instead he finds that bud. 

Your body quakes. The tip of his tongue swirls around the bud. You can nearly feel it throbbing. It needs friction. He wraps his lips around the little pearl suckling. 

You can not see. Your eyes screw shut. 

The pleasure. 

The pleasure rides through your body, from core to toes to head. You cry out to the Gods. You cry out in undeniable euphoria.You feel yourself come undone and back together again. Your legs shake. Aemond holds you to the bed, grounding you as if you might float away to the heavens. He continues despite the unending pleasure you feel. 

“You enjoyed that.” He is smiling proudly, his tongue still lapping against your core despite how you feel yourself coming down from the euphoric high. You simply nod. “I am glad. I believe you are ready for me.” 

You shift to rest your head more firmly on the pillows. Aemond helps. He fluffs the pillows and makes sure you are comfortable. He strokes your core making sure you are slick and continues to kiss your lips alternating between sweet and searing passion. 

You are ready. 

You want him.

You need him. 

His tip brushes the hairs at your core clustered wet in your arousal. You sigh feeling the girth of his tip. You know it may feel uncomfortable, but there is nothing more you have ever wanted in your life then Aemond Targaryen’s cock rutting itself to completion inside you. 

“Hold me for comfort. I am here for you always. You are mine. Ñuha jorrāelagon.” 

He is careful when he enters you. There is much discomfort, but no pain. The stretch is easy with how wet he has made you. His tip squeezes inside your core making you gasp with perfect desire. You hold under his pits to grasp his shoulders as he continues to push inside you. 

He watches your face to make sure you are alright before pushing in further. 

You feel him. 

Gods, do you feel him. 

He can not help, but ease himself further until he is flush with you. His magnificent well defined torso is crushed against your soft womanly figure. You hold him for dear life. He nuzzles his nose into your hair and neck. He bottoms out inside you. 

You feel all of him now. 

You nearly cry with how good it feels to smell him, to touch him, to taste him, to have him inside you. 

“I love you.” You say again. “Always.” 

“I love you.” He says looking upon your sweet face, innocent and in love. “I wish to move. To truly make love to you. Tell me if -” 

“Yes, please, fuck me.” Your words are not sweet, but desperate. 

You want him to know he can be a bit rough if he likes. 

You think you may want him to be. 

His thumb wipes across your bottom lip, a loving gesture. 

He begins. 

Aemond moves inside you thoughtfully. Out half way then easing back in. His eye is settled on your face, watching for any signs he should stop or signs of true pleasure. You know all he sees, all he hears is your pleasure settling inside you. His breath is soft and needy against your neck as he slowly fucks your cunt. 

Your hips rise to meet him. 

Want him. 

More. 

He takes the sign. Aemond begins to rock his hips deeper. His cock is moving at a much quicker pace. You stretch. You feel yourself expand around his cock. It feels like nothing else you have ever felt. You hold him close as his hips begin to snap, pounding into you. You can feel you may bruise, but you do not care. His breath is heavier now, panting as he fucks you. You cry out louder moans of pure bliss. 

“Yes! Please!” Gods, he feels good. So very good. 

His cock twitches inside you. 

He is moaning now. 

It is as if he has silenced himself this whole time, but now can not control it. 

“I am there.” He calls out with a grunt. 

You feel your core pulse pulling him in deeper. 

“Fuck, you are milking my cock! I can not hold on. I can not hold on!” He grunts out snapping his hips like the beating wings of a dragon. 

You cry out hearing him let out a loud noise, a mixture of your name and cries of passion.  

He spills his seed inside you. 

You feel warm as you rake your fingernails across his back feeling the wetness spill from you. You call out his name as you feel undone underneath him. 

His name is like a prayer. 

If you say it enough he will be yours. 

He tenderly says your name against the shell of your ear as you feel him grow soft inside you. 

You lay as one, he deep inside you. 

You draw circles across his back in comfort. 

He nuzzles against your hair. You can feel his wet lips against your neck in small kisses. 

“You are mine.” He whispers to you. “Even if I am to marry another. You will always be mine.” 

You think that is true. You think that has always been true. 

You have experienced something special with him. You have taken the virginity of Prince Aemond Targaryen. He has taken your flower. You will never forget this moment. 

As you lay there in each others’ arms you know soon you will part. Perhaps he will never return to your bed. Perhaps he will constantly return to you. He is to be married. He may be. He may break off the engagement. 

It is a future not yet set in stone. 

You know that you will savor this moment in time. 

When you were his and he was yours.

[celest1alemma]

New year, new blog me

୨୧ August 18, 2021. I saw a tiktok about shifting and facetimed my friend, Alyssa. "Don't think I'm crazy, but....."

Three hours later, we were finishing our stereotypical first hogwarts scripts. I tried the julia method, and she tried the door method, each of us to no avail. But when I realized it was midnight and nothing had changed, I slept. But I still believed in the morning, and the next, and the next, that I could. That I would. Now 3 years later, take a guess how many times I've shifted. Zero. And yet I still believe, yet I find it wavering. I've cried and quit and laughed and smiled so much on this journey. I've had so many close experiences that keep me going. Like the time I might've minishifted, but I was too tired and went back to sleep. Or the time I was in a lucid dream with a portal, but something was keeping me back. They didn't get me there, but they keep my hope alive. I've never kept my NY resolutions. Hell, I forget to make them half the time. But this year is different. I will not make a fourth year without shifting. I will be in my desired reality. I am in my desired reality. I'm done waiting and hoping and praying. I'm taking the wheel now. I'm in control, and the whole universe is at my fingertips, waiting for me. It's so crazy that this is all it takes to break the thin sheet separating you and your dreams. The loss of motivation and belief and effort is so true. It's happened so many times and whenever I imagine my true reality I snap back and think of it again as a far away land, a paradise reserved for saints in the afterlife. Sometimes I think of it as a figment of my imagination, and that is truly so 2024. Why can't you just go? Just do it (said nike,) because so many other people have too. And they're just like you and me. Being aware of yourself and your conciousness, your powers and your mindset doesn't make you a hero. It makes you happy, because it gives you the things you want. Stop saying "I can't," and stop focusing on the bad and what you couldn't do before. The past is in the past and you are only in the future. Get what you truly desire and get home by knowing that you are already home. Yes, you are. You exist in your home, you just need to get there first. Just take the first step. Just go.

now to finish the notion script....

୨୧

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

vampire au marc anyone? may i interest y'all in vampire marc au?

[luna-azzurra]

12 Emotional Wounds in Fiction Storys

Betraying a Loved One. Your character made a choice, and it backfired, badly. They betrayed someone close to them, maybe on purpose, maybe by accident. Now, the guilt’s eating them alive. They might try to fix things, but can they even make up for what they did?

Guilt Over a Past Mistake. They made a mistake, one that cost someone else. Maybe it was reckless, maybe it was a dumb decision, but now it haunts them. They can’t stop thinking about it, and no matter how hard they try to make things right, the past keeps pulling them back.

Survivor’s Guilt. Imagine surviving something awful, an accident, a disaster, but someone else didn’t make it. Now your character is stuck asking, “Why me? Why am I still here?” They push people away, convinced they don’t deserve to be happy or even alive.

Feeling Powerless. Your character is trapped, maybe in an abusive home, a toxic relationship, or just in life itself. They feel stuck, with no control over their own future.

Being Wrongly Accused. They didn’t do it. But no one believes them. Your character has been falsely accused of something serious, maybe even a crime and now they’re fighting to clear their name. It’s not just about proving their innocence, though. They’re also battling the pain of being abandoned by people who were supposed to stand by them.

Public Humiliation. They’ve just been humiliated in front of everyone, maybe it’s a video gone viral, or they were betrayed by someone they trusted. Now, they can’t even look people in the eye.

Living in Someone’s Shadow. No matter what they do, it’s never enough. Someone else, a sibling, a friend, a partner, always shines brighter. They feel stuck in that person’s shadow, invisible and overlooked.

Abandoning a Dream. They had big dreams, but somewhere along the way, life got in the way, and now they’ve given up. Maybe it was because of fear or circumstances beyond their control, but the loss of that dream has left them feeling empty.

Childhood Trauma. Something happened to them when they were young, something painful that still affects them today. Whether it was abuse, neglect, or a significant loss, the trauma follows them into adulthood, shaping how they see themselves and the world.

Being an Outsider. They’ve never felt like they fit in, whether because of their background, their personality, or something else. They long for acceptance but fear they’ll never find it.

Struggling with Addiction. They’re caught in a destructive cycle, whether it’s with substances, behaviors, or even people. The shame and struggle to break free from addiction are real and raw.

Living with Chronic Illness. They’re living with a chronic illness or disability, and it’s not just the physical challenges that weigh them down, it’s the emotional toll, too. Maybe they feel isolated, or like they’re a burden to others.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

“𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲” - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙳𝙸𝙻𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 × 𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 | 𝐎𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥

6K

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️ warnings contain spoilers ⚠️

Older!Rafe, DILF!Rafe, pet names, kissing, praise, angst, soft!Rafe, swearing, smoking, drinking, unprotected p in v, oral (male receiving), cum tasting, spanking, choking, rough sex, degredation, rough oral, ownership kink, orgasm control, multiple orgasms

Thank you to my lovely beta reader @oceandriveab love you bae 💕🩷

Rafe’s POV:

"I love you, man. But, I'm home for one fuckin' week. Leave me alone. Yeah?"

"The Azimut deal is major, Cameron," my boss groans. “We really need you face-to-face in Italy.”

"I haven’t been home in a month. I’m gonna be gone for another few weeks," I chuckle in disbelief as I rub the sleep from my eyes; this fucker is tryin’ to pull even more of my time away. “Send, Top. I’m sure he’ll be able to land the deal. Alright?”

"We both know he won’t-"

"Not my fuckin’ problem," I cut him short as I drift into the driveway.

"Your loss. That’s a shit ton of money, man.”

"Yeah… Well, I got plenty of that. We done?" I taunt.

"Fuck. You’re killin’ me... See you in a week, Cameron. Give the best to y/n and the kids."

"Umm yeah... Gotta go," I sigh as I watch the scene play out in front of me. Jesus Christ. Problems already? This kid... Why is he me? Fuck. I'm gettin’ it back tenfold. I roll down my window, eavesdropping shamelessly, watching Harbor Thornton clamber the rest of the way out the window. Max leans toward her, cig dangling from his lip, no shirt on his muscular body, and a neck full of fresh hickeys.

"Tell him you went to Macy’s house, princess," he smirks, exhaling two streams of smoke through his nose. "I'll be right down. M'kay?"

"Don't take too long, Maxi. We're gonna be late."

Maxi? I can't help but snort out a sleepy snicker.

"Late for a party? We’re always late, Thornton. I just need to get my shit. Then, we can go to your house and get you dressed.”

”I can’t wait for you to see my costume, baby. Maybe you can take it off me later.”

”M’plannin’ on it.” He hooks his hand around the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her bleach-blonde hair.

"Maybe we can sneak into Piper’s parent’s room," she mumbles between sloppy kisses. Enough. Make it end. I open the truck door, slamming it shut. The two of them fall silent.

"Welp. Now or never," I gripe as I press the door open— Harbor lowers herself down the side of the house, clearly aware of my arrival as she does her best to hide. Like it matters, sweetheart... Your BMW is parked right outside the gate. "Have a nice day, Harbor," I sigh.

She looks around the house, giving me a guilty grin and a wave. "Uh-h... Hi, Mr. Cameron," she stammers. "You too." Harbor looks back at the window, no Max to be seen, quickly scampering to her car. An even thicker cloud of smoke pours out, wafting away. Jesus Christ, bud. I throw my head down, shuffling up toward the door, climbing up a few steps before grabbing the knob. There's a stir behind it already. My babies. Jerking it open, stepping through the threshold, a roar of joy following fast.

"Daddy!" Poppy shrieks at the top of her lungs. Her feet patter against the hardwood floor, Rory trailing close behind. I squat down to their level, waiting for them to round the corner. I meet their twinkling eyes, smiles doubling. They crash into my arms, crawling onto me to get closer. I hold them tight, taking in their smell. A wide smile sets on my lips as well.

"I missed you, two."

"Missed you, Daddy," Rory smiles. Poppy gives me an all-too-wet kiss on the cheek before nuzzling in again.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispers.

"I love you, princess. And I love you too, bud."

They leave as soon as they come, tearing back to the kitchen, leaving y/n standing in the doorframe, giving me a moment. She chuckles warmly, a beautiful smile playing on her perfect lips, giving me butterflies. Still. She walks my way, wrapping her arms around my neck. Picking her up in a hug, I pull her in tight. "Fuck. I missed my girl," I mumble against her skin, pressing a gentle kiss on the crook of her neck. "I love you, babydoll."

I set her down on the ground, not letting her leave my arms. Matching her gaze, I feel myself at peace again. "I love you too, baby," she whispers. Damn, I missed her voice. Cupping her soft cheek in my hands, I kiss her again, feeling her smile against my mouth.

"What?" I laugh lightly.

"You kinda smell like weed," she hums.

"That ain't me, honey."

"What?" She draws back, wide-eyed. "Max?"

"Mhmm..."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in frustration. "I said no weed," she whizzes. I blurt out a laugh, throwing my head back. Y/n slaps my chest, a little scowl setting on her pouty lips. "Rafe... He has ISS."

"ISS?"

"In-school suspension..."

"Oh shit. What'd I miss?" I breathe as I shut my eyes tightly. "Lay it on me, princess."

"Apparently, he sells weed."

"Why?" I whine. "It's not like he needs to..."

"He said we wouldn't buy him that truck he wanted? So, he's gonna buy his own."

"All’s I said was he had to wait ‘til his birthday or somethin’. He wants a fuckin’ Raptor, y/n. Shit starts at 80 G’s… Maybe get a job? Help me around the office? Do somethin’ besides jackin’ our boat, drinkin’ beers, and golfin’. Jesus fuck, that kid’s somethin’ else."

"Technically... he did get a job,” she breathes as she rests her palms on my chest, calming me down slightly.

"Technically... I guess," I huff, rolling my eyes away. "He is killin' me. Did you know Thornton was here?"

“Topper?”

“Harbor,” I correct her. Y/n's mouth falls open in disgust. "She was not... She didn’t come through the front.”

"Think they wanted some privacy, honey," you groan, shuddering in disgust, y/n echoing the same.

"Can you talk to him?" Y/n whispers, her tired eyes pleading with mine. "I thought I was doin' a good job, Rafe—Shit's fallin' through the cracks. I wasn’t even gonna do anything with the twins for Halloween… Just dress ‘em in one of Winnie and Max’s old costumes and pass out candy.”

“Winnie…” I smile, just thinkin’ about my pride and joy. “Where’s our girl at?” I ask as I look around the house, just the sound of the twins pattering feet left behind.

“You don’t wanna know,” Y/n sighs as she tugs her phone out of her back pocket, showing me a picture that has my eyes doubling.

“That’s Win?” I ask as I look down at my angel in next to nothin’, slamming my eyes shut in mental exhaustion. “What is she supposed to be?”

“Little Red Riding Hood?” Y/n sighs— the two of us silently coming to terms with the fact that our babies are anything but babies anymore.

“So, she’s gone then?”

“Just left with Jackson Mayb-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, pretty girl,” I mumble as I wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her in for comfort.

“It’s been a mess here, Rafe. I’m not doing a good job-”

"You." I stop her, pressing a rough kiss on her forehead. "You are doing an amazing job, y/n."

"Thank you," she whispers weakly. Y/n's attention gets ripped away, brows furrowing in irritation as she glances out the front window, watching Max lower himself from above. "Now? Please."

"Of course, honey." I give her one last kiss, turning toward the door, breaking out in a little trot, throwing the entry open. "Max!"

Max turns on his heels, looking back at me annoyedly, his mother's scowl and a button nose, the rest of him all me. "Rafe."

"Scuse me?" I challenge, making him shift his stance, crossing his arms over his tight white polo, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"I'm just kiddin'. Calm your tits,” he scoffs.

"Sure… I missed you. Weren't you gonna say 'hi' or anythin’?" He crushes the grass with his boat shoe, throwing his gaze to the ground to avoid eye contact. "Max?"

"Missed you too. Sorry... I just didn't want a lecture ‘bout Harbor-”

"Harbor?” I laugh tiredly. “The Thornton girl is the least of my worries. Why are you sellin', bud? You could get a job or help-"

"Rich comin' from you," he snips, cutting me off with a cruel laugh.

"What does that mean?"

"It's like the pot callin' the kettle black. You were literally a drug dealer. You dealt drugs, Dad."

"That shit was different ."

"That shit was worse," He sneers, turning back in the direction he was going. “M’sellin’ grass, not yayo. Fuckin’ hypocrit,” he yaps over his shoulder.

"Just get a normal job, Max. Like one with a W -2 ... Work with me-”

"Nah... 'Cause you don't get it,” he turns around, angry and quick.

"What don't I get?" I lift my voice, causing Max to return his stare to mine, looking back at me in disbelief.

"You’re never home. What’s there to do if you ain’t here? Huh?”

"Max-"

"What, Dad? Seriously... I'm gonna be late to pick her up. It’s Halloween. Give it a rest-”

"Cut the shit, Max," I mumble. "She's on the other side of the gate." He gives me a smirk, holding back a chuckle as he takes off his captain’s hat, running his fingers through his hair with a smug smile before putting it back on. "You two bein’ safe?" I ask gently.

"Not talkin' to you about that, old man."

"Holy shit," I puff, covering my eyes with my hands as I do my best not to lose my mind. "I'm your dad, Max. I worry about that shit."

"Of course we are. I'm not a stupid like-"

"Like me? Only me. Right?" I stop him before he can go any further, seeing the first look of remorse in his sights. "I know you weren't about to talk about your mom, Max." He throws his gaze to his feet again. "What would she say if she heard you talkin' like that?"

"She'd be upset," he mutters feebly. "Don't tell her I said that. I'm sorry."

"We just want you to be safe. Okay? It wasn't easy for your mom and me for a while. We just want your life to be easier. We aren't tryin' to ruin your life. And we can talk about the job tomorrow. I don’t wanna ruin your night. I'm sure we can figure out somethin' that doesn't involve you sellin' weed." He nods, giving me a soft smile. His mother's smile. Max turns around again, stepping away.

"I love you, bud."

"Love you too, dad. I'm glad you're home." There's no sarcasm in his tone, warming your heart.

"Oh, wait! Did you two need me to pick you up tonight?" I ask as he passes through the gate.

"The fuck do you think?" He cracks up, flicking me off with a smile.

Love you too, buddy. Turning around, I trudge up the driveway toward the house. Well... I don't know if I made it better or worse. But, that was somethin'.' I close my eyes, taking a deep, needed breath. The front door opens, and Y/n steps, strolling toward her SUV with the twins in hand. She opens the side, letting them climb in, walking back to the trunk.

Her dress sways with the fall breeze, heels strapped around her ankles. Wow. I’m struck with déjà vu. She wore a dress just like that on our first date. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. That face, that smile, her voice, her curves. She knew how to work 'em all.

Babygirl… Y/n reaches inside, the hem of her dress riding up her thighs. The slightest peak of her perfect fuckin' ass. A smile spreads across my lips. Y/n knows I'm watchin'... She knew it then, too. I need her... So fuckin' bad. It's been too long.

I walk toward her while she digs through the twins' travel bag, hastily taking hold of her hips, pressing myself against her ass, making her giggle. She winds up slowly, relaxing her back against my chest, looking up at me over her shoulder. "You're stunning. Fuck, you look so damn good, y/n," I rasp.

"Thank you, daddy. So do you."

"What are you doin’, ma?”

“Getting them costumes. I feel guilty, Rafe,” she sighs with embarrassment. “I can’t believe I didn’t. The older kids are a disaster; the house is a mess-”

“Don’t feel guilty, baby. The kids are fine. They’re just teenagers. Yeah? And you aren’t a maid. I can’t believe you’re keepin’ up with everything like you are. Get outta here, baby. Buy yourself a coffee, get us a bottle of wine for later, pick up the costumes. Let me handle these two. Unless you want me to go-”

“No!” She stops me fast, laughing at her rash reply. “No. I’d love to get out”.

“And, I’ll talk to the housekeeper about comin’ once a week. Oh, and Harbor… I’ll ask her to come over when I’m outta town so you can take a break. You deserve it.”

“You sure,” she asks apprehensively.

“‘Course I’m sure, pretty,” I croon as I cup her cheeks, pressing a kiss on her lips. “We’ll get these kids dressed up, walk around the neighborhood for a bit, put ‘em down, and have some time for ourselves.”

"That would be amazing." She turns her body into mine, arms wrapping around me, slipping into the back pockets of my slacks. "A night to ourselves. Huh?” She smiles at me coyly.

"Yeah… We’ll snag the good candy, bury a few glasses of wine, and have a good night…”

"I can’t wait, Rafey. I need you so bad."

"Well, shit," I chuckle lustfully. "You're readin' my mind."

"It's been too long." She leans in for a kiss as she squeezes my ass.

"I was just sayin' that, y/n." My hands weave through her hair, tugging slightly.

"You should feel how wet I am for you..."

"That so?" I slip my hand down, tracing slowly up her thigh, feeling her lace panties soaking wet.

"AHHH!" Poppy screeches, making you both jump, jolting the two of you out of your feral state.

"What the hell..." I grumble, making y/n laugh. "You good, princess?" Poppy smiles brightly from her car seat. Her blonde curls bounce as she nods 'yes.’

"She's been doin' that all week," y/n breathes.

"I'm sorry, baby. You're a patient woman," I hail as I pull her in for a hug. "Thank you."

“Anything for you, daddy.”

Shit. I rub my hand over my smile as she steps away, smacking her ass before she can get too far, chuckling to myself as I watch the recoil. So fuckin’ sexy. Y/n meets my gaze, giving me a little wink as she steps into the front seat. Yeah… That’s my girl.

“You two wanna go play on the trampoline?” I ask, offering up the only thing that’ll pull them out of the vehicle without tears. The two squeal with delight as I free them from their seats, climbing out of the car, running toward the back before I can even shut the doors. I stand in the drive, waving at y/n as she pulls out. She looks happier. Fuck, she just needed time to herself.

Hurry home, baby.

Reader’s POV:

You pour a coffee for Rafe and yourself, adding some Bailey’s to top it all off. It had been a long, tiring week with a never-ending list of tasks with him away. But he was finally home. Rafe leans down at eye-level with your daughter, fixing her little cat ears. He turns to your son, swathing the superhero cape around his shoulders before tying the perfect bow.

The twins giggle, bright smiles plastered all over their round faces as their favorite man dotes on them, the two sneaking in hugs and kisses when they can. Rafe reaches into the back pocket of his slacks, grabbing his phone, snapping picture after picture of the duo, looking back at them proudly.

The four of you step out into the night, hand-in-hand. You walk through your beautiful neighborhood, an unsaid contest between the kooks of who could outdo who, each one of the stately manors more done up than the last. Jack-o’-lanterns flicker on the entrances, spooky music swelling all around.

You look up at Rafe and smile. Even though it was decades ago, you couldn't help but see that same college boy you fell in love with; Rafe still rocking a backward cap, his crisp polo poking out of his cozy North Face jacket. He’s exchanged his jeans for khakis and his red SOLO cups for a travel mug. But the man only looks better with age. The glow of the streetlights highlights his strong jawline— grizzled with the perfect 5 o'clock shadow. His beautiful blue eyes follow the twins as they run freely from house to house. Rafe’s fit, he always has been, but the way his muscles move under his clothes has you dying to rip them all off.

He’s talking business, telling stories about some big deals he closed. You try your best to focus—you really do, but you get lost watching his perfect lips as he speaks, catching the little looks he steals between sips of coffee making your head spin.

Rafe was working so hard for your family: closing deals, making a name for himself, doing what he loves and still coming home being the husband and dad you could only dream of… He’s perfect. You'd drag him home right now if it wouldn't break the twins’ hearts.

Your kids run over, laughing and squealing with delight, opening their bags wide to show the two of you their treasures. Rafe kneels down, looking in the sack, asking them about their loot. “What’d you get? Show me, princess,” Rafe invites, his tone softening as she speaks to her. Your daughter reaches into the satchel and points her tiny finger at a few king-size candy bars. Rafe sneaks his hand in too, grabbing a Reese’s cup. Your daughter’s eyes widened in horror; Rafe signature scowl and glare cutting into her dad.

“Daddy!” She scolds, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh - Umm,” Rafe panics slightly as he stands up, towering over your daughter, looking down at her as he fumbles for his wallet. “I didn't steal it. Alright? Daddy was hungry, was all. How much do I owe you, sweetheart?”

“A dollar.”

“A dollar?” He gasps as he fights a wide smile. “You drive a hard bargain.” Rafe thumbs through his wallet, pulling out a dollar and one more as he catches Rory hoping for one too. “N’what do you have for me, buddy?” He questions as he crouches down, looking in the bag. Rory sticks out his tongue as he reaches inside the pouch, looking for something for Rafe, pulling out a taffy. Rafe scrunches his nose in disgust, contorting it into a smile before your son catches his eye again, making you laugh.

Fuck, he's killing me. You feel your cheeks warm up as he walks back to you, looking down at you with loving eyes. Your heart swells with devotion as he slips his hand into yours, feeling the warmth of his palm. He lifts your hand, kissing the top. But it’s not enough; Rafe pulls you in by the hand, kissing your lips instead. “I missed you, baby,” he mumbles against your kiss, his voice dropping slightly lower, sending chills across your body. He smiles against your mouth as you echo the same sentiment. “You look so sexy tonight,” he drawls, his southern accent bleeding through his compliment, his tone warm, and sticky sweet.

“You look so good, daddy,” you praise. Rafe groans against your lips, living in your words.

“It’s after bedtime. What do you say, baby?” He asks as his large hand falls down your body, pulling you in by your waist. “Let’s go home.”

Rafe’s eyes widen as he walks through the door. "No fuckin’ way," he praises as he drinks you in, taking in every inch of your frilly maid’s costume. His beautiful blue eyes fall to a lusty haze. “N’I said ‘you weren’t a maid, baby… You makin’ a liar outta me. Huh?” He asks as he twirls you under his finger.

Rafe’s rough hands slip under the hem of your lace stockings, following the little straps of your garter belt, clipped to your barely there panties, still hidden under the satin skirt. “Daddy’s gotta get you out of the house more… ‘Specially if you’re gonna come back with gifts like this. You’re spolin’ me. Fuck,” he groans drunkenly, looking down at you in awe. He takes you into his strong arms, tossing you playfully on the mattress.

Rafe mounts the bed fast, crushing you under his weight. His lips capture yours in a heated kiss."You taste good... You smell so fuckin' good, darlin'," he purrs as he buries his head in your neck, stroking his clothed cock against your throbbing pussy. "Damn. I missed this."

"I missed you, baby. C'mon... I need you inside of me," you pant in that pathetic tone that gets you anything you want.

"Jesus, y/n," he moans, chuckling sinfully.

"Why are you dressed, daddy?"

"Good question." He sucks off your bottom lip, tugging at it with his teeth. "Can I leave these on?" Rafe asks, snapping the garter belt around the fullness of your thighs with his big fingers. You smile and nod.

"Panties, too..." You add.

"Well shit," he breathes onto your lips, instantly gliding two thick fingers up your soaked cunt, making you suck in a breath. Rafe takes his digits between his lips. "You're dripping, y/n."

"Haven't stopped thinkin' about you since you left."

"Me either, y/n. You're so fuckin' sweet."

"Rafe..." You pout.

"Shit, baby... I forgot what a slut you were for me."

"How could you forget?" You giggle against his lips. "Clothes. Now."

"Mmm... Yes, Mrs. Cameron."

Rafe steps off the bed, tossing his shirt off his built body. You study him carefully as you slink to the edge of the bed. He grasps his belt in his hands, tugging the leather loose. "Let me?" You sigh as you rise, sky-high heels clicking against the wood floor.

Rafe’s eyes continue to roam your curves as you unfasten his top button, splaying his zipper, pulling his slacks down low. He grabs your chin, drawing you up. His blue eyes lock on yours; Rafe’s stare is hungry and deep. His grip is rough. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to let you know he's in control. This is what he wants... What he's craving at this moment, and you are more than happy to oblige.

"You're my good girl. Aren't you, y/n?" He groans, making you wetter.

"Yeah," you sigh.

"Tell me, y/n."

"I'm your good girl, Rafe."

"And you listen to me, and me alone. Don't you, baby girl?" He runs his thumb along your bottom lip, making your heart thump.

"Yes, daddy. Only you."

"Daddy? I love the way you say that, baby.” Rafe pushes you back on the bed. You sit on the plush mattress, looking up at him innocently as you toy with the elastic of his boxers. He gives you a little nod. You take your cue, pulling them off, following his thick cock to the tip, letting it spring free.

"Fuck, Rafe," you sigh, gripping him in your hands, precum glazed on his tip. You quickly swipe your tongue across his swollen head, swirling for good measure.

"Y/n..." He draws out your name as he towers over you, looking down at you with lust-blown eyes. Rafe drops down on one knee— his strong hand lifting your calf, sliding your spike heel off your foot, kissing your leg unhurriedly before working on the next. He's taking his time, savoring every inch of you before dropping the shoe to the floor. You inhale sharply as he hooks his hands around your legs, tugging you to the edge of the bed.

His calloused finger meets your knee, tracing slowly up your thigh. Your breathing starts to quicken, and your lips part. You look between your legs, watching your husband spread your thighs. "Rafe," you moan as he teases your entrance with the tip of his ringed finger.

"Y/n." He draws out your name, working it deep. "Who's pussy is this, baby?"

Fuck.

He dips in another finger, thrusting it in and out... in and out. Your eyes drift back up his body, watching his abs and arms flex with each thrust. Rafe’s eyes greet yours, the most beautiful blue; he lets your gaze linger on his a little longer. He doesn't punish you, rewarding you with a smirk and some pressure on your clit.

"Mmm... Yours," you whimper. "My pussy is yours, daddy."

"It is... Isn't it," he chuckles as you start to rock with him. Rafe drops to his knees, causing you to draw your legs wider. "Fuck. I could cum just lookin' at you, y/n." His tongue meets your pussy, licking a line to your clit, latching on for a momentary, releasing you with a pop. Your head falls back. An airy moan slips your lips. "Remember when we met? You were such a bad girl, y/n." He kisses his way up your stomach, past your ribcage, grabbing and pressing your breasts together. "No one could tell you what to do."

"But you..."

"That's right." Rafe grabs you roughly, pulling you from the bed and drawing you to your feet. His hands work up your body, weaving into your hair, pulling slightly.

"Get on the chair," he whispers against your lips.

"Yes, Rafey." You walk across the room, Rafe, meeting you fast. The man is on you before you can even reach it. His broad chest presses flush with your back, kissing your neck harshly. "Fuck, baby," you whine. He shoves you, causing you to fall forward. You grasp the back of the chair while his strong hands palm your ass under your slutty maid’s costume. Rafe grabs your thong, snapping it against your skin. His hands return to your body, working over your skin, slapping your ass, causing you to groan.

"First time you sucked my cock, we were at Tops place. Remember?” He spreads your ass and spanks you even harder, causing you to cry a little louder. “You were dressed like a Playboy bunny,” Rafe drawls as he grabs himself in his hands, stroking a few times as he takes you in. “You didn’t even take the ears off.”

“You remember?”

“Shit’s burned into my memory, baby,” he sighs as his large hand follows the length of your spine. "You look even better now, sweetheart."

"So do you, baby? We fucked the next night."

"Mhmm… Yeah, we fuckin’ did. Night one. You’re such a good mommy, baby. Who woulda thought you used to be such a whore back in the day. Huh?”

“Mmm… You bring out the slut in me, daddy. You always have.”

“Yeah, baby. That’s right.” Rafe seizes his dick by the base, tapping it against your ass with one hand, using the other to grope your skin."This fucking body, y/n," he moans as he presses his tip into your entrance. "It's just so damn perfect."

"Shit," you hiss as you feel a stretch.

"And these tits." He grabs the straps of your costume, brushing them off your shoulders, pulling it down past your tits. He reaches around, grabbing your breasts as he glides in a little deeper.

"This waist." His hands drift lower, mirroring his words, driving his cock in a little more. "These hips," he grunts, taking hold of them, bottoming you out, causing you to wail.

Rafe draws out slowly. "Baby, please," you sigh, craving more. He thrusts into you again. Your head falls forward. Rafe snaps his hips into you, setting a rapid pace. Skin, cracking skin. He spanks you— a prickling sting is left behind. "More, Daddy," you beg.

"I don't know, baby... Your ass is pretty red," he taunts. "You sure?"

"Yes. Fuck!"

"Atta girl." He slaps you roughly on the other side. You feel his hands wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough that you can feel your pulse. The chill of his rings felt against your skin. Rafe rolls his hips into you, deliciously slow, using his grip as leverage to drive deeper.

His hands push higher, gathering your hair. He tugs your strands, causing you to rise, arching your back. He's unforgiving, pounding into you just like you were craving he would. "Fuck me, y/n," he demands.

"Yes," you moan, using the back of the chair to steady yourself as you fuck him back. Working Rafe in and out of your soaked cunt. You bounce and grind, rolling your hips as Rafe praises you. Your ass claps against his toned hips as you take every inch of his long dick, filling yourself to the brim. "Rafe!" You cry.

"Fuck, y/n. Let me hear you, sweetheart," he rasps.

You lose yourself, fluttering around his cock, gripping his wrists as he takes over, rutting into you quickly. "Fuck, Rafe! Just like that." Pitiful cries pass your lips as he proceeds to wreck you from behind. Rafe doesn't let up till he feels you relax around his cock, your head falling back on his chest as he rocks in and out.

"I missed you so fucking much, daddy," you whimper. Rafe kisses your shoulder gently, working his way up to your ear.

"I missed you more, baby. You're my girl, y/n. You know that? You always have been."

"I'm your girl, Rafe," you pant.

"Does my girl want more?"

"Never stop," you chuckle breathlessly.

"Anything for you, y/n." Rafe thrusts into you roughly, making you fall forward, gripping the chair as you expel a breath. He presses your head against the plush backrest, increasing his tempo. "Ugh... Do you hear that, y/n?" You try to nod. "Mmm... You're so damn wet." He turns you around, pulling you back into his arms. Your kisses are wild and deep as you cross the room to your bed. "Can you taste yourself, y/n?" He mumbles against your lips.

"Yes," you mewl.

"Can you ride me, baby?" He groans.

"Yes, daddy," you sigh blissfully. Rafe falls onto the bed. You slip away before he can grab you; Rafe chuckles darkly, twining his fingers behind his head.

"Couldn't get enough?"

"You're right, baby... I'm sweet," you laugh breathily against his cock, watching as goosebumps spread across his thighs.

You wrap your fingers around his length, licking your slick off, eyes burning into his. "Holy shit, baby," he moans, throwing his head deeper into the pillow. You flick your tongue across his slit, tasting the both of you together. Rafe's hand glides from your bangs to the top of your head, taking a tight hold. He presses you down on his cock, bobbing your head up and down to stroke his throbbing dick.

You can feel Rafe striking the back of your throat, tears pooling in your eyes. You flutter your lashes, feeling your tears run in two little rivers down your cheeks. "Ugh... You're so beautiful, baby," he grunts. His eyes roll back as you drop your hand, rubbing little circles against your clit, moans pouring from your lips between strokes. "Come'mere," he chuckles raspily."We gotta do that later... Please, baby. I need more of that."

Rafe grabs your hips, guiding you on top. You rise on your knees, grabbing Rafe's hand, sucking his fingers, cleaning, circling your tongue around his wedding band. He draws them down to your clit, rolling them gently. "All I could think about when I left the house was you, y/n. I couldn't wait to get home. You make me feel so fucking good, y/n." He gives you a sinful smile as his tongue skimming along his rosy bottom lip.

"You make me feel so good, baby," you breathe, slinking your frame hands up your frame, the skirt still pooled around your hips, boobs bouncing with every movement.

Rafe grips his thick cock in his fist. "All I could think about was seeing you naked, princess. Look at you now. Huh? Never thought I’d get to see you like this… So fuckin’ good to me. You know that?" He slides his tip through your silk, circling his head on your clit. You let out a breathy moan. Rafe's eyes roll back again. "Your little noises and this wet fuckin' pussy." He presses his tip in, and you feel the stretch. "Mmm... Grab the headboard, y/n." You grip it as Rafe takes hold of the small of your waist. He thrusts up into you roughly.

"Rafe!" You cry. He lets out a growl, thrusting into you a few more times for good measure. He relaxes on the bed, beckoning you with his stare. "I want you deep in my pussy, daddy," you sigh, sinking slowly, letting your cunt swallow up his big dick. He sucks a sharp breath, snatching your hips, holding you in place.

Clasping the headboard, you start to circle your curves, rolling and working yourself on his length. "Holy shit, honey," he moans. You can hear yourself—how wet you are for him. Rafe can hear it, too, giving you a little smirk. "Still so wet for me?"

"Sucking your cock always gets me wet, daddy. You know that."

"Fuck, baby."

You reach back, clutching his thighs, bouncing on the mattress, nail sinking into his skin. "Shit. You're deep, Rafe," you whimper.

"So fuckin' deep." You look between your thighs, watching his long cock slicked with you once more. Rafe can feel you tightening around him; he can see the look in your eye. "That's my girl," he rasps. "So fuckin' good for me. Can you wait, baby... Cum when I tell you?"

"Rafe..."

"I thought you listened to me, y/n? Can't you wait, mama?" He chuckles as he applies a little more pressure to your clit.

"Plea-" You stutter as your body quivers uncontrollably.

"Cum." You scream his name as you toss your head back. Your orgasm radiates through your body, making your toes curl, popping off your heels. Rafe continues to thrust as you fall apart. Your muscles tighten around his dick as he works at an insane pace. "Fuck, y/n... That feels so fuckin' good, baby," he moans. "So tight."

He throws you to your back, stepping off the bed, looping his arm under your thighs, pulling you exactly where he wants you, right on the border, before slinging a leg over his shoulder, your heels tumbling the rest of the way off onto the floor. Rafe tips into you, pressing a rough kiss on your lips as he starts to thrust again. His tongue reels with yours. The two of you, utterly exhausted, panting into your kiss.

"Almost there," he mumbles, fighting back his climax to get you on last time. He wraps his arm around your thigh, using that to drive himself deeper.

"S-Shit, Rafe," you stammer. As you feel him strike your g-spot, making your body tremble.

"Again?" He gives you a cocky smile, getting exactly what he wants. You nod rapidly as tears gather in your eyes, overstimulated.

"Can you cum for daddy?"

"Y-Yes. Yes. Shit," you stutter as you grab ahold of the edge of the bed, tossing your head back. Rafe grunts and moans as he thrusts sloppily. Tears fall from your eyes as you close them tightly, your climax claiming your body. A choked cry passes your lips, giving him all you can muster. You feel the warmth of his release, Rafe answering with your name on his lips.

Rafe mounts the bed, pressing a soft kiss against your mouth. His lips drift to your flushed cheeks, kissing away your tears. "I love you, baby. I love you so much," he respires as he holds you close.

"I love you. Never leave me again..." You sigh blissfully.

"I hate leavin' you. But, fuck, do I love comin' home to you, princess." Rafe chuckles as he plays with the costume around your hips, smiling against your lips. “Keep this on for a little while longer. Yeah?”

⭐ tags ⭐ <- tag list on my pinned post (if your name is crossed out, your tag isn't working💕): @floredaqueen @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @theeternaloptimistt @ditzyzombiesblog @cl4uus @aariahnaa @hyperfixationgirl @akobx @daryldixon83 @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @oxpogues4lifexo @babygorewhore @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @savayvayblr-blog @starkeysprincess @unrealmirrorball @romaescapes @cades-outsider @namelesslosers @anamiad00msday @buckybarnessweetheart

[peachdues]

caution: incredibly slutty use of birth control. MDNI.

Across the room comes the piercing, repetitive sound of an alarm.

You look to Sanemi in question, whimpering as the warm comfort of his body abruptly pulls away from you. The little cry of protest you make at the loss of his warmth tugs at his heart, but he’s got an obligation to see to. Jaw tight, Sanemi ignores the own ache he feels as he crosses the floor of the hotel room to rummage through your luggage, his cock painfully hard where it bounces against his abdomen.

It takes him only a second to find the small card lined with those tiny white pills. Quickly, he pops one free and holds it between his teeth, reaching to silence the alarm blaring on his discarded phone.

Pill wedged carefully between his teeth, Sanemi makes his way back to you and climbs onto the bed, knocking your legs apart with his knee.

He ignores your questioning look, too focused on the slightly swollen lips of your pussy, the glistening slickness of your own arousal mixed with his cum.

Fuck, he’ll never get enough of it.

Giving himself a firm pump, Sanemi lines his tip back up with your entrance and slides home once more. He resumes his pace with ease, fucking you as though he never stopped, while you writhe and moan beneath him.

“Hey,” he commands around the pill still perched between his teeth. The moment your eyes, hazy with pleasure, find his, Sanemi grabs your jaw. His fingers squish your cheeks as he surges toward you, closing his mouth roughly over yours.

Your lips part for him and Sanemi forces your birth control into your mouth, parting with one flick of his tongue against yours. He pulls back, his hands sliding under your ass, tilting your hips up as he settles in his knees.

Stunned, your mouth remains slightly open as you stare up at him, pupils blown wide.

“Swallow it.” Sanemi commands, forcing himself to hold your stare instead of letting his eyes fall to your breasts as they bounce with his movements. “Your birth control. Swallow it.”

When he does not see the telltale bob of your throat, Sanemi unlatches a hand from your ass and brings it to where your bodies are connected.

A graze of his nail of your clit makes you buck, but Sanemi slows his movements. “Swallow it.” He orders again, noting with some relish, the indignant scrunch of your eyebrows as he stops moving all together. “Do it, or else I won’t come in you.”

He’s dead serious and you know it. Still, the threat of him not filling you up the way he knows you need quickly turns your eyebrows up, your eyes widening with a plea.

Hastily, you swallow under Sanemi’s discerning eye. The moment the pill slides down your throat, you hold your tongue out for him, eager.

A pleased smirk settles on his lips and you clench around him. “That’s my girl,” he purrs, carefully drawing his hips back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you.

Sanemi’s hands anchor your hips. He rises slightly on his knees, bringing your lower half with him and pauses. A flick of his eyes to yours, and he slams forward, impaling you on the thick, full length of him.

what a whore.

[l1tw1ck]

The Ferret and the Fox

Bottom!FTM!Omega!Ferret Draco x Top!AMAB!Alpha!Fox Reader

🪄 Word Count: 3k 🪄

Draco's suppressants decide to stop working in the middle of a lecture, forcing him to leave and rest in your office. Draco wasn't thinking straight when he willingly entered an alpha's territory and inadvertently tied himself to you permanently

AFAB Language Used | Hogwarts University AU | Event Request

CW: Non-Con, Brief Somnophilia, Teacher/Student (Draco is 20) Heat, Virginity Loss, Victim Blaming, Marking, Creampie, Fingering, Manipulation, Knotting

As you're teaching your class, you and the rest of your students begin to smell someone’s pheromones. Everyone seems to be looking at Draco Malfoy, who's very red. He must be in heat. You walk over to him and lean in close to him. “Malfoy, are you alright?” 

‎ 

He jumps in surprise. He looks up at you with an adorable expression. His tail is curled up on his lap. “It looks like your heat started,” You speak to him softly. “Why don't you go rest in my office until class is over?” You should tell him to see the nurse but she's so far and he’d be safe from all the other alphas. And you might get a chance with him. Draco nods gently. You help him pack up his stuff and walk him to your office, not trusting anyone to let him go by himself.

‎ 

He sits down on the couch and takes off his coat to drape it over himself. You give him the blanket you often use during your free time to nap. “I’ll lock the door so no one can come in. If you get hungry or thirsty, you can use my water bottle and take whatever you like from my mini fridge.”

‎ 

“Okay…” He turns away from you. “Thanks.”  

‎ 

You could barely hear him but you could tell what he said based on how embarrassed he seemed. You smile and leave the room. As soon as you do so, Draco kicks off his shoes and socks before properly laying down. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep with his and your scent mixed together to comfort him. He won't say it out loud but you're his favorite teacher and the only person in Hogwarts that he truly feels safe around and trusts. While he doesn't have any romantic feelings for you, your scent is still very comforting.

‎ 

‎ 

You walk into your office now that class is over. Since you don't have any more classes to teach today, you plan on taking him home. Most students take suppressants during the school year but when a student isn't able to do so for whatever reason, they take time off to go home since it’d be dangerous to be in their dorms. Draco shouldn't have any problems with taking suppressants but something obviously went wrong. You look at him sleeping on the couch, some of his clothes on the floor. You do a double take when you realize that he's only wearing underwear and his dress shirt. His clothes are conveniently placed in a way that allows you to see his light colored underwear soaked with slick, along with a small pool of it on the couch. You’ll never get over seeing an omega in heat. 

It doesn't help that the room is completely filled with his scent. You should resist and take him home but he looks too tempting. All of the alpha teachers are able to control themselves when met with the strong smell of an omega but there's something different about Draco. Or, really, something different about you.

You're willingly giving in to your instincts this time. You could go and do the right thing but you don't want to and you never really planned to in the first place. You’ve been attracted to Draco since he started your class this year. You never thought you’d have the opportunity to fuck him and now that you do, you're not going to give it up. You unbuckle your belt and free your hard cock, leaving your pants on to make the clean up easier.

You move onto the couch and stare at Draco’s sleeping face with a small smile. You feel sort of bad doing this while he's asleep but it's not like you’ll be taking his virginity. He’s 20, he must've had his first and many others by now. Right? Who wouldn't want him? If you ignore his personality, he's irresistible. You shrug off your uncertainty and take off his underwear. You bring it to your face and smell it, your cock aching for him. You move it away and focus on the real thing.

Draco makes a cute noise in his sleep, his fluffy ears twitching. He's just too adorable. You look at his soaked pussy in awe and run your finger up it, causing him to shiver. You bring your finger to your lips and taste his slick. As you thought, he tastes amazing. His tail curls up in response to your touch. 

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly inch your cock inside him. He’s tight but very slippery, it's not too hard to penetrate him. You moan at the feeling of being inside him. Nothing can compare to his pussy. You grin as an outline of your cock starts to appear on his stomach. You begin to slowly fuck into him. “God, you feel so good, baby.” 

Draco moans. His eyes flutter open. “Huh..?” He blinks a few more times. “Stop! What are you doing?!” He feels like crying. You're so big, it hurts like hell.

“Shh, this is your fault, Malfoy. You shouldn't have let me keep you here. Your pheromones are all over the room, you practically forced me to fuck you.”

“No…I…”

“Isn't this better than having some random person fuck you? Or do you have a boyfriend?”

Draco shakes his head, tears rapidly falling down his cheeks. “This…this is my first time!”

You pause. You’ve never seen him cry before, it's hot. “Really?” You feel your heart pounding. “That's okay, I’ll take care of you from now on.” You resume your gentle thrusts.

Draco sobs. “Why…?”

“If you didn't want this to happen, you shouldn't have let me bring you here. You don't understand how tempting you looked when I saw you sleeping.” You brush his hair out of his face. “You looked so sexy ruining my couch with your slick.”

He looks really embarrassed. Your pheromones seem to be calming him down though. Plus being in heat is really helping to sedate him.

“So just relax, okay? You deserve this.”

Draco nods teary eyed. You hold onto his waist and start to fuck him at a rough pace. He squeals and moans in pleasure, face red from embarrassment. “That’s a good boy, taking me so well.” You purr. You lean into his ear. “Love your pussy so fucking much, sweetheart.” You trail down to his neck and lightly suck on his skin.

He squeaks. “Ah…[Name]~ I’m sorry..”

You pause for a brief moment then slow down. You're shocked that he apologized. Despite the major changes he went through in the past, he's still prideful. He's really different when he's in heat. “If you're sorry then let me mark you. Now that I’ve had a taste of you, it’d be cruel to not let me have you. Besides, I should also take responsibility.”

Draco sniffles. You should feel bad for taking advantage of his current state but you just can't. He's too cute for you to let go. “Okay..” He closes his eyes and moves his head to show you his neck. 

You sink your teeth into his skin, immediately causing him to come. You lick up his blood and thrust harder. “You won't have to worry about anything from now on, sweetheart.” You come inside of him.

────────────────── 

Draco wakes up in an unfamiliar room with aches all over his body. He remembers going into heat during class…then going into your office…

Draco brings his hand to his mouth in shock. Tears run down his cheeks as he slowly begins to remember everything. He was waiting to fall in love and now he's stuck with you.

“You're finally up.” You walk into the room, holding a hot cup of tea. “I made you lemon ginger, it’ll make you feel a bit better. Oh, I also gave you some medicine for your heat. You should be okay now, at least mentally.”

He looks at you scornfully. His eyes are watery and puffy. He doesn't understand how much that's turning you on. He takes the tea despite his anger.

“You’re angry, aren't you?” You ask, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “Why didn't you take your suppressants?”

“I– I did take them!” He shouts. “I don't know what happened!”

“Shh, it's okay, sweetheart.” You rub his thigh. “Sometimes, suppressants stop working. It's rare but you’ll have to change to a different medication.”

“Don't…please don't touch me.” He's shaking very badly.

“We’re bonded now, Draco. You remember, right?”

He sniffles. “Why…”

“You know why. You let that happen to yourself. I’m sure you were conscious enough to know why you shouldn't have done that.”

“I trusted you..”

“That was a mistake. You shouldn't trust an alpha to take care of an omega in heat. In any other circumstance, I wouldn't have done anything to you, but you willingly came into my office and filled it with your scent.” You take the tea from him and place it onto the nightstand, he's shaking so much you're worried he’ll spill it and burn himself. “You know alphas have a hard time resisting.”

Draco begins to cry again. He’s whimpering and trying hard not to choke on his own tears.

“It's okay. I’ll take care of you from now on. Anything you want, I’ll do it.” You caress his cheek, pushing his hair away from his face. He begins to sob vocally, letting out visceral cries of pain. “It’ll be okay, Draco.”

You let him cry for a while and urge him to drink some tea in between. He eventually calms down.

“What will I tell my mother?” He sighs, refusing to look at you.

“Don't worry about her. I’ll make sure she won't say anything, even if you move in.”

“Wh- move in?”

“If you want to. Since you're in the university now, it won't be an issue to move out and commute from here.”

“The school wouldn't allow me to live with you.”

“You're an adult, Draco. As long as we spin the story around a bit, they’ll even insist that we live together.” You smile. “We could say you came onto me and forced me to mark you. It’s not too far from the truth.”

He frowns. He doesn't know how to feel. He finally looks at you. His cheeks redden when he notices your boner. “You- have you been hard this entire time?!”

You chuckle. “Maybe. You're just so cute when you cry.”

He looks down at his hands. “...I don’t remember what it felt like..”

“You don't?”

“It just…I know that it hurt but…”

“Do you want me to show you?”

He nods softly. “I have to be with you from now on…” He's still a little affected by his heat.

“Alright.”

Draco looks up at you timidly, his ears folded down. He’s only wearing boxers now. Your tail is swishing from side to side.

“I’ve always liked you, you know?” You happily run your hands down his body. “You're just so pretty. When I saw you walk into my class…I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

Is that why you were so kind to him?

“You always kept to yourself…it made me want to take care of you. So when I smelled your scent…I was overwhelmed.” You bring one of your hands down to his underwear. “I should've tried harder to resist but you made it so difficult.”

He whimpers at the feeling of your fingers sliding up his clothed cunt. “So….you really…hnh-”

“I love you, Draco.” 

He blushes. Even though he didn't choose you, you're the kind of person he was looking for. Someone who would love and take care of him. You smile as you notice the change in his demeanor. He's opening up to you.

“When you graduate, you won't have to worry about getting a job. You can just stay home and do whatever you like.” You remove his underwear. “You won't have to worry about anything.”

“Do…do I have to graduate?” He asks, looking at you solemnly. He's sick of Hogwarts. Even after everything that's happened, he doesn't have a single friend. Nobody trusts him or even tries to pretend they like him. Not even Harry and his friends really talk to him, they're too busy. If he doesn't have to get a job, why even bother going to that miserable place? Hogwarts used to feel more like home but after losing his friends and becoming isolated, it feels like a prison.

“Well..” You smile. “That’d make things easier.” You remove your shirt.

“I can stay here..” He feels dizzy from your scent. He triggered your alpha instincts and now you can't stop yourself from drowning him in your pheromones. “...Give you an heir..” He says almost mindlessly. You're from a long line of well respected wizards so he figures you’ll want someone to carry on that legacy.

“Draco.” Your cock is straining in your pants. “You can't say things like that to an alpha so casually.”

His tail curls. “‘M sorry..” He looks at you cutely. He's intimidated and turned on at the same time.

“It's okay, sweetheart.” You gently slide two fingers inside him. “You just have to take responsibility.”

Draco gulps, shivering with pleasure thanks to the size and roughness of your fingers. He's never been able to get off just by using his fingers but he probably could with yours.

“You're the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on, Draco.” You look at him lovingly as you skillfully play with his pussy. “I wish our relationship started differently.”

He feels less hesitant hearing you say that. He truly believes it's his fault. “It's…it’s okay.” He looks at you with a slight smile.

“Maybe we could've had a slow burn. Where I’d help you out after class and you’d lean in a little too close…You’d blush and act like nothing happened..”

Draco starts to fantasize along with you.

“Then, some day, we'd finally go for it. My hand on your thigh, your soft lips on mine…I’d take it real slow for you.” You swarm him with loving kisses. “I’d give your pretty little tits lots of love.” You aim your kisses onto his chest. He whimpers. 

“Then I’d finger you, just like this.” You start aiming for his weak points, causing adorable moans and squirms. He shudders with pleasure and grabs your arms for stability. He's gonna come.

Draco calls out your name, toes curling as he squirts. You bring your fingers to your mouth and lick them before moving your head in between his cunt and doing the same thing. He shudders with pleasure.

You pull away. “Are you ready?”

He nods softly. His eyes trail over to your crotch, watching intently as you pull your pants down. Just seeing your hard cock through your underwear is throwing him for a loop. He has to admit, he really likes it. Draco’s mouth hangs open when he finally sees your cock in his more sober state of mind. He knows alpha’s are beyond average but this is…

“I’ll be more gentle this time.” You say, rubbing your dick along his pussy and coating it with his wetness before slowly inching it inside him. It feels agonizingly slow for you but it feels great for Draco, which is all that matters. You interlock your hand with his. His face scrunches up cutely

“Don't– don't stop–” He moans. You're stretching him out well.  

“How do you feel, baby?”

“Good– I feel good, sir~” He throws his head back and instinctively reaches for his t-cock, sliding back the hood and stroking himself gently as a dick shaped bump appears on his stomach. He looks great when he's getting fucked but there's something special about seeing him touch himself. It's hot.

You bottom out and pause. “Keep touching yourself like that for me, okay?” You gently knead his thighs.

Draco lets out a high pitched “Mhm~” as he raises his hips. He didn't think it'd ever feel this good to be so full. His eyelashes flutter beautifully as he comes again.

“Good boy.” You praise him.

He pulls his hand away and lays down, trying to catch his breath. “I…I wanna keep- keep going..”

“Are you sure?”

He nods. He's never been as sure as he is now. He's glad you didn't hold back in your office. If you didn't, he'd have no idea how amazing it feels to have you inside him, stretching him out like a new pair of boots. “I wanna feel it move..” He places his hand on his stomach. He has no clue how seductive he's being right now.

You start making short thrusts, getting him used to the feeling. “Feels okay?”

Draco nods. “‘s good-” He twitches. “You're so…so big…professor…I’m so full…”

“You like being full, baby?”

“Mhm~ I love it~” He bites his lip. There's no better tranquilizer than the combination of an alpha’s cock and pheromones. “Faster…”

You lift his legs up and roughly pound into him. “Like this?”

“Ye- yes–!” Draco moans. It looks like his heat is coming back in full swing. The medicine you gave him was pretty useless. “Ba- baby– I wanna have—” He gasps, having another orgasm.

“Don't worry, I’ll make sure to breed you properly tonight.”

His lips stretch into a wide grin. His moans get louder the longer you fuck him. His hair is a mess and his face is so, so red. You hope he remembers this time, although you're not opposed to showing him again. You cup his cheek and he leans in. His eyelids are just barely open. You’ve never felt so possessive of something or someone in your life. “Mine.” You lean into his neck and suck on the spot where you marked him. 

Draco shivers. He feels hot and dizzy. All he can think is: “knot me” “breed me” “so big” “so good” 

Your movements suddenly stutter as you feel your orgasm drawing closer. You thrust one last time before pumping him full of your seed. Draco comes again. You’re still hard.

You pull away from his neck and move him into a mating press. “One more, then I’ll knot you.” You promise, thrusting more roughly and sloppily than before. Draco wraps his arms around your back as his tail brushes against you. His head is pounding, the words “knot me” are on loop in his mind. He digs his nails into your skin.

“So deep~” He shudders, making his own markings on your back.

You're finally starting to really get affected by his pheromones. It was already pretty bad before but now, you don't feel like you're in control anymore. “‘M gonna knot you, Draco, breed you til you can't walk…fill you up with my seed..” You kiss him roughly, lightly biting on his bottom lip. Usually, it's not hard for you to go multiple rounds but there's something about Draco’s scent that’s making you more sensitive. Maybe it's because you're a pair.

“I’m coming, sweetheart-” You groan as Draco’s warm walls drag another orgasm out of you, a knot forms to keep it all inside. 

Draco smiles drunkenly, grinding his hips. “I love you..”

“I love you too.”

[satowooo]

YOU GET ME SO HIGH

Ah, did Satoru hear you right when you called him daddy?

warnings. 18+, nsfw, smut, breeding kink, pet names, daddy kink, pussy slapping, oral (f! receiving), swearing, dirty, talks, unprotected sex (p in v), not proofread.

The first time Satoru heard you call him “daddy” was when you were talking about him with your little son, and he didn't expect for his dick to throb so hard against his pants when he hears those words escape your pretty lips.

It turned him on, and God, he can't believe he just discovered a new kink of his just by hearing you utter a single harmless word in front of your child.

“Come on, sweetheart, Daddy will take you to grandmas, okay?” You tell your little kid, kissing him on the cheek before you wave your goodbye. Satoru's eyes sparked with lust, and he swears he almost feels his mouth watering with need, if not because of you suddenly handing him your son and his little backpack.

He coughed, giving you a kiss on the cheek, “Daddy will be back,” he whispers to your ear teasingly, nibbling lightly on your earlobe. “See you later, love.”

Satoru, on his part, just couldn't help his growing erection every time it happened, so he made sure that you'll be saying that endearment everytime you two are in bed. And what's the perfect timing for it to happen than now?

“What's that again, love?” His voice was muffled against your core, lapping at your folds like a madman. He kept your legs spread open wide apart as his tongue licks a long stripe of your hole, making you squirm in his grasp.

“Toru-”

“Ah, ah, not that, baby.” He smiled, pulling his tongue away so he could look up at you from where he was positioned right between your thighs.

You closed your eyes tightly, a small whine escaping your lips at the loss of his touch. You don't even know how you ended up here, sprawled out on your bed, right after Satoru just got home from taking your son to his grandparents. It happened so fast that your mind was too cloudy to even process it, now that Satoru had you right under his grasp, urging you to call him with this new nickname he had grown to like.

“P-please, stop teasing,” you couldn't help but groan, your fingers tugging on his hair to pull him closer. “I need to cum, Satoru…”

“Patience, my love.” He chuckled, rubbing circles on your clit to keep you sated. He admires the way your face flushed, mouth parted as you grind yourself on his fingers. The way you desperately look so fucked out of your mind with the way he was eating your pussy easily made his cock twitched inside his pants. “Come on, let me hear it.”

“Please, Toru…” You whimpered, eyes heavy-lidded as you looked at him. He had the widest grin on his face, shaking his head tauntingly at the name you called him. Your chest was heaving so heavily, hands gripping the sheets just to have something to keep yourself in control, even though you're already out of it, “Please… daddy, p-please…”

Gods above, your voice, your moan, your pleas, a siren song that he wishes he could just drown himself into. He can feel his arousal growing and growing each second, the way your words just fuels his desire to just bend your over your knees and fuck you senseless until you can't walk for a few weeks. Maybe he'll do that, yeah?

“Fuck,” he curses underneath his breath, plunging two fingers right at your hole. “Such a good girl for me, aren't you?” His eyes darkened, before he dived right in between your thighs to devour you once again.

His tongue licked on your folds, your wetness coating his lips and fingers, his drool dripping on the corner of his mouth at how messy he's gotten. So dirty, and so intoxicated. He drinks your every essence, sucking your clit like it was a drug he had become addicted to, and he won't stop until you're quivering against him, begging and writhing for more.

“Ohh! Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Your moans echo through the room, hips bucking at the intense sensation of his tongue lapping at your needy cunt. “D-daddy, more, more–”

Satoru hummed, smiling to himself as he hears your whiny voice. “You're asking for it, aren't you?” He kissed your cunt softly, lovingly, and so sloppily that it got you whimpering. “Who's making you feel this good, huh, baby? Who's making this cunt so wet and so needy for more?” Another thrust, another pump of his fingers. Another lick, and another suck of his tongue. It's too much. All too good.

You let out a gasp, your legs almost closing on his head, the way his words, so dirty and unforgivingly teasing with you, made you want to crumble instantly. “You, Satoru–”

“Who?”

You gasp harshly when his fingers smack against your cunt, back arching off the bed, the sting it brought to your system spreading like wildfire that ignited your lust even more. “Sato-” and another smack, your hips shaking of pain and pleasure, “fuck– d-daddy~ daddy makes me feel so g-good…”

“Gotta have to get used to that, baby,” leaning in, he starts to make out with your folds once again, “because I'm not stopping until all I hear is you screaming and begging for more of my touch,” he lets go of your cunt with a loud pop, licking your bud one more time before he sits up, grinning at you spread out before him. “More of my dick, more of my cum.”

He starts to unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants down until his cock angrily sprung free to sight, leaking with his pre-cum. He positioned himself right at your entrance, leaning down to nip at your neck, “Gonna make this pussy cum for her daddy.” Satoru grunts as he pushes inside you, inch by inch, your pussy slowly sucking him in. He let out a hiss as you clenched tightly around him, “fuck yeah, ya like that, don't you?”

“S-so good, feels so good, daddy…” His jaw clenched as he starts to ram his dick on your gummy walls, stretching you open with his size. You were already going crazy about his cock, your tight cunt already gripping on him like you don't want to let go. And he enjoys it so much, hearing your whiny voice, all just for him.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of this pussy,” he growled, lifting your leg up to his shoulders. His thrusts begin to increase its pace, making sure he hits your g-spot time and time again. He relished into your pleasure, his cock slamming right at you with great force that it had you seeing stars. No matter how many times he fucked you so hard, he never fails to give you the pleasure you need, never fails to hit your sweet spot, never fails to make you cum intensely.

And Satoru just loves it. He loves the way his little wife is taking his cock so well inside her sobbing pussy, maybe he'll even fuck another baby in there, he just really loves the way your pussy slushes and quelches everytime he's so deep inside of you, and here you are, whimpering and moaning and begging just the way he wants you. But most especially, he just loves the way you call out for him, whether by his name or that silly endearment that unexpectedly turned him on, he's just really that addicted to you that he can't find it in himself to stop, making sure that he had claimed you at all the right places, all the right holes, as he pleases.

“So perfect, so fucking perfect for her daddy.”

Oh, and did he mention that he just loves you so much?

•••

BONUS

“He's such a sweet boy,” Satoru’s mom entered the house, your son cradled in her arms, resting him on the couch.

“Of course, he takes that from me,” he smirked to himself, taking a seat next to his son, who quickly found his way to his lap. He immediately feels his heart melt as he guides his son properly, a hand on his back so he won't lose balance. “Did my boy miss me?” He muttered, poking his son's cheek that made the little baby giggle.

“I doubt that,” he hears his mother reply. She takes a look around the living room, nodding silently, “Where's Y/N? I want to see my daughter-in-law.”

Satoru bit back a smile threatening to spread on his lip. “She's sleeping. She had been really exhausted… with houseworks,” his eyes glinted when his son reached for his hand, playing with his slender fingers, "and taking care of this bad boy,” he added, poking his son's cheek again. Satoru carried his son by the armpit, raising him up in the air, before he leaned down to softly bite the child on the cheek with his lips, making his son laugh and squirm in delight.

“Are you not helping her, Satoru?” His mother eyed him disapprovingly, crossing her arms across her chest. “I see you're as useless as ever.”

“I am helping her, Mom!” Satoru raised one hand defensively, frowning at his mother. He gently placed his son off his lap and back to the couch, before he stood up and headed over to his mom. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and forcibly took her to the door. “Now, now, mom, I'm afraid I must have my time with my son. You should go.” He said, pushing her out gently.

“Oh, you child!” His mother muttered against her breath, swatting his hand away from her shoulder. Satoru kissed her cheek, offering her a boyish smile that he knew would make his mother relent to him. She only frowned at his face. “Fine, I'll go. You should tell Y/N to let us have your son with us again, at least for a week.”

“Oh, certainly!” He lightened up suddenly, his tone excited and mind silently cheering, a little too excited that his mom gave him a look.

“I swear, you're not my son.”

Satoru just lets out a laugh as he waves her goodbye. His mind was already racing with thoughts of when he can have you alone again, for a week this time.

i was typing this furiously for over an hour

[spencerreidenjoyer]

love bites | spencer reid x reader

word count: 2k, rating: 18+/explicit

tags: established relationship, hickeys, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, overstimulation

a/n: hello again... i'm back with another pwp fic... idk where this came from ngl, but i sort of ran away with this idea of spencer leaving hickeys and this happened lol. also i've been having chip taylor (mgg's character in 68 kill, a guy who has the biggest, wettest eyes and fucks like a madman) on the brain lately so this is definitely inspired by him too ❤️

(p.s: you can also find this fic on ao3!)

Spencer always wants to give you everything you want. He’s eager to please, with those wide puppy-dog eyes that stare up at you, that gaze that makes your insides warm, the tension between you two that makes you want to spread your legs. Not like you would put up a fight anyway.

He was already such a sweetheart on the date you just came home from, a nice dinner at a nice restaurant. Spencer was a proper gentleman, who was playing footsie with you under the table. You’d wanted to jump his bones the moment you’d left the restaurant. You hoped Spencer would get the hint, from the way you were tracing circles with your fingers onto his thighs on the drive back to his place.

“Baby,” you hum, while Spencer kisses down your neck. He always treats you like a princess, makes you feel so revered.

Sometimes, he loses himself in making you feel good. You have to call his name again – “Spencer–!” you say, in a whimper, before he responds.

“Hmm?”

“Are you leaving marks?” You ask. You feel a little conscious about it, because having to wear a turtleneck to work in the summer heat is definitely funny, but kind of embarrassing.

Spencer’s lips pause against your neck. He murmurs, “Do you want me to?” and you feel his warm breath on your skin as he says it. Your hair stands on end, your body reacting to how close Spencer is to you.

Spencer pulls away, and you mourn the loss of his warmth for a moment. He looks at you, the hazel of his eyes so deep and sweet that you feel like you could lose yourself in them. “Then I can leave them in places that you don’t have to worry about.”

“What? Where?” You ask, but your mind starts running already. His lips on your body. His gaze, scorching as he stares up at you.

He doesn’t give a verbal response, rather lets his hands fall to your waist and slips his thumbs under the waist-cutouts of your dress. Where the tips of his fingers touch your skin, you feel like you’re burning with desire already. Spencer asks, “Can I?”

“Please.” Your voice comes out breathier than you’d like.

Spencer pushes your dress up, revealing your thighs, your stomach. His fingers skirt over your skin softly, the touch almost ticklish. The dress goes up, up, up, until Spencer helps you tug it over your head. Even with the sweet gesture, him getting you undressed is making you flush, the attention he gives you and the lust in his gaze making your stomach flip.

Spencer’s lips find their way back to your neck. You hold your breath as he kisses his way down the column of your neck, taking his time. He kisses your collarbone, then the top of your breast. He nips the skin between his teeth.

“Someone’s bitey,” you gasp, trying to joke.

“Did you know that while the Brits call hickeys ‘love bites’ , you don’t actually need to bite to break the superficial blood vessels under the skin’s surface? Suction is often sufficient to cause bruising.” Spencer murmurs, as if the fun fact is absolutely necessary to him giving you a hickey on your breast. It’s cute to you, though. It kind of turns you on.

“‘Love bites’ are a cute name for hickeys, though.” You laugh. “And sucking… Isn’t that kind of gross?”

Spencer’s eyes flit up to meet yours. “I think it’s hot… I mean, being so desperate to mark you up, that I can’t control myself. Being willing to do anything to make it known that you’re mine.”

Arousal washes over you. “Jesus Christ, Spencer.”

He surges forward to kiss you, slow and languid and kind of sloppy. Still, you can feel the desperation behind his movements, his eagerness as he basically eats your face off. Spencer pulls back panting, eyes studying your face, your shirtless figure, your breasts in your bra. He stares greedily. You’re wet between your legs already.

Spencer dips his head down to press his lips to where your breast spills out of the cup of your bra, flicking his tongue over a spot he’s chosen. His front teeth graze over your skin gently. Spencer nips the skin between his teeth, sucking softly. It makes your hair stand on end – the wet sounds coming from his mouth, the heat of his breath on your skin, the slow but pleasurable twinge of pain that sinks in when he sucks a mark into your breast.

It’s erotic, the way your hand is tangled in Spencer’s hair, holding him close to you as he continues to mark up your chest with his mouth. Spencer’s hair is so soft between your fingers, slightly messy and curling at the ends. He’d moved on to mark up your other breast, his large hand cupping you perfectly, like you were made for him.

Spencer litters hickeys all over you, on your tits, your stomach, and he kisses along the waistband of your panties when he gets to them. You only have to whimper to get him to slide them off as well. He kisses your hip bone, while his hand on your other side feels you up. You feel Spencer slide his hand from the swell of your ass, to feeling the meat of your thigh, before his hand comes around and pushes your leg out to spread your legs.

“Babe,” you moan, as Spencer bites down gently on your plushy inner thigh. His tongue laps over where he had bitten, acting to soothe you from any pain, and he sucks a mark into your thigh. You see the marks of his teeth and the redness of the spot, the beginnings of a bruise. He moves over to your other thigh to give you another mark, then his lips trace their way closer to the heat between your legs, giving you more marks on the way up.

You gasp when he presses a kiss to your clit, your wetness extremely obvious to you now as he blows cool air to tease you. You shiver. Spencer laughs, “Needy. You’re so wet.”

“Because of you, baby,” you sigh, running your hand through his hair to push it back, letting you admire his gorgeous bone structure and those wide eyes of his. “Need you.”

Spencer hums, smiling to himself, as he settles himself between your spread legs. His hand comes up to your heat, two fingers spreading your lips before he leans in, licking a fat stripe up across your hole, to your clit. You moan shakily as he flicks at your clit, playing with you, the tip of his sharp tongue making pleasure jolt through your body.

You let out a sigh when he presses his face deeper because you didn’t think he could get any closer, and you feel his mouth on your cunt– slurping, licking, breathing heavily as he eats you out fervently. He gives you head like he was born to do it. The way he pleasures you makes your head spin, amidst all the slick, wet noises, and Spencer’s own eagerness to make you feel good.

You lock eyes with Spencer, his piercing gaze meeting yours from between your tits. It’s almost funny, but you’re too turned on to even joke about it. You tighten your grasp in his hair. He whimpers, a sound you never get tired of hearing, and the vibrations to your cunt make you shiver.

You want him in you, now. You tell him that. Spencer pulls away, his wide eyes seeming dark and serious.

He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, shiny with your slick and fluids. You watch the pink of his tongue dart out as he licks his lips. You whimper a little as he gets onto his knees between your spread legs, his nice button-up, slacks and boxers off and on the floor. You admire the smooth lines of his body, the softness of his stomach, his happy trail leading down to where he’s hard and leaking into his hand.

There are no words exchanged, just a knowing glance that tells Spencer to hurry and do it. Spencer’s always been good at following instructions, and he knows you and your likes like the back of his hand. You know he always wants to please.

One hand on your hip, Spencer’s other hand guides his cock to your hole. He teases the head of his cock over your clit, circling over your entrance. You can only imagine how wet and sticky you are down there, with Spencer’s cock making you even more of a mess.

He puts the head in, watches intently as he slides in, and you look up at Spencer, breathing hard. He stops for a moment and begins to pull out, only the tip inside of you. He’s such an ass. You glare at him. Spencer grins cheekily.

“Spencer–” His name leaves your lips brokenly as he suddenly presses himself deeper, in, in, in, until his cock is bottoming out and you feel so incredibly full. “Fuck me.”

Spencer grunts, eyebrows furrowed as he starts fucking into you. He goes hard and fast, knowing that’s how you like it: his skin slapping against yours, the slick sounds of his cock pounding into your hole downright obscene. Even while you shake from the force he’s putting into fucking you, Spencer’s face reads like he’s trying hard to keep it together, trying to concentrate on making you feel as good as he feels.

His mouth falls open as he grips the headboard, fucking you relentlessly. You hold onto his biceps for dear life, close to screaming as he rails you. Spencer moans, as your fingernails dig into his arms in your desperate need, “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight, angel. All wet for me.”

“Spencer, fuck, oh my God–!” You cry out, helpless, horny, feeling like you’re in heaven as Spencer fucks you just how you want, just how you need. His cock hits all the right places, deep inside of you, fucking you open like you’re made for him.

And then, your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body jolting with the pleasure that overtakes you. It’s so good, Spencer ramming into you till the overstimulation starts to sting, pleasure tinged with pain around the edges, and your clenching and writhing has Spencer pushed over the edge as well, his head dropping between his shoulders as he comes with a groan, loud and whiny, his load spilling inside of you.

You’re both breathing hard, but your eyes meet his, and you share a small smile. Spencer has paused, cock softening inside of you, and he kisses you softly. You taste yourself on his lips. You don’t care, and kiss him back. Both of you giggle when you pull away.

One of Spencer’s hands falls from the headboard to your body, his fingers gentle as they skirt over your curves, a sharp contrast to the way he was fucking you just moments ago. His hand slides over your breast, your stomach, your thighs – thumbing over the marks he’d left behind. Spencer presses down on one on your inner thigh. You moan as he grabs the meat of your thigh eagerly. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee.

“I love you,” you giggle softly, feeling like you got your brains fucked out. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be sweet to you, darling?” Spencer answers softly as he leans in, kissing your jaw gently. Your cheeks feel warm. “I love you too. Let me clean you up.”

You hum softly, laying back while Spencer gets up. You watch as Spencer, even more gorgeous in his post-orgasmic glow, grabs a small towel and slips onto the bathroom. He emerges quickly enough, the towel now damp, and slides back into bed next to you.

Spencer glances down at where you’re wet and messy. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, mind clearly busy, and asks, “Wanna let me finger you before we really go and get clean?”

You let out a laugh, and after a moment’s pause: “Yeah, okay."

[gotta-winwin]

(🪽) ... to the stars

⭐ starring: jeonghan

🪽preview: “I love you, angel.” He whispered, pressing a light kiss against your lips when you finally found the courage to let him go. He hesitated, face inches from yours, as if he was debating whether or not to go in for a second kiss. He retracted in the end, standing up straight and grabbing his various bags. He knew that if he kissed you a second time, he’d lose all self control and you’d end up in bed with your clothes off, and him, very late. 

“I’ll be back soon!” He called as he entered the car, a smiling Seungcheol waving to you as he helped Jeonghan bring his bags in. “Don’t die because you miss me too much!” 

The last thing you see before they drive off is Jeonghan’s dazzling smile, his shining eyes and his clean cut hair.

tw/cw: talk of the "e" word, oral f!receiving, manhandling, surprise sex, jeonghan gets buff after training, mention of female + male parts, jeonghan goes kinda feral, overstim!

🪽rating: 18+ | word count: 2.1k

☁️ masterlist & a/n: i really can't believe it's only been two months since jeonghan enlisted it feels like FOREVER and WAY TOO LONG. also - first try at full on smut so...was giggling while writing this i had way too much fun. let me know how ya'll feel! smut starts in ch 4

MINORS DNI

if you don't like it, don't interact!

(🪽)

The dreaded “e-word” has haunted both you and Jeonghan since the start of your relationship. The stupid prospect of enlistment gnawed at both your insides, like an impending doomsday clock - ticking, ticking away at your time together. 

Maybe you were being dramatic - but if tour was painful for the two of you, enlistment would surely kill. 

“At least one good thing came out of me injuring my shoulder.” Jeonghan quipped, stretching lazily over your legs as you laid in bed. “I’ll be on duty, but I get to go home every night.” He stared up at you with playful eyes. “It’ll basically be a nine to five, after my basic training is complete.” 

Returning the playful look, you scrunched your nose, relishing the last few days with him next to you. “I guess.” You hummed, reaching a hand to run your fingers through his long hair. You’d be seeing his precious locks go tomorrow, and the loss felt like losing a baby. You had basically raised his perfect, luscious hair yourself - a handful of his hair products being yours. You’d miss picking out his monthly hair colors as well. (Red hair Jeonghan was by far still your greatest achievement).

“Don’t be sad, angel.” He closed his eyes as you massaged his hair, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. “It’s not like I’m leaving forever.” 

“You’re not very upset about it.” You pouted, feeling slighted by the way he seemed so unbothered. “You must think you’re not going to miss me very much, Hannie.” Your tone was teasing and light, although the insecurity was very much real. 

“I am going to miss you.” He admitted, squinting open an eye to look at you. “Don’t twist my words.” 

Jeonghan fell silent when you didn’t reply, hands still absentmindedly threading themselves through his hair. He watched you with careful eyes, knowing your nerves were frayed from enlistment stress. More like the absence of Jeonghan stress, he thought bitterly. He hated leaving you as much as you hated him leaving. 

“You should just move in.” 

Your next words caught him off guard as he looked up at you, blinking. It was rare to catch Jeonghan speechless. Usually equipped with witty comebacks, Jeonghan’s silence worried you as you sat up straight, moving him off your lap. “It’s just an idea.” Your voice shrank, knowing it was a big move. You hadn’t been dating for very long - two years - but still, not long enough to guarantee a move in. 

Having been nudged off your legs, Jeonghan sat up. “You think I should?” He asked, grabbing your hand and enveloping it in his.

You nodded.

“I guess it makes sense.” He had a coy smile on his face as he inwardly cooed at your shyness. “Then I’ll get to see your pretty face everyday instead of Seungkwan.”

“A much better upgrade.” You quipped at the younger boy’s expense, nodding along, big question jitters disappearing. “And half of your stuff is already here anyways.” 

“I love you.” He suddenly blurted out, although it sounded so beautifully normal and welcomed. His ears turned red, having not expected himself to say what he was thinking out loud. 

“I love you too, Hannie.”

(🪽🪽)

“If you mess up my hair I’m leaving you.” 

Frowning extra hard at his words, you steadied yourself, clippers at the ready as you analyzed his black locks. “If you don’t trust me you should’ve gone to your stylist.” You chided, pushing back a mop of his hair - rather roughly in retaliation. 

Whining, he glared at you through the mirror. “Brute.” He mumbled under his breath, a little apprehensive about agitating you further. You were the one with the clippers, after all. 

“Stop glaring at me or I’ll render you bald.” You threatened, eyeing him in challenge, the clippers in your hand coming to life as you began. “Hold still.” 

There was something strangely emotional about the whole process, as you watched tufts of Jeonghan’s hair fall to the ground around you. At least he didn’t have to get it super short - you really might have cried then - although the ceremonious feeling of it all still brought unwanted tears to your eyes. 

“It’ll grow back.” His quiet voice reminded you, pouting when he saw your glistening eyes and the way you were staring at his hair. “It’s not permanent.” 

“I know.” You mumbled, running your hands through his now short hair, more tears threatening to spill over when it just didn’t feel the same as before. “Let me mourn.” 

He laughed, although you saw him staring at himself in the mirror, his own eyes melancholic and equally wet. “Sometimes I think you’re only dating me for my hair.”

Pursuing your lips, you bit back a smile. “It’s definitely a plus.”

(🪽🪽🪽)

You had always hated long goodbyes.

They seemed too fruitless, so unnecessary and awkward to execute. You had always been a strong believer of a quick wave, a brief hug, or perhaps a quick exchange of pleasantries. 

However, once it was time to say goodbye to Jeonghan as he stood, packed and ready for his mandatory training camp, you wished goodbyes could last forever. 

“You’re going to have to let me go someday.” Jeonghan’s voice was muffled as he spoke through your hair. 

Your hold around him only tightened at his words, arms looping firmly around his neck. You inhaled, breathing him in - the light scent of pomegranates and the ocean tide. “Please don’t go.” It sounded pathetic, the way your voice broke near the end, but a part of you felt like maybe he wasn’t going to come back. Stupid. You chided yourself. Of course he’ll come back. 

“You’re going to make me cry.” Jeonghan mumbled, pulling you into him tighter - although it was nearly impossible, with the way you were already pressed up against him. He bit the insides of his cheek, holding back the tears because he knew someone had to keep it together during this goodbye - and it wasn’t going to be you. Burrowing his face deeper into your nape, he wished selfishly there was a way for him not to leave. Holding you tighter, he knew that if there was a way to crawl inside you and live there - he would. “I’ll write to you.” He promised.

It was a silly idea with the existence of technology, but Jeonghan was adamant to hand write his letters while serving - something about it being more personable. It’ll give you something to look forward to, he explained, although you told him that him coming home was enough. The letters were just as sweet though. 

“I love you, angel.” He whispered, pressing a light kiss against your lips when you finally found the courage to let him go. He hesitated, face inches from yours, as if he was debating whether or not to go in for a second kiss. He retracted in the end, standing up straight and grabbing his various bags. He knew that if he kissed you a second time, he’d lose all self control and you’d end up in bed with your clothes off, and him, very late. 

“I’ll be back soon!” He called as he entered the car, a smiling Seungcheol waving to you as he helped Jeonghan bring his bags in. “Don’t die because you miss me too much!” 

The last thing you see before they drive off is Jeonghan’s dazzling smile, his shining eyes and his clean cut hair. 

(🪽🪽🪽🪽)

You would have compared him to a feral animal - the way he pounced on you upon his arrival home. 

“I missed you so fucking much, angel.” He groaned, arms pulling you against him without warning, giving you no time to register his appearance. 

“Hannie.” His name came out as more of a moan as his fingers dipped, drifting towards the band of your sweats and delving under. “When- when did you get home?” 

“Got to leave earlier than expected.” He mumbled against your neck, thoroughly distracted by the way you were softening under his grasp. He had forgotten how beautiful you looked, falling apart at his fingertips. “Been waiting.” He gasped out, pulling your hair so his lips could meet yours. “No idea how much I missed you.” 

“Hannie.” His name was all you could say, all you could even think about. His every being enveloped your senses as you felt your back press up against the hallway wall. “Hannie.”

“Yes, angel?” He dipped to his knees, gazing up at you with the coy smile you had missed so much. “Tell me what you want.”

“You, Hannie.” You whined, and you knew it was embarrassing how fast you were complying. “Want - need you.” 

He let out a breathy chuckle, holding you by your thighs and pulling your sweats and underwear off in one fluid motion. You didn’t miss the tiny whimper that fell quietly from his lips - finally face to face with the sweet pussy he had dreamed of each night after training. It had tortured him, not being able to feel you, to hold you, to see you. Military training had taught him a lot of things - although the greatest lesson he took away was how much of a privilege you were. Losing access to both you and the pussy that always took him so well had been maddening. 

He paused, smirking when you bucked into his hand, impatient. 

“Hurry up, Hannie.” You scolded, half annoyed but mostly pleading. “Hannie.” 

As if the repeat of his name had woken him up from the daze he had found himself under - some spell, Jeonghan glanced up at you with hooded eyes before diving in, tongue working against your folds. It was obscene, the wet sounds coming from you, mixed with his pants and muffled groans. He all but buried himself into your heat - fulfilling his wish of crawling inside of you - in the most perverted yet terribly arousing way. 

The sounds of both satisfaction and pleasure coming from you only spurred him on, eating you out with one goal in mind: to make you finish, to finally drown himself in your scent after two long weeks without you next to him.

“Fuck- Hannie.” The only coherent words falling from your lips was a long string of curses, followed by a loud whine of his name. “I’m gonna - fuck.” 

You felt the mess before you saw it, as you gripped his hair for leverage, legs shaking as you steadied yourself against the wall. A gush of release spurted from you, coating his face as he lapped, unbothered by the slick. 

“Hannie -” Legs shaking, threatening to collapse, you pushed at his head. “Too much-” 

It was like he was trying to devour you whole. 

“Hannie-” You cried out, cumming again - a visceral reaction from the amount of attention his tongue was giving to your cunt and the constant stimulations from his nose bumping against your clit. 

He finally looked up as he drank the last drops of juice from your pussy, eyes shining in satisfaction as he smirked up at you. “Did you miss me?” 

You were glad his cockiness had not escaped him during his military training. Tugging harshly at his hair, you all but collapsed into his arms, pressing a feathery light kiss against the side of his neck. “You beast.” You mumbled, earning a loud laugh from him as he moved you both to the living room, wiping his face with a cloth before coming to clean you. 

It was then that you finally got to get a good look at him. You laid on the couch, eyes following his every movement as he wiped in between your legs with his usual gentle and care. 

He was built. Stronger, somehow broader and more defined then you remembered him being. His shoulders and arms flexed as he worked, and you caught a sight of his carved thighs and the damp tent in his pants as he stood up, leaving to throw the now sullied cloth away. 

“Hannie?” You called after him, feeling your desire return just by the glimpses of his new physique. 

“Yes, angel?” His head poked out from the doorway, returning next to you as he lay down, once again situating himself in between your legs. His nose bumped against yours as he looked at you with gentle, loving eyes - a straight contrast to the callouses, rough hands that were now roaming your chest.

“What did mandatory training do to you?” You asked, running a hand down his arm and squeezing his bicep. “Did they like- make you pull cars or something?” 

His hands went self-consciously to grab his own biceps, a large hand covering yours as he blushed. “No, it was just a lot of working out.” He smiled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “What? You like what you see?”

“Very, very much.” You admitted, liking how he basked under the praise. “Not that I didn’t like your body before- but this is…” You paused, trying to find the right word to describe the delectable human being sitting in front of you that you knew could ruin you on a whole nother level. “Different.” 

Jeonghan smirked. “If you think this is different, you should see what’s under my clothes, angel.” 

masterlist

[novaursa]

A little bit of angst here, could I get one with cregan and rhaenyras daughter where, after their first child, reader and cregan are having difficulty making a second child. Eventually reader gets pregnant a joyous day for winterfell. As the weeks pass, cregan and reader are frequently spotted by the folk of winterfell sharing tender moments between one another, maybe a kiss to readers belly, maybe cregan almost always has a hand to her stomach etc. one day (maybe cregan is at the wall or on a hunt) reader receives a raven from dragonstone saying Jacaerys is dead. Readers grief overcomes her and she loses the baby. After news reaches cregan about Jace, he rushes home to comfort his wife, knowing she’d be overcome with grief, and he is met with the aftermath. Cregan is filled with grief and anger and a lust for revenge for the person at the hands of the death of his friend, the grief of his wife and the loss of his child.

The Gullet's Price

Requests are closed!

- Summary: The day you received the news about the death of your brother, another life was lost.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The snow fell gently outside the thick stone walls of Winterfell, casting a blanket of white over the sprawling castle. Inside, however, warmth radiated from every hearth. You sat by the window, watching the snowflakes drift lazily in the twilight, your hand absentmindedly resting on your belly. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the distant sound of footsteps from the courtyard below.

It had been months—many long, aching months—since you and Cregan had first tried for a second child. After the birth of your son, the heir to Winterfell, you had both longed for another, but it seemed the gods had been slow to answer your prayers. There had been whispers among the maesters, suggestions of herbs and tonics, but nothing had come of it. Each passing moon only deepened the ache in your heart, and though Cregan never showed it, you could see the worry in his eyes, the way his hand lingered on your shoulder a moment too long, the way he would pull you into his arms as if holding you close could somehow solve what was out of your control.

The door creaked open, and there he stood—Cregan, your husband, lord of Winterfell, with his ever-brooding presence softened by the sight of you. His dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, and his grey eyes—so often stern in the face of duty—softened as they found yours. Without a word, he crossed the room, his boots barely making a sound against the stone floor, and knelt beside you, placing a warm hand on top of yours.

"Still watching the snow, love?" he asked, his voice low and filled with a tenderness reserved only for you.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It reminds me of the first night I spent here. You used to say the snow welcomed me to the North."

Cregan smiled at the memory, his fingers gently entwining with yours. "Aye, and it seems the North has claimed you as one of its own ever since."

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the snow drifting outside, and the fire crackling softly beside you. Then, without warning, Cregan shifted slightly, his free hand coming to rest on your belly—just as it had so many times before, a hopeful gesture, though for so long it had brought neither joy nor comfort.

You looked down at his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch. "Perhaps it's not meant to be," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Perhaps one child is all we were granted."

Cregan's grip tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of your dress. "You’ve always been stronger than fate, Y/N. If we are meant to have more children, we will. And if not..." He paused, looking up at you with such intensity that it made your heart skip a beat. "Then we will cherish the family we have."

The sincerity in his words brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow. "I love you, Cregan Stark."

"And I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing against the skin of your belly as he spoke. It was such a simple act, but the tenderness of it, the love that radiated from him, made your chest swell with emotion.

The days passed slowly after that, each one blending into the next. Winter held the North in its grip, and though life within Winterfell continued as always, there was a quiet hope that lingered between you and Cregan, an unspoken understanding that perhaps, just perhaps, the gods had not forgotten you after all.

Then one morning, as the sun barely crested the horizon, you woke with a strange feeling in your stomach—not pain, but something else. Something new. You lay still for a moment, waiting, your heart pounding in your chest as realization dawned upon you.

"Cregan," you whispered, nudging him awake beside you.

He stirred, groggy from sleep, but the moment his eyes met yours, he was alert. "What is it?"

"I... I think I'm with child," you said, the words feeling foreign and yet so familiar on your tongue.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, Cregan sat up, his hand already moving to your belly as if to confirm what you had just said. His grey eyes were wide with disbelief, and for the first time in what felt like years, there was unrestrained joy in his expression.

"Are you certain?" he asked, though the hope in his voice was undeniable.

You nodded, tears already welling in your eyes. "I'm certain."

The joy that erupted in the days following was like nothing you had ever experienced before. Winterfell, normally so cold and solemn, felt alive with the news of your pregnancy. The people celebrated quietly at first, but soon the halls were filled with laughter and congratulations. The maesters confirmed your suspicions, and Cregan all but swept you into his arms, grinning like a man who had won the greatest battle of his life.

From that day on, it was rare to see you without Cregan by your side. He was never far from you, his hand constantly finding its way to your stomach as if to remind himself—and everyone else—that life was growing within you. The people of Winterfell spoke of it often, how their lord was more tender with you than they had ever seen before. Some swore they saw him press soft kisses to your belly when he thought no one was watching.

You, too, felt the change in him. His protectiveness over you grew tenfold, but so did his tenderness. He would sit with you by the hearth in the evenings, his hand resting on your belly as the fire crackled beside you. "I can't wait to meet our child," he'd say softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wonder if they'll have your eyes."

"And your stubbornness," you teased, smiling as he chuckled.

Every tender moment between you was a reminder of the love you shared. The people of Winterfell watched with quiet admiration, and as the weeks passed, it became clear that this child—your child—would be born into a house filled with love, protected by both the Starks and Targeryens.

One evening, as the snow began to fall once more, Cregan knelt before you, resting his head against your belly. "Our child will be here soon," he whispered, his voice full of wonder. "And I will love them just as much as I love you."

You smiled down at him, your hand stroking through his dark hair. "I know you will, my love. I know."

The sky was a cold, slate gray, reflecting the heaviness that weighed on your heart. You had been restless all day, your hand unconsciously drifting to your swollen belly as you paced the stone floors of Winterfell. Cregan had gone to the Wall, seeing to matters with the Night's Watch, and while he often left for such duties, his absence felt more pronounced today, leaving you feeling uneasy.

You paused at the window, watching the snow swirl in the bitter northern wind. There had been no ravens for days, no word from Dragonstone, and though you had tried to push away your fears, the growing knot in your stomach told you something was amiss.

And then, it came. The raven. Black wings against the pale sky.

When the maester handed you the scroll, your fingers trembled, sensing the weight of it before your eyes even scanned the words. It was from Dragonstone—your mother’s seal—but it was not her handwriting. The letters blurred as you read them, and the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only the devastating truth in front of you.

Jacaerys is dead.

He had been slain at the Gullet, struck down during a battle with the greens. The words felt unreal, distant, as if they were written for someone else. But no, they were meant for you. Your Jace, your closest friend, your blood, was gone.

A choked sob escaped your lips, your body trembling as the grief hit you all at once. The scroll slipped from your hands and fell to the floor, unnoticed. All you could feel was the crushing weight of loss—the loss of your brother, of someone who had been part of your life for as long as you could remember. The one you had grown up with, laughed with, fought beside. The one who had been by your side during the most difficult moments of your life.

Jace.

You pressed your hand to your belly, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps as the sorrow became overwhelming, twisting inside you like a blade. The baby... your baby. You could feel it—something was wrong. The sharp pain in your abdomen stole your breath, and suddenly the warmth you had cherished, the life growing within you, felt cold. Empty.

"No..." you whispered, stumbling backward as another wave of pain coursed through you. You clutched your stomach, but it was no use. The grief, the heartache—it was too much. You collapsed to the floor, clutching at your belly, the realization sinking in that the life you carried had slipped away, just as Jace had. Gone.

Servants found you there, unconscious and bleeding, their screams echoing through the halls of Winterfell as they rushed to fetch the maesters. But no maester, no amount of care, could undo what had already been done. By the time you awoke, it was too late. You had lost the baby.

When Cregan finally returned, having received word of Jacaerys's death at the Wall, his heart was already heavy with the knowledge of how devastated you would be. He had pushed his horse hard, riding through the night to return to you, knowing you would need him now more than ever.

But nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him.

The moment he stepped through the gates of Winterfell, he knew something was wrong. The air was thick with tension, the usual quiet bustle of the castle replaced with a heavy, oppressive silence. The servants barely met his eyes as they bowed, their faces pale. His chest tightened, fear creeping into his heart as he made his way through the familiar halls.

"Cregan," a voice called softly, and he turned to see the Maester Kennet approaching him with a grave expression. The look on his face confirmed Cregan's worst fears.

"She..." the maester began, his voice shaking slightly. "She lost the child, my lord. It happened shortly after the raven arrived from Dragonstone. The grief—"

Cregan didn’t wait for him to finish. He rushed past the maester, his heart pounding in his chest as he made his way to your chambers. He flung the door open, and there you were, lying in bed, pale and weak, your eyes red from crying. The sight of you like this, broken and devastated, was like a dagger to his heart.

You looked up when you heard the door, and when your eyes met Cregan’s, the dam broke again. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as you whispered, "He’s gone, Cregan... Jace is gone... and... our baby..."

Cregan crossed the room in an instant, gathering you into his arms, holding you as you wept into his chest. His own heart shattered as he held you, feeling the weight of your loss, your grief. He didn’t speak; words wouldn’t help, not now. All he could do was hold you, his strong arms wrapped around you as if he could somehow protect you from the pain you were feeling. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t shield you from this.

Inside, Cregan’s own grief began to twist into something darker—rage. Jacaerys had been his friend, one of the few he could trust in the turbulent world of war and politics. The news of his death was a blow to his own heart, but seeing you like this—broken and empty, having lost not only your brother but your child—it was unbearable.

He clenched his jaw, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. Whoever was responsible for Jacaerys’s death would pay. He would see to it. The rage that simmered in his veins burned hotter with every passing moment.

"I swear to you," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet fury, "whoever is responsible for Jace’s death will pay. I will see to it myself."

You lifted your tear-streaked face to look at him, and for a moment, you could see the storm brewing in his eyes. Cregan was always strong, always steady, but now—now there was something else in him. Something dangerous.

"Cregan," you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. "Don’t... please, don’t go."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently brushing away the tears from your cheek. "I won’t leave you, not now. But justice will be done, Y/N. For Jace, for our child. I promise you."

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace even as the world around you felt cold and desolate. Cregan held you tightly, his mind racing with thoughts of revenge, of the blood that would be spilled in the name of those you had lost.

He would not rest until the one responsible for this pain had paid with their life.

[trulyumai]

Blinded by the Flame

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler x Reader

Warnings: Blood, Death.

Synopsis: Left bloodied and blinded, Messmer searched. Not for revenge, but for his wife.

A/N: So, this fucking sunflower boss is kicking my ass. Im cooked.

Enjoy the story!

“Ah! Mother, please!” In the middle of the room, sat the legend of the flames. 

He balled up in agony, his fingers covered his face— his eyes entirely. 

Blood seeped between the crevices of his digits, his eyes burned with an itch, a feeling he wanted to tear out.

“For how could I— your spawn, be subjected to such a monstrosity of an ending?” The man cried out, his deep wails echoed throughout the chambers around his being. 

Messmer mumbled incessantly, begging and twitching as his vision blackened. 

He had to gain control— before the chaotic numb feeling goes too far, before his mind slips away completely. 

Think of the throne 

Think of the order 

Think of… 

“Wife,” 

He called out, saliva dripped down in a reddened  pace between his lips. 

Messmer reached out to nothing, to the blackness that surrounded him. 

“Wife!” He wailed

“Don’t— don’t leave me alone!” 

The lanky man keeled over, his hands beat against the wooden floor with fury. 

“A-Answer me! Your husband— your Lord demands it!” 

With a slurred speech, he crawled, began to move toward where he thought the door might be. 

His hand met with a stone wall, it stood firm against his blood covered palms. 

He couldn’t think- couldn’t remember the size of the room, the chamber at all for that matter. 

The  pain was piercing his mind, it left fire in its wake. 

“Augh—“ 

The knight continued his mission, persisted onto finding the exit, the way to his home- his love. 

Knees now scratched and molded over with scabs, he stopped his movement, as something cold came into contact with his dirtied palm.

Shakily a pale arm reached down once more and with his posture bent, he leered over the object. 

It was fleshy, wet with a warming substance and–

“No,” 

Firm hands acted, looked for proof that could refuse the perverse thoughts invading his mind. 

“No, no, no!” 

Shaky fingers guided their way to a hand, it was soft, so small that he could cover it whole with his own. 

He came into contact with a cold metal, a band that had been wrapped around the person's finger. 

His darling wife’s finger. 

“—Ah! No, this— this is a warning- a vision, it's a farce!” 

Not bothering to stop the blood from pouring down his chin, it fell atop of the bloodied woman. 

Her eyes remained closed, the middle of her person laid into a deep maroon color. 

As best as the weakened knight could, the woman was pulled towards him. She rested upon his lap like a deity. 

Her head was angled towards him, it sagged into the man’s chest instantly. 

He smelled the apples— the Elder flowers that clung onto her stilled skin.

There was no denying, it was his love that lay crumpled in his arms like a wilted lily. 

Only his cries were heard through the chamber, bouncing off the walls with ease as his wails got louder and louder. 

The cries were wet, uneven hiccups accompanied the tears. 

As if nature mourned her loss; thunder boomed, rain seeped down to drench the land and the wind howled beneath the winking stars. 

The man’s shoulders shook, he howled— it was too much, too far beneath the golden rays he was promised. 

Burying his head into her neck the man refused to move. 

His kin could walk through the gates now— with a cure for his blindness yet he would say put. 

For his protective reign is over. 

Now that his purpose lay still and quiet. 

His grip tightened, wide knuckles turned white with pressure. 

“Thy will bury it all in flame,” 

His voice but a whisper among the pelting rain. 

“I will offer it all; and join thee with the heads of the filthy accusers, who dare put thy to rest.” 

Biting down on his cheeks, more crimson seeped down with unwanted reign. 

“Rest, my wife,” his forehead met with hers, the surface sticky and wet. 

“My love will hold me here—“

“—nnnghh,” 

Thin red brows raised, with his mouth agape he let out a noise like no other. 

“Darling, love, please!” He didn’t know what he was begging for, but it came out in unseen repetition

Her mind was foggy, vision even more so as her arm raised above her being. 

It felt as if daggers pierced through her chest, and needles laid about her arms like unseen birthmarks. 

“–mer, Messm—“ 

“I’m here! Gods, I’m— lovely, hear thy cries, please!” 

The voice sounded like it was under rubble, or even perhaps miles of sand and dirt. 

She felt the light touches, how they guided their way on her cheeks, her jaw. 

It was a loving, soft touch made by roughened hands. 

Familiar hands. 

Tears struck her bloodied cheeks, a sloppy smile graced her expression. 

He hadn’t left her afterall— after the fall, the oncoming of soldiers, he was here, by her side. 

Grunting out a low groan, words fled her cut lips in a rush. 

The woman’s words slurred together, and the man tried to make sense of them.

“Slow down, my wife, slow—“

“Es, mess, yo— your eyes!”

On queue, the blackened holes throbbed. Dark pits of ash wobbled down the crevices and met the material of his armor. 

“Shhh, Darling, it will be alright, it will be alright.” 

Her lips shook with a new level of fear, of total shock. 

“I will take care of it— mother will help. I— it will be alright.” 

“She is the cause of such damnation, how will she help?” Taking her hand in his larger one, Messmer placed kisses upon each finger.

The woman gaped up at him. 

“Why are you so calm, aren’t you angry— hurt?”  

“I… was,” He replied. Still distracted by the kisses he laid upon her skin. 

“But thy are here to calm such a flame, hm?” 

The red knight pushed his woman closer, till the cheek of her face mushed against his dirtied armor.

“Let us get fixed, then such a discussion can be demanded.” 

Ignoring the woman's constant worried touches, a smile adorned his face. 

He wasn't alone, his wife lay huddled between his arms. The unspoken horror lay hushed beneath his heel, stomped and winded. 

Although he was blinded, left to die on his own, he could continue his push to the capital.

For the prophecy has already been foretold. 

The kingdom will be left in ash; with only his wife and him to huddle in the flames of ambition. 

[pseudowho]

Deadly Nightshade

(help me find the Suguru artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

A Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.

Suguru swallows an aphrodisiac curse, and finds the reader when his entanglement becomes too much to bear.

Warnings: *MONSTERFUCKING*, Loss of control (Suguru), rough but consensual, throat-fucking, Suguru's cursed technique...but sexy, tentacle shibari, cum as cure

(AU!Adult Suguru who never left Jujutsu High timeline)

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"Will be late home. It's a big one. Go to sleep without me, baby. You'll be tired."

Suguru finished tapping, looking up to the abandoned industrial site with wary interest, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He felt beckoned into this concrete jungle in a way he found unsettling; the Curse was clearly disguising its true potential, hiding in plain sight...but calling in back-up (likely Nanami or Higuruma at this time of day) would only put them at risk. And, they were tired.

With an internal spiteful sting at having lost his evening with you, which Suguru suppressed, black eyes flat and expressionless, he stepped onwards into the plunging lush foliage and exposed steel beams.

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Suguru's apologetic text filled you with disappointed longing. Loneliness and worry quashed your appetite. All your hopes and plans for a soft, touch-filled evening curled up on the sofa with him, were wiped.

Sighing, lovelorn and resigned, you took yourself to bed, your face snuffled into Suguru's pillow and the soft-spiced smell of him, to lull you into sleep.

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Suguru staggered through the door, leaning back to close it, gasping, sweating, clawing his jacket and shirt off his body. He burned from within, like the nine circles of hell.

After swallowing the curse, the roiling forest had disappeared with it...but Suguru soon felt its many limbs stretching within him, caressing the deepest parts of him, blighting him with this ungodly pain--

--no...not pain, Suguru thought vaguely, now naked except for his hakama, beads of sweat dripping from chest to belly as he teetered towards the bathroom. White-knuckled hands clasped the sink-- Suguru caught himself in the mirror, ripples of desire thrumming through him with every frantic beat of his heart, his raven hair free of its tie and framing febrile eyes--

Suguru retched, his shoulders heaving with exertion, retching again, his rigid cock crushed against his thigh as he collapsed forwards, seeping pre-cum and shaking and moaning, thinking of you in your bed you in your bed you in your bed--

Out of control I'm out of control got to take it back got to--

Something in Suguru snapped.

The lights flickered out one by one, from bathroom to corridor, as an eldritch forest clawed its way back out of him.

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You awoke in a fever dream, your sigh condensing and hanging heavy and humid in the earthy hushhushhush of a tropical forest, teeming with life.

What a strange dream, you thought. You did not notice how this set you apart from true dreamers, who would not find anything unusual about waking on a bed of moss and monstera. The duvet felt warm and springy with foliage beneath your fingertips, your toes, your body.

You had slept, and these uncanny tropics had grown up around you. Not one surface was free of queerly animated vines, yawning tropical flowers, and thick verdant leaves. Unable to see where one room began and another ended, your little home suddenly stretched for miles and closed in on you all at once.

You stepped gingerly off the bed, your feet settling on dewy leaves, splitting the fine low mist that clouded there. As you stepped to the doorway, you did not feel the hissing black tendrils, more creature of the deep than plant, that reached longingly after your feet.

Led only by curious patches of bioluminescence, eerie and golden, you moved to the living room, blinking, certain you were ill. A familiar voice, soft and dangerous, came forth from the shadows.

"You're awake. Good. I'd have fucked you while you slept, but they wanted you squirming."

With a gasp and a cry, you felt yourself become intangibly bound and suspended, feeling the rush of smooth tendrils snaking around your chest and bare thighs, wrists and ankles. Wrists tied behind your back, and legs folded up until your heels touched the backs of your thighs, your legs spread, you hung at face level to Suguru, who stalked out from a patch of hazy light.

Suguru had always held a haunting grace, a soft, untouchable masculinity, an unwavering abstract sensitivity. But, approaching you now, his black eyes were flat, sharklike, predatory. He had not hunted you, but had, instead, waited for you on the outskirts of his web.

In only his hakama, fine black tendrils tattooed his skin, animating him as he panted, desperate and sweating. The tendrils seemed to be soothing him, stroking, constantly moving over his rigid cock, his chest, his throat. As your own tendrils began to offshoot from the black wet-velvet vines that bound you, creeping under your clothes, circling round your nipples and creeping towards your core, a whimper broke free from your throat.

"Shhhhh, shh, shh, I need you wet if you're gonna do this for me, sweetheart."

Suguru stepped to you as if you catch your voice in his hands, sliding one finger into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. He shivered in contrary to the inferno inside him, gripping his weeping cock with a roughened moan. As Suguru stroked your tongue, he reached down to undo his hakama, letting the coiling vines pull them from his body.

Suguru pressed against you now, lifting your top so he could rut his weeping cock against your belly, still examining your mouth with his fingers. You felt them tremble against your tongue. The last shreds of your Suguru were the only thing holding him back from taking you with bruising force. The vines coiled through your top, your underwear, shredding, removing, until you were naked, suspended, entwined.

Suguru's black eyes feasted on you, one hand stroking his cock with an iron grip, pre-cum wetting his fingers, and the other hand grazing over you, stroking the peaks of your breasts, your ribs, slipping between your puffy lips to see how ready you were for him. Carnal instinct took over, and he pressed himself back against you, his cock leaping in his hand.

Suguru shivered again, skin to skin with you. He knew, instinctively, that the itch at the base of his skull would not-- could not-- become dormant until he had completely spent himself inside you.

"You know I wouldn't ask more of you than I know you can take," Suguru cooed, soft and persuasive against your lips. You felt a tendril slip over your mound, slipping between your wet folds and coiling snugly around your clit, massaging it, rolling it. You mewled into Suguru's mouth, and he swallowed it down hungrily, kissing your sighs and whimpers off your lips.

"Oh fuck, baby-- you feel so wet--"

With a jolt, you realised that Suguru's hands clasped you by the hips, nowhere near your core.

"You can't feel tha-- how can you--" Suguru bit your lip, punishingly hard and you squeaked as the tendril that pleasured you so tenderly squeezed your clit in reprimand, simultaneously.

"They're mine," Suguru hissed, "just like every godforsaken curse I swallow," and he pulled you lower so your core settled on his cockhead, the vines acting in symbiosis with him to drag your thighs apart, "just like you're mine. And you'll help me...won't you?"

You felt a thicker tendril snake up the inside of your thigh, ghosting at your entrance. With savage force and a growl of warning, Suguru ripped it aside, pressing his cockhead inside you just enough to prevent any other intrusions.

Suguru's orgasm hit him with obscene force and he collapsed into you, stuttering his hips just once, before cumming with a shout, his seed spattering into your entrance and puffy lips, dripping down your bound thighs in thick white streams. Suguru's moans elongated into staccato whimpers, before descending into a hiss of unbridled rage.

"That did fucking nothing," he growled, tangling his fingers into your hair, yanking your head to the side, sinking his sharp canines into the front of your throat. His cockhead still leapt just inside you, spurting weak trickles of cum, and Suguru almost cried to feel absolutely no relief from the burning need throbbing through his body.

You felt the vines squeeze around you, your nipples clamped and rolled until tears filled your eyes with ethereal blurred lights. Suguru reached his long arms behind you, grasping the tops of your shoulders to slam you down against him, impaling you, gasping and wildly overstimulated, onto his cum-lubricated cock.

The tendril rolling and flicking over your clit picked up speed, and you came, twisting against your restraints, crying Suguru's name. Suguru stared hungrily down to where he bottomed out in your pussy, watching and feeling it clench around his cock with shuddering bliss.

As the tendrils continued to work on your nipples and clit, your pleasure becoming frantic and painful, making you squirm and pull away from them, Suguru landed a stinging slap to your arse.

"Fucking take it. What good are you if you can't milk this thing out of me? More." Suguru lifted you just once, cruelly slamming you down again, warning you against your squirming, needing beyond need for you to clench around him again.

"Suguru-- please-- it's too much--" Your needy cries broke off into agonal gasps as you came again and Suguru's head dropped back, jaw slack as he felt your pussy clench and contract, sucking cum from him, surely enough to relieve him, surely--

"No, I-- no--" he panted, his eyes frantic, watching his seed leak out of you, now floppy and malleable in your corseting vines. Digging both hands into his hair, scratching at his own scalp, then moving his fingertips to his tongue to suck them with a ragged groan, Suguru grasped at straws for any stimulation to purge him of this monstrous need.

As he gripped himself, clutching and agonised, his eyes feverish, you could only moan stunted little moans as the vines around you lifted and dropped you, thrusting you savagely onto Suguru's length, still impossibly hard. You leaned forwards, kissing Suguru with urgency, trying to claw him back to you as his vines fucked you against him. He nipped at you, biting, no longer the gentle man you knew.

"Not hard enough-- shit, you can-- can do better than that--"

Finding some strength again, Suguru's hands dropped to your hips, kneading the plush fat there, trying to squeeze you around him, and he added to the strength of his vines, lifting and slamming you back onto him.

So lost were you both in chasing his release, neither of you noticed the forest around you gradually withering, fading and dying. The bioluminescence waxed and waned, throwing strange, marionette shadows around the room.

You were thankful for the embrace of the vines, unable to count how many times you had peaked from the constant stimulation of vines, masturbating you while Suguru kept your cunt and belly constantly filled. Suguru gasped and murmured into your neck, all unintelligible, unreasonable demands of you, and pleas for release.

As Suguru came with a ragged cry again, filling your aching pussy to the sound of wet, squelching thrusts, you felt the tendrils around your breasts and clit wither away, leaving your buds swollen and tender.

Suguru could barely stand, supported by a few remaining vines, still staring into you, so hungry but so spent. You felt him pull his cock out of you, dripping with his own seed, and you cried out to feel his cock replaced by a thick-tipped vine, pressing against your cervix, shunting his seed up into your belly.

Suguru's eyes rolled back to feel this bizarre vicarious pleasure, lazily letting the vine thrust his cum back into you, as the others twisted you, tilting so your back was parallel to the floor, your head tipped back, mouth level with his cock, still so red and aching.

"Is your throat tighter than your pussy?" Suguru pondered aloud, drunk and swaying with divine ecstasy as he fingered the sides of your jaw, slapping his cockhead against your lips and tongue. When you stuck out your tongue invitingly, swiping its tip across Suguru's slit, he gasped, shuddering and gritting his teeth.

"Let's find out," Suguru hissed, sliding his cock into your mouth, letting you taste your combined arousal, before thrusting with an injured moan into your throat, squeezing you, feeling the ridges of his cock move inside you as you gagged around him.

Pulling out enough to let you breathe, Suguru gripped you by the head and neck, grunting as he rutted into you, his pleasure doubled by his vine fucking his cum back into your pussy. Suguru's eyes fixed, fascinated, on the wet slip of this extra appendage inside you, how you reflexively humped against it as if it was his cock, how you mewled and whimpered at its intrusive tenderness.

As you twitched and shuddered, convulsing with overstimulation, Suguru came for the last time in a soundless gasp, his knees almost buckling beneath him as wave after wave of please rolled through him, washing away the dreadful, burning itch running through his brain and spine, leaving him exhausted, but finally un-fogged, finally in control.

With little warning, you were released from your bounds, and Suguru caught you, cradling you against him, and lowering you with a fractured groan to the floor. He sunk onto you, his mouth on your neck in prayer, kissing and soothing, blessing you with his relief.

"Would've died," he insisted, kissing your hair, your eyes, your nose, spooning you against him as the last remnants of this unwelcome forest embered away, rising like ashes on rising heat to fade into the night, "would've died-- died if you hadn't--"

You shushed Suguru, plaiting his fingers with yours across your chest as he shivered and heaved against you.

"Not...not your fault," you yawned, leaning into his kisses, "but like I keep telling you...you can't eat all of your problems away." Suguru laughed softly, nuzzling you.

"No...can fuck them away though, apparently."

Sticky and intertwined together on the floor, Suguru surveyed the cracked floorboards, the walls rended by vines, and trickles of damp running down from the ceiling. Lips puckering in dread against your neck, Suguru whispered.

"What, uhm...what do we tell the home insurance company?"

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By far the most unhinged thing I've ever written. I'll see myself out.

[tsuutarr]

Tavern Owner Orc x New Hire Reader

I got to participate in the lovely Ozzgin's Secret Santa Event!! This one is for @tranquilo-antique-apothecary!!

Content is about 1K words of him being down bad for you <3

Sekkrad has always liked the bustling atmosphere of taverns, rich with rambunctious laughter and delicious food. After every win or loss, Sekkrad and his comrades would settle down at their favorite tavern, almost as if it were their second home. Maybe that was why he decided to open a quaint tavern after retiring from his warrior duties.

Despite his retirement, Sekkrad has always kept himself in shape. Working out has been engraved into his body, but beyond that, it’s also because his patrons can get quite rowdy at times. Plus, it’s helpful to be athletic when you’re working as much as he is. That said…

He really could use some help.

So, he puts up a flyer seeking an employee. As expected, there are some pretty good candidates. What’s unexpected, however, is you. You’re just so cute that Sekkrad literally stopped thinking when he first saw you walk through the tavern’s doors. He’s not even sure how he got through interviewing you, but somehow he did. And, just his luck, you’re a great candidate – exactly what he’s looking for! A good personality, a solid resume, and a cute face… so of course he hires you.

But on second thought – maybe it wasn’t his best idea. You look too adorable in the tavern’s uniform (that uniform does not usually look that good). And he practically blanks out every time you’re around him. You just look so soft and huggable. Plus that smile? It’s a killer. Thankfully, he somehow manages to guide you through your tasks and answer questions with a blank face (that he is desperately trying to control).

As he’s mulling about how he’s supposed to act around you, he notices you struggling to reach up to get a bottle of bourbon on one of the shelves. Without a second thought, he reaches over you, pressing his muscular body against your softer one.

“Here,” he grunts, voice low, as sirens whir in his head over how good your body feels against his. It’s like you fit perfectly against him.

“Thank you!” you respond, smile bright. Oh, Gods. You’re going to kill him.

He nods. “If y’need anything else, let me know.”

With that said, he moves to the storage in the back. He almost slams his head into the bag of flour, but reigns himself in after remembering how expensive flour is nowadays. Instead, he picks up some more syrup for his cocktails, willing himself to behave.

Despite the turmoil your presence brings to him, he manages to get through the day with relative ease. Hiring you really was the right choice – you’re an excellent worker. Smart, quick on the uptake, easy on the eyes – you’re just the perfect hire.

As he closes shop, wiping a wine glass clean, he watches as you wipe down the last table, a feeling of fondness spreading through his chest at how much of a hard worker you are. As you finish up, he prepares a sweet cocktail for you, before motioning you over.

“Good job,” he says, passing the cocktail to you.

“Thank you!”

He nods, motioning for you to sit. “Wait there.”

“Yessir,” you respond, saluting before you sit down. You watch as he disappears into the kitchen in the back, the sweet taste of your cocktail spreading over your tongue pleasantly.

It only takes him a few moments to come back with a plate of warm food. He places it in front of you.

“Eat up,” he murmurs, crossing his arms. “You were a great help today.”

Your cheeks heat up, making Sekkrad want to scream – you’re just so stinking adorable.

“I’m glad!” you beam, making his lips twitch up into a smile involuntarily. 

The way you eat his food also makes him feel warm and happy – it’s always a treat when someone enjoys his food.

“It was delicious!” you tell him once you’re done eating.

“Let me know what y’like to eat,” he says, looking pleased as you polish off his food. “I’ll make it for you next time.”

Eagerly, you tell him your favorite food, which he files away for later. He takes your empty dishes, which you try to protest, saying that you’ll clean up after yourself. He’s having none of it, though, and cleans up promptly as you finish off your cocktail.

“I’ll walk you home,” he offers while wiping his hands off on his apron. “It’s late.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose.”

Sekkrad doesn’t want to seem pushy, not when he really doesn’t want you to hate him, but he’s more concerned for your safety than anything. “You wouldn’t be imposing,” he replies, trying to make his voice softer. “I just want t’make sure my new hire’s safe.”

“Well…” you look up at him and Sekkrad has to look behind you so that he won’t combust. “...I’d appreciate it, thank you! I’ll go get my things.”

“Yeah,” he responds, watching as you go to the back to get your things. When you reappear, he straightens his back, motioning to the door. “Ready?”

“Yessir!” you say, starting your journey back to your home.

Your walk back with him is quiet and peaceful as everyone else is asleep. That, and Sekkrad has never been much of a talker, but he’s especially nervous around you. He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to talk to you, so he opts not to. Besides, you seem content to walk beside him quietly (and it’s just… nice to see how comfortable you look beside him). Despite his nervousness, he’s actually pretty content himself.

In fact, when you two arrive at your home, Sekkrad is almost disappointed. Still, he got you home safe and nothing was really amiss, so he can’t complain.

“Rest up,” he says, nodding at you. “I’ll see you at night.”

“I’ll be there dark and early,” you grin.

He can’t help but crack a smile at that. “Good.”

With a small laugh and a final wave, you enter your home. Sekkrad lingers until he’s fully sure you’re safe inside, before turning his heels to walk back to the tavern with light steps.

He really, really can’t wait to see you again.

[critterbitter]

I'm wheezing over Ingo and Litwick's dynamic jgjbjjxjsjwkfiisiq and TYNAMO FITTING INTO EMMET'S SCARF IS SOOO CUTE!! Love how you draw the little sbubby bois, their conductor themed outfits are soo freaking cute!!!

I have so many thoughts when it comes to them it’s insane. Glad you like the characterizations!

Here’s a quick one shot under the cut, as a treat for making it this far.

Emmet finds Tynamo three months before Ingo meets Litwick. Ingo has some thoughts.

Ingo and Emmet are part of a pair.

If Emmet is the fuck around and find out, then Ingo’s been relegated amused damage control. This has always been the case, right up until Emmet found tynamo. Then suddenly, it’s “wow emmet, you’re so responsible!” “Golly gee Emmet, what do you mean you don’t want to go exploring the cave systems after dark?” “Gee whizz, what do you mean curfew for your eel puppy?” “Why in Reshiram do you get to have a whole pokemon three months before we agreed to get starters, and i don’t?”

Ingo doesn’t say the last part. He’s a bitter world-weary twelve year old languishing about the unfairness of the pokestray distribution system, but he also loves his brother. Emmet found an injured tynamo in chargestone cave and decided to help— tynamo decided to stay. It’s every child’s film plot. Ingo being a grouchy gengar makes him objectively a terrible friend.

Oh dragons, is Ingo a bad brother?

“Ingo!”

Speak of the cold, and he shall enter. Ingo swings his whole body around to better brace for the flying tackle.

“Emmet!”

“I am emmet! You are sulking.”

Ingo clicks his mouth closed and tries not to sulk harder. He fails.

“You are not being verrrry convincing, brother dearest.”

“I do not have any idea what you are going on about,” Ingo’s traitorous mouth blurts. “Be convinced I love you and am not planning dastardly plots.”

Do not think about getting a ground typed starter. Do not think about getting a ground typed starter.

Emmet shoots him a judgemental look from under the brim of his hat. Ingo glowers back, and slowly starts leaning forward, smooshing Emmet under his weight.

“Ttttell me why you look like a crushed joltik.”

“Keep this up and you are going to be the crushed joltik.”

Anyways, Emmet is becoming more bold by the day and even actively discussing electric types with the new girl in elementary prep, Elesa. Ingo thinks she’s cool, but she flinched when he blurted a once again too loud greeting so he’s… letting that cool off. They definitely don’t have anything to talk about beyond pokemon, and Emmet and her already have pokemon. Ingo feels a bit left out.

Caught in the ennui of not having a blitzle or tynamo, Ingo slips as Emmet rolls out from under him. The two go down in an ungraceful tangle of limbs.

“Tell. Me. What’s. Wrong.” Emmet gently slaps Ingo’s face like a ripe oran berry. “You want to tell me sooo badly. Ooh.”

“Emmet- aurgh. Gerroff’”

“I don’t speak denial.”

Ingo gives up. His entire body deflates. Emmet, not expecting the sudden loss of spinal infrastructure, slides sideways and knees Ingo’s lungs.

Ingo wheezes. “I’m sulking because you were crushing my spine.”

“Tell me the truth.”

Uh oh. Ingo studies Emmet’s face. It’s the same one he looks into the mirror with, but marred with concern and self consciousness. Ingo made Emmet worry. He’s not just a bad twin. He’s the worst.

“You are Emmet.”

“I am Emmet.”

“You have Tynamo.”

“Tynamo’s charging at home.”

Smart ass! Emmet knows what Ingo means. And by Emmet’s smug grin, Emmet knows too.

Ingo struggles to explain that Emmet has Tynamo, and Elesa, and… that’s only two other individuals. He is truly the worst twin in all the land. Emmet gets two new friends and Ingo’s being an infant about it.

One day, Ingo will have his own pokemon partner and team— but right now, Ingo only gets to have Emmet.

Ingo feels this is an unfair trade equivalent, but he does not want to say it in a way that sounds rude, so he stalls.

Emmet has no such prefunctures. He squints at Ingo, who avoids eye contact and squirms. “You are… jealous?” He tilts his head in visible confusion. “What?”

Ingo covers his face with his hands, defeated.

“You arrrre jealous!” Emmet cries, bewildered. “Why??”

Ingo lets out an unintelligible wheeze. Emmet remembers he still has a knee on Ingo’s chest, and hastily sits back.

“I don’t want to be jealous,” Ingo finally bursts. “I am very happy for you Emmet! You and Tynamo are a winning combination!” His voice cracks embarrassingly. Emmet doesn’t flinch at the volume, even muffled under Ingo’s palms. “I don’t want to be a bad brother being jealous.”

“You aren’t a bad brother, Ingo.”

“I am. I am angry that you found your starter and I haven’t. I’m sad I interrupted your schedule with my inane demands. I have made you feel like you did something wrong. I apologize.”

Peeking between Ingo’s fingers, Emmet’s face falls. Ingo wants to be struck by a giga impact rather than face this. He would rather be a dusty imprint. Where is Uncle Drayden’s Haxorous when you need her?

“Ingo, Ingo listen to me.” Emmet’s hands dart forward to settle Ingo’s shoulders. The pressure is grounding. Real. This is where Emmet tells Ingo he’s being stupid.

He hears Emmet exhale.

“I’m sorry.”

Wait, that doesn’t sound right. “Pardon?”

“I wanted to train Tynamo as my conductor, and I left our two-car train unmaintained.”

“Pardon??”

Emmet looks uncomfortable and sad. It makes Ingo uncomfortable and sad. “Yesterday night. When you wanted to go to the caves. For our weekly charting. I said I’d rather help Tynamo.”

Oh. Yeah, Ingo remembers that. It had stung. “You are not obligated to say yes,” he protests. “In fact, you should say no more. You always say yes.”

“Yes.”

“What did I just say.”

“No. You’re my brother. I left you out.”

Ingo slowly puts down his hands. His face still feels warm, but he feels less scared. Now he just feels embarrassed. He can’t help but let out a meek plea slip. “Don’t go where I can’t follow, Emmet. Please.”

“I would never! We are going on our pokemon journey together, yep yep. You, me, tynamo, and whoever your starter will be!”

The two sit there on the side of the dirt road. Emmet’s declaration sounds like a dangerous promise. Ingo realizes at that moment he would do anything for his brother, who’s his best friend and confidant and world, starter or no starter. He opens his mouth to tell Emmet that.

“Wwwwwait. You are trying to go back to the caves. Ingo! Are you trying to find a starter by yourself!?”

Never mind. Emmet’s gone for his soft underbelly, and Ingo’s in pain. “Emphasis on trying,” he mutters instead. The joltik are not interested in him. The local tynamo swarm fled. A curious drilbur had sniffed him once, turned up its nose, and then trundled into the wall.

“…ah.”

Nothing had felt right for Ingo— too scared, too judgemental, or too uninterested. He’s starting to accept that maybe none of the pokemon in this town area match his truth or ideals.

Emmet was quiet for a long time. He had his thinking face on, so Ingo did not interrupt. He took the time instead to look up at the sky, watching the giant puff of clouds drift by. A plume of swabloo lazily inches their way across the horizon.

A shadow falls over Ingo. Emmet dusts himself off, and helps drag his twin to his feet. The two sway, clasping hands.

“We’ll ask Uncle Drayden,” Emmet decides, and Ingo is enthralled by the sheer truth of that statement. “He’ll let us use the subway! And you can look elsewhere, for a starter who is ideal for you. Wwwwith me and Tynamo, instead of by yourself.”

“Truly?” Uncle Drayden is a scary man.

Emmet nods. It’s easy to talk to Emmet— he just says words that Ingo would spend hours ruminating on. “I am verrrry persuasive.”

“You mean staring at him from the corner until he cracks?”

“Brother, you know me so well!”

Ingo cant help but laugh. He still feels guilty and bad for feeling envious, but a world with emmet by his side is significantly less hostile. Emmet’s hand is warm in his.“Thank you!” He cheers, startling himself with his volume. “Bravo,” he tried in a quieter tone.

“Bravo!!” Emmet replies, pointedly louder. Ingo squawks as Emmet pulls him off balance. “You are my brother! We’re going to find you a starter!”

Ingo tugs back just as fiercely. “Bravo!! We are going to harass Uncle Drayden into letting us board the train!”

Emmet leans with his whole body, dragging Ingo into the fulcrum of his centrifuge. “BRAVO! YOU ARE GOING TO HELP ME WITH TYNAMO’S TRAINING!”

Ingo digs his heels in, and then stumbles. “BRAVO, I, what?”

Emmet looked distinctly patrat-esque. “We’re in this together, Ingo. No backing out now.”

Ingo thought about it long and hard. He gets to see his brother get electrocuted. But he will, also, most likely, get electrocuted.

(Tynamo is Emmet’s starter. But maybe, it can also be Ingo’s friend.)

But brother say brother do, and Ingo’s probably obligated to run damage control if Emmet decides to, say, shove a fork into an outlet for Tynamo to snack on.

(Emmet fucks around. Ingo finds out. Even two steps apart with new people between, this is the way of their world.)

“Alright,” he crumbles. When they step this time, they step in sync. “We do this. Together.” (Enjoy this? Here's the link to the rest of my rat crimes.)